Page 88 of Beast

“Fine, what do you want to know?”

He took a sip of his beer, his lips hovering over the glass. I imagined those lips on mine, what it would feel like to be desired instead of used. I had to push that thought out of my mind. “That’s not how it works. This isn’t an interrogation. I don’t want to know anything. I want to understand you.”

“I hate talking about myself, but if it’s important to you, I’ll try.”

He remained silent.

“Why did you want to become a SEAL?”

“They’re the best of the best. When I was a kid, one of my mom’s boyfriends threw her up against a wall and broke her shoulder. I wanted to kill that motherfucker. I guess I never wanted to feel powerless again.”

I choked back the tears, not willing to let him see me looking weak yet again. Would Gabriel have memories of his dad yelling at me? Forcing me to take drugs? Seeing me walk down the hallway with different men and disappearing for hours?

Pat was staring at me again with that look where he was trying to anticipate my thoughts. “I admire your strength. I don’t know how many women could go through what you went through and still be able to smile.”

A rush of desire overtook me. I wanted this man, couldn’t stop fantasizing about him. I didn’t want him to look at me as a victim—I wanted him to see me as a woman.

I glanced around the room, then fixated on him. It was our last night together; would I ever see him again? I had nothing to lose. “Pat, I have one favor to ask.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Anything. Shoot.”

My mouth widened into a smile, and I moistened my lips. “Make love to me.”

His eyes bugged out, and he shifted in his seat. “Annie, you’re beautiful, and in any other situation, any other situation, I would love to make love to you. But we can’t go there. I don’t want to hurt you. And I’m incapable of offering you any more than a one-night stand and you deserve more. I deploy at least nine months out of the year. When I’m home, I’m so tired from training. Your first experience after this nightmare should be special.”

My lips parted, I stood up and walked over to him. “I know what I want. I understand your job. For the past five years, I’ve been forced to have sex with strangers, do unthinkable things. Drugged out of my mind.” I leaned into him and ran my fingers through his hair. “Don’t let the last memory I have of being with a man, be of someone who paid for me. Someone I was unable to reject. I want you. I choose you. Make me feel good.”

For a second, I thought he would take me up on my offer. His eyes looked at me with hunger; I could see him growing with desire. My hand inched up his thigh and I stroked him. I wanted to feel him inside of me; for him to make me scream his name and make me come. I wanted to feel pleasure rush over my body, maybe hoping one amazing orgasm with a man who I had feelings for, however misguided, would wash away the sea of hurt that had been my life.

He stood up abruptly. “I can’t, Annie. I can’t. It’s not because I don’t want to, because I do. I’d love to pleasure you. I care about you, and your son. Nothing good can come out of this. You need to heal and move on. This will only confuse you. I’m sorry.”

He walked over to the bathroom and closed the door. I could hear the water run.

I knew he was doing what he thought was right. Trying not to hurt and damage me. But I deserved love. Would every man I ever developed feelings for be so afraid to hurt me that he would decide it was easier to walk away? Would I ever find love again? I hunched over in my chair, dejected and alone, again.

21

Patrick

THE STEAM FROM THE SHOWER fogged up the tiny mirror. I knew I was doing the right thing, no matter what my body was telling me. Annie couldn’t possibly be ready to be intimate with a man after what she’d been through, especially a man who’d been one of her clients. I didn’t want her to flash back to the brothel. She needed time for her body and her mind to recover, come to grips with what had happened to her.

I had to admit, I wasn’t just thinking about her. I didn’t have sex with women I knew or cared about. One-night stands, no strings attached, those were all I could handle. Could I make love to her and then walk away tomorrow?

I pulled on my clothes, and entered her cabin. This entire voyage, I’d slept on the floor. Annie was curled in a ball on the bed. Her hair splayed around her head, her arms wrapped around her chest. She wore the simple cotton dress I’d picked out for her before I rescued her. The moonlight from the porthole illuminated her body. She was breathtaking.

The rest of the boat remained silent, except the gentle waves of the ocean rustling.

I climbed on the bed, wrapped my arms around her. She smiled, and turned to face me. Her body strained closer as I hovered over her, lowered my lips to hers. She opened her mouth slowly, hesitantly, and I forced myself not to be too enthusiastic. To go slow when I wanted to plunge my tongue into her mouth and take. Take it all. Take her.

Her lips attacked mine, a desperate kiss. I didn’t resist. Her mouth was hot and wet. She didn’t taste bitter and dry like I’d expected her to. No. She was salty and fruity, like a strawberry margarita. I had a fleeting desire to drink her up, taste every inch of her body, and pleasure her instead of forcing her to service me. I wanted to see a warm flush wash over her face and make her glow just for me. To make her come and scream out my name, and tell her she’d be safe and never scared again. I wanted to protect her and promise her as long as I lived, no man other than me would ever touch her again.

I couldn’t allow myself to promise her anything, with words or my body. One kiss, it couldn’t go beyond this one kiss. This kiss was the culmination of the nights I rocked her to sleep, prayed she would survive long enough for me to find her. We needed this kiss, one glimpse into what things might’ve been if we’d met under different circumstances.

I pulled away from her lips, and I felt like a magnet being pushed back toward her. But I was strong and I resisted. I turned her back around, spooning her. And like I had every night since I rescued her, I rocked her to sleep.

I could handle kissing her, but not waking up to her all sleepy and soft. She’d been wrapped around me like a vine, curled into my side with a leg thrown across my own, her breasts against my chest, and her face tucked into my neck. I tucked that feeling away, too, and pulled away from the embrace and the longing it stirred.

I wanted nothing more than to rouse her from sleep and kiss her more deeply than the night before, but that would lead us both down a road I wasn’t sure I could come back from.