Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (50 page)

“Courage
doesn’t happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to
face the questions you have been avoiding your whole life.”

― S.L.
Alder

~~~

Renata
Koreman

“My father loved
sex,” Grant finally says, exhaling slowly in a long breath.

“Oh?” I say,
encouraging him to tell me more. I’m not exactly sure where he’s going with
this, not yet, at any rate.

“Well, don’t you
see, Renata?” he says, sitting up straighter and turning toward me. “I was so
confused. I jumped to all the wrong conclusions because of the fucked up
lessons I learned from
him.
To my mind, sex equaled selfishness, equaled
dirtiness, equaled sin, humiliation, secrets and shame. I equated all of these
things as one, grouping them together in my mind.”

His fingers
gently cup my face, caressing along the line of my jaw before dropping back
down to my hand, where he lightly traces designs that feel lovely on my skin.
He pulls away suddenly and looks up at me.

I can barely
meet his gaze, his captivating eyes are filled with reverence, awe and wonder.

“It’s not like
that with you,” he says in a low voice. “I care about
you,
so very, very
much. When I’m with you, it’s completely different. There’s no sin in sex and
no shame either.”

I swallow past
the lump in my throat. “Thank you. I’m so glad you feel that way,” I manage to
choke out.

A small frown
creases his brow and he shakes his head. “My beliefs were based on warped
experiences—things I learned from a sexual predator as a child. I never wanted
to be like my father, so I was
unable to enjoy sex.
Yet, with you, sex
isn’t a selfish act. It’s about meeting
your
needs. When I began to
appreciate how much pleasure I was able to give
you,
everything changed
for me. Then I
could
finally enjoy it. It finally felt
right.
”

“That’s
wonderful,” I say, thrilled by his revelation.

“Yes,” he
agrees, continuing to meet my eyes. “Realizing that changes everything.”

What a
revelation. It’s pretty simple, really, and it makes perfect sense—especially
when viewed through the eyes of a child. Grant’s analytical rationale about sex
seems to go something like this:
My dad is bad and my dad enjoys sex. I
don’t want to be like my dad, so I can’t let myself enjoy sex.

He would have
come to conclusion quite early in his life and then forgotten about it—burying
it in his subconscious mind. That one important decision concerning a pivotal,
everyday subject was lost to him.

It wasn’t that
Grant thought sex was a sin. He came to the decision that
enjoying
sex
was sinful and wrong.

I remember André
said,
“All people, whatever they are doing, no matter how crazy or
irrational it seems to you… it is how they need to act—from their perspective.
I do not justify or rationalize an individual’s behavior—no. I simply tell you
there is always a reason.”

Satisfaction
warms me.

Grant learned something
important about himself. Will this mean he can now enjoy sex without guilt? I
certainly hope so.

I don’t
understand the twisted smile on his face. I watch as a storm of emotion is
gathering inside him, filling his thoughts and altering his features. His
blue-grey eyes are strangely bright.

Are those tears I
see welling up?

What the
hell?

A sharp pain
stabs my chest. Instinctively, I rub the heel of my palm over it, attempting to
ease it. Crying is a natural form of release. If Grant cries, it will be a good
thing, I tell myself.

Then why does
the mere thought of his pain break my heart?

Grant’s breath
quickens, his chest heaves. Some unidentifiable emotion emanates from him. I
have no idea what it is, but I do know he’s sitting on a wealth of
feelings
.

It’s
overwhelming him.

It’s
overwhelming me! I’m pinned by the stillness and strength of his gaze.

“I've watched TV
and movies,” he says quietly. “I've heard people brag about the pleasures of
sex and I’ve seen some of them fall in love. I knew these things are supposed
to be 'normal.’ Apparently, they can and do happen… to
other
people.”

Afraid to speak,
I simply nod.

Grant swallows
and I watch his throat work.

“I thought that
part of me was gone, or broken beyond repair,” he says, in a deceptively calm
voice. “I never dreamed I’d ever be able to love a woman, or enjoy sex. Until
tonight, sex was a necessary evil I endured when I was too weak to fight my
carnal urges. It never gave me any real pleasure.”

A moment of raw
fury flares in his eyes. “I
hated
myself more and more each and every
time I gave into it. Whenever I had sex, I felt like a monster, as evil as
him.
”

I stare at
Grant, unable to break free from his gaze.

“You asked me,
what happened? I discovered I
can
enjoy sex,” he says huskily. “Why?
Because it’s good and right when it isn’t self-serving. If there
is
a
God, he or she never intended for sex to be a selfish act. It can’t be wrong to
make love with someone you care about… with someone you love.”

Love
?

Does that
mean he loves me?

My heart stops…
then it begins to race.

My mouth is so
dry. I say nothing. I can barely continue to meet his gaze. I want to look
away, but I simply cannot. I’m captive to the adoration I see in his eyes.

If I’m not
careful, I think I might begin to cry!

Jesus, poor
Grant has surely seen enough of my crying jags for a lifetime.
When did I
become such a crybaby? I'm supposed to be a professional! I need to have some
semblance of self-control!

It’s now my turn
to be speechless.

Although Grant
is aware of my strong reaction to his words, it doesn’t stop him or even slow
him down.

“Renata,” he
says quietly. “I realized touch comes naturally to a man when he’s making love
to the woman he loves.” He pauses, but continues gazing into my eyes. “I love
you, Renata.”

Damn my
hormones!

At this point, I
simply can’t help it. I burst into tears.

Grant pulls me
across his lap and cradles me like a child. Once again, he holds me close and
soothes me with soft words. Tenderly stroking my back, he calms me. At least
this time it doesn’t take me quite as long to regain control of myself.

“You… you think
you love me?” I sniff. I can hardly believe it, despite the truth I see in his
eyes and in his actions.

“I know I do,”
he confidently asserts.

“I love you
too,
Grant and it’s so crazy! We’ve only known each other for a short time!”

His eyebrows
shoot up. “Whoa, is that your professional opinion? Frankly, I don't care if it
is. If our loving each other is crazy, I don’t want to be sane.”

I stare back at
him.

“Please, don't
worry. No matter how I feel about you or us, I don’t expect you to stay with
me, Renata,” he says, trying to reassure me. “I’m such a pathetic mess—I can’t
see why you would…”

“Grant,” I break
in, cutting off his completely incorrect assumption, wanting to put his fears
to rest.

“Shh, shh.” He
stops me from uttering another word by putting his finger to my lips.

“You've brought
joy and hope into my life. I’ve never known such a sense of acceptance and
belonging with anyone but you. I can tell you every unspeakable, shameful act
and I know you’ll understand. You won’t judge me, hate me, belittle me or use
it against me. You accept me, not because of who I am—but because of who
you
are.”

Grant’s high
opinion shocks me into momentary silence. What is he talking about
… because
of who I am?

I’m a crazy
woman who’s afraid of everything—except being one on one, helping a client.

“You’re the one
who is amazing, Grant,” I finally manage to say. “Your bravery, your openness,
your determination to face your childhood.” I shake my head. “Your strength
absolutely blows me away."

His adoring
smile melts my heart. “I never thought I could feel like this. I can be strong
because
of you
. I can expose myself and face my fears
because of you.
I can
never repay André enough for all of his help, but also for putting me into your
hands. I’ll always be grateful to him for that, Renata, because
you
make
me strong.”

When I see the
peaceful look on his face, my breath catches.

Grant
needs
me.

I need to be
needed—I always have. But this time it’s different, because with Grant, I
need
him too.

I’m crying
again, but somehow, it’s all right.

Overcome with
joy, I impulsively throw my arms around him, nuzzling into him and wetting his
neck with my tears. He embraces me, stroking and patting my back as he did
before. I cuddle into him, breathing him in. His heart thumps slow and steady
under my ear.

I love the feel
of him. I love the smell of him. Strong and male, he’s the scent of comfort,
sanctuary and understanding.

I love
him.

When I’m with
Grant, I’m not burdened by anxiety or low self-esteem. I don’t feel guilty,
blame myself, or feel like a failure. Around him, I begin to believe perhaps
I’m
valuable
and not completely crazy.

In fact, I feel
something I don’t recall ever feeling before.

With Grant, I
finally feel
whole.

“So somewhere
in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”

—The Sound Of
Music

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

It’s Monday
morning, 6 a.m. After a perfect weekend, I wake up in my home with Renata’s
warm body beside me.

Every time I
wake to find her in my bed, I’m shocked, astonished and ridiculously pleased
all over again. It feels good to have her near. I’ll never get used to it and
I’ll never let her go—if she’ll agree to stay with me.

I used to avoid
intimacy.

Connection of
any kind unnerved me, hitting every trigger I had. No one really
knew
me.
I couldn’t afford to let anyone become close. That way, my secrets were safe
and if I felt alone in my self-imposed isolation? Well, that was just too
damned bad.

I’m not lonely
anymore. Now, I share so much.
Except for my guilt over my brother’s abuse.
Except for the fact that Alex killed my father.

Late last night,
Renata woke me up. I was roused, or more precisely, aroused—with her sensual,
determined caresses. It was clear she needed me, wanted me, or both.

Of course, my
obliging cock became achingly erect instantly.

We rolled onto
our sides in spooning position, my chest to her back, with my erection pressed
firmly against her buttocks.

When my curious
fingers delved between her legs, they found Renata dripping and ready for me. I
lifted her leg to give myself better access and when I pushed inside of her,
she gave a soft, feminine sigh of pleasure.

We surged
together in the darkness, the sound of our ragged breathing loud in the
silence. Not a word was spoken by either of us—nothing needed to be said.

We took each
other slow and easy, then fast and hard. When we were done, we immediately fell
back to sleep.

Had it really
happened? It felt like a dream.

How did I get to
this wonderful place in my life? Karma? Maybe I deserve happiness. If so, I
must have done something really good.

I look at Renata,
lying there so peaceful in her slumber. Pale skin, long blonde hair, long
eyelashes and freckles on her cute little nose. She’s adorable and perfect and
the most important person in the world to me.

Renata was up
last night with Briley, so I hope she remains asleep for a while longer.

I slide out of
bed silently, dress in shorts and a tank top. I keep to my daily regimen of
one-hundred pushups, fifty squats and a hundred star jumps. Then I put on the
coffee and go out for my run.

When I return,
Renata greets me at the front door with Briley in her arms. I stare at her for
a moment, just taking her in and gauging her mood. Her eyes sparkle—there’s an
element of excitement about her. Is she happy? Turned on? Both?

I’ve noticed
when she’s in ‘nanny mode,’ she dresses ultra-modestly, always in slacks. Over
the past weekend, Renata wore skirts and dresses—sexy clothes that enabled easy
access so I could get my hand up and into her panties. But it doesn’t matter
what she wears. I
always
want to jump her.

I grab my towel
and kick off my shoes. Briley appears to be sound asleep.

“Hey, handsome,”
Renata says, with a wide grin. Sweet and feminine, her voice rolls over me like
a loving caress, while her heated gaze rakes me from head to toe.

“Hey, yourself,”
I say, bending to kiss her.

Her lips are
warm, smooth and taste of coffee. My heart kicks up with both excitement and
anxiety at the thought of deepening the kiss.
I think
I know what’s
worrying me about having my mouth on hers—yet, that can’t be the reason. If it
was, kissing wouldn’t bother me anymore.

André warned me
that sometimes in life, a person never,
ever
figures out the reason why.
Sometimes, it just is what it is. I guess I’ll have to find a way to move past
this fear in order to address the problem.

“One of these
days we’ll spend hours kissing,” she informs me, well aware of my unease.

I shrug and
half-smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

She grins. “You
got that right. I love kissing, and right now you smell like a sweaty, sexy
man.”

I say nothing,
but we both glance down at our sexual impediment—the sleeping child in her
arms. Either she’ll put him to bed, or not. She’ll have to give me a more
obvious hint if she’s looking for sex.

My cock
twitches, I’m already erect and “up for it,” as usual.

Renata has plans
for me to become more hands-on with Briley. I draw the line at giving baths and
changing diapers. If he was a girl, it might be different. As it is, there’s no
way I’m going there.

When I tell her
that, she simply says, “OK,” complacently. In time, I know she fully intends
for me to get past this particular hang up of mine. Whatever. That will be a
battle postponed for another day.

“What are you so
excited about?” I ask, toweling off.

She laughs
happily. It’s a wondrous, enchanting sound—another appealing trait of hers I
never want to live without.

“You remember me
telling you about Mr. Brand, my grade school teacher who was so kind to me?”

“Of course.”

“He wrote me the
best letter,” she gushes. “He was so pleased to hear from me. I’ll let you read
it after your shower and you can help me write a reply. He’s even sent photos.
I’ll put Briley to bed so we can shower together.” She gives me a playful wink.
“After that, we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

A slow smile
tugs at my lips.

There’s the
rather obvious hint I was hoping for, thank God.

I preferred the
dark, but I’m already getting over that. If I had it my way, neither of us
would ever leave my bed. Quite honestly, I don’t want to freak out Renata with
my overwhelming lust for her.

Is my body
trying to make up for lost time? Right now, I’m utterly insatiable. I feel as
though twenty times a day wouldn’t be enough.

Renata tilts her
head and stares at me with a sexy, teasing glint in her eyes. I swear to God,
that woman can read my mind.

She stares at me
intently. “I want to lick off some of your sexy sweat before we shower.”

~~~

This is the
second time we’ve had sex in the shower and each time it gets better and better.

Renata finishes
showering first, so when I dry off and come downstairs, she has a breakfast of
oatmeal, toast, bacon and orange juice ready and waiting. Renata knows Mitten
and I love bacon. Southerners say,
Bacon is proof God loves us and wants us
to be happy.

“Thank you,
Renata, this looks great. You didn't have to go through all that trouble. I can
make breakfast.”

“I enjoy
cooking,” she says with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. You do plenty around
here. I don’t feel as though cooking is my job or anything.”

“I’m not a very
good cook,” I admit.

She laughs.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that, too.”

Mitten sits with
us at the table. That cat has better table manners than most people. We began
eating and Renata gives me a printed copy of Mr. Brand’s letter. I just start
reading it when my phone rings.

It’s 7 a.m. and
usually, only my mother calls at this hour. Frowning, I check my caller ID and
am surprised to find it’s Sally Ann. Sally Ann has always had a crush on me,
but she has never once phoned me. I can't imagine why she'd phone at all, much
less understand why she’d call me this early.

“Hello?”

“Grant?” she
says softly. “I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but Danny and I really need
to see you this morning—hopefully, right now. If it’s not too great an imposition,
may we come over?”

“You’re both
welcome anytime,” I say, knowing Renata won’t mind.

“Is Renata there
now?”

I smile. “Yes,
Renata’s here, why?”

Renata tilts her
head and arches one eyebrow. She wants to know who’s on the phone.

“Oh,” Sally Ann
says, “that’s good. I’d like to see her again. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course,
I don’t mind. I’ll leave the door open for you. Briley’s asleep, so y’all come
on in, but don’t ring the doorbell.”

“Fine. We’ll be
over there in fifteen minutes,” she says and hangs up.

When I tell
Renata about our unexpected visitors, she is as surprised as I am. We finish
eating breakfast, tidy up and put on a fresh pot of coffee.

Neither of us
can imagine why they want to stop by here at this hour, yet we aren’t the least
concerned.

If we did know
why they were coming over, we certainly
would
be.