Page 27 of Rainwater

Chapter

Nine

L ying here in the dark, hungering for Jennifer, wasn’t doing him a damn bit of good.

He threw back the covers and got out of bed.

He should have gotten on that bus. He would have been in San Antonio now—doing what, he didn’t know.

Wandering aimlessly, hungering for Jennifer.

He didn’t have the money or transportation.

He needed this job as much as she needed him.

He picked up the picture of his mother and sister that he kept near his bed wherever he went.

He looked into their faces and saw the haunted eyes of his mother and the wise old eyes of his sister.

If only his mother had listened to him and left his father.

If only . He put down the picture and pulled on his jeans.

Barefoot, he exited his room, padded across the living room and opened the door.

Stepping outside, he took in the crisp night air.

Ellie’s words seemed to hush around him like the soft promise of beauty in a woman’s smile, the sudden laughter of children and the sharp sound of a baby’s first cry.

He wanted to reach out and take what she had so innocently offered him.

To be her father would be a privilege, an honor, a blessing, but he couldn’t do it. He had failed too many people already.

His inability to save his mother and sister was just another failure in a long line of failures.

Why was loving so difficult, he wondered.

He stepped off the porch and headed toward the barn.

The pungent scent of horses and hay greeted him as he stepped inside.

He walked down the row of stalls until he got to the one with the mare, Limelight, was bedded down for the night.

He draped his arms over the stall and spoke a soft word of beckoning.

He’d made some progress with her. She was used to his voice and his scent.

Even so, she approached cautiously and he knew how she felt.

He’d learned it was always better in any type of relationship to be cautious. Letting someone touch you was risky because touch was the first sensation he remembered hating. Touching hurt.

He closed his eyes, the silence of the barn ringing with his father’s vile curses and accusations—and the sound of a hand hitting already bruised and stinging flesh.

Without warning, warm, soft hands traveled over his back and wrapped around his waist. He jerked from the gentleness of the caress.

Jennifer’s touch was like a salve to his soul, cooling the stinging pain of things that could never be.

She was teaching him that touch could feel so good. Good enough to die for.

“So, did Ellie show you her picture?”

“Yes,” he whispered, not wanting to destroy the fragile peace that she had just woven around him, a buffer to the destruction that had him leaving his bed in the middle of the night.

“She’s drawing beautifully. Whatever you told her seems to have sunk in,” she said.

“I should have known you would know where she was.”

“I guess I’m too overprotective.”

“No, you’re not. Children are precious and need to be watched every second. It pays to be cautious.”

“Tell me why you hated your father,” Jennifer said after a few moments of silence, her arms still wrapped around his waist, her face against his back.

He’d never talked to anyone about his abusive father.

His typical reaction had been to deny. He could remember the lies he’d told friends, doctors and teachers.

I fell . Or I tripped . He used to break out in a cold sweat at the thought that anyone would find out he wasn’t from a normal family.

Even now, as an adult whose father couldn’t hurt him anymore, he hesitated and agonized, still trapped in the dark nightmare.

As if sensing his distress, she kissed his back and her hands moved, stroking his ribs.

He sighed, marveling at how soft her touch was, how good it felt to be caressed and held.

The hunger that ate at him every day seemed to abruptly abate.

He soaked up the essence of her, craving for more of her touch.

“I don’t want to talk about him tonight, Jennifer. ”

“I’ll help you to sleep if you want.”

“Jennifer, please,” he said in a begging tone that told her how close he was to the end of his endurance.

“I promise, Corey. I’ll just help you to sleep.”

He turned around and met her thickly lashed, tormented eyes.

Sincere eyes, loving eyes, knowing eyes.

Something broke within him, but instead of substance rushing out, something beautiful and strong rushed in and filled him up.

His voice was hoarse and wry when he finally spoke, “No funny business.”

She smiled, a look coming over her face that was very much like Ellie’s sly expression. “Even if I promise to respect you in the morning?”

He laughed, a great wonderful bubbling inside of him. She returned his smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close in the warm, pungent barn. The heat of her seeped into his body, warming cold and lonely places—places he thought were out of reach from any human touch.

“I need that tonight, Jennifer. I need you,” he offered sincerely.

“No pretenses or complications. I just need your touch.” He pulled away from her and looked into her face, the dim light throwing shadows across her delicate features.

He never realized how much pleasure a human being could derive from a simple touch.

He needed to feel her in his arms, to wrap her close and tight.

The thought released the tension in him, diffused the bitter anger always seething below the surface, dissipated the restless energy that had him pacing in confusion.

She held such power in her small, delicate hands.

He reached down and captured one, bringing it up into the light.

He turned it over, studying the elegant fingers and soft skin.

Gently he traced her life line and felt her shudder beneath his hands.

He wanted to howl at the moon, so intense was the feeling her response evoked in him.

Jennifer looked into his face, noting the signs of strain even the laughter couldn’t melt away. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I need to touch you,” she said. She smiled, warmed by the grin that flashed across his face.

Run . The word echoed in her head and she remembered only hours ago she’d heeded his words and run back to the house.

When she had reached the bright lights of home, she had locked herself in her bathroom until her ragged breathing stilled.

She had been up against the barn and if he had stripped her naked and taken her there, she would have let him.

She had shaken from the memory of the amazing passion that sprang between them every time they were together.

It was unnerving and just a little scary.

No. It was too late for her to run. Much too late.

She was on the verge of falling for him harder than she would have ever dreamed.

She was committed, whether or not he wanted her to be, and sadly, she couldn’t go back.

She knew he was going to hurt her by leaving and she still couldn’t stop the need to give him all that she had to give. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She led the way back to the cottage. “Do you want me to touch you on the couch or the bed?”

His eyebrows rose and she laughed. “Now who’s being naughty?” she asked playfully.

“The bed will be fine.” He smiled, leading her up the stairs to his bedroom.

“So accommodating,” she teased as she went into his bathroom and got moisturizing cream out of the medicine cabinet. When she returned, she noticed the cloth-covered canvas and her heart contracted. She walked over to it. “Corey?” He glanced up, his eyes narrowing.

“No, Jennifer. It’s not ready for you to see yet.”

Was that panic in his voice? she thought suddenly. “Will it ever be?” she asked matter-of-factly.

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s a very special painting.”

“Corey, I noticed the destroyed painting in the trash. Are you trying to make this one perfect?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with her question. “This one is infinitely different from that one. I just wasn’t happy with the way the other one turned out.”

“Do you always slash them like that? It looks as if you did it in anger.”

She’d never seen his expression so closed, so remote and emotionless. “Do you want me to drop this?”

“Yes. I need you, Jennifer. I don’t want to talk. I want to feel your hands touching me.” He turned so that he was in profile.

The deep blue-black of his hair gleamed from the overhead light in the room.

It was one of his most beautiful features, like warm black silk heated from the inside out.

Through the opening of his unbuttoned shirt, she could see the hard planes of his chest. She couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling down to his navel and to the dark hair that disappeared into his tight jeans.

His voice deepened. “I like it when you touch me.”

Abruptly he turned to face her, his expression stark with truth.

“I enjoy talking to you and listening to your velvet voice. I love watching your face in passion and anger. You are one of the most honest people I know. I admire the way you’ve raised your daughter alone.

And you’ve done a damn good job. Putting your life back together after the way you were betrayed couldn’t have been easy.

The courage it must have taken amazes me.

I wish I had that kind of strength.” He put his hands on his hips and bowed his head.

“Ah God, Jenny darlin’, I’ve been alone a long, long time.

I never realized it until now. Until I met you. ”

He sounded weary, yet not defeated. Pride still burned in his eyes. He was a man who took charge and dammed all consequences. He was a maverick. A loner.

An outlaw.

Her outlaw.

His heartfelt declaration jarred something loose in her chest, and she realized all of a sudden that she didn’t even know the meaning of the word lonely .

She couldn’t fathom what it was like to have absolutely no one to turn to.

A huge wave of despair rolled over her. She understood how much it had taken for him to utter those words.

She locked her jaw, the tenderness welling in her chest for this proud, battered man. It was all she could do not to cry.

She stood awkwardly, fiddling with the top of the cream. “Do you want me to take your shirt off?”

For a full minute he stared at her, his eyes burning brightly in the darkness.

His body language said loud and clear that he wanted her.

His expression also spoke volumes of how much he appreciated her not voicing the tender emotions flittering across her expressive face.

“No, I’ll do it,” he said gruffly. He took his shirt off and laid it over a chair. “Just one thing before you start.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch the back of my neck. I’m very…sensitive there.”

“You mean it turns you on?” The knowledge that the back of his neck was one of his erogenous zones explained the way he’d acted that day she was looking at his stitches. She’d aroused him with only a touch. The knowledge sang through her blood with fiery notes of passion.

He looked down and she could see the effort it took him to fight his need for her. His fists clenched and he took a deep breath. “I love it when you touch me there.” Taking deep breaths, he swung away from her.

“Corey, maybe I should go.”

“No.” He whirled and jumped forward, grabbing her arms as if she was going to flee. His response was immediate and heartfelt. “Don’t go, Jennifer. I need this.”

She smoothed her hand over his face. “Okay,” she said softly. “Whatever you want. You’re in total control of this. Just tell me.” She watched the taut look fade from his face.

He swallowed in relief. “Okay. I’m so tired, Jennifer.”

“Of course you are,” she murmured gently. “You’ve been on a horse all day manhandling bulls. Why don’t you lie down on your stomach?”

He sank onto the bed, releasing the death grip he’d had on her arms.

She straddled his lean hips, settling herself to give him the most comfort.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he answered, his voice muffled.

When she’d gotten enough lotion on her hands, she stroked his back until he sighed deeply and relaxed into the mattress.

She worked his muscles slowly until she was sure they were thoroughly released of tension.

She took her time to touch him and let him know that touch didn’t have to be painful or cruel.

She knew why he hated his father. She’d thought long and hard about it while she sat on the window seat of her bedroom looking down at where he slept.

Her chest had ached when she came to the conclusion that he must have been physically abused.

Although she couldn’t be sure, it seemed the logical answer.

He avoided relationships, was a complete loner and he was running from a painful past. It made her wonder about the deaths of his sister and mother and how that must eat at him, too.

So much, she thought. So much to deal with.

The tears built slowly behind her lids as she gloried in touching him, easing his soreness and bringing him comfort.

“Jennifer, you make me feel so safe.” His voice was relaxed and told her he was close to sleep.

Those words finally released the hot tears caught in her throat. They rolled down her cheeks and every so often she wiped at her face so he wouldn’t know.

When he’d fallen asleep, she left quietly so as not to disturb him. At the cottage door, she stopped and her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Another ruined and ravaged painting sat in the trash.

“Oh, Corey,” she whispered into the darkness.