Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Wolfe
One thing my momma taught me was how to use a Crock-Pot.
I put that skill to good use after I got Amy to my house and tucked her into my bed.
I closed the blinds, turned off the lights, kissed her forehead, and told her she was safe now.
I hoped she believed me. Regardless, she drifted back to sleep in no time, and I'd spent the past few hours flipping through channels and messing around on the Internet.
My brain wouldn’t shut off. Amy’s story and the gruesome images I'd mentally conjured up were on repeat in my head, making me crazy. I could still see her sitting stoically in that chair, reciting in horrifying detail the things that bastard had done to her. The worst part … I knew she felt responsible, as though she’d actually had a choice in the matter.
I knew better. It wasn’t her fault, and she damn sure wasn’t weak.
I hadn’t walked in her shoes, and from the outside looking in, it would’ve been easy to say what she should’ve done.
None of that mattered because she had done what she felt was necessary for her survival.
No matter how much pain she’d had to endure.
After she’d told the story, I had stormed outside, a rage unlike anything I'd ever known fueling me.
The anger had nowhere to go, though, and I'd found myself bending over, trying to catch my breath as tears slammed me so hard I could barely stand up.
Lynx had come over, put a firm hand on the back of my neck, and told me that we would ensure that bastard never got near her again.
I appreciated the sentiment. And I knew he meant it.
Over the years, Lynx had taken it upon himself to protect the people of this town, often from themselves.
It had all started a decade ago when Lynx had been eighteen years old and his momma died.
The tragic news had devastated our family, but over time, we’d picked up and moved on.
However, Lynx and his old man had never been the same.
Cooter had locked himself up in the house; Lynx had gone off the rails, becoming even wilder and crazier than he already was.
It was a wonder he was still with us after some of the stunts he’d pulled.
But all in all, Lynx had become the man we all depended on to have our backs.
And he would; I didn’t doubt him for a second.
As the hours had passed, some of my rage had subsided, and the only thing I wanted for Amy was justice. Whoever the man was who had violated her in every conceivable way for nearly five years…
Not even God could help him now.
I was brought back to the present when I heard my bedroom door open. I looked up from my spot on the couch to see Amy coming out of the room. Her hair was down around her shoulders and…
“Holy fuck.” The words were expelled on a rough breath.
She was wearing my T-shirt and nothing else, from what I could tell. The shirt came down to her knees, the sleeves resting on her forearms, her nipples pebbled beneath the white cotton, and she was the hottest goddamn thing I'd ever seen.
“That’s now my absolute favorite shirt,” I told her as she moved toward me.
A small smile curved her pretty mouth.
I held up my arm for her to sit by me, allowing space for her to get as close as possible. She tucked her knees up close and curled against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pressing my lips to her forehead.
“Feel a little better?” I glanced at the clock. “You slept for about six hours.”
She yawned. “Yeah. I do feel better.” She turned her head slightly, her eyes darting around the room. “Your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks. Exactly the look I was goin’ for.”
Amy swatted my stomach.
I kissed her head again, chuckling.
“Where’s Rhys?”
“He had to go to work. Said he’d be over when he was done.”
“What’s that smell? It’s making my stomach growl.”
“Pot roast in the Crock-Pot.”
Amy tilted her head up at me. “And you tried to tell me you couldn’t cook.”
I laughed. “Technically, I never said that.”
“You implied.”
“No, not really. You assumed.”
“So, you do cook?” She looked hopeful.
“In the Crock-Pot, yes. I’m not too bad on the grill, either. Anything else, it’s a gamble.”
Amy dropped her head back to my shoulder. She was quiet for a few minutes, and I thought she had fallen back asleep, but then her hand started to move, gliding beneath my shirt, her fingers grazing my stomach.
I tried to keep my heart rate under control. Not an easy thing to do when she was touching me while wearing nothing but my shirt.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” she said softly.
“Nothin’ to be sorry about.”
“I didn’t mean to dump everything on you. I just…” She sighed. “I’m so tired of being scared. I have nightmares. Bad ones. I have to go through it over and over again. Then, when I wake up, I’m terrified he’s gonna show up. One day he will; I know it.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t imagine the hell she’d lived through.
Amy tilted her head back and I turned mine, our mouths close together.
“I’m glad I’m here,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
She pulled back a little, propping herself up on her arm. Her face contorted slightly. She looked confused.
“What?” I asked, unable to read her mind.
“Do you still … you know … want me?”
I jerked back, keeping my eyes locked with hers, my eyebrows lowering. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because…” She didn’t move, but her eyes left mine. “I’m damaged, Wolfe.”
I reached for her, curling my hand behind her neck, turning her head so she was looking at me again. I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone, met her gaze, and held it. “You’re perfect,” I whispered.
She snorted. “Not by a long shot.”
I leaned forward, shifting our positions as I leaned her back on the sofa, my hand remaining behind her neck as I lay her down. “You’re perfect for me.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I want that to be true. You don’t even understand how much.”
“It is true. I don’t lie.”
I kissed her. No rushing, no pressure, just a long, leisurely kiss. She smelled so damn good, tasted even better.
Her hands were on me, cool fingers roaming beneath my shirt, making my breath lodge in my chest. When she attempted to remove it, I broke the kiss, allowing her to pull the shirt over my head. Her eyes drifted down to my chest, my arms, back up.
When she met my gaze again, there was heat there, and I knew damn well where this was headed. I was hesitant, but I knew if she asked, I wouldn’t be able to deny her anything.
Hell, at this point I was pretty damn sure I'd do anything for her.
Any damn thing.
Amy
Wolfe and Rhys were the right men, I knew.
The ones who would make me understand how good making love to someone could feel.
And Wolfe was here now.
As much as I wanted that, I was scared to ask him. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, didn’t want him to think I was using him to shove the memories away.
I wasn’t.
Not at all.
I wanted him with a passion I didn’t even understand, one that consumed me when I was around him.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” he whispered, his voice rough.
“I like touching you,” I admitted, allowing my hands to move over him slowly, gliding across the muscles that flexed and bulged as he held himself above me.
Wolfe smiled, his eyes darkening as he watched my face, seemingly content to remain right there, letting me explore.
I had no idea how long I spent simply trailing my hands over his warm skin. It wasn’t until a light knock at the door broke the spell that I stopped. I didn’t move, but neither did Wolfe.
“Who is it?” he called out, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Rhys.”
“Door’s unlocked.”
Wolfe lifted one eyebrow and I deciphered it as him seeking approval to remain where he was. I nodded in response, my body heating, the ache between my legs intensifying. Knowing Rhys was there…
It was exactly what I wanted.
The door opened, then closed. When a shadow fell over me, I tilted my head back, looking up at Rhys, seeing him upside down.
“Am I interruptin’?” he asked, his voice gruff. But it wasn’t with anger, it was something else. Something that sounded an awful lot like the way I felt on the inside. Needy, aching, almost desperate for the three of us to come together as one.
“Not at all,” I told him.
He moved out of my line of sight, so I returned my focus to Wolfe. He was still watching me, still hovering above me. That was when I realized I was still touching him.
Rhys joined us again, perching on the arm of the couch above my head. I reached up, sliding my hand over his thigh, dividing my attention between the two men. I wanted Rhys down here with us. Closer. Touching me while I touched him.
When his hand covered mine, I tugged his arm. He moved, kneeling on the floor beside my head. Wolfe shifted, too, lying on his side next to me, placing me between him and Rhys.
I saw the moment Rhys realized what I was wearing. Or more accurately, what I wasn’t wearing. His blue eyes lit with what I definitely knew was desire this time. He wanted me.
The shirt had obviously been a good idea.
When I awoke the first time in Wolfe’s bed, I was sweating. When I got up to use the restroom, I wandered into his closet and pulled one of his T-shirts off a hanger, stripping down to my panties and then pulling it on. Then I had crawled back into his bed and slept like the dead.
Of course, when I woke up the second time, I had figured wearing the shirt might not be such a bad thing. Based on the look I'd received from Wolfe and the way Rhys’s eyes flared as he blatantly ogled the length of my body, it certainly wasn’t a bad thing.
The heated looks empowered me.
“Touch me,” I whispered, looking from Rhys to Wolfe. “Please.”
Wolfe’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed hard.
He didn’t come out and ask me if I was sure, but I knew he was wondering. I didn’t reassure him, wanting him to know without me having to say it.
And I was sure.