The Good Sister (25 page)

Until now. Until Noah came. She stared up at him, feeling captivated by his beautiful eyes.

She slowly slid her hand from his shirt, up to his collar, and the side of his face. Her fingertips touched his skin. It felt warm. His eyes fluttered and he seemed weary. His throat moved as he visibly swallowed and tried to calm his nerves. The grip on her waist tightened slightly as he sighed and leaned his face toward her touch. She closed her eyes at the intense feelings rising in her chest. Warmth. Ease. Joy. Something was filling her. Something good and so different from the usual distress, fear and loathing that dictated her life. She never let her heart speak to her, because she feared what it would say.

She opened her eyes and kept them fastened on his. He watched her as one might a wild tiger,
feeling apprehensive about what she might do next.

She rose on her tiptoes, sliding her hand up to his neck before pulling his face to hers. She could feel his hesitance right before their lips touched. It was so different. So far from anything Elliot ever did with her. His kiss was soft and his lips were damp and moist. They rested on hers with soft pressure. She could feel his neck muscles flexing under her fingertips, and holding his head back. He was trying not to kiss her too much or too hard, and her heart nearly dropped to her feet. God! He didn’t want to hurt her and seemed unsure if he should have been doing that. Instead of reacting, he barely touched her and gave her a feather-soft, smooch-like kiss.

The sweetness of his resistance, tender care, and overall decency started the tears, yet again, rolling down her cheeks. He instantly pulled his face from hers, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe them away. He stared into her eyes as she encircled his wrist with her hand. “I haven’t felt anything for years. Nothing good. Nothing bad. I was virtually numb. And grateful to be so. I might as well have been dead. I want to feel again, Noah. I want to feel something, something good, something that’s never felt good to me before.”

His eyes clouded over as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Taking a deep breath, she lifted his hand and turned towards the hallway. He resisted and tried to pull his hand from hers.

“What? No. No. That’s not… no. That’s not what I meant. You can’t… I mean, we can’t. It’s wrong; or at least… I don’t know what it is. But it’s not okay. It’s not the right thing to do. It’s too soon. Everything is too soon. So, no. No way.”

He ran his hands nervously through his hair and rested them on top of his head. His agitation was very real and he started to pace.

“Noah.”

He refused to look at her. So she repeated his name. Still, he refused to answer or stop pacing and was nearly tearing his hair out.

“Noah!”

He stopped finally and glanced at her with surprise. She never showed an ounce of conviction or emotion in all the time he’d known her.

“You get what happened to me. You have probably also guessed that sex was one of Elliot’s weapons. Consequently, sex wasn’t anything that I considered a good part of my life. So maybe, well, maybe I want to decide if it really is. Maybe I want to decide if it might be good when and how and
who
I do it with. Maybe, I just want to control something over which I’ve never had any control before. I can’t make everything all go away. I can’t change the fact that I’m hiding. I have no job. I have to go to counseling. I
know
what I’m up against. I helped Jessie get through it. I know I will either go back to Elliot or do something about it. But Noah, right now, right at this moment, I want to feel something. I want to control something. I want to decide something. Maybe I want to decide
this.
”

Noah didn’t know what to do. Lindsey was staring at him, waiting for an answer. What was he supposed to say? Sure, beaten up, abused, traumatized Lindsey, let’s have sex? Let’s go have a fun afternoon. Why not?
Jesus. Christ. Fuck
. He was not about to have sex with a woman who had been beaten and hospitalized only a few weeks before. She didn’t know what she was doing. She couldn’t begin to know what she wanted. She slept for practically all of last week. She didn’t know what she was saying. Or who she was. She could not mean that.

But her eyes were bright and imploring, and her voice sounded stronger right at that moment than he’d ever heard it before.

She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Noah, please. Let me be an adult. Let me decide what I want. I haven’t had the pleasure of deciding my fate for five long years.”

He stepped towards her. Did he dare? “It’s a bad idea. It’s too soon. Years too soon, maybe.”

“Or maybe it’s what
I
want to do.”

“Lindsey, you’re barely out of a comatose stupor. I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s
wrong.”

She dropped her hands and fisted them at her sides. “God damn it! Don’t I know what is wrong? And this, you and me, we are not wrong. I know about wrong, Noah. I’ve lived it for years. Too many years of wrong. Maybe I want to feel what it’s like when things are right, and feel good. Maybe I want to be touched like a desirable woman, a human being, who is worth touching. Maybe all the talking in the world won’t give me the one thing I need most right now. Maybe it isn’t for you to decide what is proper for me in this case, today, at this moment. Maybe I want to decide. And maybe you should freaking respect what I think I want.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand on his neck. The stress made it tighten up in painful spasms. “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

His eyes snapped open when her fingers touched his hand. “Yes, and the thing is, I know that. I know that about you. It makes you the only man alive that I want. I want to feel something with you.”

He didn’t know what to do. Was that okay? Didn’t she need counseling first? Therapy? Maybe medicine? He didn’t know. He wished Gretchen were there. This would never have come up if Gretchen were there. None of it. He only meant to feed her a sandwich. He never intended to even really talk about anything with her. But she started in with how it was her fault. What kind of evil creature would he be just to stand there and let her spew such shit and nonsense? He could not and would not. He never foresaw he would end up holding her. Or stupidly, mistakenly, and totally inappropriately, telling her he might be in love with her.

He was horrified at his own actions, but thought it would be much worse if they actually
pursued what Lindsey was suggesting.

“Noah, please. Believe me! I’m an adult, and fully capable of knowing what I want.”

“You just, you can’t know what you want. You’ve been through so much.”

“I have. I’ve been through a lot. I might be an emotional wreck. I probably am an emotional wreck, but I would know if I didn’t want to do this. I would know. Trust me on that. Please, just trust me.”

Yeah, sure; just trust her. Her eyes were wide with pleading. She was begging him for so much more than just sex. She was about so much more than whatever she portrayed on the surface. This was about needing love, affection, and trust. This was about thumbing her nose at everything Elliot ever did to her. But was it the right thing for him to do?

He took another step and she turned on her bare foot, leading him to the bedroom she
just emerged from. His stomach rolled and pitched. Maybe he was getting sick. Maybe this nausea he felt was the beginning of the flu. He’d been to a lot of public places during the last week, and could have picked up a bug.

She shut the door and he stood against it. The room was gloomy. The shades were shut so the sunlight barely shone through it. The bed looked tousled. Stopping beside it, she turned to him. He leaned more weight against the door.

“It’s not like we’re in the heat of a moment and this just happened. I know it’s happening. I started it.”

“I think we should finish it now.” He frowned, that didn’t sound right, and he shook his head. “No. I mean,
not
finish it. We should not finish it. We should not do this. We should go watch some TV or something. Maybe call your sister. Yes, let’s call Jessie.”

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he thought Jessie would know what to do and say. She would also kick his ass if she realized what he was
being asked to do with her sister. And now, of all times.

She sat on the end of the bed. “I don’t want to talk to my sister now.”

“Why? Why won’t you talk to her? She, more than anyone, would understand.”

“No. Her father did it to her. Her father, whom she was dependent on, and therefore, could not leave. I voluntarily stayed with my husband. I just don’t want to talk to her yet.”

He put his hand on the doorknob, thinking he really had to leave, and right now.

She turned her head away. “I’ve spent the last five years ashamed and in the dark. And because of this, I felt all alone. This week, with you, even though I didn’t talk to you, you can’t know what your presence here meant to me. At night, you were there for me. I don’t often sleep well, but I could hear you breathing. Did you know you shuffle around in your sleep? And I knew you would never cross that hotel room and try to touch me. And if anyone else even tried, I knew you’d stop it with your last breath. I just don’t want to feel alone or ashamed anymore.”

She stood up slowly, dropping her hands to the hem of her shirt before tugging on it and pulling it over her head. Her hair momentarily clung to the material and fell back down as she let the shirt go. She was skinny. Her ribs poked out of her skin and her stomach seemed sunken in. Her breasts were small in her pretty, white bra. Lace trim edged the cups. He stared at her, thinking he should turn away. Be the better man. Be a much, much better man. But she was a beautiful, breathtaking woman. And always was so to him. And now she was topless before him. When he finally raised his gaze to hers, she was watching him closely.

He released the doorknob and stepped nearer after another moment. With one hand, he grabbed hers, interlocking their fingers. She looked down, startled, at their joined hands. He was desperate to know what the hell he should do now. And how? How was he supposed to make love to a woman as damaged and broken as Lindsey? A woman who got hurt so many times, she thought it was normal?

“I won’t break, you know.” 

“But I might,” he whispered back as he rested his forehead on hers. She breathed in and out until finally, she softly said, “I’m a normal woman. I’m not broken and I’m not ruined.”

“Of course, you’re not ruined.”

“Then treat me like you believe that.”

He raised his head enough to catch her eye and she nodded slowly. Holding her chin, he lifted her lips until they touched his. Her lips were full and soft. Once, long before he understood what was wrong with Lindsey, he often fought the urge to kiss her. He also wondered what her hair would feel like against his hands, and now, he was about to find out.

He tilted his head more toward hers and she responded in kind. He touched the edge of her lips with his tongue and waited a moment before doing it again, gently licking and kissing her teasingly until her tongue touched the tip of his. Then it was like he made contact with a live wire. The shock, like a spark, culminated into a physical reaction deep in his gut that tugged at his dick and his heart in intense, but confusing unison.

How could she turn him on so much?

How could she break his heart in the same moment?

He let her take the lead and kiss him however she preferred. She was hesitant at first and opened her mouth very slowly and sweetly, almost touching her tongue to his and tasting his lips. It was minutes before her tongue was fully in his mouth and he groaned as his ecstatic feelings overwhelmed him.
Holy shit!
He was so turned on. Which was wrong. So wrong. But he was, all the same.

He slid his hand from the back of her head to her collarbone and his fingers outlined the bones that stuck through her skin, while tenderly rubbing and caressing her. She was almost like a kitten arching up toward him. He slid his lips to the corner of her mouth, then to her chin, and down her neck. She arched her back for him and he felt the sigh vibrating in her throat almost like a purr. Her neck was still discolored and bruised and he touched it with hesitant reverence as the sight of it made him pause.

Gently sliding his fingers to her shoulders, he slipped them under her bra straps. He ran his fingers over her skin, playing, waiting, almost hoping she’d stop him. Slap him. Tell him no.  But she didn’t.

Slipping the straps down her arms, his touch caused her skin to break out in goose bumps. That convinced him he should continue. She literally had not been touched with kindness in years. He was terrified
to be doing it now and feared he’d do something wrong. Perhaps, by rushing it. He could ruin it, and scar her even more then she already was. But, she seemed to want him so much.

He took in a deep breath and finally slid his hands down her thin back until he found the clasp on her bra and undid it. He loosened the front, and slipped it off her breasts before glancing down at the erotic sight. It slowed his breathing. “If you want me to stop doing anything, just say.”

She nodded her reply. Her gaze lowered. This could not be an easy moment for her. It certainly was difficult enough for him.

He let the bra go and it fell on the floor between them. She inhaled a breath. So did he.

She had flawless, nearly translucent skin. She could have been the subject of a painting of the Madonna from the fifteenth century. There was something stunning, but tragic about her beauty. Her skin was soft and silky to his touch. Her body was long and thin. He gradually moved his hand over her stomach, her back, the indentation of her hips, and up her sides, and his fingertips felt imperfections and some roughened skin. Like scars. She had scars on her back, and some on her stomach. How? What did Elliot do to leave those? What kind of pain did she experience? Was her skin burned? Did she still ache? Or get spasms? What? What did it feel like to get purposely scarred? Even if she fought in a war, her body’s scars couldn’t have reflected a more violent story. Lindsey Bains had obviously suffered untold torture, and Noah desperately wanted to know what such torture could’ve possibly accomplished.

He slid his hand finally to her breast and she gasped at the contact. His thumb and forefinger grasped her nipple, touching, and pulling, until he finally caught the pebbled nub between his fingers. She inhaled sharply, and exhaled with a clear protest. Noah let go.

“Elliot did that. Too much. And way too hard.”

Okay. He would definitely not do
that
again. But should he continue? She touched his hand, and pushed it back to her bare breast. He hesitated before finally cupping it softly in his hand. Gently. Whatever he did, it was always gentle. And slow. He had to make sure not to do anything too hard or too much, and he treated her like a fragile, priceless doll.

He touched both of her breasts, and held them before rubbing them as he kissed her. She kissed him back and arched her body into his with a groan of pleasure. At least, he hoped it was pleasure.

He parted from her long enough to turn and sit on the bed, pulling her hand so she was with him. Then he leaned back so they were stretched out, side-by-side, on the bed. Her hands touched his stomach and he jumped in surprise at feeling her fingers on his bare skin. His stomach rippled in delighted response. She ran her fingertips over his stomach, and up his chest. He reacted by leaning into her and kissing her more. She opened her mouth sooner this time and let his tongue explore it.

The fire started erupting, churning his gut and tugging him insistently lower. He drew back and shrugged out of his shirt. Resting on his knees, she suddenly sat up and put her arms around his neck as her breasts flattened against his bare chest. Suddenly, all of his previous thoughts left him. She wasn’t so tragic, scarred, or a “mistake.” Suddenly, she was a hot, topless woman, kissing him as her hands tangled through his hair and her tongue tangoed with his. He ran his hands over her breasts, this time with more pressure, making her sigh when he pressed them. She ran her hands down his back, and dipped her fingers beneath his waistband, where she touched the top of his bare ass. His entire body nearly ejaculated in her hands.
Jesus
. She should not do such things. This needed to go much slower, smoother, and calmer.

He pushed her back and tried to gulp in a lungful of air.
Scarred.
She was scarred. This was not normal and their sex could not be normal. It should not feel so good to him. What was wrong with him? Why was he getting so turned on by this? By her? He must be a monster. A sex-starved, raging jerk.

She didn’t seem to get the message though. Her hands came to his belt buckle. Her fingers were shaking and she couldn’t unbuckle it. Maybe that was sign. She probably shouldn’t do it. But, he sighed and did it for her, resigning himself to the fact he was going to hell. There was no doubt in his mind of that.