Trust in Me (12 page)

Another tear leaked onto her cheek, then another.

He sent her a forced grin. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."

"This is all my fault. You have to let me help you. Please, Kevin!"

He limped over to her and caught a tear with the pad of his finger. "Please don't cry, princess. I'll be all right."

The gentleness of his touch stood in such stark contrast to the violence he'd endured that her heart split wide, aching for him all the more. Studying his battered face with a knot in her throat, she licked the tears from her lips. "At least let me do something for your wounds." 

She reached for him, wiped blood from the corner of his swollen lip with a tender caress. He sighed, as if in surrender.

"Come on. I'm taking you home with me. No arguments." She slid her shoulder under his arm and helped him limp toward her Beetle. "You need ice and disinfectant and—"

When he stopped walking, she lifted a querying gaze.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He was thanking her? The idea was so insane, she almost laughed. How could he endure such a brutal beating for the sake of aiding her and still have the modesty and manners to thank
her
for the paltry medical help she could give him?

A girl could fall in love with a man so generous, so thoughtful. That same idea would have left her scrambling for denials and second-guessing herself a few days before. A few hours before. Now the suggestion of falling for Kevin didn't seem so preposterous. In fact, tonight, loving Kevin seemed a very real possibility, an intriguing prospect, an idea worth exploring.

"No," she said, shaking her head and giving him a sad smile. "Thank
you
."

***

"We’ll need to be quiet. Mrs. Proctor's asleep."  Claire held the door for Kevin while he limped into the old woman's house.

Even tiny movements sent searing pain streaking through him, but he hid the extent of his pain from Claire as best he could.

"Gotcha. No screaming in pain when you pour on the antiseptic."

She turned to him with a bemused sigh. "Is everything a joke to you?"

He shrugged. "Joking's better than bitching and moaning."

Claire quirked a tiny grin. "Guess so."

She helped him hobble down a dark hall to the bathroom. Lowering the toilet seat lid, she patted the top. "Sit here. I’m going to get an ice pack for your eye. I’ll be right back."

He did as directed, and during her absence, he surveyed the blue and peach bathroom. The wallpaper with its geometric print and the cracking tile around the bathtub indicated the last renovation to that room had been sometime in the early 1980's. In recent years, Kevin had heard people denigrate the colors and styles of that decade, but anything that harkened to the eighties reminded him of happy times with his family.

He heard Claire rummaging in the freezer down the hall, and he sighed. Her concern and kindness were awkward for him, knocked him off balance. He'd known the consequences of provoking Ray, and he'd been prepared to sacrifice a little blood for Claire's sake. But he hadn't considered how his actions would make her feel. Knowing she blamed herself left a hollow, aching pit in his stomach. Or maybe that was just one of Ray’s boot prints.

Kevin tried moving his mouth slowly to work out the stiffness. No good. A slicing pain shot through his jaw and reverberated in his head.

"Here." Claire appeared at the door and handed him two bags of frozen vegetables. "Put these on the swelling."

He looked down at the bags and chortled. "Funny, Claire."

She wrinkled her brow, and her expression scolded him for not following her directions. "I’m serious. Frozen vegetables make a great ice pack."

Kevin turned the plastic bag so that she could read it. "I’m talking about this. Black-eyed peas?"

An embarrassed grin slid across her face. "Oh. I swear that wasn’t intentional." 

"Su-ure." He eased one bag up to his temple where the worst of his pain centered.

She opened the medicine cabinet and collected a pile of supplies that would make an emergency room proud.

"How about a half dozen of those first?" Kevin asked, pointing to a bottle of acetaminophen.

"Sure. Except the proper dosage is two tablets." She poured a few in her hand and held them out to him.

"But this isn’t
proper
pain. We’ll compromise."  He took three.

She dumped the rest back into the bottle and got him some water in a tiny paper cup.

Kevin leaned back against the toilet tank and closed his eyes, wishing the construction crew would stop jack-hammering in his skull. He lifted the second bag of peas to his jaw and listened to Claire open bottles and boxes, laying out supplies. For the most part, though, the throbbing in his head and chest kept him preoccupied. He concentrated on finding a zone where he could meditate and keep the pain from sucking him under.

Claire knelt in the V of his legs, her hand resting lightly on his knee. Even that simple touch jolted through him, stealing his breath.

But not because of pain.

Keep your head, Fuller. This changes nothing. She's still, and will always be, out of your league.

"This might sting a little," she said with an apology softening her tone.

She was more right than she knew. Accepting the differences that stood between them stung more every day. Her gorgeous face had captivated him from the outset, but her inner beauty, her steely determination and soft heart, chipped at his resistance, weakening his resolve to stay away from her. He had to stay strong, though, for her sake as well as his own. Tonight proved he couldn't give her what she needed. He couldn't even defend her when she needed protection—at least not without betraying his beliefs.

He opened one eye in time to see her reach for his forehead. She dabbed a cool liquid on the cut on his forehead, and the cold progressed to burning in a matter of seconds.

"Yowsa," he muttered, wincing. She leaned forward and blew gently on his stinging cut.

Kevin’s gaze shifted to her pursed lips, drawn there like a compass to magnetic north. The balmy caress of her breath on his face started a fire burning in other parts of his anatomy.

"How’s that?"  Her eyes met his.

For a moment, Kevin couldn’t find his voice. "Uh, fine."

She nodded, then covered the cut with a bandage and gently taped it in place. The rose scent of her skin surrounded him as she worked, made him dizzy. When she leaned close, the silky brush of her hair on his cheek drove him crazy, made him forget the pounding pain in his skull. By the time she finished treating his other cuts and scrapes, Kevin hung suspended in a surreal world somewhere between pain and pleasure. Conscious only of the thudding of his heart against the wall of his chest, he watched, mesmerized, as Claire's gaze raked over his body searching out wounds to treat.

He mentally shook himself. He had to fight his attraction to her. Allowing himself to fall any deeper under her spell would only cause himself more of the grief and heartache he'd worked years to overcome. Memories of Robin's rejection jabbed and taunted him, heightening his physical pain. Deep down he knew that loving Claire would only lead to more anguish.

"Take off your shirt."

"Hmm?"

"Your shirt. I’m not sure what I'm looking for, but it can’t hurt to check. Maybe some swelling or an unusual bruise. Ray was kicking you pretty hard." She paused, drawing a deep breath and blinking hard as if fighting back tears. "You could have internal injuries that—"

Emotion thickened her voice, and his lungs tightened.

"I’m not going to a doctor, Claire."  He started at the top button while she worked on the lower buttons.

She huffed her frustration. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? Kevin, what if—"

"I don’t have any health insurance, okay?" he blurted, and his stomach pitched. The truth he'd hoped to hide from her squeezed his chest. "I can’t afford a doctor."

That admission hurt more than anything Ray's boots had done to him tonight. Avoiding her eyes, not wanting to face the pity or questions he knew he'd find there, Kevin eased his shirt off his shoulders. Even moving slowly like he was, every muscle in his chest protested.

"Ray’s the one who should be paying for your doctor," Claire grumbled.

A scoffing laugh tumbled from his throat. "Now who's being funny?"

"I'm serious. He assaulted you, Kevin. You could sue."

"No." His tone was flat, firm. Final.

Claire grunted her disagreement, but said no more about it. Slowly she smoothed her hands down his chest, her brow knit in concern and concentration.

Kevin closed his eyes with a tired sigh. He hated admitting the truth to her, but under the circumstances, he figured she deserved at least that much. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself not to flinch when her hand grazed a particularly tender spot on his ribs.

"Dear God, Kevin. Look at you. You must really hurt." He opened his eyes again and watched her face as she scrutinized his injuries.

Yeah, hurts like hell
. "Naw, I’ll be okay."

She shot him a look that said she didn’t buy it, and he mustered a grin to reassure her.

As she continued examining the bruises on his chest, Kevin took the opportunity to study her face. Her tears had left tracks in her makeup, and worry for him created tiny lines around her eyes. She'd chewed all the Kissable Pink from her lips, leaving them slightly chapped, and some of his blood had smeared on her chin. His battle-worn princess. She’d never been more beautiful to him.

As he stared at her, he noticed a subtle change in the nature of her touch. Her fingers glided over his skin with curiosity, exploring more than examining. When the pads of her thumbs brushed his nipples, Kevin caught his breath. Electric sensation jolted his chest.

Claire’s hands stilled over the thundering beat of his heart, and her eyes snapped up to meet his. Her flushed cheeks and dazed expression said clearly that she’d just realized what she was doing. Her lips parted as if she were going to speak, but she didn’t. Instead she stared, her amber eyes reaching deep inside him, scrambling his thoughts and scattering every reason he'd come up with to stay far away from her.

When her gaze dropped to his mouth, he tensed. For a moment, only the hum of the fluorescent light over the sink filled the silence, as if the whole world held its breath.

Kevin was vaguely aware that she'd moved closer, that her lips lifted to meet his. But he also knew that if he acknowledged that she was about to kiss him, his heart might stop. Dying now would not be good.

He’d never know the sweet press of her mouth, the gentle suction of her lips joining his in a union straight out of his dreams.

Besides, how would she explain the dead body in the bathroom to Mrs. Proctor?

Claire’s eyes closed, and with the whisper-softness of a summer breeze, she brushed her lips along his. Then pulling away a fraction of an inch, she trembled, a shudder that he tracked as it rolled through her body.

When her eyes opened, she was nose to nose with him, and their gazes locked. Her heavy lidded gaze seemed to read his eyes for some reaction, some clue to what he was thinking and what he wanted to happen next.

How do you make your eyes say ‘kiss me again,’?

Not taking any chances that he might relay the wrong message, Kevin closed the distance between their mouths. She sighed her pleasure as she angled her head to fit her lips more possessively over his, and it was his turn to tremble. Her kiss rocked him to the core, spun his world off its axis. The taste of her left him dizzy, as if he'd been caught up in a whirlwind. The buzzing of the light fixture seemed to grow louder. Or was that just the rush of blood through his veins?

He captured her face between his hands, pulled her lower lip between his teeth, then caressed it with the tip of his tongue. She moaned softly and arched into him. Her lips parted for him, and the fervor of her returned kiss shattered every notion he'd had that the princess would be demure and restrained. He drew on her mouth greedily, hungry for every morsel of her sweetness she'd share. The increased pressure on his swollen lip sent sharp pain streaking through his jaw. He flinched and grunted instinctively, and Claire jerked away with a gasp. "I’m sorry. I hurt you."

Kevin shook his head, sucking in oxygen. His senses reeled. "No."

She grinned. "Liar."

Kevin ducked his head, and a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "Okay it hurt a little, but..."  He looked up and found her hypnotic gaze. "It was worth the pain."

Her smile brightened, and she looped her arms gently around his neck. With a hand at the small of her back, he nudged her closer and kissed her again, certain nothing could be sweeter than the taste of Claire’s lips. He savored their flavor for a long moment, sweeping them gently with his tongue. She greeted him with her own tongue, inviting him to take more. The hum of his body joined the light fixture's, clamoring for more of her mind-numbing sweetness.

"Claire?"

Stiffening in response to Mrs. Proctor's voice, Claire wrenched out of his arms. Before she could answer, the bathroom door opened, and the old woman gasped at the sight of Kevin.

"Mrs. Proctor, what are you doing up?" Claire said, standing as fast as she could push up from her knees.

"I’m 72 years old. I’m up at least three or four times a night. The question is what happened to him!"

"He–"

"–Had a little accident on my motorcycle," Kevin interrupted, "And Claire was good enough to help me with some first aid."

Claire cut a curious glance toward him but, to his relief, didn't refute his claim.

"A little accident? Gracious, I’d hate to see what you consider a serious accident." Mrs. Proctor flattened a hand on her chest. "Can I do anything?"

"No, ma’am."  Kevin stood and struggled not to wobble. "In fact, I was just leaving." 

Claire frowned. "Leaving? But—"

"Would you be kind enough to drive me back to the store to get my bike?" he interrupted.

Mrs. Proctor backed out of his way as he limped out of the bathroom. He headed toward the front door before Claire could voice any more protest.