Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)
“Tell me,” he said.
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“I’ll help you.” He still felt that angry edge. “Ferg told me that you and he had a hot time in the stable. Is that true?”
She shook her head. “Ferg . . . raped me, Bull. I fought and cried and screamed, but he just went ahead and . . .” Her voice broke.
Bull willed himself to ignore the rage welling inside him. Women had been known to lie about such things. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything until he knew she was telling the truth. But the need to believe and love her was winning the battle against doubt.
“Afterward he laughed and said maybe he’d gotten me pregnant. That was why I left, and why I didn’t write or call you after that one time. I was afraid it might’ve happened. And I knew that if it had, we were finished. I couldn’t contact you until I knew for sure.”
“And you’re all right now?”
She nodded, her lips pressed together hard.
“Lord, why didn’t you tell me, Susan?”
“How could I? I didn’t know what you’d think, or what you’d do. I still don’t.”
“What would you have done if you’d been pregnant? Married Ferg? Or maybe risked your life with some back-alley abortionist?”
She shook her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. “I don’t know. None of the choices were good. I only knew that I couldn’t make this your problem, too.”
“What about now? Since you’re not pregnant, what comes next?”
“I’m here.”
The last of Bull’s resistance crumbled as his eyes met hers. When he thought about how this precious, innocent woman had been hurt, part of him wanted to find Ferg and kill him with his bare hands. But the emotion that surged inside him now was pure protective love. She was his. Nothing on earth could change that. And nothing would keep him from claiming her.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I wish you’d told me, Susan,” he said, meaning it. “Either way, I would have been there for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
“I should have known that,” she said.
“You know it now.”
She glanced toward the kitchen. “You know, I don’t feel hungry anymore. How about you?”
“I could pass on the burger. What have you got in mind?”
A faint but knowing smile teased her lips. “I have a room in a nice hotel,” she said. “We can get there sooner if you let me drive.”
Leaving cash on the table, Bull rose and followed her out to her car.
* * *
Susan’s hand trembled as she thrust the room key into the lock. She’d driven to Atlanta, knowing that she wanted Bull to make love to her. Earlier, when he’d greeted her so coldly, she’d feared it wasn’t going to happen. Now that it was almost a certainty, doubts and worries swirled in her mind.
What if Bull was put off by the thought that Ferg had been with her first? Worse, what if he didn’t believe it had been rape at all?
Or what if the memory of Ferg, along with the shame and disgust she’d tried so hard to bury, burst to the surface and she froze or panicked?
Never mind, she wanted this. She wanted him. And she couldn’t let her fears keep her from the man she loved.
Bull reached past her and opened the door. The room was dark except for a single lamp, glowing faintly, on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed. She had left the bed turned down.
Closing the door behind them, he turned and gathered her into his arms. He held her gently at first, kissing her with tenderness as if he knew, perhaps, that they’d both been wounded and needed to heal. Then the kisses deepened—tasting, nibbling, licking kisses that made Susan’s pulse race. Her body responded with throbbing urges that shimmered upward from the place where she wanted him to be. She released a slow breath. She was going to be all right. But was he?
Pulling back a little, she gazed up at his battered face. He looked as if he’d run a gauntlet. But she would ask him about that later. Right now the only thing that mattered was giving herself to him.