Chapter 79

At the kitchen sink, Amy rinsed vegetables for tonight's stir-fry and gazed out the window at Nakos's yard while he showered upstairs. Wild and untamed, prairie grass glinted off the sun's rays and swayed with a breeze. Nothing but what seemed like miles of open land with the Laramie Mountains in the vast distance against a cobalt sky.

Since it was the weekend, he'd only been up at the ranch to check on things and tend to the horses. They had the rest of the day to themselves, and anticipation swirled in her belly. Nerves, too.

She recalled her conversation with Nate by the creek, had taken it to heart, and she'd been trying to let go of the past. He'd been right to call her out and lay an emotional gauntlet at her feet. At some point, she had to accept where fate was leading her. Little by little, she attempted to relax and go with the flow. See what happened. Open up. Nakos deserved that much. So hard, she wanted to believe she deserved a chance at happiness also.

Heat blasted her cheeks at the reminder of what she'd said last night while they'd unwound on the deck. Her motto had always been to claim she was fine. There was no sense in upsetting those she cared about by telling them otherwise. It wasn't as if they could fix the damage any more than she could. Nothing but crappy circumstances completely out of their control. And hers.

But she needed to start being honest with him. Relationships were give and take, and if they stood any chance at moving forward, she had to talk to him. Let him in. Nakos had been doing everything in his power to relay to her he was with her because he wanted to be. He didn't lie or mislead or screw around. In fact, if anything, he was too meticulous. Always, he calculated odds and outlooks and angles. No way would he have moved forward based on attraction alone if he didn't truly think the risk was worth the reward.

And yet, guilt was a living thing. It had taken up residence in her subconscious long ago and rarely allowed for progress. Whether justified or not, and that was up for debate, she couldn't help but wonder...if he knew what had been done to her, would he still feel the same way?

Though eighteen years had passed since that awful day, she still felt dirty. Tainted. She may have gotten over it, but she hadn't moved on. Even now, every once in awhile, flashes would slam to mind and she was thrown right back in the alley behind her parents' hardware store.

The brick wall scratching her cheek. Her skirt up around her waist. Panties digging into her thighs as her legs were roughly kicked apart. Tears clogging her throat and fear choking her so she was unable to scream. The sickening stench of Old Spice and sweat. And the excruciating pain of having him shove inside her from behind. It had gone on for what seemed like hours, but was probably minutes. She could still feel the trickle of blood down her leg and hear his grunts in her ear.

Up until that point, she hadn't had much contact with her uncle. He didn't live in Wyoming and had only visited a handful of times. Yet he'd given her the creeps. Even at such a young age, she knew the too-long hugs and lingering pats were wrong. Her first blaring lesson in sex had been a painful eye-opener.

She gave her head a violent shake and focused on washing peppers, resisting the urge to jump in the shower and scrub her skin raw. Repeated bathing hadn't helped back then, nor would it now. It was done. Over with. Except...

The incident had never really allowed her to let go intimately with a man. For whatever reason, the memories didn't invade during intercourse or cause her to freeze up, but she hadn't enjoyed the experiences, either. Like a numb state of autopilot, really. Her first orgasm with a partner had been with Nakos. Last week.

Thirty years old, and she was just now realizing what it was like to be a woman. Sad.

Maybe it was his patience or that she knew him so well, or perhaps the level of trust played a part, but with Nakos, she was helpless to passion. Desire. Need. He wrung her out and brought pleasure she hadn't known was possible. It didn't hurt that he knew what he was doing, too. Every touch and lick and kiss and suck was like detonation. There was no thinking around him.

He seemed equally enraptured. But, again, would that change if he knew? Her virginity had been taken in an alley, next to a garbage bin, with newspapers and refuse littering the way. The potential for her to ever be worthy of a good man wasn't possible. It wasn't just that she'd been violated, rendering her soiled, but the rape had been doled by a member of her own family. By blood. Nakos would be disgusted if he ever found out. As revolted as she had been about herself all these years. She was used goods. Every bit the whore her uncle had grated while he'd

Footsteps padded behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, bitch-slapping the past away.

In a pair of jeans slung low on his hips, barefoot, and shirtless, Nakos stood on the other side of the counter, his contemplative black eyes on her. Olive skin and six pack abs and corded muscle. God, even his feet were sexy. Heaven help her, he'd left his hair down, too.

She moaned. "Not playing fair, walking around shirtless."

He huffed a rough laugh and rubbed his chest, eyes skimming down the length of her and back.

"Anything wrong?"

He was staring at her like he'd been hit with the stupid stick. That was the other thing. The way he looked at her? For the first time in her pathetic life, she felt desirable. Wanted. Even when he wasn't turned on, his gaze held appreciation and heat.

"Nothing at all wrong. Too right, actually." His hoarse tone had dipped to a groan-inducing rumble like it did when he was aroused or emotional. "You look utterly perfect standing in my kitchen."

Knees? Jelly.

She grinned, shaking her head. "I'm going to pretend you didn't mean that to be as sexist as it sounded." Moving the peppers and carrots over to drain, she started in on the peapods.

He came up from behind and pressed against her, all hot, hard male. His lips skimmed the shell of her ear. "It's not sexist when it's true. And it's not just my kitchen where you look perfect." He wrapped an arm around her waist and flattened the other hand between her breasts, stealing her breath. "My shower." His hand moved up to gently cup her throat and tilt her head back, earning a tremble from her. "My deck." His thumb stroked her jaw, and she whimpered. "My living room or truck or anywhere else. Perfect, Ames."

Water continued to run in the sink, but she couldn't strum up the energy to care. Not with him snug against her or with his hands doing their juju. Heat blasted her from all directions, leaving her damp. Needy.

"Know where else you'd be perfect, bixooxu?" His teeth scraped along her neck and she almost slid to the floor in a heap.

"Where?" she breathed. She had no clue what the term he'd just rasped meant, but between his touch and his voice, he could call her a hippo and she wouldn't care. Her breasts ached and her nipples were stiff peaks behind her bra.

"My bed." Reaching forward, he shut off the faucet, only to cup her heat through her capris and grind himself against her backside. "You'll look best of all in my bed," he growled, vibrating the skin along her throat.

Did that mean...? Her eyes flew open, staring unseeing at the ceiling due to the way he held her head back to get to her neck. They'd fooled around and had some mind-blowing moments, but had yet to do the actual deed. She'd wanted to, so badly, yet he never pushed. In truth, she got the impression he'd held off as much for himself as he had for her.

He pressed the heel of his hand more snugly against her mound, right over her clit. She gasped, a full-body tremor coursing through her. Zings rode a current along her nerve-endings. She went from wet to drenched. Panting, she said his name.

A groan, as if he liked his name on her lips, and he was back at her ear. "Yes, I want you in my bed. I'm going to worship every inch of your beautiful body until you can't even think my name, never mind say it. I'm going to taste you and kiss you and elicit pleasure unlike anything you've known or dreamed." He cradled her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. "Then, I'm going to make love to you slowly, bury myself so deep a divinity couldn't separate us." He nuzzled his nose behind her ear and spoke into her hair. "Hours, days, years...I'm going to spend on you." A pause. "Please."

Oh God. Time after time, he brought out this whole other side of him. The beast, she often referred to it because that's what he seemed like when turned on. Quiet, contemplative Nakos got knocked aside for his baser self. And if his words weren't enough to send her spiraling, he always threw a "please" after his blatant demands as if seeking permission.

Like she had a choice?

"Yes." She barely got the word past the need tightening her throat. Just in case, she brought her arm back and threaded her fingers through his hair.

He hissed, and the next thing she knew, he'd slipped an arm under her legs and carried her out of the kitchen. She'd never been...swept off her feet before. It made her a little uneasy, but the tension in his expression indicated the strain was sexually related and not from her weight.

As if he'd read her thoughts, his gaze cut to hers while he climbed the stairs. Searing, those dark depths. "Hear me now. This is about you and me. No one else. I know there were others before me and they treated you unkind. I will not do that. Never, will I do that. Your wings will heal, anim. I promise you."

Sudden tears burned her eyes and a sob hitched in her chest. How was she supposed to protect what was left of herself after all the slashing previously done if he kept saying things that left her bleeding? "Nakos."

God, she was going to cry. Darn it.

He laid her on the bed and rose over her. "None of that either, bixooxu." Brushing his nose with hers, he offered an affectionate smile. "Just you and me. I'm going to make you feel so good."

To prove it, he started with her mouth, and her tears dried before they had a chance to fall. Achingly tender, he brushed his lips with hers and tilted his head. Going deeper, he slid his tongue along the length of hers, swirling the tip and tracing patterns. Whatever strain she'd been holding in her frame suddenly dissolved.