Beneath her, Dillon’s body tensed again. “He wouldn’t let you.”
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. The memory flooded her mind, vivid and ugly, and a cold chill ran the length of her spine that wanted to suck her into the past. Emma kept talking, compelled for some reason to share the ugliness with him. The power of his presence and the feel of his arms tight around her somehow soothed her.
“He held me down, tried to force my legs open while at the same time trying to get my pants and underwear off. Told me it was my fault. Called me a whore and told me I deserved what he gave me. Said I was a tease and I owed him because I wound him up and he couldn’t just stop.”
Long moments of awful silence passed. No matter how many times over the years she told herself otherwise, no matter how much she knew everything to be untrue, her body still tensed in preparation of bad news while she waited for Dillon to say something.
Finally, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I’m really sorry that happened to you, Em. Nobody should have to go through that.”
A tight muscle in her gut eased, and she released her held breath, something he apparently caught.
He rolled onto his side, facing her. His gaze searched hers. “You didn’t expect me to say that.”
She shook her head and looked down at his chest, the heat of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. “You kept tensing and—”
He stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t like the thought of someone hurting you. I was trying to think of one good reason why I shouldn’t go find him and beat the hell out of him.”
She looked up and expected to find amusement in his eyes, but found somberness instead. Anger simmered in the depths of his eyes, his jaw tight. He was serious. Somehow, seeing the expression on his face lightened the load. “It’s been almost fifteen years, Dillon.”
“He still deserves it.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and tucked her against his side then wrapped both arms around her. “He’s wrong, you know. No matter how hard it may be, no matter how much he doesn’t want to, a man can always stop.”
“Always?” She asked more out of a childish need to hear him say the words than an actual need to know.
“Always.” He kissed the top of her head. “You said almost. How’d you get away?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I fought back. Kicked and squirmed and screamed. He had to let go of me in order to get my pants off, and I brought my knee up. Managed to hit his groin. It loosened his hold enough that I was able to scramble into the front seat and out of the car. After that, I ran. I didn’t look back to see if he chased me. I just ran.”
She ran for miles before she realized he wasn’t coming after her. Then she had to walk the rest of the ten miles home alone, in the pitch black darkness, in a torn blouse, with her face bloodied where he struck her.
“Good for you.” Dillon stroked her back, his voice warm and reassuring. “Did you report it?”
She hesitated, loathing to tell him. “No. I was too afraid. After a while, it just becomes too late.”
She wrapped her arms tighter around him, somehow lighter for having shared her ugliness with him.
He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why me? After what happened to you, why would you choose me?”
The answer came like her next breath, easy and natural. She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Because I feel safe with you.”
A strong sense of intimacy flowed between them. The tenderness in his eyes melted her heart. He reached down and pulled her to lie on top of him. Taking her face in his hands, he stroked her hair back from her face. Then he kissed her, soft and gentle. His lips lingered over hers. “I never want to hurt you.”
She kissed him, whispering against his mouth. “I know.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and tucked her face into the curve of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her back. Laying there, that blissful feeling of warmth and safety settled over her again. She’d just started to fall asleep when Annie’s voice drifted over the baby monitor on the nightstand. The sense of having come home gripped her again. They were like a family, the three of them. Not a typical family, but a family, nonetheless. It surprised her how very much she wanted it to be true.
Dillon’s deep even breathing told her he’d fallen asleep. Emma lifted her head and slid off to his side, propping herself on an elbow. She stroked her fingers over his stubbled jaw. The sight of him awed her. She could imagine waking to his face every morning.
The thought seeped inside and rolled around in her brain. The truth stared her in the face, daring her to deny it. She was doing what she promised herself she wouldn’t.