Last Chance Rebel (25 page)

But he was desperate for her, needed her, the wall of stone he had placed in front of his soul cracking open, dark, messy need pouring out all around them.

She wrapped her hand around the base of him, sliding her tongue up his length, her eyes meeting his, a shot of heat and pleasure shooting down his spine, gathering at the base, tension gathering low and hard inside of him.

“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Rebecca, not like that.”

“Why?” she asked, her face flushed, her eyes glittering with pleasure. “Because then you'll have to admit that I get pleasure just from being with you. Not your hands, not your... Not your cock, not your mouth. Just you? That you're the one that turns me on? That you're the one I want?”

Her words washed over him like a wave, leaving devastation in their wake. Every soft, delicate truth that spilled from her tongue moving mountains inside of him.

Right now, she was more than a woman. She contained a tsunami, and she possessed the ability to destroy everything that he was.

Still, he didn't pull away.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, hauling her up to her feet. “Because then I wouldn't be inside you when I came.”

Her mouth dropped open, the color in her cheeks higher, shock, desire darkening her eyes. “Did I shock you?” he asked. “Does it surprise you to know how much I want to be buried in you? To feel you all around me?” He turned his head, pressing his face to the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply, the soft scent of hay, soap and Rebecca. “Do you want me? Do you really?”

It had started out as a game. A game to see if he could make her cheeks turn a brighter color, to see if he could shock her. But now, now he just needed her to say it. He needed it more than he needed his next breath.

The challenge of her last words echoed through him. She was right. He was afraid to admit it. But he needed to hear it. That she wanted him. That she wanted this.

More than that, that she needed this.

That he was more than an antivenin. More than just an antibody of the same poison that had brought about her wounds in the first place.

That this woman, this strong, beautiful woman wanted him. That when he left here, she would still think of him. That she would burn for him. That part of her would always wait for him to come back.

You bastard, that's the last thing you should want. You should want her to forget you.

Why?

It was the first time he had ever questioned why. Why he felt like he had to leave. Why he was so comfortable being the villain.

If I'm not the victim, where does that leave you?

He pushed all of that out of his mind, picking Rebecca up and carrying her up the stairs, holding her so close that he knew she could feel his raging heartbeat.

He deposited her onto the center of the bed, his blood a slow burn that he knew would catch fire the moment he touched her again. He stood back, pulling his shirt up over his head, standing before her with his jeans open, the evidence of how much he wanted her obvious, thanks to the steel jut of his cock, begging for her touch again.

He was so hard it hurt. That need, that specific, all-consuming need nearly undoing him completely. “Tell me you want me,” he said, the words coming out low and rough, completely without his permission.

It was Rebecca's turn to take off her remaining clothes, to lay down on the bed and spread herself before him like a carnal buffet. “You first,” she said, soft words shot through with iron.

“I want you,” he said, shoving his jeans and underwear down and leaving them on the floor.

He moved to the bed, kneeling in front of her, his hands shaking as he placed his palms against her thighs, stroking her up to her hips, holding her tight as he looked into her eyes. “You. I want you.”

“Why?” she asked.

Because I need you.

But he didn't say that. “Because you're beautiful.”

“No. If it was all about being beautiful, then you would have someone else. Why do you want me?”

A shiver worked its way down his spine, evidence of frustrated desire, he told himself. Because he didn't want to know what else it could be. “Because you're strong. Because you can take me, and I don't think anyone else can.”

Those words came from deeper in his soul than he would've liked, cut closer to the bone than he had intended.

“Then give it all to me,” she said, grabbing hold of his shoulders, urging him up. “Give it to me.”

He moved, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of her face, leaning down so that his lips were a breath away from hers. “Tell me you want this.”

“I don't want this,” she said.

The spike of pain that stabbed his chest took his breath away. Then Rebecca grabbed hold of his chin, holding his face steady. “I don't want sex or experience, I don't want the orgasms I was deprived of over the years. I want you. I want you, Gage West. So deep inside of me I can barely breathe.”

He growled, reaching over to the nightstand, quickly procuring a condom and rolling it onto his length. Then he pressed against her slick, tight entrance, his muscles tensing as he thrust home, desperate to be inside of her. Surrounded by her. To give her what she said she wanted.

To give himself what he knew he needed.

He let every word, every worry, every truth, burn into bright light. Nothing in his mind but the white-hot burn of pleasure. He pushed it all away, held it at bay. Because as close as he had been to losing it before he had joined his body to hers, it would send him over the edge now.

So he let this consume him. The feel of her, the scent of her. Delicate fingertip sliding down his back, soft, feminine sounds of pleasure, the way that her thighs parted just for him. The way that he fit there, not comfortably. Nothing about this could ever be called comfortable. It was too much. Too hot, too tight. But it was the only thing he wanted.

She was the only thing he wanted.

It wasn't perfect, sweet satisfaction and it never would be. It cut too deep for that. It hurt too much.

Fingernails dug into his skin, her internal muscles tightening around him as she found her own release. And he was powerless to fight against that. He could do nothing but surrender. The sharp edge of his orgasm stabbed deep like a knife, stealing his breath, making it impossible for him to do anything but hold on to her while a bomb burst inside of him.

It left everything in him ruined, devastated, the jagged bits of his release biting into him, leaving their mark, burying themselves so deep he knew they would be there forever.

He would never be the same. Rebecca Bear had left scars on his soul that would never go away.

He pressed his head down, resting his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his face, his back, his arms, touching him everywhere she could reach. As if, even after that she wasn't satisfied.

He felt the same thing. The dark, devastating sense of dissatisfaction even as he lay there replete, barely able to move. It was terrifying. Overwhelming. Enough to make a grown man want to turn tail and run.

“Gage,” she said, the word splintered. “Gage, I love you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

R
EBECCA
COULDN
'
T
QUITE
believe that she had spoken the words out loud. She couldn't quite believe that they were true. And yet she had, and they were.

She was still digesting that when Gage moved away from her, like she was a snake who had just struck at him.

“I'm going to ignore that,” he said, his voice rough. He started hunting around, for his clothes presumably. As though he were desperate to put some layers between them.

And after all that, she wasn't particularly surprised. That was the most open he'd been. The most honest. It was there, not just in his words, but in the way his hands shook when he had touched her.

When she had stripped away all of his excuses. That layer that he put up between himself and the world, the one that provided every excuse for why he did what he did, and why it was for other people and never for him, had begun to unravel.

And it was continuing now.

“You're going to ignore it, and then you're going to run away?”

He froze. “It would be better for you if I did.”

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. It would be better for
you
if you did. That's what this has all been about. From the beginning.” Anger poured through her, a different kind than she could remember feeling before where he was concerned. This wasn't for herself. It was for him. For everything that he denied himself underneath the guise of being undeserving.

For every lie that he told himself as he let himself walk down a darker, lonelier road. For what? She couldn't figure it out.

She wanted to grab hold of him, wrench him open, force him to show her exactly what was hidden inside of him. She knew he was hiding. She knew it. She just didn't know what.

She looked up at him, at the beautiful, blank wall that was Gage, and she wanted to fold in on herself with pain, anger and frustration. But she was done with that. Done with hiding.

She would be damned if she would let him carry on.

“Why? You still didn't show me why I should hate you. Why I should be afraid of you. Why you're selfish. You think that I'm going to be impressed by you making me get on my knees and do something I wanted to do anyway?”

“Rebecca,” he growled.

“Gage,” she said, planting her hands on her hips, staring him down. She was naked, and she was not ashamed. She didn't feel damaged, she didn't feel disadvantaged. She felt strong.

It was a different kind of strength than the one she'd been convinced that she had when this man had first walked back into town, back into her life. It wasn't brittle. The foundation wasn't bitterness, a root that ran deep but was poison for all concerned.

No, this was different.

She had spent the past seventeen years being broken. Believing she was broken beyond repair and reveling in that pain. Using it to keep people at a distance, using it to give herself excuse after excuse not to risk herself. Not to try.

And here she was, risking herself in the deepest, most profound way she ever had. With this man. The man she had spent so many years blaming for all of her pain.

But that wasn't who he was, any more than the scars were who she was.

She didn't think he believed that was all he was either. But he was going to stick to that story. Was going to continue to use it, just as she had done.

“You're just as much of a liar as I am,” she said, the words void of anger. “You took this thing that happened, this terrible thing, and you let it define you. You used it as your protection. As your excuse to leave. But I want to know what really happened. I want to know what's happening inside of you now. I want to know why you don't think you deserve to be happy. And please don't tell me it's because you left me with a few scars.”

“And a limp. And all of the other hidden things that cause you pain every day,” he said, his voice rough.

“I believe that you feel guilty about that, Gage. And I'm sure that there isn't much I can do to change that. So, I'm going to need you not to pity me if we're going to spend more time together. Because I can be a person you care about. I can be a woman that you want. I'd really like to be the woman that you love. But I can't be a woman that you pity. Whether you mean it to be or not, you living like this holds both of us back. You're forcing me to continue to dwell in it, and I don't want that. So if you care about me at all, if your guilt is really about me and not about you, then you need to change the way that you deal with things.”

“Of course it's about you,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“No,” she said, new certainty infusing her tone. “It isn't. It never was.”

“You don't think I feel bad about this? You think I'm some kind of monster? I thought we were past that.”

“Don't you dare turn this on me, Gage West. I do think you feel bad. I said as much. But I don't think it's the thing that kept you running for seventeen years. If this is really all about becoming your father, if this was really all about you being angry because he didn't face up to his own mistakes, then you would have done something differently.”

“You don't understand,” he said, raging suddenly. He took a step toward her, then another. She took a step back, until her shoulder blades butted up against the wall. He pressed his hands to the smooth surface, on either side of her face. “It was so easy to let him fix it. So easy to take that out. And I could see myself sliding down the slippery slope. Being the kind of man who would end up just like that.”

She looked up at him, at those dark eyes that were so close to hers, and yet, not looking at her. “I don't believe you,” she said softly.

He pushed away from her, forking his fingers through his dark hair. “You're going to tell me what I feel now?”

“Why not? It's what you've been trying to do to me since you came back. Telling me what I should accept, telling me how I should think of you. Well, let me tell you something. I've decided how I feel about you. I've decided who you are based on what I've seen, not what you've told me. You're the man who took so much care with my body when you took my virginity. The man who went to see his sister after she gave birth, even though it wasn't easy. The man who came back to deal with his family's issues after so many years detached from it, because when push comes to shove, you're the kind of man who will be there. You don't let people go, Gage. You're not sliding down any slippery slope, and you never have been.” She swallowed hard, conviction burning in her chest. “You care too much. Too much for other people who aren't you. Nothing about being back here benefits you, not really. This isn't for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea how much this was for me,” he said. “How much all of this was for me. From coming back here in the first place to the first moment I put my hands on you. That's the only thing I know how to do, Rebecca. And no matter how far I run, it stays the same. I know how to please me. I know how to serve me. That's it. Doesn't matter what I say I want to do, doesn't matter what I try to do, the end result is always the same.” He shook his head, pacing the length of the room. “You know why?”

“I'm sure you think you do,” she said, crossing her arms, trying to brace herself for what he might say next. He was on a warpath, and she knew it had nothing to do with her, but with him. He was bound and determined to blow this up. She could sense it. Could sense that the blow was coming, but it didn't mean that it would make it easy to take.

“Because I am a selfish bastard. You might not believe it because you had a short amount of time with me, but trust me, I've had more than thirty years inside this body, and I know me. Do you want to know the absolute truth, Rebecca?”

“You're going to tell me whether I want you to or not. In fact, I think if I don't want you to, you're even more likely to tell me. Because you're blowing this up, aren't you? The last thing you want to hear is that I love you. It scares you. You're going to ruin this.”

He laughed, the sound cruel, unkind. “It was never supposed to be something that could be saved. It was ruined from the start.”

“Because of you?”

“Hell yes. Why do you think I behaved the way that I did growing up? Because all I cared about was myself. Satisfying myself. There was always this thing inside of me, this hungry beast that wanted to be satisfied, and nothing has ever proven to be enough for me. Not alcohol, not women, not driving too fast on two-lane roads in the dark.” He took a deep breath. “It was a relief.”

“What was?” she asked.

“Finally doing something bad enough that I couldn't come back from it. Do you understand? That accident was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because finally I could look my father in the face and tell him what I thought. Finally, I could leave. I could walk away from this place, from everything in it. All of the dissatisfaction, all of the...”

“What? Are you still going to tell me it let you walk away from becoming your father?” She felt like she had been slapped. Felt raw and wounded. Just as she imagined he wanted her to feel. But even though she knew that was what this was, it was impossible for her not to have an emotional reaction.

But this, she had a feeling was actually honest. It was unfiltered, because he wasn't trying to spare her, but it was real. She had wanted reality. Had wanted to know what was going on inside of him, what tortured him, what made him feel like he couldn't come back. What made him so desperate to cling to the fiction he had created. So now, it was beginning to come out, and no matter how much it hurt, she couldn't reject him because of it.

She couldn't.

So she steeled herself, not with the shield of false strength she had used all of this time, that angry victimhood that had defined her for so long, but with love.

Love was stronger. Stronger than the past. Stronger than old wounds. Strong enough to take on a few more.

At least, she hoped it was.

“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Because you're right, if I had really cared about that, I would have stayed. I just wanted relief. From myself. A chance to get away from this family and everything about it that hurt.”

“What hurt you so much?”

“No, we're not going to do this,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because there's no point to this. Because I'm going to walk away from you in the end, and if you really want me to leave you worse off than when I came, we can keep going down this road, but I don't think you actually want that. Because I'm going to leave you alone. Just like I promised I would in the beginning. Just like you said you wanted. Don't go changing the rules now because I'm not going to adapt to this new plan of yours.”

“It's not a plan. I'm just in love with you. And in the beginning I wanted you to walk away because I was angry with you. And because I was afraid to need somebody.” She looked at him, clarity rolling over her like a wave. “And so are you. You're afraid to want somebody. You're afraid to need them. Is that why you spent all of this time walking through your life alone? Because God forbid you accept any help? God forbid you accept any love? What happened to make you so afraid of this, Gage?”

“What do you think love is, Rebecca? I'm asking you honestly.”

She thought back to the ways her life had changed since he had come into it. The way that he had filled all of those empty spaces inside of her. He had taken care of her, and she had let him. Hadn't felt hard, or terrifying. There was peace in it. A kind of completion that she hadn't known she could have.

He had taken all of the sharp, restless feelings that lived inside of her and wrapped them up in his arms, held her close to him even when those jagged pieces of herself cut into him. He had withstood. He had allowed her to rail against him with her words, with her fists.

“Mostly, I think that love is strong. Strong enough to get in there and fill the empty spaces, to reinforce somebody that's about to crack apart. At least, that's what it's been for me.”

“That's never been what it is for me. Love for me has been nothing but disappointment, fear and a whole lot of unfulfilled expectations.”

“Is that what we are?”

“It's what we would be if I loved you.” His eyes were black, blank, his words cutting her down to the bone.

“What am I then, Gage? If I'm not someone you love... What am I to you?” She swallowed hard. “Am I anything other than your escape route? Is that what I am now too? The excuse for you to get out of town quickly?” Suddenly, she was suffused with terror. A kind of fear she hadn't felt since she'd woken up to discover that her mother was gone and she was never coming back. “Am I really that much of a fool, Gage?” Her throat tightened, the rest of her words escaping as a horrified whisper. “Did you let me make that much of a fool of myself?”

“I didn't let you do anything, baby, and you know that. I was honest with you from the beginning. More or less.”

Something about him using that endearment, an endearment he had used in intimate moments, cut almost deeper than anything else. “You said a lot of things, but you showed me different things. So don't stand there acting like you're completely absolved of any of the fallout from this. That's one thing I was never going to be, one thing I can never be. Your absolution.”

“Too bad for you, you said you forgave me.”

She swallowed hard. “I did. But it didn't change the way you felt about yourself, did it? Not really. Because you still can't handle this. You still can't give me honesty.” Her heart was thundering hard at the base of her throat, echoing in her head. She was being bold, accusing him of lying when he might well be telling her the truth for the first time. But she had to believe that this wasn't the truth. There was still more. That if she dug down deep beneath the layers there was still something else there.