The Contract (23 page)

Incessantly.

Between showing Jenna her plans for the living area, “our room,” asking endless questions about the history of yoga, the general inquiries about every member of the Gavin family and office, as well as any other subject that seemed to filter through her brain, she talked non-stop. Also, she never sat down. She flitted around the room, using her hands to demonstrate her ideas. She picked, moved, tidied, and straightened every object in the room at least twice. She kept patting Jenna’s shoulder, making sure she was okay, and the cold compress she kept on my neck was switched out every twenty minutes. I didn’t think it ever reached room temperature. I had to admit, when she stood behind me, chatting, I didn’t mind the way her fingers felt as she massaged my neck, or the way she tilted my head back to the softness of her stomach and ran her fingers through my hair repeatedly. The soothing action felt good, and my headache began to dissipate, despite the constant chatter.

Still, her behavior was perplexing. Even Jenna quirked her eyebrow at me more than once. I shrugged one shoulder, offering the only thing I felt made sense when Katharine was out of earshot.

“She doesn’t like storms, either.”

My explanation seemed to satisfy her curiosity.

Around ten, the storm lessened, the thunder tapering to a low occasional growl, although the rain continued to beat on the glass around us.

Jenna stood. “I’m going to go stick in my ear buds, turn up the music, and put on a night mask. Maybe I can fall asleep before the next wave hits.”

Katharine stood, as well. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can sleep on the chaise and be close.”

Jenna shook her head and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be okay. Knowing you’re across the hall will help. I just can’t be alone. Usually Mom and Dad are around if Adrian is away. Adam and Julia are so busy with the kids, I hate bothering them. You guys were a lifesaver tonight.” She bent down and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, Richard. I know you see enough of me in the office. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.”

“If you need me, come and get me,” Katharine offered.

“I’ll try not to.”

She walked up the steps, leaving Katharine and me. I studied her body language. Tense was an understatement. If she held herself any tighter, she’d be the one with the headache soon.

“Hey.”

She startled and looked at me, her eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why would you ask?”

I snickered. “You’ve been like a cat on a hot tin roof all night.”

She bustled around, tidying up her already neat files, straightening the newspaper I’d been trying to read, and picking up the glasses to take to the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“I can make you a sandwich.”

“No.”

“Do you want coffee? I bought some decaf. Or, maybe some toast or something? You didn’t eat much dinner.”

“Katharine,” I warned, my voice becoming impatient.

She set down the glasses she was holding. “I’m going to bed.”

She bolted up the stairs, leaving me more confused than ever.

I followed not long after, leaving a couple lights on in case Jenna needed to prowl around the condo. The last thing I needed was to have to call Adrian and tell him his wife fell down the stairs in the night, and I had to take her to the hospital. Graham and Laura wouldn’t be overly impressed, either.

The rain was picking up again, the storm gathering strength outside. I wondered if any of us would get much sleep on this strange night.

Upstairs, I shut my door behind me, the sight of the small lump in my bed reminding me I wouldn’t be alone tonight. Katharine was huddled under the duvet as close to the edge of her side of the bed as she could get without falling off. Suddenly, her strange behavior made sense. We were sharing a bed tonight, and she was nervous. An odd feeling—one of tenderness—swept through me.

It struck me as I watched her tonight what a gentle soul she must have. She lost her parents, survived what I knew must have been a rough time after they passed, although she hadn’t given me a great deal of information. She never discussed her time living on the street, which must have been horrific. She put up with me, cared for Penny, and thought nothing of helping a friend, even if she had to shift her entire life to do so—and she did it all with one of her warm smiles. She was amazing.

I found a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt. I preferred sleeping only in boxers, but I didn’t want Katharine any more uncomfortable than she clearly was already. After getting ready, I slipped in beside her, waiting for her to say something. There was only silence.

Rising up on my elbow, I peeked over her shoulder, drawing the heavy veil of hair away from her face. She didn’t speak or move, staying still, and her eyes remained firmly shut. Her chest moved far too rapidly for her to be asleep, though. I bent low over her, close to her ear.

“Faker,” I whispered.

She shivered, burrowing her face farther into the pillow. I dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder, and pulled up the duvet. “Relax, Katharine. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

I shifted over, shut off the light and lay there, listening to her short, nervous breaths. It should have felt strange having her in my bed, and yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. I could feel her warmth, and smell her light perfume.

The bed felt wrong, though, somehow. It took me a few moments to realize why. There was a constant vibration—just enough to make the mattress quiver. I looked over at her, studying her small huddled mass. She was shaking.

Was she
that
afraid of me?

I rolled to my side, reaching out and wrapping my arm around her, drawing her back to my body. She let out a shocked squeak, her body rigid. Tremors ran through her constantly, and her hands clutching my arm were like ice.

“Katharine, stop this,” I murmured. “I’m not going to do anything.”

“It’s not that. Well, not just that.”

“Is it the storm?”

“It’s . . . it’s the wind,” she confessed. “I hate the howling sound of it.”

I tucked her closer, and another shiver raced through her whole body. “Why?”

“The night my parents died, there was a storm. It was like this one. Loud. The wind pushed the car around as if it was a feather. My dad lost control and the car flipped.”

My heart began to beat faster. “You were with your parents that night?”

“I was in the back seat. When it happened, the windows exploded and the wind was so loud, and I was scared. I kept losing consciousness, but I was so cold, and I could hear the wind howling . . . it never stopped.” Her voice dropped. “I knew they were dead, and I was alone and trapped.”

My throat felt tight at the pain in her voice. She had never told me any of that until now.

“Were you hurt?”

Silently, she took my hand and pressed it to the top of her leg. Under the thin material of her nightgown, I could feel a long, twisted scar running down the outside of her thigh. “I had a concussion and my leg was crushed when the car flipped. It took two operations, but I survived.” She cleared her throat. “That’s why I sometimes trip or lose my balance. It buckles.”

All the times I mocked her, rolled my eyes, and watched her struggle to her feet, filled my mind. Shame, hot and blistering, made me tighten my arms, and I dropped my face into her neck. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No. I am sorry for what you went through, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh,” she breathed, knowing the reason for my apology. “Well, you didn’t know.”

“I never bothered to ask, though, did I?”

“I guess not.”

The next words out of my mouth shocked me. “Forgive me for that.”

“I did.”

I rolled her onto her back, hovering over her, staring down into her face in the darkness. The lightning flashes lit up her pale face, and the tears stood out in her eyes. “Forgive me for all of it, Katharine.”

“I have.”

“How?” I whispered. “How can you be this forgiving? How can you even stand to be around me?”

“Because you’re trying.”

“It’s that easy for you? A little effort on my part and you forgive?”

“I had to forgive you to do this with you.”

“In order to make sure Penny was looked after.”

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand, cupping my cheek, her fingers stroking my skin. “That was one reason.”

“What was the other?”

“I saw something—the day you told me about meeting with Graham. I saw a different side of you. I thought . . .”

“Thought what?” I asked when her voice trailed off.

“I thought if I could help you get away from the poisonous atmosphere of Anderson, maybe you could find the real Richard.”

“The real Richard?”

“I think . . . I think you’re more than you let people see. More than you let yourself see. I see more and more of the real you coming out.”

I leaned into her touch, letting her words soak in. Idly, I twisted a lock of her hair in my fingers, brushing the silkiness of it between my fingers.

“What is the real me like?” I asked, my voice low, almost pleading. I wanted to know her feelings—what she thought of me.

“Strong, caring. Capable. Talented.” She paused and sighed. “Kind.”

“You see things that aren’t there.”

“No, they are. You aren’t ready to see them yet. You will,” she assured me.

I stared at her in wonder. Gentle didn’t describe her soul. Not even close. I wasn’t sure I knew a word that did. Angelic, maybe? Whatever it was, whatever
she
was, I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, the high opinion she had of me—and I certainly didn’t deserve her.

A huge gust of wind shook the glass in the long windows, the rain furious in its rage as it beat against the panes. Katharine tensed up, her gaze flying toward the sound.

I bent low and kissed her. It was tender, nothing but a brush of our lips; hers trembling and soft pressed to my humble, unworthy mouth. I kissed her with the gentleness I should have always used when speaking to her.

I moved, tucking her back to my chest.

“Sleep, sweetheart. You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you, I promise.”

“I’ve never slept with someone like this, Richard.”

I dropped another kiss to her neck, wanting her to understand, to know something about me that made me worthy of her faith. “Neither have I, Katharine. You are the first woman I’ve ever had in this bed.”

“Oh, ah . . .”

I smiled into her skin. “I’ve never let anyone stay here. This is my safe place. Only mine.” I tightened my embrace. “Now, let it be yours. Sleep. I’ve got you.”

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into her warmth. Our bodies melded from chest to hips, our flesh seeking and finding something from the other.

Comfort.

Whispers. I could hear whispers as I woke, drowsy and warm—almost too warm. I was surrounded by heat and something that smelled enticingly good. My pillow tickled my face and I twitched my nose, trying to ease the itch, burrowing deeper into the welcome softness. My pillow giggled a little, and the whispers started again. I forced open my eyes. The light was dull, the skies still heavy and rain-soaked outside. I lifted my head and met the amused gaze of Jenna, who was sitting on the floor beside the bed, coffee cup in hand.

“Morning,” she said with a smirk.

“Is the storm that bad you had to hide in here?”

“I came to get Katharine, but she couldn’t escape your clutches, so we were having coffee right here,” she teased.

I looked down, realizing she was right. I was wrapped around Katharine as tight as possible. Every inch of me touched her body. I had one hand fisted in her hair, and the other held her to me like an iron bar. My legs intertwined with hers and my cock—my fully erect, desperate-for-release cock—was pressed into her ass. Her firm, accommodating ass, which felt like heaven nestled into my aching erection. I buried my face back into Katharine’s neck, marveling at how natural it felt to wake with her this way.

“Go away, Jenna,” I mumbled.

Katharine pushed against my arm. “Let me go.”

I kissed her neck, liking the shiver that happened this morning. Unlike the fearful tremors last night, this was one of pleasure. It rippled down her spine, her torso flexing, her ass snuggling tighter to my cock.