The blush was back, pink and pretty. “I have to remember all the bad words I used so I can tell Molly.”
“Dickweasel?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
Chuckling, Gabriel went and got the food he’d left on the hallway table. “Come on, let’s reheat this and eat and you can tell me what some of those words mean. I grew up on a rugby field, but Jesus, baby, I have no idea where you learned all that.”
“You should read more” was the prim response from the tiny blond Valkyrie he didn’t ever want that pissed with him.
CHARLOTTE LAY IN BED that night, staring up at the ceiling. Her body was satisfied and yet not. Gabriel had touched her with the same raw tenderness he always did, but again, it had been in an armchair, with her in his lap. She knew in her gut that that wasn’t anywhere close to his favorite position. A man like Gabriel enjoyed being on top, liked to have total control.
“Don’t rush it. It appears you’re doing very well with Gabriel.”
Dr. Mac was right; she knew that. She also knew it infuriated her that even though she could see Richard for the spineless psychopathic wimp that he was, she couldn’t forget what he’d done to her. It felt as if he’d branded her and she hated it, hated it. She wanted to wear Gabriel’s brand, not Richard’s, wanted to know the feel of Gabriel’s hand sliding around her nape to hold her close for his kiss, not the ugliness of Richard’s fingers digging into her flesh as he dragged her around the town house.
And she wanted Gabriel’s big, hot, protective body beside her, didn’t want him walking out the door night after night because neither of them was sure she wouldn’t panic in the middle of the night.
Aggravated, she shoved off the blanket and stomped into the kitchen to make some coffee. She had no idea what time it was in whatever city Molly was in now, but she picked up the phone and made the call. Her best friend came on sounding groggy. “Charlie?”
“I said Richard was a pencil-dicked, scum-sucking fuckwit.”
A dramatic pause, and then Molly whooped. “That’s my girl!” A rustling sound followed, with Molly whispering, “Go back to sleep. I’m going to talk to Charlie.”
More rustling announced that Molly was moving about. “What precipitated this awesome assassination of pencil-dick’s character?” she said after a few more seconds.
Charlotte told Molly about the letter. “All this time, I’ve been afraid of him, when he’s a coward who could only feel good by attacking a woman half his size.” Seeing his weaselly words had made that truth crystal clear to her. “I think part of it is because I’m not vulnerable anymore.” The grieving, insecure girl Richard had known was gone—in her place was a woman who tangled with a far stronger man on a daily basis. “He can’t get at me by attacking my weaknesses.”
“I’m proud of you,” Molly said, fierce in her support.
Charlotte smiled. “I’m proud of me too.” It had taken her years, but she’d finally stripped Richard of his power. “Whatever happens, I’ll never again fear him.” She wasn’t naïve enough to think the panic attacks would simply cease, but surely her conscious realization of Richard’s true nature would have an impact on her subconscious?
“I hope the other prisoners hurt him while he was in prison,” Molly muttered. “It’s what he deserves.”
Coffee having finished perking, Charlotte poured herself a cup, then took out one of her “angry muffins” as Gabriel had named them, and curled up in a chair at the kitchen table. “I think I should move into Gabriel’s apartment.”
“Whoa.” The sound of liquid being gulped on the other end of the line. “What brought this on?”
“I wanted to prove my independence,” Charlotte said, her eyes on the bill she’d left on the counter. “But I’ve already done that. I’ve lived here on my own, had my own job, paid my own bills.”
“You won’t get any arguments from me.”
“I guess I just needed to figure that out myself.” Charlotte took a bite of her muffin. “The thing is, I never really wanted to live alone anyway. I want to be with Gabriel.” She thought of everything she and Gabriel had already shared and of what was still missing.
“I want to feel Gabriel’s hand on my nape, Molly,” she said softly, her eyes hot with emotion. “I want him to tug my hair and pin me down and tie me up if that’s what we want. I don’t want Richard to have stolen that from me. I don’t want his ugly shadow on any part of my life.”