“What is it? Don’t worry. I’m not going to share any of this with anyone.”
“It’s not that.” She blinked several times, her eyes moving nervously over his face, and then, as if a veil of courage came down over her, she lifted her chin and sat up straighter, holding his gaze with renewed confidence. “I came here to give you an explanation and to end whatever this is between us, but that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to fight my feelings for you. I do want you to be that guy, but if things don’t work out, I don’t want my sisters to feel like they have to choose between us.”
Relief barreled through him. “That’s not going to happen, but if you’re worried, we can talk to them and get things out in the open to take the pressure off. And for now, we’ll take it slow, go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”
“It took me three months to give in to a kiss. Slow kind of stinks.” She laughed softly and licked her lips. She looked down at their joined hands, then out at the yard, at the cottage, and finally back at him. “I know I just laid a lot of scary stuff on you, but will you kiss me?”
Good God, yes. “The last time I kissed you, it didn’t go very well. Are you sure? There’s no rush.”
“I know, but I feel better and much clearer now that you know what I’ve been through.” She let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe how much better it feels to have it off my chest. Knowing you’re not afraid to be with me and that you’re willing to try to deal with it together makes me feel safe, and that’s no small feat. Even saying that I feel safe is huge for me, because that word usually makes me think of how I can’t trust my instincts. But I want to with you. I can’t promise I won’t get scared, but I want to try.”
“I want to try, too, but can you do one thing for me? If you get scared when we kiss, instead of running away, will you stay with me? I won’t kiss you or even hold you if you don’t want me to. I just don’t want you to run off and be scared alone.”
“I think I can do that.” A genuine smile appeared. “You really are the good one.”
He put his arms around her. “I’ve never been so nervous about a kiss in all my life.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips as his mouth came tenderly down over hers, hard enough to let her know he wanted this and soft enough to let her set their pace. Her tongue swept tentatively over his at first, gradually turning sensual, until they were as in sync as they’d been last night. Was it possible to miss kissing her after only one kiss? Because her mouth was sweet and hot, her lips were soft and perfect, and he felt like he’d been craving them for a lifetime.
Her arms circled his neck, and he gently pulled her closer, deepening the kiss in stages, like a leaf falling from a tree, slowly taking them where they were meant to be. She moaned softly, and the trusting sound wound through him, drawing him deeper into her. He slid his hand into her hair, still allowing her to give and take as she pleased—and she gave and took with fervor. She kissed him hard and deep, then slow and tender, driving him out of his ever-loving mind. It took everything he had to keep from claiming control, but he felt her losing herself in them just as he was, and last night told him how quickly their kisses could turn into a feast of desires.
In an effort to lessen the chance of her feeling out of control or scared, he forced himself to draw back and brushed his lips over hers, whispering, “Okay?”
“Perfect.”
She pulled his mouth back to hers. Their kisses went on and on, in the sweetest devouring he’d ever experienced. Cait went soft in his arms, and he held her tighter, hoping she felt safe and respected on this special night, which he hoped was the beginning of so much more.
CHAPTER NINE
CAIT SAT ON her knees sketching on the wall, trying to ignore her growling stomach. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains, and she knew that soon she’d have to leave for school. She hoped to get breakfast first, but after last night, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She brushed her hand over her ribs, flinching in pain, and heard the creak of the stairs. She stilled, holding her breath, listening to her father’s footsteps coming down the hall. She scrambled out from where she’d moved her dresser away from the wall and quickly pushed it back into place, covering her secret drawings—her rebellion—and quickly smoothed her blanket, fixed her pillow just right, and sat on the edge of her bed facing the door, hands folded in her lap, heart slamming against her ribs. She smelled his cigarette as he opened the door and kept her eyes trained on the floor in front of her. She didn’t have to look to know he was scrutinizing her readiness for school, from her freshly combed hair and tidy private-school uniform all the way down to the bows of her shoelaces. Next he’d visually inspect her bed and the rest of the room. She began her mental countdown. Ten Mississippi. Nine Mississippi. Eight . . . She’d learned his routines down to the second. It helped knowing when the pain would come.
“Teeth brushed?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get your backpack and let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.” She stood with her heart in her throat, back pin straight, knowing better than to follow her instinct and run from the room. She’d made that mistake before. She bent at the knees to pick up her backpack, keeping her eyes low as she walked out the door and into the hall. Yes! She made it without being yanked back.
“Catherine.”
She froze—and startled awake, eyes wide, heart racing. It took her a second to remember she wasn’t ten years old and back in Connecticut, but thirty-two, lying safe and warm in Brant’s strong arms on his couch. She must have dozed off. They’d kissed and talked well into the night before moving inside.
“You’re okay, Caity. I’ve got you.” Brant ran his hand down her back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His body was warm. He’d changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants last night. “Did you have a nightmare?”
She nodded, lifting her eyes over his shoulder to the surfboard hanging in the nook beside the kitchen, PARADISE staring boldly back at her, and her racing heart started to calm. Her puzzling dreams were finally making sense, and the immense relief that brought was almost as intense as the relief she’d felt after she’d told Brant about her horrid past. “Sorry. What time is it?” She felt something move on the sliver of couch behind her legs as Brant pulled his phone from his pocket, and saw Scrappy curled up there.
“Just after two in the morning.” He pocketed his phone and continued stroking her back. “What were you dreaming about?”
“My childhood. I had gotten a C on a test. It came with a side of bruises on my ribs and going to bed without dinner.”
“Jesus, babe. I’m sorry.” He kissed her again, holding her tighter. “Do you think your mom knew when she was alive?”
“I don’t think he started hurting me until after she died. I think he hated that I was alive when she wasn’t.”
“That’s horrible. Did you ever tell anyone that he hurt you?”
“I tried, but I quickly learned to keep my mouth shut. When we first moved to Connecticut, my father hired a housekeeper to watch me before and after school while he was at work. I’m pretty sure a few months went by before I made the mistake of confiding in her. That night I heard her confronting him. I sat at the top of the stairs listening to him calmly talking his way out of it. I don’t remember what he said, but when the housekeeper left, she looked at me like I had been lying. She never came back, and I was punished for making her quit. After that my grandparents—his parents—watched me. They lived close by. But they were always cold, and they could be mean. Not physically, but I always felt like an imposition to them, which I’m sure I was. I think I tried to tell them once, and they got mad at me for telling stories. But I can’t be sure if I actually told them, or if I just wanted to badly enough but expected that to be their reaction and didn’t do it. They treated my father like he walked on water. Everyone did. He was an attorney—still is. As I got older, people made comments about how he was a pillar of society and such a nice man because he gave a lot of money to different organizations and sent me to expensive private schools. To everyone else he came across as the perfect father. He always made sure I looked and acted proper and happy around others.”