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Authors: Jennifer Probst

Searching for Perfect (23 page)

BOOK: Searching for Perfect
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“Aww, babe, don’t be like that. We’ll talk. Let’s not ruin a good night.”

She flinched as he took a step forward. Nate stepped in between them and put out his hand. “This is how it’s gonna be. Walk away and don’t contact her again. I’ll get her home. Got it?”

Prickface sneered. “Don’t think so. I take care of my own dates and my business.”

Nate tried for calm, he really did, but the fury exploded from the cold ball of lead in his gut and burst through his veins. “Last chance. Then I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

Prickface laughed. “You and what army?” He rolled up his custom designer sleeves and came at Nate slowly. “You know what? This is gonna be fun. I haven’t taught someone a lesson in a long time.”

“I agree. It’s time I teach you when a woman says no, she means it.”

“Nate!” Her cry of alarm soothed his soul. “Please, let’s just go. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Stay here, Ken. I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

Prickface came at him with a pathetic lunge and a sloppy right hook. Nate dodged left and connected. Score. Asshole blinked through a puffy eye, cursed, and got reinvigorated. “You’re gonna pay for that one.”

With a bored sigh, Nate judged his next move to be an uppercut followed by a kick to the knees. So nineties. He
compensated with a sidestep and a few lightning jabs to the chin. Bone cracked. Score.

Prickface fell this time but got up. With a vicious curse, he went for the full-out body slam. Nate swept his front ankle and gave him the full left.

Knockout.

He left him bleeding in a pile by the bushes. Kennedy watched his approach with wide eyes. He took off his jacket, slid it over her shoulders, and buttoned it over her torn blouse. “Let’s go. I got you.”

“Not inside. Not like this.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m taking you out the side, we’ll walk.”

She didn’t answer. He tucked her in close to him for warmth, and they made their way through the streets of Verily toward his house. This time, she ducked her head instead of soaking up the sights and sounds of a busy evening, and he hurried his pace. She didn’t question him when he settled her on the sofa in the living room, or when he put on a pot to boil water for tea. He quickly texted his brother to let him know he ditched him and walked home, promising to check in tomorrow. She sat docilely, staring at the wall. He left her alone with her thoughts.

But the anger burned.

He calmed his mind and his temper by pouring the water in a bright yellow mug Genevieve had left behind and dunking a honey-vanilla chamomile teabag. When a nice, rich color had been achieved, he used a teaspoon to fish out the bag. He didn’t bother with milk, honey, or lemon, already sensing that she’d drink tea like coffee—straight
up. He wiped off the droplets on the side of the mug, grabbed a coaster, and brought it into the living room.

“Drink this.”

She automatically reached out for the cup. “I don’t like tea.”

“I know. But this will soothe your nerves.”

She sipped the steamy liquid. He waited. She looked up and nodded. “It’s good.”

“Would you like a cookie to go with it? I have Stella D’oros in the pantry.”

“No, thank you.” She sipped more of the tea. “How did your date go?”

Nate sat down on the couch next to her, almost exactly as he’d positioned himself a few hours ago with Sue. Now, everything was different. “Not good. She didn’t like Connor. I don’t think I can see her again.”

She studied her cup for a while. “I was afraid she’d be too stiff. I’m sorry. Maybe you’d like to date Mary?”

“Maybe.”

“I liked your brother. He needs some training on what to say and what not to say, but he’s real. And he took care of you. He sticks with the people he loves. I like that.”

Dear God, help him. He was crazy about her. Just stick a fork in him and call it a day. Nate swallowed around the thick constriction in his throat. “Yeah. He’s pretty cool once you get to know him. Guess your date didn’t go too well either, huh?”

She snorted out a half laugh. “Guess not. You really beat his ass.”

“Guess so.”

“I had no idea you could fight like that. You went all Bruce Lee and
Fight Club
on me.”

He fought a smile. “Nah, I didn’t make those weird noises. It’s easy. Body stature and strength are only a portion of success. It’s mind-set, agility, and planning. Connor taught me the basics of how to defend myself. I came home with a broken arm one day from getting jumped, and after he drove me to the hospital, he took me straight to the gym. Showed me how to kick and use my natural abilities to fight. After that, I studied everything on martial arts and boxing and fine-tuned the process.”

“You always seem to surprise me, Nate Dunkle.”

“As do you, Kennedy Ashe.”

She looked up, startled. Must have spotted something scary in his eyes, because she bent over and busied herself with finishing her tea and setting it down carefully on the coaster. “I better go. Thanks for helping me out.”

“What happened?”

She froze. Curled her fingers into fists before deliberately relaxing them. Her voice wobbled only slightly before she pulled it back, but he caught it. “Just a kiss that got out of hand. I’m embarrassed you had to see it. Let’s forget about the whole episode.”

“You said no quite clearly. Why would you be embarrassed?”

The first sign of temper flared. She lifted her chin as if trying to gain strength and get her badass back. “Because normally I would’ve taken care of it myself. I’ve mastered my own moves over the years. Something freaked me out and I—I—panicked. I hate that you got involved.”

“He almost hurt you. If I see him again, I’ll kill him.”

Her mouth fell open. Those lips were soft and moist, reminding him of a ripe honeydew melon before that first bite. She seemed taken aback by the violence in his words, but it was another part of himself he kept hidden. Years of bullying and being dumped for the next best thing had caused a buildup of scar tissue. Nate learned how to compartmentalize, using logic and reason to keep in the light. But anyone who laid a hand on his woman would pay.

His woman? What was happening to him?

He dragged in a breath. His body was on high alert from the adrenaline, which usually translated into sexual arousal. Textbook. Not that it took much to get there with Kennedy in the room. It was a hotbed of emotions, and his dick was just responding to the overstimulation of the whole damn evening.

“Don’t say that. He said something to me. Stupid, I know, but it released a memory I wanted to forget.”

He figured she wouldn’t tell him, and that was okay. But he didn’t want her alone tonight. Not when the monsters in the closet came out. “Stay here tonight. With me.”

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Not
with
me, of course. I know you’re not interested. I’ll crash on the couch. Take a few hours, sleep it off, and we can forget about it in the morning. Okay?”

She hesitated, but the flare of relief in her amber eyes settled the deal for him. No way was he sending her to an empty house. He may not be able to wrap his arms around her, slide between her thighs, and promise to slay her dragons. But he could damn well make sure she was safe.

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t answer. Nate went into the hall closet, took down a blanket and spare pillow, and dropped them on the sofa. “Yes. Go to bed, Ken. There are T-shirts in my top drawer. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

She stared at him for a long time. Her lashes were extra long, dark, and thick; she lowered her gaze to the floor, as if she was still considering trying to keep her pride and return home. Finally, she rose and headed toward the bedroom. Her meekness broke his heart, but he bet her tiger roar would be back at the first light of day.

The door gently shut behind her.

Nate sank to the couch and dropped his face into his hands. He’d never sleep tonight. Choppy emotions coursed through him like a water-rafting ride gone bad. Rarely did he get the opportunity to take care of someone. This was a time he could be her friend and supporter, and he wasn’t about to screw it up by thinking about sex or wanting something to happen between them that was impossible. The next day, she’d be back to dating prickfaces again, but for a little while, she belonged to him. Sleeping in his bedroom, her head on his pillow, her scent soaking into the sheets.

It was enough.

He got himself together. Cleaned up the tea, turned off the lights, and lay down on the sofa to keep watch.

It was going to be a long night.

KENNEDY LAY ON TOP
of the comfortable cotton sheets and stared at the ceiling. The lights blared full strength, and
she knew Nate was right outside the door, but the words kept drifting in her brain.

Show me your tits.

Her body shook, but her mind raged against her weakness. Just words spoken by an idiot male pumped up by hormones. Ridiculous to backslide into the past. The worst was the way she shut down, helpless to fight or process the scene. What would’ve happened if Nate hadn’t interrupted? Goose bumps broke out on her arms, and she pulled up the comforter to her chin in an effort to get warm. She rarely made mistakes with men, and yet she’d committed a doozy with Derek. Women didn’t get a second chance.

Hadn’t she learned that lesson years ago?

Sometimes the sounds haunted her most—fingers ripped, voices laughed. The crippling humiliation of helplessness while her body was exploited, as if it didn’t even belong to her. She remembered afterward looking down at all her math and science books scattered on the concrete. Picking them up one by one and wishing she wasn’t smart, wishing she were beautiful, so beautiful and thin that she held the power.

A whimper caught in her throat. The lights didn’t help. She needed to banish the memory, forget the ghosts, and there was only one way to do it.

Kennedy climbed out of the bed and opened the door.

“Nate?”

“I’m here.” He sat up, lifted the blanket, and beckoned her over. She dove for comfort, shivering with her bare legs exposed from the T-shirt. Blessed warmth wrapped around
her as he tucked her into his chest, slid his arms open, and held her close.

The sweetness of his touch drove out the numbness, and she relaxed against him, her muscles melted into the hard planes of his chest, the strength of his biceps, the powerful thighs underneath her. He murmured soothing words into her ears and rested his chin on top of her head. In this darkness, she felt safe. In this darkness, with him, she opened the past and shared.

“There was a boy in school. He used to wait for me in the hallway and say things. Sexual things. He’d call me fat and say I needed to know about sex or I’d never get a boyfriend, that smart, fat girls would always end up alone. I was afraid of him, but no one ever helped. They thought it was funny. A lot of times, other boys would join him and laugh when I tried to get away.”

His body tightened, but he kept stroking her hair, and she spoke against his chest, in the dark.

“He’d—he’d make me show him my breasts. Told me if I didn’t do it, he’d send his friends to find me and they wouldn’t be so nice. I was scared. I never knew when he’d show up or where. He’d just be standing there with this grin, and these sick eyes, and say ‘Show me your tits’ over and over. At first, I refused, but he threatened me. Said he’d send over his crew to play. So I finally did, Nate, I did, because I didn’t know what else to do, and then he’d go away for a while.”

She gulped for breath and hung on tight.

“One day, he followed me after school and pushed me into an alley. I thought it was the usual, but there were two
other boys there. They surrounded me. Pulled at my shirt, kept telling me to show them my tits. I cried, but they didn’t care, and they ripped open my shirt and bra and touched me. Laughed at my fat belly. Said fat girls needed to be good at blow jobs because that’s how they got men to like them. They pushed me down and touched me in places, but I fought, and then someone saw them and came into the alley and chased them away.”

Her heart pounded and sweat drenched her skin, though she shivered and buried deeper into his chest for warmth. “I hated them for making me scared. For taking away my body and my self and my sanity. I told my mother and went to the police. I reported it to the school. And after that, I stopped eating. I decided if I were thin and beautiful, I’d have power. I got sick, and they won after all. But not anymore. I got strong, and healthy, and owned my body again, on my terms.”

“They didn’t win,” Nate growled. “Never again. My sweet, brave girl.” He pressed kisses to her temple, holding her so tight she knew nothing could ever get to her if he was around. How long had it been since a man held her to comfort her? To give her strength? Never. She used men for companionship, for sex, for distraction. Not once had she told another person the truth about her past except for Kate, Arilyn, and her therapist. They’d kept her sane, but now she’d broken her cardinal rule and Nate was in the inner circle.

“I close my eyes and see it again and again. I need to get them out of my mind. I won’t let them win tonight. Help me.”

“What, sweetheart? What?”

“Make love to me.”

The silence pulsed like it was alive, the demand hanging over them in a big bubble, awaiting his answer. She knew she was going to hell, knew what she asked was selfish and horrible and wrong, but already her body was alive, demanding she slake the primitive hunger roaring through her soul to be claimed by this man. One night. Just one night with her rocket scientist and she’d let him go again.

“Are you sure?” He forced her head up, digging his fingers into her scalp with a delicious pressure. “I’m not a saint, Ken. I’ve wanted you for a damn long time, but you don’t have to promise me sex to get what you want. I’ll hold you and kiss you and keep you safe, and you can go home in the morning. Don’t offer me something out of guilt.”

This time, she got angry. “How dare you accuse me of offering pity sex!” she hissed. “If I had a damn collar around your neck, I’d buzz you twice! I want you, Nate Dunkle. I want to replace those horrible memories with something good and right and sweet. And I know I’m screwed up, and I’m your matchmaker, and this is the worst thing I can ask you to do, but I don’t care. So a simple yes or no at this point would be a good thing.”

BOOK: Searching for Perfect
4.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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