“You deserve to be selfish. You’ve earned it.”
Another flush of warmth swelled her heart, solidifying her notion that she could say anything to this man. “I’m glad she’s gone, Travis. I know that sounds horrible, but I’m so relieved she’s gone.”
His hands paused and for an instant she thought she’d crossed the line, but he sighed and resumed, telling her it wasn’t her words but his sorrow behind the pause.
“Were there ever good times for you and Carrie?”
“Before my dad died. I was four and Carrie was almost six. It’s so far in the past, I barely remember those days.”
“What was your father like?”
“He held everything together. He was a doctor. Mom had always been a drinker, but she’d maintained control back then. It wasn’t until after he died that her drinking accelerated.”
She stopped for a moment, thinking about those days as Travis continued working magic on her back, neck and shoulders.
“She fell apart when he died. Dad did everything for her. After he was gone, she started drinking more, going out to bars, looking for a replacement, I guess. The sad thing is, she might have remarried if she hadn’t been such a lush. All she had to do was hold it together for a few years, maybe meet a nice man, but she never had the strength.”
“You’re nothing like her, Rachel. You’re a strong woman. You know that, don’t you?”
She turned from Travis’s grasp and flipped over onto her back, wanting to sink into the eyes of this man who somehow knew exactly the right things to say at every turn.
“I know. People used to say that I took after my father and Carrie took after our mother. Do you think that’s why Carrie killed herself? Do you think it was just part of their DNA that caused them to be weak?”
He reached out and touched her cheek, filling her with a sense of calm that years of paid therapy could never achieve. His fingers laced through her hair, and she turned and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand, holding them there for an extra beat as she breathed in the spicy scent of his skin.
“I think that’s very possible. I know that even though you loved Carrie, underneath, you’re nothing like her. You’re a fighter.” He paused again, pensive, looking as though he were contemplating something. “Have there been many men in your life?” he finally asked.
His question caused a warm flush to splotch her face. Telling him about her lack of grief for Hattie had come so easily, so why was voicing her past relationship so difficult? It almost shamed her to admit her distorted view of love and sex to Travis, the only man ever to challenge that outlook. With him, intimacy was not cheap or tawdry. His touch didn’t make her skin crawl or send a barrage of memories charging into her mind.
“There was one.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze, seeing only thoughtful curiosity in those whiskey-colored eyes. “We dated for about six months.”
“Did you love him?” Travis asked roughly, running a hand over her bare stomach.
“I kept telling myself I did, but I always knew deep down that I didn’t love him.” Bitterness climbed up her throat. She swallowed it back. “Not that it mattered. He didn’t love me, anyway.”
“But he told you he did?”
She nodded. “At the beginning, yes. He said all the right things. Once he got me into bed, though, he stopped saying them. He only wanted one thing from me and after he got it, he got bored and moved on.”
Travis frowned. “He was a fool.”
Though his firm words warmed her heart, Rachel found herself hesitating. She wondered what Travis’s intentions toward her were. How did he view their time together? He’d claimed to want more than a roll in the hay, but so far, he hadn’t broached the subject of where the two of them would go from here. She’d come to rely on him, and the thought that this was just something temporary troubled her. How would she ever be able to survive if, like Paul, Travis decided to move on?
Uncertainties clouded her head, but she feared raising them would make Travis push her away.
And right now, she only wanted him close to her.
“Make love to me,” she found herself whispering.
He didn’t say a word as he slowly reached for the button of her slacks. She didn’t care. She didn’t want him to say anything. She didn’t want to talk about her mother, or Paul, or where things stood between them. Not now.
She shivered as Travis pulled off her slacks and panties in one swift move, anticipation already coiling inside her. She watched as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it aside, then reached down to remove his jeans.
“I want to feel your skin against me,” she murmured.