Maya Banks - Giving In

The woman threw them one last desperate look and then went to the man’s side, sliding up against him, supporting his weight.

Jensen swore violently under his breath. His entire body quivered against her. His fingers were squeezing hers so tightly that she realized how tenuous his hold on his control was.

She pulled once more, worried he’d go after the man again. To her relief, this time he came with her. The entire way to his car, he kept glancing over his shoulder, worry evident in his gaze as he searched out the man and woman.

“Goddamn it, that makes me sick,” Jensen swore as he guided Kylie into the passenger seat.

Kylie stared out her window as the woman struggled to get the man in the passenger seat of their vehicle. Her heart clenched as she imagined the life this woman must lead. A life where she made excuses for her husband or boyfriend’s abuse. She closed her eyes, only wanting to shut out the images bombarding her from all sides.

The evening lay in ruins, her earlier optimism fading rapidly.

The entire way home, silence lay heavy over the inside of the car. Jensen’s hands were tightly curled around the steering wheel, his stare fixed ahead as he navigated through traffic. Several times she glanced his way but he never took his eyes from the road.

The tension was thick, a tangible cloak surrounding them, almost suffocating in its intensity. She’d seen the terrible rage in Jensen’s eyes and then . . . bleakness. So much grief and sorrow that it had overwhelmed her.

What darkness did he have in his past? They’d only spoken briefly about it. He’d hinted that he had his own demons to fight and the one time she’d asked, he’d steered her away from the conversation, saying he’d tell her later.

Now she realized that she had to know. Now, not later.

She’d been so absorbed in her own issues that she hadn’t given any thought to his, an oversight she intended to correct immediately.

If he’d open up to her.

She flinched because she hadn’t opened up to him but here she was expecting him to bare his soul to her. He knew some of her past, but she knew nothing of his. And if they had any hope of moving forward, they not only had to put her demons to rest, but his as well. Starting now.

JENSEN unlocked the door to his house and ushered Kylie in. He glanced sideways at her to see her face was drawn and pale. She had her arms hugged around herself and was rubbing her palms up and down her skin in agitation.

He swore under his breath because the night lay in ruins. He knew well what Kylie had planned, what she’d likely been working her nerve up to do all week. And now? Who knew what kind of hell she was enduring after that asshole’s behavior in the parking lot.

It went against every grain for him to just walk away when he damn well knew the bastard would hurt the woman again and again. He’d continue to do it until she fought back, until she put a stop to it. But for Jensen to just walk away and pretend he hadn’t witnessed what he did?

It made him sick.

His own demons came roaring to life, no longer contained by the barriers he’d erected over the years. They were simmering just below the surface, scratching and clawing their way out of his mind.

“Jensen?”

Kylie’s quiet voice shook him from his thoughts. He glanced at her again to see her studying him, her expression troubled.

“Yes, baby?”

“We need to talk,” she said in a low voice.

He nodded, unable to say anything in response.

She took his hand, surprising him with the way she seemed to be trying to soothe him. As if she weren’t the one who’d just revisited hell by watching in real time everything that had happened to her. Only what she’d endured was far worse. Getting smacked in the face wasn’t even scratching the surface of all that had been done to her.

“Come into the bedroom,” she said quietly. “Let’s get into bed and we’ll talk there.”

He pulled her into his arms, simply wanting to hold her for a moment. To reassure himself that she was safe. That she was here with him and not a million miles away in another place and time.

He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her silky hair. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him fiercely, as if again she was soothing him and not the other way around.

“I’d like that,” he said.

She drew away but kept ahold of his hand and then tugged him toward the bedroom. When they entered, she went to the drawer where most of her clothing was and pulled out a pair of pajamas.

She stripped efficiently, not at all bothered by the fact he could see her. He was relieved that for the most part she didn’t seem too traumatized over the night’s events. Perhaps he was the one reeling the most. Seeing the woman brutalized in the parking lot had brought back painful memories for him. A feeling of helplessness had gripped him when the woman had pleaded with him not to call the police.

God, he never wanted to feel that helplessness again.

His hands were shaking. He hadn’t even realized it until Kylie came over to him and slid her hands into his, squeezing in a comforting manner.

“We need to get you undressed and ready for bed,” she said.

He stood there while she undressed him piece by piece. She moved slowly and almost reverently, as if she’d taken over the role of caregiver, one usually assigned to him. And yet he allowed it, savoring the sensation of having someone who loved him to care for him when he was vulnerable.

Only with this woman would he ever allow this side of himself to be exposed. With no one else had he ever felt secure enough to allow control out of his grasp.

When he was down to his underwear, she guided him toward the bed, pulling the covers back so they could get in.

As soon as they were both settled in, Kylie snuggled into his arms, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

“What happened tonight, Jensen?” she asked gently. “Aside from the obvious. I saw the look in your eyes. I saw more than anger or rage. I saw grief and . . . despair. You once told me that I wasn’t the only one who struggled with the demons of their past. Will you tell me about them now?”

He closed his eyes a moment, wondering just how much he should tell her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her or didn’t trust her enough to share. He worried that it would bring back unpleasant memories for her if he related his own tormented childhood.

As if reaching into his mind and plucking out his thoughts, she cupped his jaw and smoothed her hand over his cheek.

“Tonight is about you,” she said in a soft voice. “I don’t want you to worry about me. For once, let me be the strong one for you. I’ll listen. To whatever you tell me. And I’ll never tell anyone else. You can trust me.”

He turned his face in to her hand, kissing her palm. “Ah, Kylie, I trust you absolutely. I trust you more than anyone else. I just don’t want to hurt you or bring back painful memories for you.”

“You won’t,” she said solemnly. “Not tonight. Tonight I’m here to listen. To be strong for you like you’ve been strong for me.”

God, but he loved this woman. The idea of not being with her ripped a hole in his heart. He never wanted to contemplate a life without her. Not now that he had her. She belonged to him, and he’d never willingly let her go.

She touched his face again, lightly stroking the curve of his jaw.

“I love you. Remember that. Nothing you say will ever change that.”

He closed his eyes, wondering how he’d gotten so damn lucky. Who would have ever thought he’d meet his soul mate in a woman with whom sexual dominance wasn’t possible. But then she’d likely never pondered or entertained even for a moment becoming involved with a dominant man, so perhaps they were even.

“I hope to hell that will always be the case,” he said.

She nodded, sincerity blazing in her eyes.

He sucked in a breath, taking the plunge. He wanted to get it over with. Like ripping a bandage off quickly.

“Like you I come from an abusive background. My father—”

He choked on the words, hating to give the man who’d been such a monster the reverence of that title.

Sorrow filled her eyes. And understanding. But she remained silent, not interrupting him as he struggled with how to continue.

“Unlike in your case, most of his abuse wasn’t directed at me. I wish to hell it had been. That I could have dealt with. But he took out his rage on my mother and I was helpless to do anything but watch and then pick up the pieces afterward. I hate that feeling. I hate it.”

A tear slid down Kylie’s cheek, her grief as thick as his own. She understood all too well his feelings on the subject. She knew more than anyone else his pain and the wretchedness of his memories.

Her hand trembled against his cheek but she kept it there, a silent signal of her love and support.

“Did it ever stop?” she asked quietly.

Jensen closed his eyes, pain burning like fire in his chest. It was almost too much, going back to that time in his life. He hadn’t opened that door in a very long time and now that it was flung wide, he couldn’t keep it under control.

Images flashed in his mind, tumbling faster and faster until he was dizzy from it.

“No,” he whispered. “God, no. He was a bastard to the bitter end. The day he was diagnosed with terminal cancer I celebrated. Jesus. I was fucking thrilled that the old man was going to endure a painful death. I wished it on him. Time and time again, and all I could think when it happened was that God had answered my prayer. How twisted is that?”