Читать книгу Bedded for His Pleasure - Heidi Rice - Страница 19

‘FLIP over. I’ve been fantasising about putting sunscreen on that back since we got here.’

Jessie smiled at the low rumble of Monroe’s voice. Lying on the small stretch of private beach next to Linc and Ali’s property, she could feel the familiar warmth that had nothing to do with the early-morning sunshine.

She sat up, dipped her sunglasses off her nose and shot Monroe a flirty look. ‘You’re too late. I plastered myself in cream before we came out.’

‘And this would be relevant how, exactly?’

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eye, she giggled. The sound was light and girlish, just how she felt. ‘Okay, you’ve persuaded me.’

Pulling the cream out of her bag, she threw it to him and turned over on the towel they’d arranged on the sand.

She could hear the rhythmic churn of the Atlantic behind them, but there was no other noise. Apart from the occasional jogger, the beach—reserved for use by the four houses on the promontory—was as good as deserted on a Sunday morning.

It was their last day alone together before Ali, Linc and Emmy returned from NewYork. As much as she wanted to see her family again, Jessie couldn’t help feeling sad that the intimacy would soon be broken. The two weeks since she and Monroe had first made love had drifted past in a romantic haze.

They’d settled into a routine that had meant sunny, sexy afternoons and hot, insatiable nights. After their picnic at Montauk Point they had got in the habit of going for motorcycle rides most days once she finished work at noon. Discovering parts of Long Island she had never seen before. They had romantic dinners by the pool most evenings. Sharing companionship and passion over seared tuna and white wine when she cooked and steak and beer when it was his turn. He touched her in ways she’d never been touched before, drove her to ecstasy and beyond. And every night she fell asleep, exhausted, content, her love swelling stronger in her chest with each passing day.

She adored watching him paint most of all, both proud and in awe of his talent. Had woken up only last Sunday to find him sketching her naked while she slept. She’d been horrified at first, but once he’d plied her with kisses, caresses and a shattering orgasm, she’d sat for him most of the afternoon and evening.

She’d asked him about his art. Why didn’t he let Mrs Bennett take a look at the paintings? Didn’t he know how good they were? Didn’t he want to pursue his art as a career?

But he hadn’t really answered any of her questions.

If she was being honest with herself, she had begun to feel a little uneasy about his unwillingness to talk about that or anything else more personal.

Ever since that first picnic he had been careful to keep everything light, relaxed. He hadn’t asked her any more questions about her dreams, about her plans, her past or her future, and whenever she tried to ask him any about his own he brushed them off. Jessie had let him, scared to break the feeling of contentment, of unity, that cocooned them.

Propping her head on her hands, Jessie watched a lone woman stroll past in the distance, an energetic young puppy jumping at her heels.

Jessie closed her eyes, willed the doubts away. What was wrong with her? She was being silly. She and Monroe were in the first flush of their relationship and she should just lie back and enjoy it. All those big, serious questions could wait for another time.

The warm sun lotion sprayed onto her back and she stretched like a contented cat.

‘Heck, this stuff’s like house paint,’ Monroe remarked from behind her.

‘Factor fifty-five, otherwise I become one big freckle.’

His lips buzzed her shoulder blades. ‘I like the freckles.’ His hands began to massage the heavy cream in. She could feel the large, callused palms on her skin. She pictured his beautiful hands as she’d seen them late last night, stroking her into a frenzy. His hands, she decided, were the first thing that she’d fallen in love with.

Maybe she should tell him tonight how she felt? It was probably a record for her to have kept it a secret for this long. She’d already promised herself she wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t tell her he loved her back, straight away. Didn’t men always take longer to figure it out?

‘You like that?’ he said. She could hear the seductive smile in his words.

‘I certainly do,’ she murmured. ‘Even though it’s completely unnecessary.’

‘Well, now,’ he said, running his fingers under the strap of her bikini top. ‘That’s what you think.’ Deftly, he unhooked the clasp.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Turning sharply, Jessie grabbed her top and held it to her breasts.

His knowing grin turned devilish as his eyes flicked down to her bosom. ‘I thought, seeing as you’re European, you might find that unnecessary.’

‘I’m not that European,’ she replied tartly as she rehooked the bikini top. ‘And neither are the families that live around here.’

He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on her bikini top. ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ She grinned back at him. ‘Here.’ She whipped the bottle of sun lotion off the sand, did a quick twirling movement with her finger. ‘I think it’s my turn.’

His lips quirked, before he turned over and stretched out on the towel. ‘You know what? That was the other thing I was fantasising about,’ he said wryly. ‘Except in my dreams you were a lot more European.’

She laughed, pouring a generous dose of the heavy cream into her palms. She studied the lean, hard expanse of his back. The muscles had bunched up under his shoulder blades where he was resting his head on his arms. Spreading the liquid across the warm, tanned skin, she heard him give a low moan. She began to dig her fingers into the firm, smooth planes of sinew and muscle. He felt wonderful, she thought, and imagined what she was going to do with him that evening.

‘You’re too good at this.’ He groaned. ‘Don’t forget this is a public beach, Red.’

She was having trouble doing just that, when the familiar ridges across his shoulder blades rippled beneath her fingertips. In the bright sunlight, the thin white scars stood out more prominently than ever.

‘Did you get these in prison?’ The question popped out before she’d thought about it. She regretted it instantly when his shoulders tensed. Her hands went still.

His past was one of the subjects they never talked about. From the little she knew about it, she guessed it was something he didn’t want to be reminded of, so she had tried hard not to pry.

‘No,’ he said finally.

‘I’m sorry, Monroe. I shouldn’t have asked that.’

He rolled over, studied her.

She sat back on her haunches. What had she done? ‘I really am sorry, Monroe. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.’

Seeing the stricken look in her eyes, Monroe reached out, took her hand in his. ‘Don’t look so scared, Red. You’re curious. You’re entitled to ask.’

‘I didn’t mean to. It just sort of slipped out.’

She hadn’t asked, he thought, although he knew she was curious. By not asking, she had given him her unconditional trust. And he hadn’t done the same for her.

He’d told himself over and over that keeping things light, keeping things easy, was how it had to be—especially after their conversation at Montauk Point. He couldn’t be her dream man, he didn’t want to be, so there was no use pretending that they had anything more here than great sex and a good friendship.

But in the last two weeks he’d been more settled than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t know how it had happened, but gradually the restlessness that had been a part of him for so long had disappeared.

He’d fed off Jessie’s compassion and her generosity, had basked in her approval and had revelled in the passion they’d shared. But underneath it all had been the tug of guilt and the knowledge that, when it ended, leaving her was going to be harder than he could ever have imagined.

He could see, with the worry swirling in her eyes, that the reasons why he had deflected her questions weren’t so clear-cut any more.

Had he kept silent because he didn’t want her getting any wrong ideas about where this relationship was headed or because he was scared? Scared that once she knew all the sordid details of his life she wouldn’t look at him with the same adoration, the same affection any more?

Should he stay silent, let the moment pass, or should he give her something back? Didn’t he owe her that much?

He sat up slowly. ‘I didn’t get the scars in prison. My mother used a belt on us when we were kids.’

She blinked, stiffened. ‘That’s terrible.’The tear that spilled onto her cheek shocked him, and touched him in a way he would never have expected.

‘Don’t cry. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.’

‘Your own mother scarred you. Of course it matters.’ She sniffed, wiping the moisture away with an impatient hand.

‘She hated us. She had her reasons,’ he said.

‘What reasons could she possibly have for doing that to a child?’

The vehemence in her tone made him feel oddly comforted. ‘Do you really want to know? It’s ancient history.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Her eyes were fixed on his face. ‘But only if you want to talk about it.’

Drawing a leg up, he rested an arm on his knee and studied the undulating sand and the insistent drift of the sea beyond.

Could he talk about it? Did he want to?

It was weird. He’d never felt compelled to talk about it before, but, oddly, with her he did.

He couldn’t give her a future, he knew that, but would it be so terrible for him to give her a little of his past?

Jessie waited, watching his profile, her emotions a confusing mix of anger—at the boy he had been, the horrors he had suffered—and anticipation. She so desperately wanted to know more about him. Was he finally going to talk to her about himself?

It seemed like an eternity, but eventually he turned back to her. ‘The night before she had me arrested, my mother told me why she hated us. Me and Linc.’

‘She had you arrested?’ Jessie couldn’t disguise the horror in her voice.

He shrugged, as if it weren’t important. ‘Yeah. Corruption of a minor, that’s what I did time for in juvie. The girl was fifteen. I was just sixteen, so technically they were right. She was hot and she was as eager as me. I didn’t stop to ask for ID.’

He picked up one of the small pebbles nestled by his feet, skimmed it absently across the sand. She noticed the ridged skin on his back and had to force the next question out.

‘What happened when your mother found out?’

‘One of her friends from the country club saw us together.’ His shoulders hitched as he turned back to her. ‘When I got home that night she was wired on the prescription drugs she popped like candy. She tried to go for me with the belt. Kept shouting at me, saying all this really ugly stuff. It didn’t take much to wrestle the belt away from her. She told me then about what it had been like for her with my old man. How I was just the same.’ He shook his head slowly, his breath coming out on a long sigh. ‘First time I ever saw her cry.’

Jessie could hear the pity in his voice, but couldn’t begin to share it, for a woman who had terrorised and despised her own children. ‘What did she tell you?’

He looked at her, his eyes shadowed. ‘That he’d raped her, repeatedly. That he’d wanted sons and even when she’d had several miscarriages, even after she’d begged him not to get her pregnant again, he’d forced himself on her. Forced her to have us.’

Jessie recoiled at the horror of it. What should have been a proclamation of love had become for Monroe’s parents a proof of hate. Could it really be so?

‘Did you believe her?’

He nodded. ‘My old man was in his late fifties when she met him. She was seventeen, just off the plane from London, keen to find the American Dream. He was from one of Newport’s richest families. She held out till she got his ring on her finger, then I guess she found out that it wasn’t just sex he wanted.’

‘What was your father like?’ Jessie tried to keep her voice steady, not to let her disgust for the man who had sired him show.

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t know him. He died when I was still a kid. We didn’t see him much. My mother sent us back to stay with our grandmother in Britain every summer.’ He shrugged. ‘When we had to be with her, we lived on his Rhode Island estate, but he had several other properties.’ He looked up and gave her a hard look. ‘He died of a heart attack. He was busy balling an eighteen-year-old showgirl in Vegas when it hit.’

He picked up a fistful of sand, watched it run through his fingers. ‘He wasn’t interested in us. Linc and I, we knew that, we were just a means to carry on the family name. But we never understood why our mother hated us. Her own mother, our granny, she was strict, but she wasn’t twisted like her; she never once raised a hand to us like our mother did. After a while, I just kind of accepted it, but I know it screwed up Linc real bad. She beat on him the worst, because he would stand up to her.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I guess the more he did that, the more it reminded her of the old man.’

‘She hit Linc, too?’

‘You don’t know about that?’

‘No. Linc and Ali have never spoken about his mother or father.’

He pondered that for a minute.

‘Did you tell Linc,’she asked, ‘what your mother told you?’

‘No, he was long gone by then. He left when he was twelve and I was only ten. Our grandmother had died that summer. I guess he couldn’t stand knowing we’d be stuck with her all the time.’

‘You mean, until this summer, you hadn’t seen Linc since you were children?’

He shrugged. ‘Not since the day he ran off.’

Suddenly, so much became clear to Jessie. These men had been trying to forge a relationship after over twenty years apart, after the abject horror of their childhood, and she’d nearly messed it all up. ‘I’m so sorry I behaved like such a silly cow when you arrived, Monroe.’

‘Red.’ He brushed a finger down her cheek, smiled. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you were feisty and gorgeous and you felt great wriggling around in my arms, so there’s no need to apologise.’

The blush became more intense as she thought of their first meeting. ‘Will you tell me about prison, Monroe?’

She wanted to know about the boy he had been—and how he had become the man she loved.

Monroe huffed out a breath. He had to do this. She had the right to know what he’d come from, how ugly it was.

‘The first stretch was okay.’ He couldn’t even remember the green kid he’d been then. ‘It was only six months in juvie.’ He’d been wild and angry, he realised now, but determined to see it through and get out. ‘I behaved myself, didn’t attract too much attention. I was more bored than anything.’

The experience in juvie had made him think doing time wasn’t so bad. It was three square meals a day and they didn’t shout at you or beat you simply for existing.

‘Ali said you did two terms?’

‘Yeah, the second stretch was…’ He paused. ‘It was different.’

‘How?’ She said the words on a fragile whisper.

Monroe’s gaze lifted to hers. Could he tell her? Would she despise him, for what had happened, for what he had let them do to him?

He took a slow breath. ‘It was real time. After juvie I skipped parole, took to the streets. A year later, I was picked up in Buffalo after a bar fight. One of the local barflies went after me with a broken bottle. I defended myself and hit him back but then loads of others piled in. Glass and fists were flying everywhere. A guy got hurt bad that night. I wasn’t from around there and I had a record, so it was me who ended up doing a stretch in the local pen. One of the meanest pens in the whole state of New York I found out after I’d been there less than a day.’

He could still remember the horror of that night, could still remember the fear afterwards, during two years of tests to make sure he was healthy. Looking at her, he could see the compassion, the understanding in her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t judge him, maybe she would understand.

‘I had a pretty face. I was seventeen, cocky and stupid with it. I thought I knew the score.’

Jessie could see the shadow of bitterness in his eyes and felt her heart race in sympathy.

‘They cornered me in the shower on the first night,’ he continued, his voice low and thick with tension. ‘Two of them. I fought back at the start, but what was the point? It was two against one and I didn’t stand a chance.’

The tears slid down Jessie’s cheeks. How had he survived?

He stared down at his feet in the sand. His words came out on a low murmur. ‘They held me down, took turns.’

Leaning forward, she pressed herself against him, wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. She could feel the solid beat of his heart against her ear as she rested her head against the warm skin of his back. He didn’t say anything, but slowly she felt his shoulders relax. He put his hand on top of hers.

After a long time, she let go, moved round, knelt in front of him. She gripped his face in her hands, made him look at her.

‘You survived, Monroe. That’s all that matters.’ She could see the shadow of humiliation in his eyes, fought to control her anger at what he had been forced to endure, at what he was still enduring. ‘Don’t ever feel ashamed.’

‘You don’t think I’m less of a man?’

Where the hell had that question come from? he wondered. He’d never known the doubt was inside him until he’d asked her.

She flashed a seductive smile at him through the veil of tears. ‘Monroe. I don’t think I could cope with you if you were any more of a man.’

He brought his arms round her then, held her close, sank into the comfort and support she offered. He’d told her the worst of it and she hadn’t been disgusted. She hadn’t judged him as he had so often judged himself.

‘Did it happen more than once?’ she asked quietly.

‘No, that was it. I got beat up a few more times after that, but mostly I kept to myself.’He folded his legs, settled her onto his lap, but kept his arms around her. And thought about how much he was going to miss her when he had to let her go.

As they walked back towards the garage apartment, the noon sun heating the grass beneath Jessie’s feet, she considered what Monroe had told her of his past.

He’d been through so much, as a child and as an adult. Yet the only person he really seemed to blame was himself. She could feel the rough skin of his palm as he held her hand. He’d worked so hard, in dead-end jobs, yet he had such great talent as an artist but didn’t want to promote it. Now she understood why—because he lacked the confidence.

She loved him. It wasn’t just a silly girlish dream. It couldn’t be. She understood him now. This was more than she’d ever felt for Toby.

She had planned to tell him how she felt tonight, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she shouldn’t rush him, put pressure on him. He’d told her things she was sure he’d never told anyone else. He’d shared so much with her and that should be enough for now. She squeezed his hand as they mounted the apartment steps together.

‘You all right?’ he asked. The slight frown on his face made it clear he wasn’t sure. The thought made her heart ache for him. How could such a strong, admirable man be so unsure of himself?

‘Yes, I’m wonderful.’ She glanced away. The heaviness of the conversation was making him uneasy. She needed to change the subject. ‘It’ll be nice to see Ali and Linc and Emmy again tomorrow, but I think we’re going to miss the privacy.’

He pushed the apartment door open, held it as she went in ahead of him. ‘I guess.’

‘We may have a few awkward moments with Emmy when she comes skipping over in the morning to play mechanic with you.’

‘About that…’ He stopped dead beside her, the strain clear in his voice. ‘We probably shouldn’t say anything yet.’

‘Why not?’Jessie felt the flutter of uneasiness in her stomach.

Monroe dumped their towels on the sofa. He took his time walking into the kitchenette and getting himself a glass of water.

‘You want one?’ He held the glass up.

Jessie shook her head. ‘Why don’t you want us to say anything to Linc and Ali?’

He put the glass down with a solid plop on the breakfast bar, looked at her for the first time since they’d entered the apartment.

‘Is there something wrong, Monroe?’

When he didn’t answer straight away, she felt a lump start to form in her throat. What exactly was going on?

‘No.’ Her relief at his words was tempered by the look of regret she could see in his eyes.

Reaching across the breakfast bar, he took her hand, pulled her around beside him. Putting his palms on her cheeks, he lifted her face to his.

‘I can’t let you go, Jessie. Not yet.’

She didn’t know what to make of the statement. ‘Why would you have to?’

He gave her a light kiss. ‘Let’s just keep it private for now, okay?’ His voice was low, possessive. ‘I want it to be just the two of us. I don’t want to share you with anyone, Red. Not even Linc and Ali.’

‘But, Monroe, how can we keep it a secret? If we’re sleeping together?’

‘Come over in the evenings, after they’ve gone to bed.’

She stepped back, a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘That seems a bit sneaky.’

‘It’s not sneaky.’ He snagged her hand, before she could take another step away. ‘Listen, Jess.’ He rubbed her palm absently with his thumb. ‘Linc as good as told me to keep my hands off you.’

‘Wha-at?’ The shock came first. She pulled her hand out of his. ‘I don’t believe it. When?’

‘The morning after the barbecue. I guess he could see I was interested. He was just protecting you.’

Shock was followed by indignation. ‘But that’s…’She spluttered to a halt, words failed her. ‘But it’s none of his business.’

‘Sure it is. He’s your brother-in-law.’

‘Exactly, he’s my brother-in-law, not my keeper. How dare he? I’ve got a good mind to give him a kick up the bum when he gets back.’

Monroe grinned at her indignation, making her more angry.

‘What on earth are you smiling about? It’s not funny.’

‘Oh, yeah, it is.’ He held onto her hand as she reeled away. ‘I didn’t tell you so I could see you kick my brother’s butt.’ He paused a moment, humour sparking in his eyes. ‘Though that would be kinda fun.’

‘Why did you tell me, then?’

He pulled her close, held her still when she struggled.

‘Linc doesn’t want me to touch you and I don’t want him to know that I have.’He loosened his grip so she could see his face.

‘But that’s so Neanderthal of you both.’

His lips tilted. He didn’t look remotely offended at the suggestion. ‘I guess it’s a guy thing. It’s just…Linc and me are on shaky ground. I screwed up pretty bad with the birthday present.’

She sobered, remembering the painful incident at Emmy’s party. ‘Don’t feel bad about that, Monroe. Linc understood. I’m sure he did.’

His hands stroked up her arms. ‘He feels protective of you. I don’t want to hit him with this…situation yet. Could we let it ride for now?’

She didn’t want to let it ride. She wanted everyone to know how she felt about Monroe. That she was head over heels in love with him. But if she couldn’t even bring herself to tell Monroe yet, how could she tell anyone else?

But still Jessie hesitated.

It was worse than sneaky not to tell everyone about their relationship. It was dishonest. But what could she do, seeing the insecurity in his eyes? He was worried about his relationship with his brother and, however misguided his suggestion might be, she couldn’t stand in the way of him building a better bond with Linc. The two of them had been robbed of that in their childhood. She would not be the one to put a spanner in the works now.

‘Okay, Monroe, I won’t say anything, but just for a little while.’

Monroe pulled her into his arms, so she couldn’t see the sadness in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Red,’ he said, knowing a little while was all they had.