Chapter 10
ZINNIA
One Week Later . . .
Mother in all its glory of sexual bliss, Gunner, is going to drive me insane.
From the night he came into my room at the clubhouse, I swear I’m slowly losing it.
He hasn’t touched me since using his hands and mouth on me.
My emotions are all over the place in regard to him.
Everything feels confusing. I want more of what he did to my body and ache for more of it, but I can’t ask him.
I don’t want to beg for it. The idea of doing something so simple as asking him to touch me again, I fear it’ll make him see me as the pathetic whore I’ve become.
I stretch out in the bed and sigh in frustration.
Not only has he kept his hands to himself since that night he gave me so many orgasms I passed out, but he moved me from the clubhouse to his house.
More than that, he planted me in his room.
It’s the only time he holds me. I must admit I like the way he keeps me close, because I feel safe . . . sheltered in his arms.
One thing I know for sure in all of my confusion, Gunner refuses to allow me to run and hide from him. Though at the same time, he doesn’t get completely in my space. He’s just there, and he lets me know it.
It’s been strange over the week, because I’ve not only spent time with him and Delilah as well. The first time she spoke to me, I fell in love with the little girl. She has this way about her that could melt even the hardest of hearts.
Delilah had talked me into watching so many different movies with her throughout the time.
Everything from the Frozen movies, about two sisters and the bond between them, to my all-time favorite Wizard of Oz.
She even pointed out to me the part after Dorothy and Scarecrow meet up with Tinman where in the background, you see someone hang themselves.
I didn’t think it appropriate for her to know it, but evidently, Gunner and Bruiser were watching it with her a while ago, and Bruiser had pointed it out.
“I wish I could draw like you,” Delilah says, interrupting my train of thought.
I glance from my drawing to the beautiful little girl. I’ve seen the picture Gunner keeps of Delilah’s mom on the mantel and in her bedroom. Delilah looks so much like her mom, but I can see Gunner in her as well. Her eyes and nose, she gets them from her dad, while the rest of her is all Quinn.
I thought I would be weirded out by seeing pictures of a woman Gunner was with in his house, but I’m not. He told me about her, Quinn and him. He’s not hidden the fact he cared for her. He’d explained how he felt, and I understand.
Gunner and I have nine years between us where we both have pasts.
Mine is mine, and his is his. Sure, he’s told me about Quinn, but I’m sure there’s more to it.
There is always more to everything. Just like I’ve only told him some of mine.
Granted, most of mine is the same. Just put it on repeat over and over again.
Nothing about it is different. Same man.
Same raping. Same everything Gunner could imagine Basa doing to me. He did it.
A smile curls on my lips, and I nod to Delilah’s own drawing. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job as it is.” And she is too.
“Really?” She beams, smiling brightly.
“Of course.” I point to the drawing and meet her sweet gaze.
“The thing about drawing . . . about any artwork is you do what you feel. Take what’s in your mind’s eye and put it on paper.
Different artists do different things. Abstract.
Figurative. Other’s do nature. I like to do portraiture and still life.
So, no matter what you do and how it looks, it’s still beautiful, because everyone has their own style in how they do things.
Which means in the end, it’ll be as beautiful as you want it to be, seeing as you put your all into it, and it shows. ”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Gunner standing there leaning against the wall just inside the room leading from the hallway to his bedroom.
I swallow back my nervousness, catching the glimmer in his eyes. I want nothing more than to have him touch me . . . to do more of what he did a week ago, but I’m more confused than ever.
My body wants his touch . . . even my heart feels the pull that is all Gunner.
It always has, but my mind fights it all, cautioning me with every step.
I don’t want anything to happen to Gunner or his little girl, and I fear the longer I stay, the higher the chances it will.
If I could run, I would, but he’s made it impossible.
In the time he’s not been around me, I’ve had someone else hanging around. None of them allow me to be alone.
Gunner moves deeper into the room, catching Delilah’s attention. She smiles brightly and holds up her drawing. “Look Daddy, isn’t it pretty?”
“Sure is, Pipsqueak.” He grins, taking a look at the picture his daughter is working on.
“It’s not done, but it’s getting there,” she states in a matter-of-fact tone and sets it back on the table. “What are you doing?” she asks as she focuses on Gunner.
“I figured I’d see what my girls want to do for dinner tonight.” He shrugs, his eyes coming to mine as he grins.
My breath catches in my chest at him saying ‘my girls’ like it was an everyday thing. I’m going to have to do something and do it soon. There’s no way I can remain here and not cave into everything I’ve always wanted.
“Excuse me,” I clamber to my feet, not wanting to break down in front of Delilah or Gunner. I rush out of the room, away from them both. I go to the bedroom, close the door behind me, and move to the door leading outside onto the patio that runs along the entire back of the house.
Outside I take a breath and crumple to the patio floor. I curl my legs into my chest and wrap my arms around them. I release a breath of guilt and anguish.
What did I ever do to deserve all I’ve been through?
“Zinnia?” Gunner murmurs coming to squat down at my side.
I clench my eyes closed and refuse to look at him. I can’t. If I do . . . I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself together without breaking down.
In all the years Basa held me captive, I like to think he didn’t break me, but he had to have. I wouldn’t be so weak if he didn’t do something. I mean, I’m scarred from his abuse, physically and mentally.
“Come on, Dimples, look at me,” he utters all too gently.
I keep my eyes shut tight and shake my head in denial.
Maybe if I simply refuse to give him anything he wants, he’ll understand and finally let me go.
Though I know that day would come eventually.
No matter how much I remain his, I’ll never actually be his.
Not when everything is so discombobulated.
Gunner makes a sighing sound and scoops me off the patio floor and carries me through the open doorway of his room to his bed, where he lays me down in the middle. He climbs up with me and curls me into his front.
“I don’t know what happened in that pretty head of yours, baby, but I’m not letting you shut me out.
I refuse to allow it. I’ll fight whatever demons are haunting you if I’ve gotta, Zinnia, I swear it.
You don’t fuckin’ know what seeing you like this does to me.
” Gunner kisses my forehead. “You’ve no clue how good it was seeing you and Delilah in there spending time together.
You showing her something she doesn’t have from me.
. . fuck, the only thing that could’ve been greater is knowing that she was ours and not just mine. ”
My eyes fly open, and I gasp as I meet his gaze. Shock doesn’t describe the surprise of him saying such a thing. “Gunner,” I whisper, unable to stop myself.
“I mean it, Zinnia. It sucks. Fuck, if it doesn’t suck more than you know.
I missed years with you. I fucked up giving up on searching for you.
I should’ve kept looking, but instead, I gave up like a bitch and stopped fighting for you.
This time around, I won’t be giving you up.
So, baby, you need to finally get it in that beautiful head of yours, we’re together.
You and me. We’re going to finally make a go of what should have always been.
And it’s going to be even better, because we’ve got Delilah.
She needs someone in her life, and I can see it already.
. . she’s going to adore you as much as I do. ”
“Gun—”
He presses a finger to my lips and shakes his head.
“No, Zinnia, no more running. No more fighting me. You’ve always been mine, always will be.
” He removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips.
The kiss is brief and sweet. No more than a brush of a touch, but the meaning behind it speaks louder than any words.
Louder than any other time he’s touched me .
. . kissed me, or even when he helped me a week ago to relieve the arousing pain taking hold of my body.
Though the fear tries to take hold, I nod.
“Okay,” whispering the one word that will seal my fate to him.
I agree to no more running and pray to whoever will listen to my prayers for once in my life.
I don’t want anything to happen to either Gunner or his precious little girl because of me.
If something happens to them, and it’ll kill me.