Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
August 21 st
6:51 P.M.
“I forgot how bad a cook you were,” Connor teased Becca as he pulled her loaf of bread out of the oven.
Well, it was supposed to be a loaf of bread, but in reality, it was a lumpy, burned, hunk of … nothing.
Because this thing was not edible.
Not in any way.
“Hey!” she protested, tossing him a glare. But then her gaze fell on the tin in his hands and her nose scrunched. “Okay, well baking homemade bread obviously isn’t my strong suit, but I can cook.”
“Sure you can,” he said indulgently. They both knew differently.
“I can ,” she insisted.
“You can boil or steam vegetables,” he agreed. She’d learned to after they first moved in together, and she ruined four pots by boiling them dry. After that, she realized she had to pay attention and keep an eye on the pots so you didn't both boil them dry and turn the vegetables inside into mush.
“I can cook pasta, too.”
“Yes, that’s a very challenging meal.”
Becca poked her tongue out at him. “I make a great macaroni and cheese from scratch, and you love it. That involves cooking the pasta, making the sauce, getting the amount of cheese just right, and baking it.”
“You do cook a mean mac and cheese,” he agreed, but that was about as complicated as Becca could do. It hadn't taken them long to realize that he would be the cook in their family. It wasn't that she didn't try, she just had an uncanny knack of ruining pretty much any food she touched. He’d seen her ruin cereal, basically the easiest food to prepare, because she always poured in way too much milk, making it seem like you had a few grains swimming in an ocean of milk.
“And I make a great tomato pasta sauce,” she added as she gave the loaf of bread he’d set on the counter one last disgusted look then began to make a burger with the meat he’d just finished grilling. Luckily, they had some buns he’d bought from the supermarket, otherwise, they’d be eating them as salad and burger patties.
“Agreed.” It was really good, she didn't even add anything beyond some onion and herbs, but it was amazing.
“So I think we both agree I can cook then,” she said with a triumphant smile as she carried her plate over to the sofa and dropped down onto it.
“We don’t agree on that, babe,” he told her as he plopped beside her and held out the cutlery she’d forgotten to grab before leaving the kitchen. Becca always ate her burgers with a knife and fork no matter how many times he told her to just pick it up with her hands and take a bite.
“You're just being difficult.” She huffed as she took the cutlery from his hand.
“You're just being stubborn,” he shot back, enjoying their casual banter. The more time they spent together, the more relaxed Becca seemed to become in his presence.
Not that he was expecting any miracles.
Every bit of trust he got from her had to be earned. But he felt like he was making progress. She’d told him about her ex and the relief he’d felt when she admitted that she most likely wouldn't have gone through with the wedding was topped only by the fact that she’d also told him that she still loved him and always had.
While he was doing his best not to count his chickens before they were hatched, Connor couldn’t help but believe that he was going to get a second chance with the woman he loved that he craved. Becca was still yet to answer that question he’d asked back in the tent they were held captive in in Cambodia, but he sensed the reason.
She was being cautious, moving slowly, he got that, and agreed. They had a lot of catching up to do and were such different people than they’d been when they were twenty. There was a lot to learn about each other and he was enjoying every second of finding out who Becca was now.
It was like getting the gift of falling in love with her all over again even though there had never been a second since he was old enough to understand his feelings that he hadn't loved this woman.
Becca was his everything, but as he glanced down at her, wondering why she hadn't shot back a sassy remark after he’d called her stubborn, the smile slid off his face.
Something was wrong.
Becca was no longer relaxed, her smile was gone, the twinkle that had been in her eyes all afternoon had disappeared, and she was staring at the cutlery in her hand as though it was going to grow fangs and bite her.
“Moonlight?” he asked, setting his plate down on the coffee table and then lifting hers off her lap and putting it beside his.
When she didn't respond, he captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and nudged her face up so she was looking at him. There was fear in her eyes, and pain, and he could see her pulse fluttering wildly in the hollow of her neck.
“What's wrong, Becca?” he asked gently, sweeping the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.
After a slow blink, her gaze met his. “Sorry,” she said in a tiny voice, not at all the same as the sassy one she’d just been using as they bantered back and forth. “I just … the knife … I hadn't touched one since … and I guess … what happened in Cambodia … in the tent almost being …”
A shudder rippled through her body and Connor didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her and haul her onto his lap. So far, she’d held up so well, and he had to remind himself that while his focus was rebuilding trust and earning his way back into Becca’s life, she’d also been through a major trauma. Just because she was holding it together didn't mean she wasn't struggling.
If anyone was an expert on dealing with trauma it was Becca.
Already in her life, she’d been through so much, and he hated that she was suffering all over again because of him and his family. It just served to highlight all the ways he’d messed up. If he’d gone to Becca years ago and sorted things out, she would have been protected and safe with him rather than him leading danger right to her doorstep.
“Honey, do you need …” The question wasn't even fully out of his mouth before Becca was nodding and shifting off his lap to curl up beside him on the couch. Shoving down the waistband of his shorts and boxers, he pulled himself free and offered his length to Becca, who immediately took him into her mouth.
Nestling her head on his knees, a soft sigh rumbled through her, and he felt some of the tension ease out of her as she relaxed.
They sat like that for a while, his hand stroking the length of Becca’s spine, his length tucked inside the warmth of her mouth. Honestly, he could stay like this forever. There was no better feeling in the world than knowing he was helping his woman. It was a headier high than sex because an orgasm was fleeting, here one second, gone the next. This feeling lasted forever.
Eventually, Becca lifted a hand to stroke the base of his length that wasn't in her mouth, a sign that she was ready for more than just sucking on him.
At least it had been.
What did it mean now?
Her eyes lifted to meet his and she pulled back, letting his tip fall out from between her lips. There was a fire burning there, one he used to know well. They’d had a great sex life, waiting until they were sixteen before having sex for the first time. For about a year before that, they’d done other stuff, fooled around, and in the years after, they’d experimented with a few different things.
Now, though, he couldn’t just reach for her like he would have a decade ago.
“Becca?”
“I told you about Toby, there weren't any other men. How …” she paused as though drawing on reserves of courage. “How many women have you been with?”
“None,” he answered honestly.
“None?” Becca repeated, scrambling onto her knees, staring at him in shock. “What do you mean none? How could you not have been with anyone else for twelve years? What did you do? Men have needs.”
“I took care of them myself. I have hands, moonlight,” he said, quirking up one side of his mouth into a half smile as he held up his hands and wriggled his fingers. “I didn't want to touch anyone else. It’s only ever been you for me. Only you, my beautiful, bright, brave moonlight.”
“I … I don’t … but I … I was with …”
“It’s not the same thing, Becca. I broke what we had, you had no reason not to try to move on with your life. I hate that another man touched you, but I don’t begrudge you that, not after everything you’ve been through. I'm glad you were strong enough to go on and forge a new life for yourself. All I ever wanted was your happiness and I hate that I was ever a reason you were unhappy.”
“Connor—”
“Don’t apologize,” he warned. Every word he’d spoken was true. It made him sick thinking of this Toby guy touching Becca, but she deserved to move on, and he was the one who had ruined what they shared.
“I think I'm going to go to bed,” Becca said, shoving off the couch and scurrying over to the stairs.
He ached to call her back, to explore what she’d been willing to offer tonight, but he didn't. Instead, he let her go. Because he’d seen the look in her eyes before she bolted.
Relief.
She was glad no other woman had touched him.
And he’d just taken one step closer to regaining her trust.
August 22 nd
10:07 A.M.
“Are you sure about this?” Becca asked doubtfully.
“Course. What could possibly go wrong?” Connor asked, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
“Uh … I can think of plenty of things,” she replied, glancing around the river. “Starting with I've never been in a canoe before and don’t know how to row.”
“The worst that can happen is we capsize.” Connor shrugged, making the canoe wobble wildly, and Becca clung to the sides of the barely water-worthy little boat.
Despite her reservations about Connor’s let’s go canoeing plan, she was glad he had dragged her out of her room this morning. Okay, so he hadn't really had to drag her out. She’d skipped dinner last night since she’d run upstairs after Connor’s revelation, so sooner or later, her stomach would have led her down to the kitchen, but Connor had come for her before she’d had a chance.
When he’d asked her to spend the day with him, she’d said yes without hesitation.
It wasn't just that they were alone out there, and what else were they going to do if they didn't spend the day together, it was because she actually wanted to.
Somewhere along the way, the anger that had burned so brightly inside her these last twelve years had been snuffed out. Maybe it was when he’d issued one of his many apologies, maybe it was when he killed people to save her life, maybe it was when he’d offered her comfort without asking for anything in return, maybe it was when he told her he hadn't touched a woman since they broke up.
Or maybe it was just because she was ready.
Because she was ready.
Ready to move forward, stop living in the past, and break the final chain that connected her to Dylan Sanders.
Did that mean she was ready to jump right into a relationship with Connor?
No.
Not yet.
There was still trust to be rebuilt even if the anger was gone. After all, he had walked out on her when she needed him despite her begging and pleading with him to stay and talk it out with her. So, it was going to take time before she was ready to see Connor as anything other than a friend.
But she was ready to see him as her friend again, and that felt nice.
Better than nice it felt … right.
“All you have to do is follow my lead,” Connor told her as he pushed the canoe away from the small wooden dock that came out into the river behind Cade’s cabin.
“Follow your lead,” she echoed. That sounded easier said than done. She wasn't the most coordinated of people. She’d been okay at sports when she was in school, but she was never going to be great. While she loved the water and loved swimming, she’d never been in a boat this tiny, and she was pretty sure she was never going to be able to get her oars moving through the water as smoothly as Connor was making his move.
“Easy-peasy, even for you,” Connor teased.
“Hey!” Flicking the oar in her hand, she sent a spray of water all over Connor then gave the back of his head a smug smile.
“You little monster.” Connor dropped his oars into the bottom of the canoe and turned, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers. “You know what my favorite monster has always been?”
“You wouldn't dare,” she said, a warning in her tone even though she knew he was more than likely going to do it anyway.
“Aww, tickle monster is your favorite, too,” he said, amusement glimmering in his eyes that matched the bright summer sky above them.
“Maybe when I was five,” she shot back. She was ticklish. There were patches of scarred skin that weren't ticklish, they felt more numb than anything else, but the rest of her? Ticklish to the extreme.
“Nah, well past five, I remember we used to have lots of fun when I'd tickle you,” he said, almost wistfully.
“You were having fun, I was laughing too hard to be having fun.”
“Laughing is having fun,” he contradicted. His hands were still held up, fingers wriggling, and she couldn’t stop staring at them. As much as her skin was ticklish to most touches, Connor seemed to have the power to turn those touches from ticklish to sensual and she had no idea how he did it. When they were in bed making out and he touched her, giggling had always been the furthest thing from her mind because her body was too busy burning from the inside out with a desire that only one man could quench.
“Connor,” she warned as he advanced on her, but even to her own ears, her voice sounded breathy and needy. Like she wanted his touch, and … she did.
Last night she’d been going to ask him for more. Going to ask him to touch her, to let her touch him, to make love to her like he used to because she’d needed something to bridge the gap.
Didn't matter that her brain said it couldn’t be sex.
That sex wasn't the foundation you built a life on.
Becca knew better than most that sex could be pleasurable or it could be used as a weapon. It could be fickle and switch from one side to the other in a heartbeat.
If she wanted to be able to say yes to giving Connor a second chance, they had to do this right. They were different people now and they’d lived half a lifetime since they’d last been together. Rebuilding trust was the only way to answer his question with a yes, and yet seeing the fire in his eyes that she knew echoed what was in her own, staring at his fingers that she knew were capable of making her feel indescribable pleasure, it was hard to think with her head.
“Becca,” Connor shot back as he reached for her, hesitating before his fingers made contact, giving her an out if she truly wanted one.
But she didn't.
She craved his touch with an intensity she would never have believed if she wasn't living it right this second.
The moment his fingers touched her sides she couldn’t think at all. He was going easy on her, she knew that, in deference to her bruised ribs, but still he knew just which parts of her were the most ticklish, and he attacked them with an amused laugh that joined her own, adding to the joyful cacophony of the peaceful woods.
The more he tickled the more she squiggled.
The more she squiggled the more the canoe rocked.
The more the canoe rocked the more she realized they were going to capsize.
“Connor, we’re going to sink,” she spluttered out through bouts of giggling.
“Then we sink,” he said, his face close enough to hers that if she wanted to, she could lean up and kiss him.
She did want to.
Badly.
Whether it was a good idea or not, she wanted all of Connor. Every single part of him. Everything that used to be hers, that used to be so easy, that she had taken for granted because she’d just assumed he would always be there.
“You know how to swim so I don’t see what the big deal is,” he added, swiping his fingertips across her stomach and drawing another round of giggles from her.
What would the big deal be?
The day was warm, the water looked inviting, and Connor was right, they both knew how to swim.
She had to let go and stop trying to control every aspect of her life because the truth was she couldn’t. The last few days had drilled that into her. The answer to dealing with her trauma wasn't trying to micromanage every part of her life so it remained under her control, it was accepting that life was never under control. That made it terrifying, but it also made it beautiful because unpredictability could bring fun and playfulness. Without both, what was the point of living?
Giving in to the moment, she stopped holding back and let her laugh ring free as Connor’s fingers continued to tickle her. Their laughs seemed to dance together, joining as one, and when the inevitable happened and they both landed with a splash in the cool water, it only drew another laugh from her lips as the river enveloped her.
Before she even had a chance to think about swimming up to the surface, just a foot or two above her head, Connor’s arms were around her, bringing her up alongside him.
He’d been there for her.
Without her asking, without her even thinking about it.
He was just there.
Could she break down the walls still erected between them and allow herself to believe that he would always be there? That no matter what troubles life threw at them he wouldn't be going anywhere?