Page 33 of Ridin' Free
“Was it him?”
“I already said it wasn’t. Now, let me go.”
He shook his head slowly as he watched her eyes fill with tears. Speaking in a low, calm voice he pressed, “Sparky, I’m not lettin’ you go until you talk to me. Tell me what I need to know. Was. It.Him?”
“No!” she seethed as her first tear fell. “But he’s the reason I refuse to touch myself.Ever. Because for five years, whenever that motherfucker got the urge, he came and sat at the edge of my bed and jerked himself off while he watched me touch myself. And theonlyreason I did it was because he threatened to do it himself if I didn’t.”
She was trembling now; and even as her tears fell, he could feel her fight—he could feel her holding back.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She shook her head, sending more tears into his beard as she bit, “He’s not the biggest demon I’ve fought. Don’t feel sorry—” Her breath caught on a hiccup before she finished, “—don’tfeel sorry for me.”
Phoenix barely got the words out before a sob erupted from her throat.
Finally, Twister loosened his hold around her, but he didn’t let her go. As she dropped her head, burying her face beneath his chin, he reached up and held the back of her neck, keeping her close.
He turned, until his lips were grazing her temple, and whispered against her skin, “I don’t feel sorry for you, baby—but I sure as fuck admire you.”
“Why won’t you just let me be?” she wept.
“Thought you were somethin’ else before. Now I know, without a shadow of a doubt, there’s a woman underneath all that bravado who isn’t even close to a waste of my time.”
When she didn’t argue, he knew better than to think she’d opened that door—but it was a cracked window, and he planned on climbing through it.
“Let me help. Tell me what you need. What do they want? Why are they here?”
“Twister—”
“Baby, you don’t need to carry this all by yourself. Not anymore. Let me help.”
She freed a shuttered sigh, and her muscles began to relax, her body melting further into his.
He nodded, pressing a kiss against her temple before he muttered, “That’a girl.”
I couldn’t sayhowlong I laid there, folded in his arms as I sobbed.
I hadn’t been prepared. In fact, I’d been sounprepared, when Twister demanded the truth, it poured out of me as if my bodywas rejecting it. My throat burned, like my admission left behind an acidic residue.
I’d never told anyone before.
Not when it started, right after I turned fourteen.
Not when it ended, when I thought I’d found my escape at nineteen.
Except, seeing his face—standing in front of him again after all this time—it caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared.
I wasn’t prepared.
Georgia had been calling repeatedly for days, but I never imagined they’d actually walk in to the bar. Now, even the thought of either of them stepping foot into my home had me unraveling as I lay on top of Twister.
I needed to get a grip.
Fuck, but I needed to get a grip.
I willed myself to pull in a deep breath. I barely swallowed it, my chest still congested with a tumult of emotions I could barely contain. Pressing my eyes closed as tight as I could, I tried again. The air went down a little easier, so I did it again and again until I finally stopped crying. All the while, Twister held onto me, massaging my nape with one hand, repetitively grazing the exposed skin at the small of my back with his other.
No one had ever held me like this before. As I began to gather myself, I realized it was far too intimate for my liking. When I stiffened, I knew he felt it.
