Touch Me Gently

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

4760 Preston Road

Suite 244-149

Frisco, TX 75034

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Touch Me Gently

Copyright © 2010 by J.R. Loveless

Cover Art by Anne Cain    [email protected]

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-61581-574-6

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

September, 2010

eBook edition available

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-575-3

To all my readers of Aarinfantasy,

you gave me inspiration and hope when I needed it most.

Hands
grabbed at him, holding him down roughly. His clothes were stripped from his body, torn as threads gave way at the harsh tugging. His pleading for it to stop flooded the room and then screams of agony as he felt his body being violated. The musky scent of sweat and alcohol reached his nostrils, and he gagged as he lay there beneath the unforgiving, thrusting body above his. His mind seemed to shut down, and he felt nothing, heard nothing, was nothing. Fingers bit into his flesh, digging deep and bruising it. Suddenly, hot warmth flooded his insides, and the body above his collapsed.

Before he could try to move, a searing pain split one side of his face, and he screamed again as blood spilled down his face, filling his nose and mouth, choking his cries off. He coughed over and over, trying to keep the coppery liquid from filling his lungs. “Now, no one will want you! You’ll always be mine!”

Kaden James shot upright in bed, gasping for breath, his body sweating profusely and soaking the sheets around him. Terror pounded through him as he remembered what he had tried so hard to forget. His violet eyes wandered around the shabby one-room apartment he rented, searching for any demons hidden in the shadows. He slumped back down onto the bed, struggling to control his breathing and to stem the flood of terror. That day’s events had opened the door to his memories again. Nineteen now, he lived alone, and today he’d been fired from another job. Fear of large men always ended up getting him fired because he couldn’t control his panic attacks. Sighing, Kaden ran a thin, shaking hand over his face. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, he rolled out of bed to make himself a cup of coffee.

He flicked on a light and wandered over to the sink to fill the coffeepot with water. He set it to brew and sat down to wait, lighting up a cigarette. The apartment he lived in was all that he could afford, dingy and small with only one room that consisted of the kitchen, the bedroom, and a small adjoining bathroom that you could barely turn around in. His hand lifted to trace the ugly scar that ran from the corner of his left eye in a curve down to the corner of his mouth. No one wanted to hire him for anything other than grunt work because of his face. Most people found it difficult not to stare and wonder or be disgusted and turn away. Tomorrow he would have to go back to the labor agency and see if they had anything else for him. The manager had to be getting tired of him, but he couldn’t change the deep-seated fear that crippled him and sent him to his knees.

The coffee finished brewing as he stubbed out his cigarette, and he grabbed the only mug he owned, rinsed it out, and filled it with piping hot coffee. Sniffing appreciatively, he took a hesitant sip, wincing when it burned the tip of his tongue. He’d always been slender and almost feminine in some ways. His shoulder-length black hair, shaggy around his face, gave him an even more feminine appearance. It attracted men in a way he didn’t want. He might look tiny, only five foot six, but he was strong physically due to the many jobs he’d taken requiring heavy lifting. Despite the muscle he’d gained from those jobs, he still cowered when faced with dominating males. Emotionally unstable from everything that had happened in his life, he tried his best not to let those thoughts and memories control him.

Dawn spreading across the sky, Kaden rose to shower and dress in one of the few outfits he owned. Locking his door behind him, deadbolt and all, he trudged down the stairs, stepping around the drunken bum that lay at the bottom. The area he resided in couldn’t be considered the most sanitary, nor the safest, but it was cheap and the only thing he could afford. Traffic had already started flowing heavily along the streets of New York City as he slowly wound his way through the crowds of passersby toward the labor agency. When he arrived, he gave Terry Reynolds, the manager, a tentative smile.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, kid,” Terry admonished quietly. He didn’t know the kid’s story but he knew something bad had happened to him. The haunted look that shadowed the boy’s eyes told him that much at least.

“How many jobs has that been in three weeks? Five? Let me see if I have anything else,” he said with a sigh, and Kaden gave him a grateful look, plopping down into one of the cracked vinyl chairs in the front office while Terry wandered back into his own.

Thirty minutes went by before Terry returned to the front office. He’d come up with a great idea, at least he hoped Kaden thought so. “Listen, Kaden, would you be willing to get out of the city?”

“What?” Kaden asked, his voice hoarse. He didn’t use it much. No friends and fear of strangers kept him silent a good portion of the time.

“Well, I know you have trouble with big groups of people, but my cousin needs someone on his ranch in Montana. To cook and clean. Can you cook?”

Kaden stared at him in surprise. He was an excellent cook, if he thought so himself. He loved to cook and had been doing so since he was twelve. “I… don’t know what they would think. I like to think I’m a pretty good cook. But… Montana?” The idea suddenly appealed to him, getting out of the city and away from the huge crowds of people.

“It’s only for three months, though. After that, you’d have to find something else. You see, he has a lot more workers and ranch hands coming in during the next few months because of roundup season and all. So he needs someone who can make food and lots of it. Can I trust you to do this, kid?” Terry asked him softly.

Kaden nodded and then looked down at his hands. “What about my apartment?”

“You’ll have to let it go. But if anything, when the three months are up, you can stay with me until you find another one,” Terry offered eagerly.

“Will your cousin mind that I’m a… guy?” Kaden asked quietly.

“I already called him. He knows you’re a guy and doesn’t care as long as you can cook. It’s not like you’re going to be sleeping with him or anything.”

Kaden’s head shot up and his eyes widened with panic, but Terry’s words sank in, and he nodded. “All right. I guess that’ll be fine.”

“Good. You’ll leave tomorrow. There’ll be a plane ticket waiting for you at the airport,” Terry told him.

He stood up jerkily, unsure of what the hell he had just gotten himself into, and headed back to his apartment to pack up the very minor belongings he had. There were few personal items since the apartment had been partially furnished when he rented it. The only things he had to take with him included several articles of clothing, the coffeepot, and the journals that he wrote lyrics in. He loved to write songs, beautiful heartbreaking songs. Something to get his fears out, and his desire to be loved, even though he knew that would never happen because of the emotional and physical scars he carried.

The next day, as he stood waiting in line at the counter, his duffel bag on the floor beside him, Kaden sensed the curious stares at the scar on his face, and he bit his lip to stop himself from yelling at the strangers to leave him alone. It always happened that way. No matter where he went, people stared at the grotesqueness of his face. The line moved, and then he arrived at the front to claim his ticket. He showed his ID and moments later he sat waiting at the gate for his flight to be called. Taking out the black and white composition book that looked ragged from a lot of use, he started to write. He had almost finished the song by the time they called his flight, and he completed it on the way out to Montana. He wound up falling asleep partway there only to be brought awake by one of the flight attendants shaking his shoulder because he’d started crying in his sleep. He gave her a pained smile and shook his head when she asked if he needed anything.

When Kaden arrived, he stepped out into the airport and looked around, spotting the turnstile baggage claim. He strode forward and looked for his blue duffel bag. He heard a voice behind him call his name by the time the bag reached him. He snatched it up and turned around to find a man a little shorter than himself standing there and looking around the airport. “I’m Kaden James,” he said as he approached the man, waiting to see the same curious stare at his scar, but to his surprise that wasn’t what happened at all.

Instead the little man cracked a smile at him, causing his tan weathered face to crease even further, and his blue eyes twinkled at him merrily. “I’m Charlie. Logan’s foreman. Is that all you have?” he asked, frowning at the bag in Kaden’s hands.

“Yeah,” Kaden said without explanation.

“Okay. Let’s get going. So did you have any trouble on the flight?” The little man led him toward a red beat-up pickup truck just outside the doors of the airport.

Kaden tossed the bag into the back of the truck and slid into the passenger seat. “It went fine.”

“Not much of a talker, hmm? That’s a good thing, I guess, since you’ll be in the house by yourself most of the day,” Charlie replied, starting the truck.

The drive from the airport to the ranch took about forty-five minutes to an hour. Kaden listened to the little man ramble on as he drove and injected one or two word sentences here and there.

“Ah, we’re here,” Charlie crowed, pulling into a dirt driveway leading to the ranch.

Kaden stared around him curiously, wondering what type of ranch it was. White-washed fences lined the dirt road, and he could see several men in the distance, some on horses and others on foot. Fear stuck in his throat at the sight of so many men, but he coughed and managed to ask, “Cows or horses?”

“Cows. Logan has horses for the roundup and all, but he raises steers. Ah, there he is, over by the corral there.” Charlie pointed out a tall man in a denim shirt, faded blue jeans, and a black cowboy hat standing with his back to the driveway. Kaden swallowed nervously when he saw how big the man appeared even from there.

He slowly climbed out of the truck, grabbing his bag from the bed. He winced when he heard Charlie shout, “Logan! Hey, Logan!” Charlie waved his hat to get the cowboy’s attention, and Logan started walking toward them.

His anxiety increased tenfold the closer the man got. At least a foot taller than Kaden, he caused Kaden’s heart to beat even harder against his ribcage when he realized how far up he had to look. What the hell had he been thinking? The man oozed sexuality and danger—nice muscular build, dazzling green eyes, and sandy blond hair, cut ragged, like it had been done with a pair of blunt scissors. His skin seemed almost as tan as boot leather, with fine lines around the corners of his eyes and along the backs of his hands. He had a long-legged stride that ate up the ground between them in seconds.

“You’re a tiny thing, ain’t ya,” Logan drawled as he drew near. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “Logan Michaels.” He frowned at the haunted look in the boy’s eyes, and how it took the younger man a moment to respond. His eyes were instantly drawn to the scar on his face, unable to imagine what could have left such a mark on the soft, white skin.

Kaden slowly and reluctantly placed his hand in Logan’s. It felt as though Logan’s hand virtually swallowed his whole, and he jerked it back quickly. “K-Kaden James.”

“Come on. I’ll show you the house.” Logan strode up the porch steps, shaking his head at why a slender teenager like this boy would be interested in burying himself on a ranch for three months. His cousin hadn’t told him much, just that the teen desperately needed a job, so he’d said okay.