Beautifully Damaged (14 page)

"I'm not willing to let you go without a fight."

"What about your date?"

A small smile touched my lips as I held his gaze. "He was the one to tell me to fight for you."

"I'm not good for you."

My voice was harsh as I took a step closer to him. "I don't know who it was in your life that made you believe you were worthless, Trace, but if I ever find out, I intend to beat the shit out of them. You are good for me. You are special. You have more to give than you give yourself credit for."

He went completely still and his face absolutely blank. He moved so fast to pull me into his arms and his voice was a harsh whisper, "I should push you away, far away from me, but I can't."

"I don't want you to push me away."

That night I lay next to Trace and watched as his chest rose and fell in a deep even rhythm. I couldn't ignore the one question that kept rolling around in my head: Who fucked him up so badly? The fact that he didn't speak of his family had me guessing it was either dad, mom or both and the idea of it made me so angry I wanted to hurt something, them to be more specific. To have the innocence of a child in your care and to abuse that child to the point that you irrevocably mark them was a crime that should be punishable by death in my opinion. What I feared was how badly they had abused him since the influence of it still haunted him. Yet, even being abused by those who should have loved him the most, he was still a kind and compassionate man underneath the hard shell. He may not have known love or feeling cherished, but I vowed that he would. I reached for his hand, held it in mine and closed my eyes as I allowed myself to follow him into sleep.

In the morning, I awoke and turned my head to find Trace already up and resting on his side with his head on his upturned hand as he watched me. When our eyes met, he smiled and said, "Good morning."

"Morning."

"You look beautiful."

I smiled. "Sweet talker. Stay here and I'll whip us up some breakfast."

I started from the bed but Trace's hand reached up to stop me and when I looked back at him his expression had turned serious.

"Are you sure about this, Ember?"

I sat on the bed, Indian-style, and took his hand into mine as my eyes held his.

"Someone, I'm guessing mom or dad or both, really did a number on you." I felt him stiffen as he attempted to take his hand back but I held firm.

"Listen to me, Trace." He had that look about him, the blank detached one, but he allowed me to keep his hand so I took that as him acquiescing and continued on.

"I don't know what they did to you and I hope one day you'll trust me enough to tell me but, Trace, whatever it is you think you believe about yourself is wrong. You say you're only good for one thing but how can you say that when the first time I met you, it was because you saw a man mistreating a woman and you stepped in, protected my virtue and offered me a place to stay when I had nowhere else to go. You came to the aid of that lady at the gallery and you sought to ease the hurt of that little girl at the fair.

That sense of right and wrong, and having the courage to act when you see an injustice, is as much a reflection on the man you are as those tattoos. You are, to your core, a good person, a kind person, a fair person. As far as your belief that you are not good enough for me, the only area I see where I have a leg up on you is that I came from a loving family. The fact that you didn't isn't a reflection on you but your miserable parents. As for the belief that sex is all you're good for, I think you use sex as a way of seeking value and, as much as I want to have sex with you -- plan to have sex with you -- I already see your value, so for me, sex is the colorful ribbon but you, Trace, are the prize."

Watching the play of emotions over Trace's face was painful but his eyes, when they looked into mine, were wary yet hopeful. "There's some really bad shit in my past, Ember, shit that may have you walking out if you learn of it."

I didn't miss the if part of that statement which caused a moment of hesitation. If he never planned on discussing his past with me, a past that still had power over him, how could we possibly hope to have a future? It was my hope that he would eventually come to trust me and in so doing would share with me what haunted him. I forced my trepidation out of my head and wrapped his face in my hands before I whispered, "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you could do or say that would make me leave you."

"Nothing?" He asked.

"Well." I dropped my hands to my sides.

"Ember?"

I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I can't be one of many, Trace, I can't be with you knowing that what we share you're sharing with others. I'm not made that way."

He reached up and touched my cheek. "Being with you -- I wouldn't want to be with anyone else but are you sure, Ember, that it's me you want?"

"Yes."

I knew, as he gazed into my eyes, that he wanted to believe me but he wasn't there yet. I was prepared to wait him out but then he leaned into me and kissed me. His lips moved over mine, tasting, teasing and then it changed as he reached up to frame my face with his hands. He ran his tongue along the seam of my lips and when I parted for him, he didn't hesitate to taste me fully. I moaned, deep in my throat, as I pulled him closer and kissed him deeper. When we pulled away from each other I saw everything I was feeling looking back at me from steel-blue eyes.

The weeks that followed were amazing. On the nights that I didn't work, Trace and I were together. There was still a reserve about him and I had a sense that though he wanted to pull me close, there was a part of him that I wasn't ever going to be able to touch. I wondered about that, about what it was in his past that had him so guarded. I'm sure it stemmed from the abuse of his youth but the fact that it still had an impact on him, was disturbing to me. I wanted to talk with him about it but I knew we weren't there yet and a part of me wondered if we ever would be.

Sometimes I would catch him just watching me and the look on his face was almost reverent, like he couldn't believe that I was there. I didn't understand that either. He was gorgeous but more, he was equally beautiful on the inside and all he saw was the damaged man he believed himself to be.

I was in love with him. It was too soon and there was so much I didn't know about him but I loved him, even more so because under that hard shell, there was tenderness and pain. I hadn't told him how I felt and was actually afraid that he might run away from me, screaming as he went. I worried that telling him I loved him was going to push him away instead of pulling him closer.

One night we were playing gin rummy. My dad had taught me the game but Trace was kicking my ass. It was actually embarrassing to be so thoroughly whipped and then I saw it. He was fast, I had to give him credit for that, but the sneak was dealing from the bottom of the deck.

"You cheat!"

He was laughing when he placed the cards down on the table and held up his hands in defense.

"How long have you been cheating?"

"Since the beginning."

"Son of a bitch." I stood and moved from the table as Trace continued to grin at me, completely unrepentant I might add. It was the smug look on his face that had me reaching for the can of cheese spray. He was up out of his chair in a flash, his eyes completely focused on me, but I didn't miss the humor in them.

"Don't do it, sweetheart."

I looked behind me to see how far I had to run to get to safety and he knew what I was thinking when he offered very softly, "You'll never make it."

I let my shoulders slump as I held his gaze. "You're right."

He relaxed for a second and that was all the time I needed. I laughed out loud at the cheese dripping down his face and then I ran. I didn't get far before Trace's arms wrapped around me and pulled me back against his hard chest. He was laughing, a sound that I really liked hearing, and then he lifted me up over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

He said nothing as he walked us down the hall to the bathroom. He moved to the shower and started the water as I wiggled to get free. His hold on me never wavered. He stepped into the shower and pulled me down with my body moving along the hard line of his, causing desire to pool in my belly. My eyes lifted to his and I saw desire burning there and then his mouth came down hard on mine. I was practically boneless when he pulled his mouth away. No matter how many times the man kissed me it still had the effect of making my head spin. I didn't mean to say the words, they sort of just slipped out.

"I love you, Trace."

He went completely still and I felt my heart drop as I lowered my eyes. Stupid, Ember, way to kill the moment. When his thumb touched my chin to lift my gaze to his I wasn't expecting to see adoration burning in his eyes but there was another emotion burning there too, doubt. He didn't say anything only sealed his lips over mine and showed me what he was still unable to say with words.

After my declaration slipped, I was treated to a side of Trace that was more carefree. He was without the burden of his past weighing him down and I really liked what I saw. I didn't miss the side-long glances that he repeatedly gave to me and the look of wonder but also worry, as if I was going to come to my senses and take off.

I couldn't say how I knew that he was the one for me but I did with absolute certainty. I thought about how I could prove to him that I wasn't going anywhere and spent a few days considering my options.

A week after the cheese incident, I came home from work with more pain than my typical achy feet. I entered the apartment to the smell of something yummy teasing my nose as I followed it into the kitchen to find Trace standing in front of the stove.

"Smells good."

He turned at the sound of my voice and a smile spread over his face.

"Hi." He placed the spoon on the plate before he walked over and pulled me into a hug but when I winced he pulled back with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I um."

"What, Ember? Are you hurt?" His eyes grew hard before he asked, "Did someone hurt you?"

"No, nothing like that I just, well, I guess it would be easier to show you."

His eyebrow arched slightly in response but when I took a step away from him, and moved to unsnap my jeans, his expression turned into something else entirely as a wicked gleam entered his eyes. He rolled back on his heals before pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm liking this already."

I grinned -- couldn't help it -- before I pushed my jeans down a bit as I lifted my blouse to expose a bandage just below my hip bone. It only took him a second for understanding to dawn when his eyes looked up into mine.

"What have you done?"

I removed the bandage and watched as his eyes moved to the spot I just revealed. The tattoo of the Celtic symbol for everlasting love was done in black and gray and just under it was Trace's name in cursive. I watched him as he stood transfixed, looking at my hip, and then I offered softly, "I knew with absolute certainty that, what I wanted, I'd want forever."

His gaze moved up to mine as tenderness washed over his face and then he had me in his arms.

"God, Ember." He buried his face in my hair and breathed me in and when he pulled back and looked into my eyes, I felt tears burning my throat. His voice was a harsh vow when he whispered. "I love you, Ember."

He was kissing me with his lips moving over mine, seeking and tasting as his hands came up to frame my face. When his tongue touched my lower lip I sighed and he wasted no time sweeping my mouth, tangling his tongue with my own, as his taste intoxicated me. When his mouth pulled away I almost whined in protest but then his lips were on my neck, pressing opened-mouth kisses down my neck and along my collarbone, and when he moved back up the other side his mouth lingered near my ear.

"I want you under me. I want to be inside you."

"Yes." God I wanted that, too, as his kiss mimicked the act of which we were both thinking, and when he pulled away he held my gaze as his thumb brushed over my lips.

"I love your tattoo."

I touched my hand to his cheek and savored the moment. I could tell he was feeling a little off balance and so I tried to lighten the mood.

"It's irritating but not necessarily painful, like hell."

His grin was wicked before he said, "Ah, baby, I'll kiss it and make it better."

Trace and I were out shopping in a part of the city that I don't often visit, Fifth Avenue. The shops were great, the tourists awesome but the price tags were way too steep for me. There was a dealer of Schuberth helmets that Trace wanted to visit so he could get for me my own helmet, a really safe helmet, for his bike and, honestly, were there even words?

Once we picked the one we wanted, I walked through the store as Trace took care of the rest. As I walked past the front window, I found myself stopping abruptly at the sight of Lena and Todd standing right outside the store. They saw me at the same time and Lena wrapped her arms around Todd's in what I suppose was a sign of solidarity. Though I had no interest in talking with them, she once had been my best friend so I moved out the door to join them on the street.

"Ember, funny seeing you out and about. What, no book to read?"

So, apparently, not only had the bridge been burned but also disintegrated and the remnants swept away by a raging current. I held her gaze as I offered in an overly sweet voice, "Actually, I just finished a wonderful story on karma and how it always comes back around. No one is safe, neither the bitchy and self-absorbed nor the calculating rapist-wannabes."

Lena's eyes grew wider and her face went pale for a second. I watched as she dismissed my claim in the note that I left for her explaining why I was moving out -- not that seeing her with Todd wasn't answer enough as to where her loyalties lay.

"I don't believe that, Em. Todd and Dane aren't like that."

"And you know this because you've been with Todd for a few months so you readily take his word on the matter over someone you've known since the seventh grade?"