Love’s Sweet Revenge(170)

“Hush, mi amor.” He found a corner of her mouth and kissed it lightly.

She turned her face enough that his lips found hers fully.

He kissed her ever so lightly. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated.

“I’m all right,” she wept.

“I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“I’m with you. Why would I be afraid?”

He carried her to the bed and laid her on it, moving on top of her. He’d spent most of the day inside and wore only long johns with a shirt. He’d kept the fire stoked, and the room was warm and the light growing dim as the sun began to settle behind the mountains. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a short stick of peppermint. “Will this help?”

“Oh, Jake!” She cried more, actually smiling through her tears. “Yes.”

Jake put the peppermint into her mouth and came close to take the other end. He rested on his elbows, afraid to put his weight on her. He grasped her hair along with putting his hands on either side of her face, and they each bit off their share of the peppermint and chewed it, holding each other’s gaze and smiling in spite of the fact that Randy also couldn’t stop crying. Jake kissed her more deeply. “Look at me and tell me who you belong to, Randy.”

Tears continued to pour from her eyes and sometimes into her ears. “You.”

“Say my name.”

“Jake.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“Jake Harkner.”

“Every beautiful inch of you, including this delicate face.” He kissed her bruised cheeks, kissed her wet eyes, licked at her tears. “And including these beautiful lips.” He traced a thumb over her lips then reached over to a nightstand and grabbed a clean handkerchief he’d left there, hoping there were enough left to continue soaking up all her tears. “Here. You’re a mess of tears, and it’s hard to kiss you this way.”

Randy actually laughed lightly. She blew her nose and wiped at her eyes.

“I have something else for you,” Jake told her. “Stay right here under me. I love having you under me.” He reached over and opened the one drawer of the nightstand, taking out a sachet. He sniffed it deeply then held it to her nose.

“Jake! My rose petals!”

“A few weeks ago, I found out where you keep them. Before we left to find you, I told Evie to pack this. I thought it would help comfort you.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Oh yes, it is comforting!” She started crying again. “Oh, Jake, you thought of everything!”

“How well do I know you?”

“Better than I thought.” She inhaled deeply again, then kissed the sachet. “You’re a man of incredible contrasts, Jake Harkner. Who would ever think a man like you would think of something like this?”

“No one knows how much I love you.” He kissed her eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Randy. The other night should never have happened. I’ll never leave you unprotected again.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” A hint of terror moved through her eyes, and she laid the sachet aside. “Jake, take back what they did. You know how.”

He kissed her lips ever so lightly again.

“Make me yours, Jake. Take it all back.” She jerked in a sob. “I can trust you,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, licking her lips, running his tongue inside them, moving his tongue ever so carefully into her mouth as the kiss grew deeper. She returned the kiss almost desperately, as though taking his mouth into hers would take away the other…the ugly…the violent and the vile. He let her pull on his mouth in her attempt to let him “take it back,” and he knew she meant he should take back her mouth, her lips, the violation. She belonged to Jake Harkner. Even her mouth belonged to Jake Harkner, and only he should touch it.

He lingered at her mouth, kissing, tasting, cleansing it with his tongue, taking back what belonged to Jake Harkner. She wore only a robe, and he pushed it aside…very gently…very cautiously…carefully caressing her breasts, her belly. Finally, he left her mouth and kissed at her bruises—her chin, her neck, her breasts.

Had they touched her here? He would take it back. Had fists landed into her ribs? Her small belly that bore scars from surgeries he feared she’d die from? He would take back her ribs, her belly. Her hip bones. Her thighs. Her legs. The bottoms of her feet. Her legs again. Her thighs again. That little crevice where leg met secret places. He kissed her there. He would take that back, too.

He felt no resistance. No horror. No tense withdrawal from his touch. He kissed her between her thighs then moved back to her breasts, her throat, her mouth.