Beneath Your Beautiful, page 26
“I can’t,” she whispers. “The consequences would be too great. Death would be a welcome mercy he would never grant.”
Jesus Christ, what did that bastard do?
I reach for her and drag her closer until she wraps her legs around me, the demons haunting her eyes back in full force. My arms band around her waist as I try to ground her in the present, but there is a question I want answered.
“In the bottom of your duffle bag,” I start. Her entire body stiffens. “There’s a corset.”
She quirks a brow at me. Okay, she’s determined to make this harder. That’s fair—if I’m not strong enough to ask the question, I don’t deserve an answer.
“Is it something you chose to wear?”
“No.”
That’s what I thought. “Your husband made you wear it?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes are hyper-focused on my face as she looks for signs of a reaction she isn’t happy with.
“For what reason?”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she releases a slow breath. “He wanted to reshape my body so that he could wrap his hands around my waist until they touched. It also had the added benefit of reducing the amount of food I could tolerate.”
A tremor runs down my spine, and I force myself to relax my grip around her. This is so much worse than anything I imagined. I’d thought her food intake was because of a perceived flaw he worked into her psyche. Instead, he effectively gave her a non-surgical gastric band.
She keeps her eyes closed but continues to explain. “It took a few months of him tightening it to get my body to submit to his desired shape. He got it into its final position a few days before I ran. He said I’d need to wear it continuously for weeks to get my body to hold its shape.” I’m unable to suppress a rumble in my chest, making Cleo’s eyes fly open. “When I ran, I discovered he had padlocked the straps into place. I had to be cut out of it.”
I am going to murder him, and it’s not an empty threat. I know a hundred ways to kill a man slowly, and I have the perfect combination in mind for this poor excuse of a human being. My new focus isn’t on learning who Cleo is, because a name is just a set of letters pushed together. Her soul, her light—despite the darkness she’s endured—is everything I need to know and understand about her. But him? I need a name, because his days are numbered.
“Why keep it?” I wonder.
“It’s a reminder of why I keep running. It’s what awaits me if I ever give up—if he ever catches me. When the exhaustion sinks into your bones so deep that you’d give anything to stop being hunted, even give in to the monster nipping at your heels, you need a reminder. It’s a representation of my fate. The control, the devastation, the inadequacy, knowing nothing I do or say will ever be enough. It’s proof that for some people, loving them harder won’t save you—it just gives them deeper access to your soul.”
My heart breaks a little that she, like many domestic violence survivors, believed that loving someone harder would stop the pain. “What if you could stop running?” I ask.
She swallows and dips her head. “I can’t. It’s too dangerous, Fox. The potential pain I would bring to anyone helping to shield me—I can’t do that.”
My fingers wrap around her throat, and I gently tip her chin up so she can stop avoiding my gaze. “Perhaps I am strong enough to battle your demons.”
She squeezes her eyes closed. “I wish I could believe that, Fox, but I’m not worth the risk.”
“Isn’t that my decision?”
“No, it’s mine. The pain was so deep, I couldn’t breathe, Fox. When I ran, I was a shell of myself. All I had left were my broken pieces. The good parts of me were already overwritten by his control.”
“Can you breathe now?”
Her gaze drops to my lips, and a tremor runs through her body. “Yes,” she whispers, like something is going to steal her oxygen if it overhears her declaration. “But I can’t fall again.”
“I will catch you.”
“I don’t want to lose myself.”
“You won’t.”
I can see her teetering on the edge of wanting what I’m offering. To fall is a surrender of control.
“I’m scared, Fox.”
“I know, and I’m telling you I am here to protect you.”
“Not of him. Of us. I’ve known you less than a week, and I’m already in deeper than I was with the man I married. That makes me sound a little crazy.”
“Only if it’s not reciprocated.”
Her eyes flare with hope, and something curls tight around my heart as I will her to take that leap with me. “Is it?” she whispers.
“Yes, firecracker, it most definitely is.”
She blinks and a tear escapes down her left cheek. My hands clasp around her tighter as I tread water to keep us both afloat. It’s an apt metaphor, because I will take the burden of her demons and be enough to hold us both up. I have three weeks to prove to her that she belongs in my arms, and that isn’t achieved by pussyfooting around what makes her quake. It’s by making her grasp her nightmares and strangle them until they submit.
First on the agenda—make sure she can shoot straight. Then the only thing she needs to be scared of is me owning her pleasure, because I’m about to turn her inside out and destroy any notion that she is fucking broken.
CHAPTER 36
HONOR
Take aim, take the shot, no hesitation, no regrets.
My mind reels. How did I get here? Entangled with a man who makes my heart race and my skin tingle from just a look? I slide the dress back on and glance at him over my shoulder as he tugs on his jeans. He’s a lot of man to handle, but I know why he’s managed to break through every barrier I’ve erected. Most people wear a mask—they alter their persona based on their company and what they need from the situation. It’s a form of manipulation I can’t tolerate, and one of the reasons Samuel never had a chance with me. He was trying to be who he thought I wanted. Perhaps if he’d just been himself…nope, still a no.
Fox, however, while a little on the grumpy and dominating side, doesn’t hide who he is. That appeals to me and is maybe why I’m drawn to him. But the future he dangles in front of me is seductive, one where I’m not looking over my shoulder every moment. He makes me feel safe, which is something I haven’t felt in a very long time.
He bends and rummages around in his backpack before retrieving a gun. My blood runs cold, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
He shakes his head at my reaction. “You need to learn how to shoot straight, firecracker, so if you ever need to protect yourself, you won’t miss.” He hands me a box of ammunition and jerks his head at the trees.
“But that’s not my gun,” I point out.
“No, your gun is difficult to aim for a beginner. I swapped it out for something more user friendly.”
“How thoughtful,” I mutter as I follow him a little way into the woods.
He pauses and turns to face me. “Let’s go through some basics.” He talks me through the safety catch, and how to load and unload a gun. “Never ever point a gun unless you’re prepared to use it.”
“I think I’ve demonstrated I have no issue using it.” I give a pointed look at the mark on his shoulder, making him snort.
“If there’s time and distance to run, do so. That should always be your first choice. Only stand your ground if you absolutely have to.”
My heart flip-flops in my chest. If Gideon catches up with me, I won’t be running. I will take the opportunity to shoot him. I still regret not twisting that knife back at the motel.
He hands me the gun, and I keep it pointed at the ground like a good girl. He grasps my shoulders from behind and turns me to face a tree ten feet away. “See the knot in the trunk?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s approximately where most adult torsos would be. The aim here is not to get fancy. The chest is the biggest area to aim for and will stop them from coming at you.”
“Got it.”
“Okay. Take aim, but don’t shoot. I’ll correct your form.”
I raise the gun in my right hand and squint at the tree. Fox’s fingers trail down my left side, and he grasps my hand and guides it up to the gun. “Always use two hands. It will help you aim better and you’ll get less kickback from the shot.” He curls my fingers around the grip and nudges my feet apart slightly. “To help your balance.” Lastly, he alters the position of my shoulders. “Deep breath in, and on the exhale, take the shot.”
My eyes flutter closed as I inhale for two heartbeats, then snap open before I squeeze the trigger. The shot skims the bark, sending shards flying into the air. My body presses back against Fox’s. “Shit,” I mutter.
Fox drops to his knees behind me and grabs my left foot. He inches it forward, then places his hand on the base of my spine. “Again.”
I take a deep breath, take aim, and squeeze the trigger as I let it out. The bullet lodges in the tree. “I did it,” I whisper in awe.
“You did, and I’m so proud. Now do it again.” I lick my lips and manage another four bullets in the trunk. “Reload,” he says, holding the box of ammunition up to me from his position on the ground. I reload the bullets with shaky fingers. “Good. Six shots in the tree, and I will count this lesson as a win.”
“Do I get a prize?” I wonder as I take aim.
“Perhaps.” I empty the gun into the tree and resist doing a happy dance. “Reload, then let’s take it a few paces back.”
I follow his direction until we are positioned fifteen feet away. He drops to his knees behind me again and keeps a steady hand on the base of my spine as I take aim. I miss the first two shots, but the third finds its mark.
“Of course, in an emergency situation, you will have distractions to contend with,” he mutters as his fingers circle my ankle and draw lazy patterns up my calf. My breathing stutters, and I miss the next shot.
“Fox,” I utter as sparks of desire dance down my spine.
“Shoot the tree, Cleo.”
“Then stop touching me.”
He nips my calf and trails his tongue up my leg, wrapping around to the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. I miss the next shot, but the one after hits the tree.
“Good girl. Now put the safety on.”
I do as he says, then scowl at him over my shoulder as he rises. He plucks the gun out of my hand with a wink. “That’s it?” I snap. “You are going to work me up and leave me wanting?”
He shakes his head as his lips twitch. “That is barely scratching the surface of ‘working you up.’”
I huff and stride back toward the shoreline. He follows me with a chuckle, repacks the gun, pulls out a blanket, and lays it across a grassy area in the shade. I drop my ass down on it as he opens the cooler and unpacks an array of refreshments and some sparkling elderflower drink that Helen always has in stock for me.
He hands me a paper plate and nods at the spread. “Help yourself.”
I take a little of each of the snacks he’s packed, marveling at the fact some of these are homemade by him. There are a few spicy things that are one hundred percent for me, given his aversion to things that make his mouth sizzle. It’s a level of thoughtfulness that hooks another chain into my heart and increases his level of dangerousness.
We eat in comfortable silence, both of us staring over the lake, lost in our thoughts. He cleans the empty containers up and puts them in the cooler as they become empty.
“I really like it here,” I murmur.
“The lake? It is stunning.”
“Not just the lake, but here as in Red Lake. Helen, Duke, the town, the people.” You.
“You lived in a city before?”
“I did.”
“You don’t miss the bustle of people?”
I tilt my head. “No. I thought I would, but it’s something I had to experience in order to compare it. Now that I have, I prefer this.”
“I miss the diversity,” he mutters. “But not the coldness.”
“I understand. Living somewhere like Red Lake means you are only an hour from that kind of life. You can take weekend trips to the city and get your fill before coming back to the sanctuary.”
“That is the dream.”
“You don’t miss the military?”
“Again, I miss the diversity—the variety of work, the opportunities to hone my skills. But the bad outweighs the good for me, and that’s why I left.”
“Bodyguarding gave you that diversity?”
“No. It’s not what I thought it was going to be.”
“Things rarely are.”
“What about you, Miss Engineer? What’s your speciality?”
“Nuclear, but I was doing my masters in renewable energy—before him.”
“That’s a very noble career choice.”
“I had plans to help change the world. This country is one of the biggest powerhouses in the world, and we should be leading on climate change.”
“Would you like to go back?”
Would I? It’s not even something I have considered, because you can’t study with a false name. I shrug, not allowing myself to have hope for a future that is about as likely as winning the lottery. “Perhaps.”
His gaze softens as he takes in my face. He sees so much without me saying a word. He leans over and threads his fingers into my hair. “One day soon, you are going to be free to follow your dreams, Cleo. I promise you this.”
My eyes flutter closed. He kisses the lids, and a tear escapes down my cheek. “Hope is a dangerous thing,” I whisper.
He leans his forehead against mine. “I know you don’t believe me, but you need to give me time to prove it to you.”
“I’m already on borrowed time here, Fox.”
His gaze hardens as he studies the resolve on my face. He leans his body against the tree, then picks me up by my hips and drops me between his legs, with my back against his chest.
I tilt my head to stare at him. He retrieves something from the backpack and places it in my lap.
“Read,” he demands.
I glance at the book he’s brought. Fucking hell. It’s my current read—the one he’s already finished.
“Why? You know what happens.”
“I’m not interested in what’s happening in the book. I’m interested in your response.”
I sigh and drag my knees up to balance the book as I turn to where my bookmark is. My eyes trace the words, and I know this is going to be a spicy chapter. I lick my lips as I turn the page.
Fox’s hand reaches out and he turns the page back.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Read it out loud.”
“This was embarrassing in high school, and it’s even worse now,” I mutter.
His chest shakes behind me, but he doesn’t remove his hand from the book. I sigh and begin reading. Fox unhurriedly unbuttons my dress, his deft fingers sliding from one button to the next. I’d left the bra off after leaving the lake, so my nipples pebble as soon as the air hits them. I squeeze my thighs together as I continue reading, determined to not show him how he affects me.
Oh… oh shit. This is the chapter.
“Keep going,” he rumbles as he tugs on the ties at the side of my bikini bottoms. I keep my legs glued together as I read. He kisses below my ear before skimming down my throat. My breathing stutters, and he stops touching me.
“Keep reading, firecracker,” he demands. There’s a deep tone in his voice, one that’s dominant, dark, seductive, and a little dangerous. It melts my insides and lights a fire within my soul I’d long thought dead. Fox makes me feel beautiful, desirable, free, and a little wild.
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as I turn the page and continue describing how the hero dominates and controls the heroine all in the name of giving her what she needs. He lights up her world and lifts the veil on what makes her hot.
“Open your legs, Cleo,” he whispers in my ear as he trails his hands up my thighs.
Like the woman in this book, I need to trust him to keep me safe as he leads me down a dark path. My legs part, and he lifts them to hook over his knees. My ass slides down, tilting my bare sex to the sky. His hard cock is like a brand on the base of my spine. I have so many questions about those piercings, but to ask them means I’m considering letting him into my body. I’m not there—yet.
Fox traces seemingly mindless patterns over the delicate flesh of my inner thighs, making me squirm. I will him to go higher as I throb with need. The guy in the book grabs the woman’s throat in a dominant move, and Fox’s hand circles my neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just lets me know he’s there. I freeze. Do I like this? My core clenches in reply. Fuck.
“Remember—anytime you say stop, I will.” His fingers twitch around my throat. “Words, firecracker.”
“I understand.”
“Good girl. Now keep reading.”
His fingers squeeze, making my pulse spike and heat pool between my legs. “Fox,” I rasp as I arch my spine and silently beg him to touch me where I need him most. “Please.”
“Patience. I haven’t had the opportunity to savor you yet. Last night was driven by need and this morning by fear of being caught.” I grind my ass against his hard cock, making him chuckle. “You want to play dirty?”
I tilt my head back and stare at his whiskey-warm gaze. “Always.”
His fingers grip my chin, and he looks into my eyes as he finally touches my clit. I suck in a breath, and he drops a kiss on my lips as he swipes through my arousal.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he growls as he grazes my clit with a calloused finger. A low sound of pure need escapes my lips. He pauses at my opening. I tense, trying to close my legs, but he has them pinned open. “Trust me,” he mutters.
A little of my passion cools as I shake my head. “I can’t.” Those feelings of inadequacy—that I am broken and unlovable—rear their ugly head.
He jerks his head back. “You don’t trust me?”
“I do, but I think I’m broken, Fox.”
He shakes his head, and his gaze softens. “You are not broken, Cleo. If something hurts more than it feels good, let me know, and I’ll stop. Okay?” Nothing ventured, nothing gained—so the saying goes. I nod. He sighs like he was holding his breath, and it’s at that moment I realize how important my trust is to him, how vital my consent is.
