At that moment,Jacksonfelt dark, nameless emotions rock his soul.Taylorwas asking him to make a choice - her or a child. It was a choice that he'd made easily standing overBonnie's grave, but applied to this honest blue-eyed woman, it seemed terribly wrong. "You are right, I am not." The words were torn out of him. "How about we give ourselves a year? If there is no child, then we will part."
It hurt him to say that, going against all of his vows that he would not have marriage after short marriage like the rest of his family. But he'd buried one child who'd never had a chance to be born. He needed to replace that memory with one of a healthy bambino . The problem was, in his imagination, all his children hadTaylor's blue eyes. How could he possibly walk away from her if she didn't allow him to touch her?
And yet, how could he not?
Taylor's next question was subdued, as if she hadn't expected the time limit. "And Nick?"
"I think we can fix things so that Lance has no chance, even if we're not together." He looked at her and said bluntly, "Tell me the reason behind your fear of sex."
Taylorput her hands on his hard chest, dismayed at her disappointment. She should've been celebrating a husband who only wanted a child from her, not love. Or had she cherished some hidden dream of a far more romantic proposal? If she had, it had been a girlish fancy. A bargain like this was far safer.
Romance and love died but JacksonSantorini would never renege on an agreement.
"It's not you. Please know that," she said, at last.
His scowl made him look more like a mobster than ever. "Was it someone your mother brought home?"
His voice had dropped an octave into the deep and menacing range. He put his hands around her waist again, and this time the warmth and weight of them calmed her.
She swallowed. "It was a maintenance man." Her voice shook as she revealed something she'd never told any one. There was more, much more, but she didn't have the courage to tell him the whole truth at once.
"What did he do?"Jackson's voice rasped and the hands on her hips pulled her closer, as if he couldn't stop the protective movement. Shewent, glad to be near his warmth.
"I ... developed around fourteen. That was when he started staring at me. I didn't know what that look meant then, hadn't learned." It mattered thatJacksonunderstand, that he didn't look at her with those icy eyes when she couldn't respond beyond the most innocent caresses, because she cared what he thought of her. "He followed me to the laundry room. I thought he was going to fix a broken machine." Even now, she could feel her fear when she'd finally realized that he was just standing there in the corner, watching her, eyes slimy.
"When I tried to go up the stairs after I loaded the machine ... he stalked me until I starting backing up. I dropped the basket and tried to get away but he - he grabbed me and pushed me hard against a linen closet down there." Tears streaked down her face and she was that terrified young girl again. "I was so scared. He said he could understand my fear. He'd teach me not to be afraid. He'd make me like it. And you know what made it worse?"
"Tell me, piccola ."One big hand was stroking her hair, while the other was pressed flat on her lower back.
"I kind of had a crush on him before that. He was a university student working part-time. Good-looking.
Smart." She pressed her cheek againstJackson's chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I didn't think he'd be vicious like Lance was to my mother. God, I was a fool." She took a gasping breath and admitted the most horrible part of it. "It was my first kiss. He split the inside of my lip. The bruises on my arms and back didn't fade for weeks."
"Taylor."Jackson's voice was gruff, giving her permission to end this if it hurt too much.
She couldn't stop now. "He was pressed up against me and I could feel him ... being aroused. I fought but he was too strong. I thought he'd keep hurting me but then someone came down the stairs. He'd forgotten to lock the door."
"You had a chance to escape?"
"Yes." She'd thanked God over and over while she'd thrown up in the bathroom.
"Did he touch you again?" The quiet rage inJackson's voice somehow soothed her.
She shook her head against him, unwilling to lose the steady sound of his heartbeat. "He watched me but I stopped going anywhere in the building by myself. I encouraged the children in the other apartments to tag along everywhere. Grant - the maintenance guy couldn't risk offending their families by scaring them off. Some of their parents wouldn't have thought twice about taking care of him."
"Grant? Grant who?"Jacksondemanded.
"I won't let you get in trouble." She set her jaw.
"I promise you I won't. But I need to do something - you didn't let me have Donald." There was such ferocious anger in his request that she worried about him.
"No!"
" Cara mia, please."
She bit her lip, undone by the softly spoken endearment. Sometimes she forgot thatJackson's father was Italian, but right now, she could very well believe that this man came from a land that believed in vengeance and an eye for an eye. "I can't prove it."
"You don't need to prove it to me other than by your words and I am the only one who matters." He was holding her so close, so very close, but she wasn't afraid. There was just some part of her that refused to place him in the same category as other men. Did that make her a fool, or was she being given a precious chance to fight the lessons of the past and seize something glorious?
"Grant Layton." It was too hard to resist the temptation to tell the one man who'd ever cared about her.
"Thank you, piccola . Thank you." His embrace tightened, his potent masculinity surrounding her.
Close contact didn't scare her. It was only when anything sexual happened that she was that fourteen-year-old again, backed up against the door of the cupboard, with the handle digging into her back. Her mind had been black with fear and betrayal as the object of her teenage crush had destroyed her innocence before it had a chance to blossom. But perhaps her childhood heart might've recovered from that, if something worse hadn't happened.
Jackson's hand moved up and down her spine, soothing strokes that relaxed her. "Thank you for telling me."
"You had to know," she whispered. "I won't steal your happiness to find my own. I'd run with Nick before I'd do that." He deserved better than a woman so damaged she'd resigned herself to a lifetime of loneliness.
"You're traumatized." He kept stroking her. "We can get you counseling if you want."
She started shaking her head before he could finish. "The thought of exposing my thoughts for a stranger to pick through ... no. I'd rather trust you with my secrets."
He was silent for a long time and she thought that she'd asked too much of this man who guarded his emotions so carefully. He'd offered her a pragmatic bargain. There had been no mention of gentler, softer feelings.
"I am honored." His heart thudded under her cheek. "But, I might not be the best choice. I want you."
"Will you force me?"
"Never."
"In my heart, I've always known that."
Jacksonwas stunned by that calm acceptance of his promise when he was starting to see thatTaylorhad experienced only fear and violence from the men in her life. She hadn't said anything to indicate further abuse, but if the young maintenance man had noticed her developing beauty, what had other, older men noticed? And what had they done to his sweetTaylor? He stifled his questions for the moment, aware that she was emotionally wrung out. "How?" he asked instead.
A pause, then, "You might hurt me with indifference and coldness but you'd never physically abuse me."
He winced at her honest response. "I'm not indifferent to you." But he was a cold man. He'd had to become one to survive his solitary childhood and then Bonnie. The last blow had been the loss of his child.
He neededTaylor's fire as his anchor against the coldness swallowing him alive, needed her to be the candle in the darkness that brought him back home. And though he'd never let her know, he needed her love. Because he did, he fought for her. "I will always be there for you, but I know of a therapist who specializes in sexual trauma." He'd made it his business to find out that information earlier today.
Taylortensed. "I don't know..."
"Can you try, cara? She might help you in ways I have no knowledge of." His need to encourage her spirit overcame his desire to be her strength. Faced with her pain, his first instinct would be to reassure and shield, possibly thwarting her recovery. The therapist would be far tougher, forcingTaylorto use the courage that had let her successfully raise a child, to heal herself.
This time, it was her hand that stroked his spine. "I'll try ... we can learn together."
What was she offering to teach him? He didn't care. He'd take whatever she could give him. It was a disturbing thought.
Chapter 5
Taylorawoke inJackson's guest bedroom on Sunday morning, wearing his big white shirt. Rain beat overhead, a rough lullaby that signaled the return of the storm. Warm and comfortable, she had no desire to rise.
A sharp knock on her door made her scowl. "Come in."
Jacksonpushed the door open and stood in the doorway, clad all in black. "We have to talk."
She yawned and pulled out one hand from her cocoon to pat at the bedspread. "Sit."
There was an inferno in his caressing gaze. " Cara mia, I am only a man."
Her heart thundered. "Please?" Why was she making him do this? Was she testing his promise that he wouldn't force her to do things that terrified her?
Sighing, he came and sat beside her. "Happy?"
"Maybe," she teased. "Where's my engagement ring, JacksonSantorini ?" She was trying to be lighthearted, for what right did she have to demand anything?
