She scooted off the bed and closed her hand around his, her gratitude for his patience clogging her throat and her gaze pleading with him never to change.
“I’m glad you brought me here, Pat.” He stilled from pacing and stared down at her. When he looked at her like that, like she was the most precious woman in the world, she felt capable of anything. “I still want to be with you tonight.”
His hand gently cupped the side of her face, but she sensed his tension. “Then give me ten minutes. Please.”
She nodded and traced his hand with hers before turning away. When she reached the small bathroom and glanced back, his back was rigid under his shirt, and for once, he wasn’t looking at her.
Uncertainty teased the pit of her stomach, but she did as he asked. She gave him time and space to process, praying she hadn’t just destroyed this delicate new thing they shared.
Patrick had always been in her life—until he wasn’t. It felt right having him back. But it also felt like so much more had come with him. He awakened something inside of her, something that scared and excited her, something that made her feel safe and a little reckless.
As she stood under the spray of the water, some of her tension washed away and she started to relax, not from the heat or the steam, but from the promise of knowing Patrick waited just outside for her. It was then that she realized how much she wanted him—in her life and in her future. Perhaps even needed him, as he seemed the only one capable of mending the broken bits of her heart and making her feel like a decent and deserving woman again.
It wasn’t something he did or anything he gave her, but somehow he restored her belief in herself. She needed that. She needed to believe that she was worth loving, that she was deserving of kindness, no matter what mistakes she’d made.
But she still didn’t fully trust her judgement, and reality was a lot different than a hidden cabin in the woods. Part of her wished they could stay hidden there forever.
Chapter 11
Pat was going to pulverize Lance if he ever saw him again. The images rushing through his mind were so disturbing he couldn’t catch his breath. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he stood on the porch, the fresh air doing little to calm his rage. Why had it never occurred to him that she would be so inexperienced?
It made perfect sense. Her mother had a warped sense of old world values even he couldn’t comprehend. Once, Jo told him her mother forbade them to use tampons because nothing but a husband and the Holy Spirit should go inside a woman. Of course Mrs. Cook wouldn’t educate her daughters about sex.
And Lance knew that. He knew what kind of home Julie grew up in and used her ignorance to his advantage. Pat could only imagine the sort of depraved things he convinced her to do.
It would break him if she took that selfish bastard back. He could deal with her moving on and he could accept it if she didn’t want him. But she deserved to be happy and she deserved a relationship based on trust and honesty. She’d never find that with Lance.
A floorboard creaked and he turned, finding Julie behind him, looking small and innocent as she stood in a towel. She’d left her hair up, but a few runaway strands had fallen loose and curled from the steam.
He stared at her through the screen door, wondering if he could even be the sort of man she deserved. He’d try his best.
He shut the door behind him and lowered the blinds. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“I’m okay right now.”
He set the bottle aside. He didn’t approach her, because he hadn’t yet thought of how he wanted to do this. Turned out, he didn’t have to.
Julie dropped the towel and slowly crossed the cabin. “Is this okay?”
Her pebbled nipples pressed to his chest as she raised her arms to his shoulders and lifted to her toes, rising for a kiss. He’d meant to be the one in control, but this brazen beauty seemed to disarm him of his senses every time.
“I don’t want to think about anything but us right now,” she whispered, nudging her nose along his jaw. “I don’t want you to think of me anywhere but here—with you.”
His throat and pants tightened and he swallowed hard. His fingers framed her bare waist and he stared into her eyes. A million unspoken promises rushed through his head. She would always be able to trust him. He’d never hurt her. He’d always be gentle with her.
Was his silence another truth? Even he, with all of his good intentions and affection for her, could not promise such things, because love didn’t come with guarantees. And neither could she make those promises to him, but he wanted her anyway.