Pieces For You (25 page)

I would, without question, step in to protect any woman in danger, but for Sam there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her—to keep her safe.  I wanted to destroy anything that had ever hurt her.  I wanted them all to suffer as she has.  Heath was the worst offender, but others had blood on their hands as well through their inaction, negligence, and participation.  I may never have the opportunity to repay them all for their part in allowing the attacks, but at least Heath would be made to pay. 

A part of me wished I had just killed the sick fuck when I had the chance.  I may have spent the rest of my life in prison, but it would have been worth it.  The only reason I restrained myself was knowing Sam was waiting for me.

As I tried to cool my residual anger, I pulled into the parking lot of the alarm company, anxious to make arrangements to protect my girl and return home to her.

"There's nothing better than good sex.  But bad sex?  A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is better than bad sex."  -Billy Joel

Making dinner in anticipation of Griffin’s return, I reflected on my last few sessions with my therapist.  Thia had grown on me, just as she promised, but I was still on the fence regarding her own sanity.  Did shrinks have shrinks?  Maybe that should be a condition of licensing. 

In my last session, Thia decided it was time to dive into my opposing thoughts about myself.  I had made leaps and bounds in my recovery, but I still struggled with self-worth and lapses in confidence.  In true Thia-style, she introduced me to a game called ‘Devil’s Advocate.’  She would say something critical about me, and I had to disprove her comment or talk about the ways I was working to improve.  I was forbidden from agreeing with anything she said. 

“Ready?” Thia asked with enthusiasm.

“As I’ll ever be,” I responded warily.

“You’re sexually undesirable to men who know you’ve been raped.”

Okay, guess she wasn’t pulling any punches with her little game.

“Not true.  Griffin wants me…bad.  He knows what happened to me and still wants to Humpty Bumpty with me.”

Thia nodded her approval.

“You are so broken you will never be whole again.”

I had a hard time disagreeing with this one.  I hated that I still believed this to be true.

“Perhaps I’ll never be the same, but the pieces missing will be filled with something else—new strength, love, hope, I’m not sure what exactly.  I will be whole one day, just different from the original.”

“Is that okay with you?  Do you accept the truth of what you just said?” Thia asked, breaking from the game.

I had to think before I answered, searching for the truth within myself.

“Yes, I do believe it.  I may be different from the Old Sam in some ways, walking through Hell changes a person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be just as good, better even.”

Thia nodded.  “Ready?”

I flipped my hand palm up and curved my fingers toward my body several times, the universal signal for ‘bring it on.’

“You’re so damaged no man will want you as a wife and mother of his children.”

I sucked in a painful breath.  Holy shit, that one hurt.  I’d always wanted to be a mother, to be the type of mom Meme was to Ev and me, and I had never consciously explored this fear.  What if a man didn’t want someone with my baggage to be the mother of his children?  Did Griffin feel that way?

“I…um…I…” I paused to gather my thoughts.  “Do you think that’s true?” I asked, needing reassurance.

“Do you?” Thia countered unhelpfully.

“I hope not, but…I’m not sure.  Will I be so scared my children could face the same horror I will smother them?  Years from now, will I still be tripping over landmines that prevent me from being a good mom?  Will I be too wrapped up in my own issues to support them when they need me…like my parents?  Oh my god,” I whispered the last words, devastated by the prospect.

“Sam, look at me.  The rules of the game say that you have to argue my points, not agree.  Your concerns are not unreasonable.  The fact that you’re already worrying about children you don’t even have speaks volumes about the type of mother you will be.  Now go ahead, call me a bitch and tell me I’m wrong—you’re not leaving ‘til you do.  Time is almost up and I have no problem charging you overtime…I desperately want a motorcycle.”

The image of Thia sitting on a Harley popped into my head, breaking through my obsessive worries, and caused me to laugh out loud.  I refocused on her statement and strained for a rebuttal.

“No, I’m getting better every day.  I’m working to be whole.  My future husband and children will be lucky to have me because I will love, cherish, and protect them better than I ever could have before.  They will always come first and any issues I have, my family will love me through it.  I will be the type of mom Meme was to me.  I will be the type of wife any husband would kill for.  I will have the life I always dreamed of…
he
can’t take that from me too.”

Thia smiled at me with pride in her eyes.

“Good girl.  I’m disappointed you won’t be contributing to my Harley fund, but I’m proud of you.  It’s homework time.”

I returned her smile with one of my own, feeling pleased with the breakthrough I had just made.

By the end of the session, I had gained a new respect for myself and an increased sense of worth.  It was as if she vocalized all of the nasty thoughts that tormented my mind.  I didn’t enjoy the comments, but moving the conversation out of my head allowed me to see many of the thoughts for what they were—lies.  It also called attention to areas where I still had work to do.  The woman was a twisted genius.

I removed the steaks from the broiler and set them on the counter to rest.  Hopefully Griffin would be home soon or dinner would be ruined.  I had just finished setting the parmesan-and-garlic potatoes on the table next to the caramelized onions and sautéed mushrooms when he entered.

He paused at the entry to the kitchen and inhaled deeply.

“Hungry?” I asked, walking toward him.

“Whatever you made, it smells incredible.  I’m starved.  I had to skip lunch today.”

“Good thing I made a filling dinner.  Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just finished up my clinical hours and stopped by the home security store.  They will be here to install a state-of-the-art system tomorrow while you are at work.  I’ll show you how to use it after the gym.”

I shrugged.  Alarm systems were the perfect item for retailers to capitalize on a guy’s need to have the latest technology.  It was programmed in men’s DNA and I sure as hell wasn’t going to fight nature.

We sat at the table where I filled his plate with the biggest of the filets and all of the trimmings.  He hummed his appreciation after taking his first bite.  I wasn’t bragging when I said I make the best steak on Long Island.  In addition to my top-secret seasoning rub, I added a pat of butter on top during the last four minutes under the broiler, adding extra flavor and moisture.  No man could resist my steak.

“I viewed several apartments today,” I said unenthusiastically.

“That good, huh?”

“None of them are as nice as the first one at The Glen.  The only real contender today was new construction, and I’d have to wait three months before my unit would be ready.”

“Three months isn’t bad; it’s not like you don’t have somewhere to live.  You can stay here as long as you like…forever if you keep cooking like this,” he said while gesturing to the table.

“Thanks.  I appreciate the offer and it is tempting to stay here with you, but I don’t want to move in with you because some psycho is threatening me.  I want it to be a decision based on love and commitment.”

Oops!  I dropped the L-word.  Sure, I wasn’t saying ‘I love you, Griffin, until my dying breath,’ but it still felt premature, regardless of the fact that my heart was quietly mocking my denial.

“I agree.  As tempting as it is to keep you here forever, I want you to be confident in my motives behind the invite when you make that decision.  Besides, it may seem old-fashioned, but I expected to put a ring on your finger before setting up house.”

Okay, I guess my L-bomb wasn’t too bad if he was going to mention diamonds.  He wasn’t proposing, but he did put me and the infamous left-hand jewelry in close conversational proximity.  Maybe the idea of marrying someone with my baggage didn’t scare him, as Thia had pushed me to admit.

After dinner and cleanup, we watched reruns of ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway?’ and spent the night laughing to the point of snorting.  It was perfect.  I fell asleep with my head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath me, completely comfortable.

I awoke in the master suite the following morning, sprawled across Griffin’s body like a silk sheet, molding to his contours.  He usually got up before I did, so I took advantage of the opportunity to examine him.  He was breathtaking, a living work of art—perfectly sculpted beauty.  In the peace of sleep he looked younger and unburdened, more like the man I met last year.  I traced the grooves of his abs with my finger, letting it leisurely wander the paths of his body.  With a mind of its own, my naughty finger found the edge of the inverted triangle and headed south from his hip until it reached the edge of his boxer briefs.  I followed the cotton line, bisecting his body slowly from east to west.  It was impossible to miss his body’s reaction to my touch.  My finger was drawn like a magnet to the soft cotton, tracing the shapes it hid from my eyes.  The more I played, the more I wanted.

“You keep that up—” he said drowsily.

“And you’ll what?” I responded in an unintentionally sultry voice.

“Mmm.  Don’t know, torture you similarly?”

If he intended his warning to be a deterrent, he failed miserably.

“Deal,” I said, accepting his terms with enthusiasm.

He chuckled as his hand drifted up my ribcage to cup my breast with a gentle squeeze.  My desire ignited as he toyed with me, strumming his fingers across my pebbled flesh with deliberate gentleness that had me ready to beg for more. 

I was about to retaliate when his hands drifted lower, pushing me onto my back as he kissed me.  His hands were everywhere, overwhelming me, as he traced my body.  His calloused fingers hooked around the lace across my hips.  His body slipped down mine as if he was linked to my descending panties.  By the time both of my feet were freed, Griffin was biting the ridge of my hip bones, his massive body filling the space between my thighs.  His shoulders were so broad I had no choice but to hook my knees over them as he circled my belly button with the tip of his tongue.  He drifted lower, nibbling the line where my leg met my body until he found a ticklish spot.  I laughed and convulsed from the gentle drag of his lips along the delicate flesh.  He chuckled, pleased to replicate my reaction on the other side.  It was a slow, sensual torture that I never wanted to end. 

He turned his head, lightly touching the skin of my inner thigh with his lips while his fingers skated across my stomach, sides, and outer thighs, the combination of sensations resulting in a head-to-toe shiver.  When the final minute muscle contraction of the shiver died out, another began as his mouth found the epicenter of my desire.  His hum of approval reverberated across my sensitized nerves as he sampled me.  The focused attention was more than my body could handle, the pleasure swallowing me whole, blotting out all thought.  He skillfully teased until I was panting his name, begging.  For the first time, he denied me a request and continued to push me higher without answering my pleas, keeping me on the edge in a state of pleasure I had never known.  I was writhing, desperate to reach the Promised Land while never wanting his wicked torment to end.  As I clutched his hair in my fists, he added the slightest suction that catapulted me into flight.  I was flying through a lightning storm, the currents electrifying my body, causing my every cell to cry out with satisfaction.

When I finally regained my senses, I found that I had melted across Griffin’s body like butter on warm bread, encased in his arms.  He had been my rock over the past month, steadfast and unwavering, no matter what crisis or emotional outburst arose.  He never made me feel less than or tainted; it was the opposite—he made me feel exceptional and precious.  I couldn’t imagine accepting the touch of any other man.  The patience and understanding he displayed permeated every aspect of our relationship and interactions.  He had insisted my needs come first and his actions proved him a man of his word.  Despite all of this, I wasn’t ready to make my declaration, causing my heart to sigh with impatience.  Internally, however, I chanted ‘I love you’ with a conviction so strong no one would dare doubt. 

Griffin pressed against me, doodling on my back with his dexterous finger.

“How are you?” he asked, the words muffled by my hair.

“Somewhere between ‘can we stay like this all day’ and ‘can we do it again.’”

His laughter rumbled against the side of my face.

“Anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Umm-hmm.  Let’s just say I’ve been saving up for a while and now I’m ready to go on a spending spree.”