Damon, Lee (32 page)

"Oh, God, O'Mara, don't you think I
have
thought about it? I've been trying not to, or I won't get any sleep or be able to concentrate on work."

"Never mind sleep. You can sleep after I get home. Right now, it's more important to overcome your fears."

"All right," she sighed, "but I'll probably be a total wreck by the time you get back. Black rings around my eyes, hollow cheeks and shaking hands. Then what will you do?"

"Kiss everything better," came the husky voice. "And with that thought, I'm going to say goodnight. I'll call you in a few days. I love you, my Kitt. Hold the thought."

"Oh, yes. And I love you, O'Mara. Goodnight."

She'd lost the thread of the movie and finally turned it off and wandered along to bed, leaving a note for Ez to take Hero out. Drowsily, she replayed the conversation with O'Mara, feeling the uncoiling of desire as she remembered the warm, husky sound of his voice telling her to think about needing him. And, oh, how she did need him! She wanted to be naked with him, to look at him, to touch him, to stroke her hands over his warm, smooth skin, to feel him—NO! She couldn't think about that or she would have to remember Leon, and that was impossible. She didn't want to remember anything about Leon and what he used to do to her. It had nothing to do with O'Mara and how he touched her, loved her, would make love to her. He wouldn't be like Leon. He couldn't be, could he? But how could he not be? There was only one way to be completely joined as one, and how could it be any different with O'Mara?

It would hurt! It had to! It always did! Can I possibly love him enough to let him hurt me like that? Oh, God, ohgodohgodohgod—

"Kitt! What's wrong?" The lights flicked on and Ez came swiftly across the room to drop down onto the edge of the bed and gather a sobbing Kitt in his arms.

"Easy, easy now. Calm down and tell me what's the matter."

Held firmly in one strong arm while his other hand stroked back her hair and gently rubbed her shoulders, Kitt gradually quieted to soft gulps of air as she tried to ease the ache in her chest.

"Oh, Ez, what am I going to do? I can't... no matter how much I want him... he can't help but... There's no other way, is there?"

"You do know that you're not making a bit of sense, don't you?" He tipped her head back against his shoulder and examined her tear-stained face and despairing eyes. "Get your breath back, and then tell me calmly what's happened and who's upset you like this."

"All right," Kitt said wanly, moving to sit up by herself. "Let me go and wash my face first."

"While you're doing that, I'll make some coffee. No, tea would be better. Have you got some of that orange and spice stuff?"

"Second shelf of the cabinet to the right of the sink. I'll only be a few minutes," she said over her shoulder as she closed the bathroom door.

Wrapped in a warm robe but still feeling chilled to the bone, Kitt sat curled up in a corner of the sofa with her hands clasped around a mug of hot tea and told Ez about the phone call from O'Mara. Lounging at the other end of the sofa, facing her, he listened without comment until she came to the end of her recapitulation. He waited, watching her stare broodingly into her empty mug, but she didn't say anything else.

Finally, he asked, "Was that what upset you? Talking to O'Mara? If you've told me all of it, I can't understand why you were crying. I think he's making good sense about concentrating on your need for him to overcome your fears. Does that have something to do with the state you're in?"

Quietly but insistently, he questioned her, coaxing her to talk, patiently waiting while she struggled for words and, eventually, hiding his surprised relief when she told him what had led up to her crying jag. For years, he had tried gently and subtly to bring her around to discussing with him exactly what Darcy had done to her. She had talked to him about the physical abuse—the punching, slapping, biting—which explained her fear of violence, but he had known that there must have been appalling experiences of sexual abuse to account for her terror-stricken reaction to being touched by any man other than himself. Until O'Mara came back into her life. Ez wasn't quite sure why it was different with him; perhaps because O'Mara was her first love, a strong but innocent love in the time before Darcy had brutalized her, and somehow in her subconscious she knew that O'Mara would never have hurt her. However, consciously, after her experiences with Darcy, she was convinced that physical love was a painful, unpleasant act. Ez had long wanted to discuss this part of her marriage with his twin, to try to make her understand that a sexual relationship between two people who loved each other was the ultimate pleasure, and never the ugly act forced on her by Darcy. However, Kitt had never been able to face those memories and put her thoughts and feelings about them into words.

Now, at last, O'Mara had provided the catalyst that was needed to bring down the barriers to memory and allow Kitt to talk openly about Darcy's sexual attacks, his abuse of her body and her deep-rooted fear of ever again being in a physically vulnerable position with a man.

It all spilled out, at first in a jumble of disconnected words and phrases, and then, as the pressure of initial revelation eased, she paused to pull her thoughts together and managed to give him a coherent description of just what Darcy had done and her reactions. Ez heard her out, saying very little, knowing that the very act of verbalizing all the terror and pain was part of a necessary healing process. At last, she stopped speaking and wiped away the tears that had been trickling, unfelt, down her cheeks.

Ez came to his feet and reached for her empty mug. "You need something a bit stronger than tea. I seem to remember seeing a bottle of brandy in the cupboard."

He disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two brandy snifters. Handing one to Kitt, he dropped back down onto his end of the sofa and swirled the deep amber liquid around in his glass, watching her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her to regain her composure.

"You okay?"

"Mmmm. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to fall apart all over you." She lifted apologetic eyes to meet his understanding gaze.

"Try not to be any more feather-witted than normal," he said in mock-disgust. "Who better than I could you fall apart on?"

"Thank God you're not trying to teach English," she groaned, laughing weakly.

"There's nothing wrong with my English. A little creative usage is what keeps a language alive. And don't think you're going to sidetrack me into a discussion of my syntax. I want to know if you're afraid of O'Mara."

Kitt caught her breath at the suddenness of the question. She had started to relax, and was feeling sleepy after the intense emotionalism of the past couple of hours. The effort of dragging up all those ugly memories and forming them into words had drained her, and she'd had no thought of any further deep discussions right now.

Trying to collect her thoughts, she could only repeat, "Afraid of O'Mara?"

"I don't mean in the normal way of things. I know you're not. Remember, I've seen you kiss him and quite happily let him put his arm around you." He lifted an inquiring eyebrow as he added, "I'm not sure, of course, how much further contact you've accepted, but it's certain sure that you haven't been to bed with him."

Kitt's quick, upward look at him had a hint of rebelliousness in it. "How do you know we haven't... been to bed together? Maybe—"

"Knock it off, Sis. All I've got to do is look at him when he's watching you, and I can practically see a cloud of sexual frustration hanging over his head. And don't bother making any dumb remarks about his being able to get all he wants someplace else. Of course he could. I've seen the way women look at him. If he showed the least bit of interest in any one of them, she'd be all over him like wet wallpaper. However, he's only interested in one woman, and that's you. So, he'll wait you out. Now answer my question—are you afraid of him?"

"No, not of O'Mara." She wrapped her arms around her upraised knees, bringing one hand up to her mouth and nibbling on her thumbnail. "I can... he can... it's all right between us up to a point. We've come a long way together in just those few days before he left. He makes me... want him... respond to him... but when it's reaching the point where his... arousal is unmistakable and... I have to think... no, I don't really
think
about it... it's more of a reaction...."

"Stop a minute, Kitt, and get your thoughts together. Slowly, now. Take it one step at a time. It doesn't scare you when you're sexually aroused?"

"No. It's fine. I mean, I like it, and I don't want him to stop touching me." She was slightly flushed, but somehow not really embarrassed. Although she and Ez had never discussed their personal sexual experiences, they had in earlier years talked about sex in general. In fact, Ez had been Kitt's main source of information when she had finally developed her belated interest in men as something more than fellow athletes.

She lifted her head and looked at him, unflinchingly meeting the eyes so like her own, and she felt the tension draining out of her as she received his silent messages. It was time, now, to talk about her most pressing fear. She knew he would tell her the truth and help her to accept it even if it were as bad as she expected.

He started to speak, and she held up a staying hand. "No. Let me tell you. I know what your next question is. Yes, it's O'Mara's arousal that scares me. At least, the... physical evidence of it does. I'm fine now, even with his arms around me, until I feel
that
against me, and then the panic starts. Not in my mind. That's so fuzzy with wanting him that I don't think. It's some defensive trigger in my system. The minute my body feels that hard ridge pressing against it, all my muscles knot and I start fighting to move away from it. It's a threat. It's going to hurt me."

"I understand what you're saying," Ez said slowly, thinking it through. "To you, it's a weapon, an instrument of pain rather than pleasure, because you've never felt pleasure from that part of a man, thanks to that bastard Darcy. And his repeated raping of you caused so much pain that your system is... programmed... to equate an erection with agony. Damn! I wish to hell O'Mara had taken you all the way that last summer!"

"So does he. So do I. If he had..."

"If he had, your initial experience would have been beautiful, because he cared enough about you to make sure it was. Then, if somehow you'd still had an experience like Darcy, both your mind and your body would have had an existing pleasurable memory to offset the ugliness."

"I think you're right, Ez. I'm not afraid of O'Mara's kisses or his hands on me. He did all that before and I loved it. It hasn't been all that difficult to accept that part of lovemaking again. And I have no trouble in touching him. It's the rest of it. I love him, Ez, but I'm not sure if I can let him hurt me."

"Idiot! Why would he hurt you? He loves you practically to the point of obsession. The last thing in the world he would do would be to hurt you in any way."

"But—" There was a mixture of anguish and pleading in her expression. "How can he help but hurt me if he...?"

There was a waiting silence as Ez groped for the true meaning behind her half-finished question and Kitt watched him with a faint light of hope in her eyes, willing him to have an acceptable answer for her.

Suddenly, it all fell into place, and Ez quickly schooled his expression as he finally understood the full extent of her fears. At least, he thought he did, but perhaps—

"You know why it hurt so much with Darcy, don't you?" he asked carefully, watching her face closely for every nuance of response. At her hesitantly questioning look, he continued, "It's a very basic fact, Sis, that a woman has to be ready to take a man, or he's going to hurt her. Did Darcy ever... arouse you... make love to you or touch you... before he—" Kitt's hair flew as she violently shook her head, her eyes reflecting remembered anguish.

"Damn him!" Ez's fist thudding onto the arm of the sofa shook the room. "It's all right, Kitt," he said quietly on an indrawn breath. "I know this is hard for you to talk about, but I can't help you to understand... Well, I have to know a few basics before I can explain—"

"Ez," she interrupted, husky-voiced, "I do know about... the need for... being aroused and... and... ready before... Well, he never did that. He never even tried. He just... sl-slammed into m-m-me." Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees, and she rocked back and forth in pain, slow tears seeping from under her closed eyelids. "Oh, God, it hurt so. It hur—"

The raw, hoarse words were smothered against Ez's shoulder as he pulled her into his arms, his muscles flexing in a crushing hold as he tried, desperately, to absorb some of her pain. He leaned his head against hers, his thick chestnut hair falling forward to blend with hers, and muttered a litany of basic Anglo-Saxon under his breath. He didn't stop until he felt her hands patting his shoulders and heard her hiccupping laugh in his ear.

"Ez, good grief, you really did learn some new words from O'Mara," she choked, struggling for a light tone and almost making it. His arms loosened as she pushed back slightly to look at him, rubbing her hands across her cheeks to wipe away the last tears.

"Never mind my vocabulary." He brushed his fingers across her face and pushed her hair back, leaving his hand resting at the back of her neck. "Kitt, you
know
that O'Mara would never, never do anything remotely like that to you. He's a gentle man and he loves you. He would take great care that you would be more than ready for him before he'd even try to join with you. Don't you know that?"

"Oh, yes. At least, I know that he would try to be careful, but..."

"But what?" Ez watched her intently, knowing that there was something beyond the fear of rape, since it was clear that she knew O'Mara would never do that to her. He suspected what her real fear was, and willed her to put it into words. It wasn't going to help her for him to say it. She had to dig it out, face it and talk about it before she could accept his explanations and reassurances.