Kiss Me Twice (5 page)

No one ever wanted to come forward and admit that he was the one guy Karen wouldn't have sex with, so as far as the school was concerned, if you went on a date with Karen, you fucked her.

She didn't bother dispelling the rumors, because it meant she was able to distinguish herself dramatically from her sister, the town genius. In her own screwed-up teenage logic she had been happier to be known as a slut than the geek's dumber sister.

In the meantime, she'd enjoyed the attention and waited for someone who really curled her toes.

Mike.

With other boys, she'd kept a certain objective distance, took pride in her ability to lead them around by their dicks. But not Mike. She'd never been able to lead him anywhere, and things now were clearly no different.

Tears poured down her cheeks, and Karen tried to wipe them away, but they flowed as though from a faucet.

Oh, you showed him who was in charge, all right.
So much for her plan to bring him to his knees, prove how much he wanted her even if he didn't like her. All she'd managed to do was prove to herself that a man didn't have to like her to fuck her senseless. And that Mike still had the power to make her weak. To make her beg.

Her stomach squirmed as she heard her own voice echoing in the shower. "Please, Mike..."

Please, Mike...

Just like that night, eleven years ago, when she'd begged for his love, his understanding. Then, as now, he'd turned away, the look in his eyes telling her she was dirt.

Woodenly she pulled on a T-shirt and sweats, wincing a bit at the unfamiliar pull of muscles that hadn't seen action for a good long time.

It was so quiet, and she was so alone; if not for the physical reminders she could almost pretend this had never happened. She sighed and flopped back onto the bed.
I am a complete fucking idiot.

Mike had always been in charge of every situation, and that hadn't changed even if she was older and more experienced. Even at the age of twenty-one, he'd seemed ages ahead of her eighteen. His strength, his maturity, on top of his outrageously macho good looks, had compelled her to chase him down in the first place.

She'd known him practically her entire life, but it wasn't until he'd showed up at her eighteenth birthday party with his brother Tony that she'd really noticed him. Home from UC Davis on summer vacation, he'd looked bored, as though he thought himself superior to the mostly just-graduated-from-high-school crowd. Like his brothers, he was big and dark, all rippling muscles and dark olive skin. Karen had viewed it as her personal mission to make sure he had a good time.

Much to the dismay of her date, Karen had ridden off that night in the passenger seat of Mike's Bronco, where she'd experienced her first orgasm at the tip of his tongue.

He'd been surprised to find her a virgin. She couldn't fault him since everyone knew everything in their small town, but for the first time, she'd felt the faintest twinge of regret over her reputation.

She'd fallen in love with him almost instantly. She never knew if it was because he was the first guy she couldn't manipulate, the first guy to make her come, or thanks to the influence of the romance novels she loved to read, but she'd formed an unreasonable attachment to the first guy she'd ever gone all the way with.

Or maybe it was because he was the first guy who, even after he'd gotten what he wanted from her, actually seemed interested in something other than sex.

He hadn't been ashamed about making their relationship known, hadn't cared that the other guys might be whispering about what they'd done with her. Mike didn't give a shit. Besides, of all of them, he'd known the truth.

She'd been crazy that summer, chasing him around, barely willing to let him out of her sight. She still cringed at the memory of how desperate she'd been for his touch. And his love.

She'd thrown herself headlong into their relationship, telling him she loved him after about a week, and after that several times a day. Each time he'd looked touched, tender, and on a couple of occasions she could have sworn it was on the tip of his tongue to say it back to her.

As the summer wore on, she'd grown more desperate, willing to do anything to capture and hold his attention. When they were alone, she'd tried to be the hottest, most obliging lover he'd ever had. When they were out, she'd amped up her already sexually charged image to make sure that all attention, especially Mike's, was on her.

Yet, instead of drawing him out and getting him to say what she needed to hear—that he loved her too and saw this as more than just a summer fling—he'd grown distant.

It was as she always feared. A guy had finally taken the time to get to know her and in the end realized he didn't like her at all. Suddenly he'd become like all the other guys. He hadn't wanted to talk, hadn't wanted to discuss what would happen when he returned to Davis. All he'd wanted was sex. Oddly, it hadn't been selfish sex, like he'd just wanted to get off. Instead, he'd delighted in lingering over her for hours, as though her orgasms were more satisfying than his own.

Almost, anyway. He was, after all, a guy.

He made her beg then, as he had tonight.

Then it had all gone to hell. Memories bombarded Karen's brain. Memories she didn't want to relive, images that made her hate herself, hate Mike, hate the world with such keen intensity it was as though no time had passed.

It was August, and Mike had announced he was leaving a week early for school. The only explanation he'd offered was, "There's a problem with our apartment, and we have to get back early."

Karen was already irritated that Mike had invited his roommate from school, Jeremy, up for a visit. Now Mike was leaving a week earlier than planned. Worse, when she'd asked Jeremy about the apartment, he hadn't known what she was talking about.

That night Mike had told her he and Jeremy were going to hit the bars in Truckee, and it was clear she wasn't invited. She had decided to go to a party on the lake with her friend Kit. No way would she sit home alone waiting for Mike to sneak into her bedroom.

Karen felt a fresh, sharp pain as she remembered seeing Mike at the party. He'd been smiling down at some brunette, teeth white against his tan face, biceps bulging out of the cotton sleeves of his T-shirt.

In her jealous fury, it hadn't even occurred to her to talk to him. All she'd wanted was to get back at him. To make him feel some tiny bit of the pain she was feeling, even if it was only his pride that was hurt.

So she'd made a big entrance, greeting everyone loudly, doing a little bump and grind on the dance floor until she was sure Mike had seen her. Then she'd found Jeremy and proceeded to get her revenge.

Except she'd chosen poorly. She'd only meant to flirt a little, bat her eyelashes, maybe a dirty dance or two, just enough to incite Mike's jealousy so he'd whisk her away.

But it was Jeremy who had whisked her away. Or dragged her off to one of the bedrooms was more like it. Jeremy didn't like to be teased, and he didn't like girls messing around with his friends. And he'd viewed it as his duty to teach Karen a lesson.

Jeremy wasn't as big as Mike, but at 5'3" and not much over a hundred and ten pounds, she hadn't been able to put up much of a fight.

Bile rose in Karen's throat as she remembered the reek of beer on his breath, his stubby fingers with their chewed-up nails pawing at her breasts and shoving inside of her. Her skin still crawled, and she rolled over on the bed, remembering the tearing, the burning pain of him forcing himself inside her, his sweaty palm over her mouth to muffle her screams.

Then Mike's face as she'd stumbled out of the room, the look of disgust that had made her want to die on the spot.

"Mike, please," she said.

Jeremy had been right behind her, Karen's bra dangling from his fingertips. "Sorry, man, she couldn't keep her hands off me."

"Mike, please," she said again. "You have to listen. He—"

"I should have known," he cut her off. "I should have listened to what everyone said about you."

She remembered staggering toward him, hand out as she clutched at his arm like a lifeline.

He'd shaken her off like a gnat. The expression on his face said she was lower than an insect. She was filth. She was dirt.

Without another word, he'd turned his back on her sobbing pleas. At that moment everything had shattered inside her. To this day, she still didn't know what had scarred her more, the horrific feeling of powerlessness and violation or the knowledge that Mike had never loved her. That he'd thought so little of her, he wouldn't even entertain her explanations. As far as he was concerned, she was the slut everyone called her.

The worst part was that she had believed it herself.

Chapter Four

Eleven years later, the unclean feeling had finally ebbed, but now renewed anger and guilt were sharp in her chest. Fury at Jeremy for thinking he had the right to hurt her, to teach her a lesson. Anger at Mike for not even bothering to listen, for having so little faith in her that he hadn't realized how badly she was hurt.

And guilt that she'd let her feelings of insecurity drive her to put herself in such a vulnerable position.

She'd thought she was over it, that with the endless hours of therapy she'd finally managed to put the past where it belonged and forgive the stupid, naive teenager she'd been. Thought herself ready to move on and develop a happy, healthy relationship with a nice guy who really would love her for the wonderful person she was.

She shouldn't care what Mike thought of her. It shouldn't matter that he thought of her as a slut, the kind of woman who slept with one guy to get back at another. The kind of woman who would cheat.

Even though he'd ultimately taken over tonight, as far as he was concerned, she'd used him in her revenge on some poor unsuspecting sap who had fallen prey to her wiles.

It shouldn't matter, but it did. Obviously, dealing with issues in the therapist's office was one thing. Facing them and the people involved head on was quite another. Instead of trying to have a constructive conversation with Mike, she'd slipped right back into her old habits the minute she sensed a threat.

She remembered her mother's words on her deathbed, telling Karen how much she loved her, and in the same breath how disappointed she was in the person Karen had become.

Manipulative. Cold. "Not a nice girl," as her mother had put it.

And that wasn't even a critique on her sex life.

Karen had made a lot of mistakes. A lot of bad choices. Her mother's death had finally forced her to confront and own up to them. Now she had to face the fact that a lot of people—herself, Mike, and her family included—had fallen victim to her bone-deep belief that no one would ever really love her. Making things right with them was going to be even harder than she'd feared.

Long-suppressed sobs tore from her chest as she ground the heels of her hands against her eyes. She hated feeling like this, hated knowing that Mike couldn't stand her.

If only he'd been a little nicer to her.

No, this was her fault. She'd chosen to counter Mike's barbs with her super-seductress routine. She'd had the opportunity to act different, to be different, and instead she'd slipped right back into her old tricks the moment she felt threatened.

Now she mentally castigated herself for not making the slightest effort to tell the truth that was now burning a hole in her gut.

She picked up the phone.

Kit answered on the third ring. "'Lo?"

"It's me."

"Kar? It’s—

Karen looked at the clock and winced. "One-thirty. Shit, I’m sorry."

"No, it's cool. I was up late working anyway since Jake's in Reno for the bachelor party."

Karen smiled. Kit, her best friend from high school, had such a different life from her own. Last year she got engaged to Jake Donovan and had moved to Boston, and her first book was coming out early next year.

"Oh yeah, I forgot he was here too," Karen said.

Kit was absolutely silent for several seconds, then, "What do you mean, ‘too?' Where are you?"

Karen picked nervously at a chip in her nail polish. "Kit, I did something really dumb."

"You slept with Brad?"

"No," she replied. "But why would that be stupid? You knew I was going away with him."

"Yeah, but a girl can hope. Brad always sounded like a total tool. Where are you?" she repeated.

"Brad and I had a fight, and I'm staying here"look, Brad has nothing to do with this."

"Then what?

"I ran into Mike Donovan tonight."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Did you talk to him?" Kit asked hopefully.

"Not really. I slept with him."

"You dumb bitch."

Karen winced. Kit's direct, no-nonsense manner was what she had loved about her from the first day they met. Kit had moved to Donner Lake their sophomore year and had started dating Rick Crawford over the summer. Apparently she'd heard about Karen's reputation, because the first day of school when they met in the bathroom, she'd introduced herself to Karen in the most pleasant manner, then calmly informed her that if she went anywhere near her boyfriend, Kit would cut her tits off.

Karen had believed her, and in that moment developed an intense same-sex crush that had grown into a friendship that had lasted nearly fifteen years. Karen had nursed Kit through her own traumatic encounter with a Donovan brother. Karen was struck again by the difference in their circumstances. While Kit's long-ago disastrous fling with Jake had resulted in a happily ever after twelve years later, somehow Karen didn’t think Mike was going to show up on her doorstep with a ring anytime soon.

But sometimes she wished Kit's softer, more nurturing side was a little closer to the surface. Still, she had a point.

"Yeah, I know."

"How could you let this happen?"

"I don't know. He was there, and he's so gorgeous, but he's still so angry, and I—“

"You wanted to prove that even if you couldn't make him like you, you could make him want you?"

Ah, the blessing and the curse of having a best friend who knew her so well.