Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (33 page)

He snaps me out of my reverie. “Daddy issues?” he jokes.

“Daddy issues?” A jaded laugh rips through me. “Daddy issues is the side item. Mommy issues is my main course.”

“Great. Fuckin’ double dose,” he mutters.

That causes me to laugh harder. “Yeah, you may have your work cut out for you, so let’s just focus on the first thing for now.”

He gives me another disappointed look and pulls some papers from the table next to him. “I was awake pretty much all last night researching. In my experience, even if it feels like you are alone, you rarely are. Whether it’s how we feel, or our experiences, or our … dispositions, chances are, someone out there in this great big world has felt it, gone through it, and acts like us. So I Googled it.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cracking up. “You Googled it?”

“Yep,” he says with a grin.

Oh my God. I’m going to die, but I have to hear him say it. “
What
did you Google exactly?”

“The possibility of whether or not one can orgasm during an assault,” he states.

Wow. He said it. And I burst out laughing. “I—” Nope, I’m still not done laughing. My laughter bounces off the walls of the living room. Tears leap to my eyes. I don’t know why it’s so funny. But it’s just … so funny.

“She laughs at me,” he murmurs, while staring at me like I’m an alien.

“I’m …” Wheeze. “So …” Cackle. “Sorry.” He waits stoically for me to calm down, and I’m so close. But then he cocks an eyebrow, and I’m off again.

“This shit’s from
Science Today
and
Psychology Now
,” he deadpans. “I printed up some online discussion forums that I thought were enlightening too.”

“You’ve got to admit that’s funny,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye. “You. In the middle of night. Googling whether or not it’s unheard of for someone to get off on being raped. That’s hilarious,” I cajole, as I tap his knee. “Picture it, John.”

I suck in a breath; my laughter dies a quick death. I’d just called him John, and he’d never invited me to. I’d never heard anyone call him that. And it seems so intimate, but so natural too.

His look goes distant, and he taps the papers on his leg before thrusting them at me. “Your first assignment—go in the bedroom where it’s quiet, since I’m sure Pete and Maggie will be here soon, and read over these things.”

“
S
O, GOOD NEWS.”
I wave the articles in the air. “I’m not alone in my freakiness,” I tell him with little enthusiasm as he lies beside me on his bed. I’d finished reading quite some time ago but stayed here trying to process it all. According to multiple sources and multiple definitions, I’d been date raped. But who are they to say what happened with me and Greer? I mean, I don’t totally buy into that.

And, according to experts, the number of both females and males who report arousal or orgasm during an attack are around 2 out of 5. That’s pretty significant when you think about it. Most of those occurred in a date rape situation that involved either drugs or alcohol. So check and check for me, right? “They” also stated they believe that number to be even higher. They feel most people experiencing this would be ashamed to admit that little detail since the victim fears being viewed as a freak who enjoyed being raped or even fantasized about being raped beforehand. Of course, they explained arousal and orgasm as natural physical responses to a stimulus. Nothing at all to be alarmed about.

Reaching out slowly, he runs his hand up my arm and squeezes my shoulder before I curl into him. It feels good here, wrapped in his arms. It shouldn’t, but it does. Apparently that’s my MO. I’m the girl who enjoys things she shouldn’t.

“You’re definitely not a freak,” he says as he runs his hand over my hair. He always does that. I like that. Scratch that.
I love that.
“Everything they said makes sense. The trick will be accepting that, little fighter.”

“Nope, I’ve already accepted it. I’m healed. Thank you for everything, Ransom.”

“Whatever,” he mutters, and I can imagine him rolling his eyes at me.

“I’m serious. I get it. You’re right; they’re right. It makes total sense. A physical reaction to stimulus—like a fear response or adrenaline rush can’t be controlled—neither can an orgasm.”

“Yes,” he agrees softly.

“Welp, there we have it. I can go back to my dorm now. Your work here is done. Thank goodness for Google.” His hand stills.

After a few seconds, he states, “The nightmares.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not leaving till I know you’re nightmare-free.”

“But—”

“Shh, no buts. I told you I’ll help and keep quiet. You agreed. That’s that.” He resumes his petting of me. I’m proud that I resist purring.

“I don’t know that I ever
really
agreed,” I mumble, as I inch a little closer. “Why do you want to help me? You hate me, remember?”

He blows a breath, ruffling my hair. “If I hate you, you know my intentions are pure. Hate is pure. It’s love that’s corroded.” I stiffen in his arms. “But I don’t hate you. It’s what you’re doing to yourself, and how you see yourself, that I hate.”

“
OK
… SO MY
parents would freak if they knew, but I have to admit I’m loving staying here,” Maggie says as she slides up on the counter in the bathroom. We’d had pizza and watched a little TV before Maggie and I sneaked off for girl time in the bathroom. “I loved waking up with Pete this morning and knowing that we would come back here together and have dinner together and go to bed together,” she finishes with a dreamy sigh.

“Did you hear how many times you said the word
together
?”

“Yes, that’s the whole point—together, together, together.”

I grin around my toothbrush.

“So how long do you think we’ll be here?”

“Umm … indefinitely?” Her mouth drops, but I seriously cannot remember a time when I hadn’t had at least one nightmare a night. Granted, they didn’t usually make me scream and cry like these last two nights, but I have a feeling that part will persist until these particular demons are exorcised.

“Really?” she breathes, all wild, green eyes and bright smile.

“Yep, really. Do you think you’ll be able to resist Pete’s charms and maintain your, huh hum, chastity?”

I gape in utter fascination as Maggie burns a bright red. Even on her arms and chest.

My mouth drops with a gasp. “You didn’t?”

She fidgets and bites her lips. “Well, let’s just say technically I’m still a virgin but … Pete’s happy. Pete’s satisfied. And so is Maggie,” she finishes quickly.

“Well, OK then,” I laugh.

“What’s going on with you and Greer?”

“We’re done.” God, that hurts.

“I was afraid of that. No way would we be staying here if you were still seeing him.”

I want to tell her what he did, but if I start talking about that now, we may never leave this bathroom. “I want to tell you, Maggie. But I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Her eyes are sincere as she smiles slightly. “I understand that, but you’re talking to Ransom about it, right? I can’t bear to think you don’t have anyone to talk to even though I’m not quite sure why you’d confide in him. I mean, a week ago, y’all were ready to kill each other. ESPN, anyone?”

Was that just a week ago? That’s crazy. My life had completely upended itself in just a few days. Funny how it had seemed to last longer. “I didn’t exactly confide in him willingly. He found me when I was wrecked from what happened, and he didn’t give me much choice. Then, I thought it would be good to tell him since he doesn’t really give a shit about me. What I had to say couldn’t hurt him.”

“Oh, you’re so wrong about that.” I open my mouth to protest. “I’m serious Denver. Pete hasn’t said anything directly because that would be betraying Ransom, but he’s made a couple of off-handed remarks. That coupled with the way he looks at you.” She shakes her head. “Girl, that boy’s got it bad. You know, much like you for him,” she says with a nudge.

My eyes tear up. Here’s the crux of my problem. “I tried to fight it. I was supposed to be working on my relationship with Greer, and I kept thinking about Ransom and flirting with Ransom and talking to Ransom. Greer saw all that too, and my fickleness is partly to blame for what went down with us.”

“You know, sometimes we fight battles we have no business fighting,” Maggie says with a nod of her oh-so-wise little, red head.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Ransom

U
NFURLING MY HAND
from the mass of blonde hair that I wake up entangled in each morning, never fails to make my heart still. I prop myself up on an elbow and grin as I glance down at our entwined limbs. It doesn’t matter how we fall asleep, I always wake to the heat and security of our bodies vined around one another. Surprisingly, instead of her threatening to choke the life out of me, she is winding her way into my every thought, triggering my every instinct—loyalty, protectiveness, and … love. She makes me feel stronger and more alive than I’ve felt my entire life, and those are two things that have never eluded me.

I stare down at the porcelain beauty who, while damaged, is anything but fragile, and I try to figure out exactly how I let that happen. I guess that’s the thing with Denver, though, she doesn’t ask to be let in. She ran roughshod over my heart. Then just stole her way right in there, like it’s where she was always destined to be.

I’ve never let a girl sleep in my bed, and yet, here I am, knowing I never want to wake up any other way but with her at my side.
It’s a little too soon to be thinking forever
, I chastise myself. But again, I have no control over my desires. And, I’m old enough to recognize the difference between lust and desire. I lusted after girls before, no doubt. I never desired one, though. And I desire to begin and end my day with this girl and share every moment in between.

My fingertips tingle, missing her touch, so I run them down her bare arm and watch, fascinated, as little goose bumps spring up in their wake. Even in her sleep, she responds to my touch. My eyes dart to hers to see if I’ve awakened her, but I’m safe, for now. She caught me ogling her yesterday, but I just played it off, for fear that I make her uncomfortable with my intense line of thought. I’m sure she can see every emotion in my eyes, since she’s proven pretty good at reading me, so I’ll have to guard those closely.

Bringing my hand back up, I run a lock of her hair through my fingertips and wonder how soon is too soon? When will she be ready to accept us for what we are? Accept what I have to offer her? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me? What if, when she heals, I’m just a painful reminder of all that she’s gone through? I shake my head of the negative thoughts, and promise myself I won’t let that happen. I’ll take it slow and ensure she feels nice and safe with me.

I know she feels something for me too. I felt it the night we kissed. I think back to the way she surrendered herself to me. If I could undo anything, it’d be walking away from her that night. If I hadn’t, if I had taken what I knew deep down was mine, she wouldn’t be struggling like she is right now. Or, maybe it was too soon then and now that we are kind of forced together, it is all playing out like it should. Hell, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m never letting her go. I grin when I imagine her fiery temper trained on me when that time comes, if that’s not what she’s ready and willing to admit. That fires me up almost as much as her acceptance.

My hand has made its way to her hip and is tracing a pattern on it when I sense her rousing next to me. Slowly withdrawing, I shove both arms under my head. “Denver?” I whisper.

“Mmm, hmm,” she responds without opening her eyes.

“Mornin,’ you awake?”

“Mmm, hmm,” she purrs, as she runs her leg up mine and frees it. I have to pinch my lips together and curl my fists to keep from doing something stupid, like throwing her on her back and devouring her.

“You’re done with classes at noon, huh?”

“Yeah,” she finally whispers.

I want her to myself today. I’d had to share her with Maggie and Pete every day. “I want to get an early start today with the horses. I’ll pick you up right after class, and we can leave from there. Ballard building, right?”