Liberty (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

H
is wife was avoiding him again, Ryan thought grimly as he stood in her doorway. Ever since he got rid of the cars she had been distant. He had done it to take away her burden of working two jobs. He had done it so that they could spend more time together, but it seemed that his plan had backfired. She was skittish around him again. All the progress they had made over the past few weeks drifted away. He wondered what was going on in that head of hers.

She hadn’t mentioned leaving him in quite some time now. Did she want to stay? The money was all hers as far as he was concerned. She had earned it by living with an asshole for ten years. If she decided that she didn’t want this, he could go away knowing that she had enough money to survive on. He made it so she had a choice now. She wasn’t bonded to him. She didn’t have to stay with him as a sacrifice. She had freedom now.

He needed to know her choice. But more than that he just wanted to talk to her again.

The Major had sent him pictures of some of the men in his unit yesterday, including his commanding officer, Christian Howard. He couldn’t remember their names, but their faces were hauntingly familiar. One was of a boy of about twenty-two, brown skin, big doe eyes, his name Terrell. Ryan couldn’t remember a conversation or a time they shared, but he knew he liked the kid. The boy was dead now and Ryan felt an emptiness in his chest.

He dreamed of them last night, but not the violent dream he had before. This one was simpler. He was sitting at a card table with three other men. They were playing poker in their sand-colored fatigues. One of the men was called Tex—but he wasn’t sure who—and then the dream ended.

That man was not him.

He walked into her room after watching her doze for a few minutes. She looked so cute curled up in a little ball on her bed, her mouth slightly open. She looked vulnerable. She must have passed out after her shower again for she was wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair still wet and clinging to her head. Lexy worked all day at the library from opening to close, doing anything and everything that was asked of her all in an effort to avoid him.

He climbed into bed with her. He always liked her pretty little bedroom with its old-fashioned vanity and handmade quilt, and the dozens of dainty little pillows that were piled high on her bed.

Still slumbering, she snuggled close to his warm body for a moment before she realized she wasn’t alone. Her eyes popped open and he saw fear immediately fill them.

“Damn it, Lexy.”

It hurt him physically to see that she was still afraid of him. It had been nearly two months since they had moved in together and they were still at the same place. Her trust was not coming easily. He was at a loss. He moved away from her. If she didn’t want him there he wouldn’t be there.

“Ry—” She grabbed his hand. “I’m just not used to waking up to somebody beside me. I told you that.” She pulled him back down on the bed. “All I can say is that I’m sorry.” She pushed her body close to his as an apology. “You are supposed to warn me anyway.”

He was still stung by her mistrust, even though he knew it would take time. Living like this—seeing without touching—was nearly unbearable. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek.

“Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” he said stiffly.

“You are. I can feel it.”

He growled in frustration. “I’m going crazy, damn it.”

“So am I,” she snapped and rolled away from him. “Do you think I expected this? Do you think I’m torturing you on purpose? I’m not. I wasn’t expecting
you
to come back. I was going to leave. The last thing I ever thought I would get was a husband.” She left the bed and sat at her vanity, putting distance between them.

“Do you know what Glory said to me at the game? That you always loved me. But if you loved me, you wouldn’t have thrown your affair in my face.” She slammed her hand on the fragile vanity. “Damn you, Ryan. After you found out I couldn’t get pregnant, you didn’t come home. You turned cold on me. You said I was useless.” Her voice caught and tears gathered in her eyes.

So this is why she put the distance between them. She couldn’t let go of what was done to her. How could she?

He felt like shit. He should have kept his mouth shut... He should have understood. Every step they took forward they took two back. “I hate you for that. I wanted a baby, but you pushed me and I lost him. Him, it was a boy. I was three months pregnant. It was your fault and you blamed me. You beat me for years and you wonder why I can’t trust you after a couple of months. My skin still crawls when I think about it. I can’t forgive you.”

He felt a deep dull pain in his chest, but he knew what he had to do.

“I’m not him!” He stood up and moved closer to her. “We look similar but not the same. Can’t you tell the difference? Can’t you see I’m nothing like him?”

“You were in an explosion. Of course you look a little different to me. But it’s not just me. It’s your mother. It’s the whole damn town. They all think you are Ryan.”

“If you can’t see me for who I really am, if you can’t trust me, then you need to leave me. I’ll sign the papers. You can have the money. I won’t come after you.”

The tears flowed freely from her slanted eyes. “It’s not that easy!”

“Why not! I can take care of myself. I don’t need you anymore. You can go without guilt.”

“That’s not why I’m staying.” She wiped her eyes. “I like the man you are, and when I’m with you I feel like a different person. Like I’m married to a different person.”

He left the bed and knelt before her. “I’m not him, Lexy.” He picked up her hand and placed it on his cheek. “Look at me. Can’t you see that I’m not him? Can’t you tell when I kiss you? When I touch you? Hell, I don’t even have an accent.”

“Then who are you?” she whispered. “I want to believe you, but if you aren’t my husband, then you are a stranger.”

She was right. The same terrifying thoughts ran through his head and kept him awake at night.

“You know me, Lexy. I gave you that ring. Eight weeks ago you became my wife. The real Ryan might be dead or living my life somewhere, but right now it’s me and you.”

She surprised him by leaning over and kissing his nose.

“Comb my hair?”

“Excuse me?”

“Comb my hair before it gets tangled.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?” He was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Yep.” She handed him a beautiful antique sliver comb and looked at him. “Don’t you want to?”

It wasn’t often he was invited to touch her. She was trying. He had to oblige. He took the comb from her and sat on the bed.

“Come sit here.”

She did what he asked and sat between his legs on the floor. She had thick, dark hair that Ryan slid his fingers through. He felt the shape of her delicate skull, massaging her scalp slightly until she let out a thick moan, and just like that he was turned on. Taking the silver comb he ran it through her still-wet hair making sure he made contact with her skin at every opportunity. Her forehead. Her cheek. Her neck.

“You’ve done this before,” she muttered.

Her comment sparked his mind. He saw the glamorous redhead with the sparkling blue eyes. He could see her clearly wearing a fluffy white towel. Her long wet hair clinging to her back. Who was she? Why did she keep popping into his head?

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked him.

“Let’s go out. It’s too hot to cook,” he responded, trying to shake the image from his mind.

“I like the way you think, Mr. Beecher.”

He swiped the comb through her hair again and watched as the waves began to ripple.

“Will you wear it down for me sometime?”

“Only if you’re here to comb it.”

“Deal. Where did you get this comb from?”

“Maybell gave it to me. It was her grandmother’s.”

He always heard her voice catch a little when she spoke of her grandmother. She was the only family member she ever spoke of.

“Tell me about her.”

“She was mean.” She smiled. “But I loved her. I’m not sure how I came to live with her but she raised me since I was an infant. She was the only person I had. The whole town loved her. People used to line up for a piece of her red-velvet cake. She tried to teach me how to cook but I could never be as good as she.”

“I like the way you cook.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed his hand and pressed her cheek to it. “But Maybell’s food was so much better. I have her to thank for my hips.”

“I like your hips.”

She turned her head to kiss his palm, and in that moment seemed far away from the world.

“She was big as a house. When I was little I used to plop myself on her and fall asleep. She had a smell I won’t ever forget, baby powder and sugar. It was like sleeping on a giant marshmallow.”

“You miss her.” It wasn’t a question. He could hear the sorrow in her voice.

“Yes, but I’m so damn mad at her for dying. She was it. She was my world. And one day I came home from school and found her dead on the floor in the kitchen. Flour everywhere, her hand on her heart. I was devastated. I lost my light.”

“What happened to you afterward?”

“You happened. I met you and you promised to love me. We were married two months after she died.”

So that was how it happened. Ryan, the man she had married, the man he was supposed to be, saw a sad teenage girl and promised to love her. Lexy wanted to believe that he would love and take care of her. He had done everything but.

“I’m sorry, Lex.”

“Don’t apologize. Things happen for a reason. I have to believe that.” She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. “Thank you for combing my hair.”

“Anytime.” He bent forward to kiss her forehead, the lump in his chest growing larger.

“Where should we go for dinner? I feel like Mexican.” She stood, and as she did the tie from her bathrobe came undone, revealing just a glimpse of her lush body before she hurriedly retied it. In the back of his mind he knew that she was naked beneath it but now her pretty nude body was in the front of his mind. She may have been embarrassed, but he was intrigued. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms, unable to stop himself.

“Please, Lexy, can I see you again?” He spoke in a whisper but it sounded like a plea. “Please, honey. I need to see you.” He thought she was going to refuse him but she didn’t. Instead she tugged on the little strip of fabric and let the robe slide along her body and onto the floor.

“Damn it,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

Her lips curved slightly at the corners. Apparently his compliment pleased her, pleased her enough that she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her soft body into his. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go all the way with you, but I want to try.”

He smoothed his hands over the bare skin of her back as an erotic flash of heat ran through his body. “I just need to touch you, that’s all.” He kissed her under her ear. “Do you know how often I think about you? All day, every day.”

Lexy tilted her head back giving him free access to her neck. He gave her hot wet kisses, eliciting moans from her. Her pleasure filled him with life. She had been through hell and all he wanted to do was make life good for her, for them. He took a step back so that he could see her in all her imperfect perfection. Never had he seen a body like hers.

Beautiful curves, large breasts, small waist, round hips, long legs all covered in light brown skin. It called to him, her body; it teased him, begged him to touch it. He couldn’t resist her any longer.

Pulling her down on the bed he kissed her mouth. She lay still, almost frozen, except for her lips that moved carefully beneath his. She didn’t respond with the comfort of a woman married for ten years, or like the woman who was pulling him into bed last week. But then again he knew that things were changing between them. He knew that she thought if they made love there would be no going back.

Breaking their kiss he gazed down at her body, seeing the scars left behind by the husband of her past. He found the first one on her soft lower belly. This was the scar that had caused her the most pain and he kissed it lovingly, wishing he could erase the past that came with it, wishing she understood that he wasn’t the person who had hurt her.

“Ryan,” she whispered.

“Not yet. Please, not yet.” He didn’t want to stop. There was a square-shaped scar of raised flesh that decorated her side. He found it with his mouth and, instead of kissing, he traced it with the tip of his tongue. She gasped, but then relaxed underneath him.

Feeling triumphant he kissed his way up her body. Her eyes drifted shut and she ran her fingers through his dark hair. She was responding to him. He loved her for giving him that.

Her breast captured his attention next, a thumb-shaped scar marked her there. That scar hurt him the most. She said he had forced her. He hadn’t. If he had married her he wouldn’t have had to force her. He placed his own thumb there and just as he suspected his thumb was bigger than the scar. He didn’t do this to her. His lips kissed that scar, two, three times, while he cupped her in his hand, his thumb stroking her nipple to a tight point. Not being able to resist anymore he took her into his mouth and suckled slowly, gently.

She moaned.

“Does that feel good, honey? We can love every day. I can make you feel like this every day.” He found her mouth again before she could respond and kissed her with all the pent-up passion that he had stored since he had awoken. She matched his passion, kissed him back, clung to him. He moved his hand between their touching bodies, stroking the soft curls between her legs. She gasped and, taking advantage of that shock, he began to stroke that little pearl that was the center of her pleasure.

It was then she froze.

“Ryan, please stop.”

He stopped immediately, even though he didn’t want to. He was dying for her. Physically she was ready. He felt the telltale sign when he slipped his fingers between her lips, but mentally she wasn’t ready to let go. It hurt him but he respected her wishes.

“With your mouth,” she said softly.