Forbidden Pleasures (NSC Industries Book 11) (8 page)

“What the hell are you doing?” Ollie grumbled, wrestling with
me when I tried to shove the clothes he’d brought me back into the suitcase.

“I’m going home.”

“No you’re not, Bea. Stop denying this and accept it.”

I glared at him, the anger inside me threatening to choke
me. “I am not denying it! I’m facing it like I should! I will not allow another
bastard to control my emotions.”

“Bea, please,” Mia tried then, her tears running down the
surface of her devastated face. “Just let the counsellor come and talk to you,
she might be able to help.”

“Fuck the counsellor. I do not need some shrink fishing
about inside my head. They are my thoughts, my own personal hell and I need
them to give me the courage to face this… this shit!”

I winced when I bent to pull on my shoes, the soreness
bringing tears to my eyes. Hiding my face, I struggled on, gritting my teeth when
my body cried alongside my heart. I refused to allow the ache to grow; grief
was no good, regret would only devour my courage and I needed it to climb into
the hell of my mind. I just wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone but no
bastard would let me and I was becoming as full of rage as I had been many
years ago. I couldn’t allow myself to slip into the despair that had consumed
me then, it would destroy me, so I faced it the only way I could, by refusing
the fact that for the second time in my life I had been raped. I could only
pray whoever had done this would be slaughtered by his own guilt.

“Then at least come home with me,” Mia urged, her eyes
pleading with me.

“No, I want to go home. On my own.” I turned to Ollie as
he stared sadly at me. “Will you run me or shall I call a cab?”

He shook his head and grudgingly yielded. “I’ll take
you.”

He picked up my case as the door to my room flew open and
Jay Carter stood in the space, his large body completely guzzling all the air
around him. He appeared to shimmer with a rage that everyone moved back from,
me included. His fierce eyes found mine and I stared at the utter misery gazing
at me. He radiated a rawness that I had once found threatening but now I
welcomed it. I needed it to feed my own hatred and thunder. I needed it to
consume me and drag me out of my own abyss and into the depths of this man’s hell.

He spotted the suitcase in Ollie’s hand and without
saying a word, he took the case and my hand then led me from the hospital.

***

His still enraged eyes locked onto mine as the steam from
the hot water in the bath swirled around us both. He gulped. As yet he hadn’t
said one word and I was both grateful and saddened. His face tightened and I
watched as he physically moistened his mouth with saliva so he could finally
talk. “Do the police have evidence of your… injuries?”

I nodded, lowering my eyes. Gently he placed a finger
under my chin and lifted my face. His eyes were full of a sadness that was
becoming suffocating and I swallowed back the ache inside me for his pain. “Are
you sure?”

“Yes.”

He nodded then ever so slowly he started to unbutton my
shirt. He locked my gaze, his expression full of encouragement and heartache.
“I won’t hurt you, Beatrice, I promise.”

I nodded. I believed him. “I know.” It was strange, even
after what had happened between us I needed him right then. I needed his
strength and his anger. I needed his inner turmoil and I needed his desolation
because the one thing he didn’t give me was pity and that in itself gave me the
resolution to keep breathing.

His fingers softly brushed the material off my shoulders
and he watched as it slid to the floor. He visibly tensed when his eyes found
the bruises on my body, my ribs covered in bandages from where I had been
kicked. His body violently trembled but he held on, his hands sliding behind me
to unbutton the waistband of my trousers. He pushed them gently off my hips
then crouched before me to take off my knickers and help me to step out of them
both. A choked gasp strangled him when he caught the dangling string between my
legs where the nurse had inserted the medicinal tampon that soaked up the
blood.

His forehead rested on my stomach and for minutes we both
remained like that, his head on my sore tummy and my arms by my side as I stared
straight ahead and allowed him to regain his composure.

He blew out a breath then gently he unwound the bandage.
A growl resonated from him but he remained in control as he took my hand and
helped me step into the bath. I stood still when he stripped naked and climbed
in behind me. Placing his hands tenderly on my hips, he guided me softly into
the water and positioned me between his legs and lightly managed me until my
back rested on his firm chest.

He was silent as he sponged me down. Taking the bar of
soap in between his palms he worked up a lather then proceeded to tenderly wash
away the scent of sin. His breathing stuttered and he pulled in another breath
as he religiously cleansed me.

My gaze was secured on the bubbles bobbing about on the
water, the tiny pops mesmerising as the time passed and the foam disappeared,
the water cooling rapidly as I remained in the security of Jay’s careful
bathing.

Finally he softly moved me so he could climb out and
grabbing a huge fluffy towel, he lifted me out and into the comfort of both him
and the bath sheet. I snuggled against him as he carried me out of his bathroom
and lowered me onto his bed, where he climbed in behind me, delicately wrapped
me in his arms and then tenderly kissed the back of my head. I was asleep
within seconds, Jay’s care and comfort all the relaxation I had needed to
soothe my soul as his own soul embraced mine and lulled it until the pain
shifted and the solace masked the torture.

I knew she was awake, I felt her flinch when she left the
realms of her nightmare. She pressed back against me and lay her arms over mine
as if to remind herself that she was in the security of my arms.

“Are you okay?”

She stilled then nodded. “Yes.”

We both returned to our own personal hell for a moment
before I sighed and braved the question I hoped would help her open up. “How
long were you married?”

“Two years,” she replied immediately, surprising me.

Her blunt answer encouraged me further. “And how many of
those years did he hit you?”

She didn’t respond that time, her voiceless pain heavy
and daunting as she lay unmoving with her back to me and stared ahead into the
darkness of the room. I lay back and stared at the ceiling, taking a soundless breath
and using it to give me courage. “I can still hear my mother’s screams in my
dreams. I still feel her pain and I still listen to the echo of her weeping.
Every one of her bruises is engrained both in my head and in my heart.” I
winced at the sound of my own voice, my pathetic agony painful to hear.

Her breathing paused in the soundless room before she
shuffled round and finally faced me. “How old were you when your dad started to
beat her?”

“He wasn’t my father, Nate didn’t come back into our
lives until I was eighteen. James Adams married my mum when I was three. He
first hit her when I was four. When I was eight, he took her, raped her and
beat her so much she was in a coma for a long time.” She gasped but I clicked
my tongue and pushed myself, voicing the pain that nobody had ever heard.
“Luckily, I don’t remember much and that’s something I don’t quite understand.
I have stupid memories, silly ones from when I was really little, but that time
in my life is gone, my mind buried it long ago.”

“I can understand that. I think that’s one memory that is
beyond the realms of what you could cope with as a child, so your own mind
provided the security it knew you needed,” she said softly as she reached out
and her finger trailed down the centre of my bare chest, a diversion for her
mind to focus on. “And now?”

“Now?”

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”

She hesitated but then nodded softly. “Good.” I thought
she would open up to me about her own marriage but instead she changed track
completely, startling me with the unforeseen question she asked. “Do you have a
regular?”

“I’m sorry, a regular? I’m not with you.”

She placed her palm on the flat of my stomach. “A woman
who you go to when you need to… be who you are.”

I closed my eyes and cringed. Unable to answer her, I
moved away and swung my legs out of bed, planting my feet firmly on the floor.

I could physically feel her hurt and she gulped loudly.
“What’s her name?”

“Beatrice, don’t do this,” I whispered as my gut twisted
with guilt.

She also moved and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m
sorry. I don’t even know why I… it’s none of my business.”

I sighed, hating the awkward silence that had descended
around us. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she countered quickly. “I don’t even know why I
asked. I understand why you would need…
her
.”

I scurried round the bed, my emotions going wild with the
pain of her hurt. “Please don’t be jealous, Bea. Belinda means…”

“Belinda?” she whispered quietly, “Is she pretty?”

“Stop.” I ordered as I grabbed her hands and brought them
to my mouth, my lips softly kissing each of her delicate knuckles. “You are two
completely different women in my life.”

“Does she take the pain that I can’t?” Her voice was
higher, her obvious need to hurt herself evident.

“I’m not going to have this conversation Beatrice,” I
stated firmly as I yanked on some jeans.

“Is that where you’ve been for the last three days?” She
asked angrily. “At hers?” She stood up and walked towards me, her rage now as
intense as my shame. I heard the choked sound of her need to let go and I
braced myself ready as she took another step and her rage spat in my face. “Is
it? Have you been beating her? Was she good?
Is
she good? Does she give
you what I am unable to?”

Her despair was now tipping over and I stared her out as
she finally let it free and all the hurt and pain from the last twenty four
hours unleashed in a torrent of anger so intense I struggled to breathe as she
started to slap my chest. But I stood firm and still and willed her on.

“Did she fuck hard?” She hissed as she slapped me again.
“Was she good, Jay? WAS SHE GOOD?”

“Yes, she took it,” I growled back as her hands struck me
harder and greedier. “She always takes it. You have every right to hate me
Beatrice because for the last three days Belinda has allowed me to do
everything I can’t do to you! Are you happy now?” I shouted, “ARE - YOU - HAPPY
– NOW?”

The scream that left her fractured my soul as she at long
last allowed the anger to explode in a wave of a fury so powerful I thought her
mind would snap. She beat my chest with her fists as her nails clawed at me,
her cries so loud and dejected that the sound of them bruised my heart. “I hate
you!” she screamed. “I HATE YOU JAY CARTER. I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

“I know you do, I do too,” I answered quietly but I
doubted she heard me as she unlocked the suffering she had hidden away and let
it take her to a place she needed to go to.

When I felt her sorrow split into distress I knew she was
finished and although she fought me at first, her tiny body relented and she
allowed me to hold her as she wept and rocked herself into a pit of calm, the
horror she had protected her heart from now taken from her and soaked up by my
own.

“He raped me, he raped me, he raped me…” she chanted over
and over as I held on to her and consoled her heartache.

“He will pay,” I promised as I sunk to the floor with her
and pulled her tight to me. “I’m going to kill him Bea. I can promise you
that.”

My heart skipped when all of a sudden her fingers fumbled
with my fly and she started to kiss my neck, the tears that had fallen from her
onto me now providing her with a river to taste. “What are you doing?”

“I need you,” she sobbed as she pulled my cock free, her
tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “I need to erase him. I need a new memory.
Please.”

“Bea…”

But she wasn’t listening and before I could protest
further, she had straddled my thighs, pulled out the tampon and was sinking
down the length of me slowly, her eyes fixed on mine, the pain she was in
clearly visible on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she rested her forehead on
mine, her tears now dripping onto my lips for me to taste. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” She was stationary on me, my
cock inside her but our joining was more than sex right then, we both needed the
closeness provided in only one possible way.

“For not being what you need.”

“No,” I shook my head urgently, the pain in my heart unbearable
with her declaration. “You are what I want Beatrice. You are.”

“But I can never be that woman. I can’t take what you
need to give.”

She started to move slowly on me. Taking her hands, I
threaded my fingers through hers and watched her pain turn to pleasure. Our
eyes never left one another’s, our souls linked by the comfort we were giving.
I watched the agony leave her eyes as her tears released all the heartache and
the despair that had been locked deep inside her. I couldn’t take my eyes off
her as she rode me slowly. The sensation was so exquisite and amazing that I
trembled with the bliss she was forcing into me with every one of her gentle
moves.

Suddenly she gasped and shuddered upon me and as I cried
out and filled her with what she needed to mask the scent of the bastard who
had taken so much from her, I grinned with a laugh that I couldn’t hold back
and cupped her cheek. “You see,” I whispered in awe of what had just happened.
“You see, you are enough, Bea, you are enough.”

For the first time in my life I had just made love. And
for the first time a woman had taken
me
, tenderly and adoringly. And for
the first time in my life I admitted that the connection between a man and
woman wasn’t just about sex, it was about the linking of minds and souls.

Beatrice smiled softly. “You think this could work? That
you could…”

“Sugar,” I smiled widely. “With you I can. I know it will
work. The feeling was so intense that my mind wasn’t anywhere but with you, my
soul dancing with yours. I’m yours Beatrice Vine, all of me.”

I was bursting inside, the feeling inside me
overwhelming. The darkness within me hadn’t even tapped on the door to join in.
My mind had solely been on the woman who needed the gentleness and adoration.

I kissed her with a passion that took both our breaths
away, our mouths moving in perfect symmetry as our tongues met and idolised the
other. Her arms slid round me the same time as mine did her and as we just
kissed and held each other for a long time. The usual beat in my heart
amplified until I was sure it was going to burst through my chest and offer
itself to Beatrice.

I gasped and froze. Beatrice reared back, her eyes wide
on me. “What’s wrong,” she asked quickly, her face full of anguish when she
sensed my shock. “What is it?”

“I…” For a moment I couldn’t breathe, the tightness to my
chest struggling to cope with the swell inside. The emotion running through me
was so completely extraordinary that I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Jay,” Bea urged when I stared at her. “What?”

“I…” She nodded in encouragement. I took her hand and
gulped, staring at her in amazement. “I… I’ve fallen in love with you. I love
you.” Each word tumbled from me in a slur. “Jesus bloody Christ, Beatrice Vine.
I’m in love with you.”