He slid off me slowly, striding to the bathroom, presumably to lose the used condom.
I laid there watching him, unable to move, unable to think. My mind was as spent as my body.
He’d moved gracefully, without a hint of body shyness. Not that he had any reason to be self-conscious.
Moments later, he was back, and the steady pattern of breathing I’d reestablished became irregular all over again.
He sat and pulled my naked, vulnerable body into his lap. “Tell me. Explain to me why you would let me to take your body when you’ve never given it to any other man.”
“There was no other man I wanted to give it to,” I explained breathlessly. “It wasn’t like I was saving it for some reason, I just never wanted to be with anyone like that.”
He lifted a brow at me. “Nobody in all these years? Where the hell have you been?”
I took in his brooding expression, knowing I was going to have to tell him the truth. I felt vulnerable, stripped bare in a way I’d never experienced before.
“Eva?” His stare was unwavering, waiting.
I felt like he was staring directly into my soul, and God help me, I couldn’t lie. “I was in prison. I just finished my parole a year ago. When I was eighteen, I went to a women’s correctional facility for three years. I’m sorry. I should have told you. You just fucked a felon.”
I hadn’t thought about how he’d feel about screwing a convicted criminal. All I had wanted was just a moment to live a dream.
I struggled to get away from him as I saw the shocked look on his face, and for just a second, what I thought was probably revulsion.
I’m a criminal. What did I expect?
Nobody was going to overlook the fact that I’d been a prisoner for most of my adult life. Nobody ever did.
Stumbling to my feet, I turned and ran to my room, not even bothering to pick up my clothes. I locked the door with trembling fingers, turning around and sliding down against it until my bare ass hit the carpet.
Then and only then did I release the anguish that was locked up inside me, sobbing like a small child as I wrapped my arms protectively around my nude upper body and let the torrent begin.
Chapter Seven
Eva
I was devastated the next morning when the enormity of what I’d said and done the night before really hit me.
I sat up in bed, unrested, and tossed my unruly hair from my face.
“Oh, God,” I moaned as I ran a hand down my face.
I told Trace about my past after the most earth shattering moments of my life.
Everything he’d done to me and to my body had felt so damn perfect, every minute surreal. Why had I gone and destroyed it?
“Because there’s something about him that won’t let me lie,” I whispered to myself.
At some point during the night, I’d moved from the floor, undressed and donned a pair of pajamas. The tears had finally dried up, the sobs subsided. I felt worn out, raw and more vulnerable than I ever had in my entire life.
Trace had knocked on the door last night, but I’d stifled my painful cries while he was in the hallway, made myself not utter a sound. He’d finally left, probably assuming I was asleep. Unfortunately, I hadn’t slept much, and I’d been very much awake when he’d been hammering on my door. I’d just been too afraid to answer.
“It’s Thanksgiving. How am I going to face him?” I flopped onto my back and covered my face with a pillow. I was going to have to face him and live with the fact that he knew my history, and he hadn’t accepted it well. There had been anger in his voice last night when he’d come to my bedroom door, and really, could I blame him? I hadn’t been honest before he’d laid his hands on me, and he’d unknowingly been intimate with a felon, somebody he shouldn’t even know, much less screw.
“Eva!”
I jackknifed into a sitting position as I heard his low baritone outside my door. “I know you’re in there. I left last night to give you time, but I’m not leaving again. Answer the door or I break it in.” His fist pounded hard on the heavy wood barrier.
Resigned, I scooted out of bed and went to the door, unlocking it and turning around to walk back to the bed and sit.
He entered almost immediately, and I was certain he had been listening for the lock on the door to click. Of course, I was going to unlock it. Number one: there was no way I was going to let him destroy such a beautiful polished wood door. Number two: I couldn’t run away from the truth forever. There was no point in putting it off any longer.
I lowered my head and focused on the elegant pattern of the cream-colored carpet on the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with him. My crazy hair hid my face, and I waited.