Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (53 page)

“Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight.”

― Phyllis Diller

~~~

Renata
Koreman

Hours pass. All
is quiet as I lay curled up on the closet floor. Eventually, I hear Grant and
Maria speaking Spanish, then the front door opens and shuts.

I check my phone
and see several missed calls from him. Maria’s gone home, and I have to be
there for Briley. I can’t stay in hiding.

Snap out of
it, idiot. Time to face this problem.

Life is hard,
too damned hard. Sometimes it seems only the toughest survive, and even they don’t
have it easy.

André would remind
me I’m no longer a child. Running away, refusing to speak about an issue,
hiding or throwing a tantrum aren’t grown-up solutions. I need to face my problems
and work things out.

Because I'm
an adult, I’m supposed to act mature.

And I thought
being a kid was a pain in the ass.

When it comes to
matters of the heart, we’re all vulnerable, uncertain and powerless as children.
Love causes even the strongest of us to be at the mercy of the people we love.

After a long,
internal pity party, I finally force myself to climb out of the closet and walk
into the kitchen.

“Renata!” Grant exclaims
joyously, relief and elation shine in his eyes. “I didn’t hear the garage door.
Where have you been?”

His handsome,
familiar features light up as he strides toward me, taking me by the shoulders.
The ravaged, scarred side of his face doesn’t throw me, yet the sight of his powerful,
muscular frame is always a carnal shock to my senses.

He’s so damn masculine,
sexy and distracting. He’s been a soldier—a warrior, and he still looks the
part.

I’m
excruciatingly aware of him. Every feminine part of me can’t help but sit up
and take notice of his powerful male energy.

Grant worked
today, so he’s wearing perfectly pressed gray slacks and a white, fitted,
button-down shirt, open at the throat. His dark brown hair feathers carelessly
over his forehead and down his nape.

Despite how
upset I am, I long to touch him. I curl my fingers into fists and resist the
urge. Stupid hormones! Apparently, my body hasn't gotten the memo that I’m mad
at him.

“Are you OK?”
Concern etches his features. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“I turned it off,”
I explain, feeling as though my heart is being torn apart. I need to tell him
how much his comments hurt.

Grant’s warm
palm steers me to the sofa and sits down beside me. It must be obvious I’ve
been crying. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I take two slow,
deep, sustaining breaths as I regard him. The familiar sharp angles of his face
combined with his penetrating gaze is strangely calming. He’s so strong and
unyielding, yet fiercely protective. Grant would never hurt me.

But he did.

I inhale another
fortifying breath, preparing to broach the subject which cut me so deeply.

“I’ve been in
the closet—I was avoiding your sister,” I explain with a shrug. “While I was in
there, I heard what you said to Betty Jo. You denied… us.”

Understanding
flashes through his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, then he shuts it without
uttering a sound. His brows draw down in concentration. I can almost see words
churning in his mind as he processes his every thought.

I know he’d
rather keep silent than unintentionally say the wrong thing. It sure as hell
makes conversation difficult.

Grant says
nothing as minutes pass.

“It made me
happy when you defended me,” I finally add, my breath hitching with emotion.
“It’s just… when you told your sister you weren’t in a relationship with me…” I
swallow. “When you did that, you made me feel as though everything you’ve said
to me and everything we’ve done together, was a lie. It felt as if I’m not important—as
though you don’t need me or want me.”

His immediate response
is a complete surprise.

I make a
startled little sound in the back of my throat as Grant quickly sweeps me up into
his arms and places me on the kitchen counter, stepping between my legs. His
warm palms grip my shoulders, while the direct stare he gives me is molten, intent
and determined.

Heat radiates from
his body like an open furnace. I catch the faint scent of coffee on his breath.
The blue-shaded depths of his gray eyes darken.

Stunned and
overwhelmed, I place my hands on his chest. I’m not sure if I want to pull him
closer or push him away.

He hurt me and
denied being with me. That wasn’t right. Not after all I’ve done for him, and
all we’ve been through together. I don’t deserve to be treated like that.

My jaw clenches
as a glimmer of healthy anger flickers through me. It feels
good
to be
angry and to stick up for myself. My lips part as I prepare to give him a piece
of my mind.

Abruptly he steps
close, cupping my face between his hands, his fingers firm and warm against my
skin. He angles his head and
sweet Jesus.
His mouth molds to mine.

Grant never
kissed anyone before me, and he rarely kisses me. When he does, it’s
never
like this.

I’ve wanted him
to kiss me this way for so long! I adore kissing. It’s the one thing I’ve
missed in our otherwise spectacular sex life.

My body heats as
his mouth and tongue move over mine. Kissing is so personal, so intimate. Nothing
turns me on more. My pulse quickens and then begins to race.
This kiss
is
deep, intense.

Grant is
kissing me.

I blink,
wondering if I’ve somehow fallen into another universe. Pulling back from him
abruptly, my lips curl into a grin of astonished disbelief.

“Now?”
I
ask in a flash of humor, a burst of laughter bubbling from my chest. “
Now
you want to kiss me?”

His unwavering gaze
is piercing. “Yes.”

His husky voice
rolls through me, making my skin tingle and flush with need. The stern look and
sexy sound of him makes me giddy with excitement. One hand tangled into my
hair, he imperiously presses his mouth against mine once more.

I’m instantly
lightheaded.

Yum.
This
is the Grant I’ve come to know and love. A man that exudes truckloads of
delicious, alpha male dominance.

Weak with sharp,
edgy arousal, I hear myself moan. The fierce strength of his hunger wipes away every
thought I have as he devours me.

I’m overpowered
by his heady scent, his strength and his need.

Mindless
instinct takes over.

No longer able
to hold myself up, I lean into him, my hands gripping his muscular back. My
breasts heat and swell, feeling heavy and tender as I melt against his rock-hard
chest. I vaguely remember—I’m
supposed
to be angry.

Just now, I
can’t recall why.

Who cares?
I’ll deal with it later. I’m vacationing in heaven.

The greedy thrust
of his tongue against mine, so hot and demanding it makes my head spin. My
nipples harden to stone, my sex throbs. I think I could climax simply from sensing
the hunger of his full, sensual lips against mine.

Grant further deepens
his kiss. The stubble on his jaw abrades my skin, and his heart pounds against
mine.

I’m being
consumed. I feel as though he doesn’t simply want to taste me—he wants to eat
me alive.

I can't get
enough, his kisses set me on fire. They’re so powerful, reaching depths within
me, filling my emptiness and replacing my hurt with passion and heat.

I pant with
longing. All the desire he has for me, that’s been building up inside of him is
right here
in his lips, his mouth, teeth and tongue. His need drags a
groan from him as we breathe each other in.

He’s putting
everything
he is
and everything
he feels
into this passionate
kiss. Lust yes, oh yes—but also an ocean full of love and need is there too.

Grant may find
it difficult to communicate how he feels with words, but I can’t doubt what
he’s saying with this one breath-stealing, life-giving kiss.

“Mmm,” I hum as
I kiss him back, answering his desperate need with a need of my own. I rise to
his level of passion with the fire within me that he feeds and fans. Together,
we are molten, white-hot and intimately connected.

“Renata,” Grant
breathes my name, a husky sound of intense longing.

“Mmm?” I murmur,
loving the taste of him.

The sound of
Briley crying through the baby monitor interrupts us both.
Damn it.

“To the world you may be one person; but to one person you may be the
world.”

― Dr. Seuss

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

Renata scoots up
the stairs to check on Briley, while I lean weakly against the counter. As I
watch her leave the room, I realize I’m trembling. I feel knotted up inside,
like ten strands of barbed wire fence, all cut and curling into a tangled ball.

My heart drums
in my chest, hard and fast. Instinctively, I attempt to calm down, to find that
cool ‘sniper’ objectivity I rely on when stressed. I count each beat, taking
slow, measured breaths. Emotional detachment and inner silence is ordinarily
effortless.

Why can’t I find
it now?

My mouth is dry.
I take a glass from the cupboard, fill it with water, and drink it down.
Usually,
I can disconnect.
Usually,
I can cut myself off… but not with her.

For the first
time I can remember, level-headed logic escapes me. I can’t be dispassionate.

Renata is far too
important to me.

When she first
walked into the kitchen, I was so glad to see her. She’d looked so feminine in
her blue dress, heels and her long blonde hair. Adorable freckles sprinkled
lightly on her cute upturned nose.

Renata only
wears dresses during her time off from her position as nanny. With one look I
became instantly hard—mainly because every time she’s worn a dress, I’ve
managed to get my hand up it.

A mixture of
fear and pain stabs me, and thoughts of her dress disappear. The memory of the
shattered look on her tear-stained face guts me, not to mention the words she
said, “
It felt as if I’m not important, as though you don’t need me or want
me.”

How could she
possibly think that? If I make my overpowering need for her more obvious, I’d
probably scare her away. I’d never deliberately hurt her, although I can see
why she’d interpret my denial of our relationship as a betrayal.

Renata’s too
good to be true. I never allow myself to hope she’ll stay with me forever, yet
the thought of losing her almost destroys me.

I want and need
her with an urgency I’ve never known before. Not just sexually, although my
hard and aching cock would fiercely disagree.

Monster!
Pervert!

While not as forceful,
demons still plague me. I fear I know why they refused to leave—sick fuck that
I am. I’m not good enough for her, she deserves so much more. And yet,
selfishly, I want her.

I like who I am when
I’m with her.

I hear the distinct,
soft swinging sound of our newly installed cat door. Not long after, Mitten
arrives at my feet, greeting me with a soft meow.

“Hey, buddy,” I
say, stroking him and scratching his neck.

He begins to loudly
purr. Just like a car, Mitten has his motor running. Standing up on his hind legs,
he communicates his desire to sit on my shoulder. I lift him up and place him
there, grateful for his company.

Mitten’s very
protective of Renata. He’s her companion, confidant, source of comfort and best
friend. That gives him 'family' status, in my book.

He’s also the
smartest, coolest creature on four legs.

“Us men need to
stick together,” I tell him.

I can feel my
blood pressure lowering as Mitten’s soothing purr sounds loudly in my ear. As I
scratch under his neck, taking slow, deep breaths, I reflect on the conversation
I had with my sister, going over it in my mind.

I know why I
said what I did to Betty Jo. I purposely chose not to share details of my
personal life with my spiteful sister. Anything I tell her will likely be
twisted, distorted and used as ammunition against me. I simply need to clarify my
reasoning, then she’ll understand.

I begin to set
the table, taking the casserole Maria made us for dinner out of the oven and
setting it on the table. Mitten easily holds on to me without scratching. He never
ceases to impress.

Renata comes
down the stairs with Briley in her arms. “Hey.”

I smile. “Hey
yourself.”

“Hello, Mitten
kitten, my gorgeous little man,” she adds, giving him an ear scratch. He arches
his neck and emits a happy purr of approval.

Placing Briley
into his baby chair, she straps him in. Without another word, we work together
seamlessly, totally in sync. We set the table, bring the salad out from the
refrigerator, arrange drinks and warm the baby’s food.

It’s so natural having
her around. Pure pleasure on so many levels.

We all sit down together
to eat at the table, Mitten included. I dish food out onto everyone’s plates, except
of course, for Briley. Renata feeds him baby food with calm efficiency.

I know she’s still
upset with me, but she’s dialed it back. She's cheerful and agreeable, without
any of the negative vibes that were always present in my home while I was
growing up.

For the
hundredth time since I’ve met her, it occurs to me that she’s a very restful
woman. Even though she’s mad at me, her presence gives me a sense of peace. I
look at her in wonder, knowing she’s patiently waiting for me to explain.

“I wasn’t
prepared to answer questions about you… or us,” I begin tentatively.

Her gaze lifts
to mine. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?
Never!
How could you possibly think that?”

Renata shrugs
and takes a bite of salad. “You denied being with me. You
lied.
”

I’d forgotten
that lying is one of her big
no-no’s
. “Yes, I lied to
my sister,”
I amend. “I’d
never
lie to you. And yes, I denied our connection. But
you know what Betty Jo is like. She uses knowledge like a soldier uses
ammunition—I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire, or worse, have her
looking down the crosshairs, intentionally targeting you. The woman causes nothing
but trouble. I don’t want her focusing trouble your way.”

“I see,” she
replies with composure, eating her own dinner while feeding and praising Briley,
wiping his hands and mouth intermittently, as needed.

I frown. “Do you
think we
should
tell people about our relationship? Serious consequences
go along with that plan, and not only from Betty Jo. My mother will also be a major
thorn in our sides. Alex married Sky before mother knew they were dating. If he
hadn’t, our mother would’ve tried to bully poor Sky into running away. Plus,
the police will want to question you—although maybe not so much now.”

My throat is
dry. I stop and take a long drink of ice tea, a Southern drink Renata’s learned
to love. I put the glass down, meeting her eyes. “I just don’t want to put you
out there as a target for my crazy family members to attack.”

Renata reaches
over and takes my hand. “So, you’re telling me the only reason you lied about
our relationship was to protect me?”

“Yes.”

Regarding me for
a long moment, she waits for me to say more.

My heart full, I
clear my throat. “If you’re willing to bear the backlash… I’d be proud to tell
the whole world just how much you mean to me.”

She smiles. “I
like that idea.”