“Excellent!” He released her and gave her a congratulatory thump on the shoulder. “If that had been for real, he’d be cryin’ like a baby right now.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “So what would you do next? Run, or finish him?”
“Finish him,” she answered without hesitation. “That wouldn’t keep him down. If I ran, he might come after me.”
Parker nodded. “We’ll work harder on all the finishin’ techniques soon, but for now, we’ve still got some more getaway strategies to master.”
That was the first surprise attack of many. Parker soon fell into the habit of grabbing Rainie several times a night. “Think fast,” he always said. “Use whatever you can get your hands on as a weapon. Hair spray, get him in the eyes. Skillet, whop him on the head or in the face. Chair, whack him over the head. Always remember that every room contains objects that are potential weapons. Start thinkin’ about that over the course of each day, trainin’ your brain to notice the things that you can use to defend yourself. A file cabinet drawer, your computer monitor, a mixing bowl, a rolling pin, a cell phone. Even a bar of soap can deliver a stunning blow to the temple if you strike with enough force.”
Doing as he instructed, Rainie slowly came to view her world and the ordinary things in it in a totally new way. One morning while doing her hair, she studied her hairbrush, thinking of the many ways she could use it to inflict injury on an assailant. Then her attention shifted to her hand mirror, yet another item she could use to defend herself. Parker was right: There were potential weapons all around her, and mental training was as important as, if not more important than, physically preparing herself for a confrontation. Being a female, she had anatomical limitations that would always give Peter an edge. In order to prevail in a confrontation, she would need to think fast and react even faster.
It bothered Rainie to think that she’d had just as many weapons within easy reach when she lived in the penthouse apartment with Peter. Why had she never thought to pick something up and clobber him? Instead, she’d felt helpless and terrified during his rages, her only thought being to appease him somehow. Never again, she vowed. The next time he came after her, she wouldn’t cower like a mouse. She would fight back with anything she could get her hands on.
One evening Parker grabbed Rainie from behind when she was standing at the sink rinsing a pot with the nozzle sprayer, and Rainie let him have it in the face with the full force of the water. Instead of getting mad, he laughed, and before she knew quite how it happened, they were in a water fight that ended with both of them drenched to the skin.
As they cleaned up the mess, Parker praised her. “That was
awesome
! You used your head and whatever was handy. That’s exactly what I’ve been tryin’ to teach you. It’s not about size and strength but about grabbin’ an equalizer. The important thing is to go after him fast and hard. Water in the face won’t really hurt him, but it’ll shock him, possibly givin’ you a second’s reprieve to bash him in the head with somethin’.”
“And if it doesn’t, there’s always dish soap in the eyes. That might blind him for a couple of seconds.”
Parker flashed a broad grin and gave her a thumbs-up. “Dish soap. That’s brilliant.”
Before long, Rainie became as enthusiastic about the surprise attacks as Parker was. It was especially fun when she got to be the aggressor. One time, she jumped on his back, locking her arms and legs around his neck and waist, and held on fast, delivering pretend blows to his groin with her heels as he stumbled around the room. He finished that session by turning his back to a wall and bumping her gently against it.
“You’re down for the count,” he told her. “If he slammed you against a wall for real, you’d have the breath knocked out of you. So, now what do you do?”
Rainie quickly slid down the wall and into a roll, kicking at his knees with her heels as she went.
“Excellent!”
The practice attacks taught Rainie how to react in a variety of situations, but more important, they reminded her how to play. At some point, she discovered that Parker was ticklish, and after that, she had no mercy, often going for his armpits when he grabbed hold of her. Unfortunately, he soon learned that she was just as ticklish along her ribs and sought revenge.
One evening, a tickling episode ended with them sprawled breathlessly on the sofa, Rainie on her back, Parker draped atop her like a heavy, oversize blanket. When their laughter subsided and silence descended, they just lay there, gazes locked, hearts pounding, bodies joined. Staring up at him, Rainie got a hot, liquid, swirling sensation low in her belly. His face was so close to hers that she could see the tiny creases at the corners of his dark eyes, the individual lashes that outlined them, and the pores of his burnished skin. His breath smelled of coffee and spearmint, a combination that seemed intoxicatingly delightful to her in that moment. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which shimmered in the lamplight like polished satin.
And, just like that, she wanted him to kiss her. Always before, she had admired him but had nixed any physical urges. Now, lying heart-to-heart and body-to-body with him, the needs she had always smothered suddenly swamped her. With a quivering hand, she cupped his hard jaw. He searched her eyes for a long moment, and then, without a word, bent his dark head.
At the last second, Rainie lost her nerve. Memories of Peter’s teeth grinding against her lips and of his brutal fingers digging into her breasts slammed into her brain. After getting a ring on her finger and his hands on her money, Peter had abandoned all pretense of being her lover. To him, foreplay had revolved around inflicting pain and causing humiliation. Being in control and exercising it with brutal force had been all that really aroused him.
Rainie was about to push Parker away when his lips grazed hers, the touch so light that it was like the flutter of a butterfly wing. Breath trapped at the base of her throat, Rainie lay frozen beneath him, waiting for him to increase the pressure until it hurt, but instead he kept the contact whisper-light, teasing her mouth with the merest brush of his lips over hers. No bruising force, no discomfort, no use of strength. With a rush of expelled air, her lungs emptied.
“Oh, Parker.”
She said his name with a note of surrender, but instead of taking that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, he rolled off onto the floor, taking her with him in the circle of his arm. When they landed, their positions were reversed, Parker on the bottom, Rainie on top. What disarmed her even more was that he then let his arms fall to his sides, allowing
her
to take the lead. She’d never initiated a kiss. In college, the guys had always been the assertive ones, and then after Peter came into her life, kissing and soft caresses had become a thing of the past.
Seeing the expectant look in Parker’s eyes, she suddenly felt silly, embarrassed, and completely inept. She couldn’t do this. But that thought no sooner entered her mind than another sneaked in to obliterate it.
There’s no such word as can’t
. So she lowered her head to kiss him. Nose bump. She giggled and backed away.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Bad aim.”
He smiled lazily. “My nose has been causin’ me grief most of my life.”
“I love your nose.”
She angled her head before making her second approach, and that time, she found her target, a pair of slightly parted, warm, silken lips that responded sweetly to the slightest pressure of hers. Rainie indulged herself for a moment, savoring the taste of him, and then, somehow, her hands ended up in his hair, and she’d taken the kiss deeper, the tip of her tongue twining with his.
Parker.
In a flash of realization that stunned her, Rainie knew that she loved this man with her whole heart and soul.
He groaned and rolled with her again, burying his hands in her hair just as she had already buried hers in his. Angling his head, he took gentle control of the kiss, dipping deep into her mouth as if the mere taste of her were ambrosia, not something to be devoured quickly, but savored slowly. Her bones felt as if they were melting. Her heart felt as if it might slug its way out through her ribs.
Parker.
Just as the swirling heat of desire drew her deep into its vortex, he broke the contact, lifted his head, and smiled down at her. “You are so sweet, Rainie mine.”
And then he drew away. Rainie lay there, feeling bereft, which made no sense at all. She wasn’t ready for sexual intercourse. That thought no sooner settled in her mind than a second one followed: Parker knew she wasn’t ready, and that was why he had stopped. A burning wash of tears filled her eyes. He sat up beside her, and in the blur, he was a dark shimmer of black hair, burnished skin, blue chambray and denim.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gone oddly husky.
She nodded, wanting to tell him that she was far better than just okay. She’d just waded off into depths way over her head, and he’d kept her from going under. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank
you.
That was, hands down, the best kiss of my lifetime.”
“No, I mean—well, it
was
a great kiss—but I meant thank you for stopping.”
He thrust out a hand to help her sit up. “Always, sweetheart. I gave you my word. I’ll never press you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
A wonderful, warm rush of incredulity filled her. “Never?”
“Never.”
“Never
ever
?”
He laughed. “Never ever.”
“Does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want and nothing more will happen?”
His grin deepened, the warmth of it extending to his eyes. “That’s right. You can play fast and loose with me any old time it suits your fancy.”
Kissing, purely for the pleasure of it, was something Rainie had never indulged in very much with anyone. In fact, she honestly couldn’t remember actually
enjoying
a kiss until just now. Always before, it had been a rubbery, oppressive, and wet sensation that had made her anxious to break away and catch her breath.
“I never did a whole lot of kissing,” she confessed.
His grin faded, and a thoughtful, almost sad expression overtook his face. “I know.”
Rainie almost asked how he knew that about her, but perhaps some questions were better left unasked. Maybe she’d been so inexpert at kissing that he could tell she hadn’t had much practice.
“I, um, didn’t date a whole lot at university,” she felt compelled to explain, “and Peter didn’t really like all the romantic stuff.”
“Like kissin’?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. Saying anything more would take her places she didn’t want to go. “Maybe I’ll get better at it over time.”
He pushed up from the floor and extended a hand to help her stand. “You get much better at it, darlin’, and I’ll be spendin’ most of my time under a cold shower.”
Rainie giggled. Then she sobered. He was serious. She could tell that by the expression in his eyes and the slight, thoughtful upturn of his firm lips. “I thought maybe I wasn’t very good at it or something.”
His grin returned in full, devastating brilliance. “Sweetheart, kissin’ isn’t exactly rocket science. You have a fabulous mouth. I’ve wanted to taste it ever since I first clapped eyes on you. You could stand rock still and do absolutely nothin’, and you’d still be a fantastic kisser. Trust me on that.”
She’d come to trust him about everything else, so Rainie decided to take yet another leap of faith and believe him. It felt good to think that she might be fantastic at something besides bookkeeping.
Kissing was a lot more fun.
The next morning, Parker began teaching her more offensive maneuvers. By the end of their training session, he’d shown her how to gouge out a man’s eyes with her thumbs, how to head-butt him in the nose and mouth with her forehead if he pressed a frontal attack, how to hit him in the throat with the heel of her hand to injure his larynx and possibly collapse his windpipe, and how to ram her fingers into his ears or up his nostrils if everything else failed.
“It’s not your aim to disable him at this point,” he reminded her again and again. “You just want to break his hold on you. The best way to do that is by inflictin’ sudden, unexpected, and intense pain. Nine times out of ten, a male attacker will momentarily let go of his victim if she hurts him badly enough, and her first thought is usually to flee.” At this point of the lecture, he bent his knees to get at her eye level. “That’s what he’ll be expectin’, for you to run. Unless you’re absolutely certain that you can outdistance him, that’s the wrong thing to do. He’s bigger, stronger, and faster. Once he recovers, he’ll go after you. You’ll be safest if you immediately press another attack while he’s still reelin’ from the first. That’s when all the work we’re doin’ now on punchin’ and kickin’ will serve you well. You’ll be strong, quick, and accurate with your aim. The son of a bitch won’t know what hit him.”
Rainie had come to love her time with the training bag. As if Parker sensed that, he often left her to practice her punching and kicking alone. For so long, she’d tried to block out all the horrible times with Peter, but now she deliberately made herself remember, bringing every detail of those abusive events center stage in her mind. That night when he’d gotten mad about the wine and knocked her off the chair, what should she have done? When the answer came to her, she re-created the scene in her head and kicked his ass. It felt so good. Correction—it felt
awesome
. Whether she could really do it in person didn’t matter. Imagining that she could do it was almost as good. And it encouraged her to push herself to the limit, punching and kicking with such force that the rafter sometimes creaked from the pendulous swing of the bag.