“How do you – ?” I stopped.
The question made him grimace, and he stared straight ahead through the windshield at the road beyond. Something told me he had experience with abusers like Paul – personal experience. Considering what little I knew about him, it could only mean one thing, logically speaking.
“Your mother?” I asked softly.
He turned to look at me, and I gave him a soft smile, before he continued. “Yeah, my mom. My dad beat the shit out of her, and we kept running. And no matter how far we ran, he kept finding us. Until one day, he'd had enough of the game, and shot her before turning the gun on himself.”
“Jesus,” I said, covering my mouth. “I don't even know what to say, Chase. That's awful.”
Chase shrugged, but I could tell it wasn't easy for him to talk about this. Even as he tried to hide his feelings behind a blank mask, I saw the look of bleak despair in his eyes. This hurt him to talk about – and yet, he'd told me anyway.
“It was a long time ago, and I wasn't there for it, luckily,” he said. “I was in the Marines at the time, newly enlisted. Still, part of me wonders if I could have done something more. Had I been there – ”
“Stop that,” I said, as I reached out and stroked his arm. “You can't change the past. And even if you had been there, you might have been killed yourself as well.”
“Yeah, maybe. Probably,” he said. “But I can make sure it doesn't happen again. I can protect you.”
Hearing it put that way – I found that I couldn't really argue with him. He felt obligated to help me and if I left and something happened to me, he would never forgive himself. Besides, the idea of staying with him wasn't all bad. I did feel safe with him around, that much was true. He was a Marine, after all. Tough and strong. Paul had nothing on him – and if he tried to have a go at me while I stayed at his place, he was going to be in for a world of hurt.
I smiled. “It would be nice to stop running.”
“You'll never have to run again, Abby,” he said. “I'll make damn sure of that.”
Chase released one hand from the steering wheel, and in a casual gesture, took my hand in his. He gave it a quick squeeze and gave me a small, tight-lipped smile that made me feel at peace. Or at least, more at peace than I'd been in a while.
ooo000ooo
The inside of Chase's home was larger than I imagined. Much too large for just one person. He walked me through a living room that had a large stone fireplace and overstuffed couches that looked more comfortable than the mattress I had at my place. We walked down a hallway and there were several doors on either side of the corridor.
“Your room is going to be right next to mine,” he said.
The large, wooden door creaked like something out of a horror movie when he opened one of them and we stepped inside. He reached out, flipping on the light, and the room was furnished and made up nicer than I would have expected. It struck me as a bit odd that a loner like him would have a nicely made up guest room.
A queen-sized bed was in the center of the room that had a navy-blue duvet over a white down comforter. A dark wood, intricately carved bed frame with a matching bedroom set filled out the rest of the room. There was a half bath attached to the room, along with a spacious walk-in closet.
“Wow, it's really nice,” I said, feeling safer just by being there, in his house. In his presence. “For a loner with no friends, you have one hell of a guest room.”
He didn't say anything. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet on the ground, staring at me. There was an inscrutable expression on his face I couldn't interpret, but I knew we'd been through a lot tonight. He'd been through a lot too, just by sharing his story with me.
His dark brown hair was messed up and stood on end, sticking out in a million different directions. The disheveled look worked for him, though, and I imagined running my hand through his thick, brown hair.
Before I could stop myself, I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him. I pulled him into a tight embrace. He felt stiff and awkward at first, but he slowly relaxed into my arms.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his chest.
I rose onto my toes to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his face, and our lips met. Neither one of us pulled back, though. His lips were warm and wet, and his tongue pushed into my mouth as we both backed up slowly, without even meaning to. His hands gently stroked my face, and I noticed he was being very careful in how he touched me. He was doing his best not to hurt me.
We reached the foot of the bed, and I sat down on it. Chase nudged me backward and climbed on top, his body hovering above mine. He leaned down and kissed me again, holding his weight on his strong forearms. I ran my hands over his chest, hungry for the feel of his flesh against my fingertips. I lifted his shirt, sliding my hands up and underneath it, touching his skin at last.
Chase did the same with my shirt. Gently, he helped me out of it, tossing it to the floor casually. Neither one of us said a word though. It was almost like if we spoke, the spell would be broken. His eyes devoured me once I was shirtless, my breasts peeking out over the top of the lacy white bra I was wearing. His lips met my cleavage and my body arched upward toward him, a whimper escaping my lips.
“Yes, yes,” I groaned, wrapping my legs around him.
Chase reached around and removed my bra like a pro, and my breasts fell free.
He took my breast in one hand, cupping it and lightly flicking his tongue over my stiff nipple, sending electric bolts of sensation shooting through me. I arched my body upward, pressing against him even more.
My hands were trembling as I pulled his shirt off, exposing that perfect chest once and for all. Tattoos dotted his flesh, and I traced my finger around several of the intricate designs. Initials with dates. Birth dates and death dates. My heart sank as it hit me what those meant, and there were so many – too many for any one person to be forced to endure in one lifetime. I stared up into his soulful brown eyes and really saw him for the first time. All that fear, all that anxiety, the pensive, even combative demeanor – that all came from losing someone you love. From losing everyone you love.
I knew it because I'd been there too.
My losses might not be as numerous as his, but they were there, engraved into my flesh every bit as deeply as his. Not as tattoos but as scars that would never fully heal.
Chase reached for my jeans, quickly unbuttoning them, and slid them down my hips. He pulled them off me, moving down the length of my body as he did so. Lying naked on the bed before him, I felt the butterfly wings of nervousness battering my insides. Somehow, my bruises, blemishes, and flaws all seemed more pronounced and unattractive. There was a gently curious expression on his face as he trailed his fingers over a large scar on my stomach.
It was as if he was asking about it without actually speaking the words. I closed my eyes until he moved lower. I wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Maybe not ever.
My eyes flew open though, as his hand brushed against the folds between my thighs. I stared down at him, and he stared back up at me, situated between my legs with a smile on his face. A boyish smile unlike any I'd seen from him before. It was adorable.
Chase lowered himself between my legs and lapped at my wet, swollen lips before parting them with his fingers. His tongue sought out my clit, licking and teasing as I writhed beneath him on the bed. My hands reached for his head, and I tangled my fingers in his shaggy hair, pulling it, moaning softly, as he drove his tongue into my pussy with incredible zeal.