A Child Of His Own, page 16
His anger was rapidly mounting, for suddenly he found himself having to defend his innocence all over again, only this time to a woman who had somehow come to mean too much to him.
“The least you can do is hear me out, damn it. And if you think I’m the devil incarnate after that, then so be it. I’ll leave, for good, without Jason. You can be the judge and jury, Dory, but you’ve got to hear me out.”
With that part about leaving without Jason, Dory was more than ever determined not to believe anything he said. “What can you possibly say to me that would make any difference?” she shot back at him. “Maybe if I hadn’t had that kind of husband myself, I might be able to summon some remote understanding for you, but for God’s sake, Ben, what kind of fool do you take me for?”
“But that’s just it,” he said, his voice rising. “I wasn’t that kind of husband. I’m telling you, Dory, I didn’t do it. How could you think that I could?”
He sounded genuinely hurt that she could believe such a thing of him. Confused, she stammered, “You—you said they arrested you for it. You said there was a trial and a conviction.”
“Don’t you see, Dory? She lied on the witness stand. She named me as her attacker because she knew that if I was behind bars, I’d never be able to stop the adoption. I was the only thing standing in her way, so she found a way to get rid of me.”
“Are you suggesting that she somehow beat herself up, or that she hired someone to do it just so that she could blame it on you?”
He stiffened at the sarcastic barb, for in her sharp tone he heard her disbelief. “Of course not. I didn’t know at the time who did it. I found out later it was the same guy who killed her. If I had known then what I know now, I would have killed him with my bare hands. Allison and I didn’t get along very well at the end, and she could be real devious at times, but she didn’t deserve the beating that guy gave her. Maybe he found out that she was trading him in for someone else and didn’t like the idea. Man, you should have seen her. It was hard to imagine that there was a beautiful face beneath all those bruises. I could almost have felt sorry for her.” His tone hardened like steel when he added, “Except for the fact that she told the cops it was me who did it.”
In the quiet of the morning, surrounded by mountains and woodland, far from where it had all occurred, in a low voice that cracked at times with emotion, he told her about the trial.
“She sat on that witness stand, looking so pathetic with her bruises and her tears, and when they asked her if the person who did that to her was in the courtroom, she said yes and pointed to me. God, how she must have hated me.”
“And they believed her?” Dory’s voice sounded small and unsure compared to the enormity of what she was hearing.
“They fell for it hook, line and sinker. And I got five years behind bars.”
“I thought you said you spent three years in prison.”
“Yeah, lucky me. I was pardoned after three years when the guy who murdered her confessed to the assault as part of his plea bargain.”
Dory sank back down against the tree, her mind spinning out of control as she struggled with this latest revelation.
He went on in the same low, bitter tone. “She came to visit me one day in prison. It was the only time she did. It was to bring me the divorce papers to sign. By then, she’d had the baby. When I asked about it, she told me she’d given it up for adoption.”
His face retained its stoic expression, but his ebony eyes blazed with acrimony. “I thought I’d been hit with a bullet. When the shock wore off, I wanted to break through the glass that separates the inmates from the visitors and rip that phone out of her ringed fingers and kill her for what she’d done. But there was nothing I could do. A few days later she was dead. And soon after that I was a free man.”
“How did you know that Celina Bonham had handled the adoption?” Dory asked.
“I found out during Allison’s visit. You should have seen her. She looked so beautiful and so vengeful in her triumph. It must have satisfied some perverse need she had to deepen my pain by telling me about the adoption. She got a little too cocky about it and made the mistake of telling me the name of the attorney. The first thing I did when I was released was go to see Celina Bonham, only to learn that I had terminated my parental rights by not coming forward to contest the adoption within the first six months.”
Dory felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over her for having misjudged him, yet at the same time she was afraid to believe him, and even more afraid to trust him.
“So, that’s what the attorney meant when she referred to the circumstances of your case. But surely, under such bizarre circumstances—”
“The courts don’t give a damn about circumstances,” he cut in, guessing her intention. “I learned that the hard way. If it hadn’t been for some mousey little clerk in the attorney’s office, who just happened to read something aloud from the file in my presence, I never would have known where to begin to search for my son.”
He could read the uncertainty in Dory’s eyes and feel it in the way she shrank from him. If there was anything worse for him than everything that had come before, it was her not believing him now. Inching closer to her, yet careful not to touch her, he searched her face with a beseeching expression, begging her with his eyes not to judge him too harshly, and most of all, not to hate him.
“God knows, I’ve made mistakes in my life. But I’m no wife beater. You believe me, don’t you, Dory?”
She turned her tear-stained face away. Her silence was palpable.
Ben’s throat went dry, and for the first time in a long time he was truly scared. “Look at me,” he begged. “Look at me and tell me you believe me.”
Dory closed her eyes in anguish. “Oh, Ben, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
The hope in his eyes died and his voice softened to something that sounded like helplessness. “I want to try to work things out with you, but I don’t know how. I can see that you’re trying hard to get your life back in order for your sake and for Jason’s. And with my own bad experience behind me, I can understand your reluctance to get involved with someone like me. But that doesn’t mean I can just walk away from what we’ve started here—” He paused, reluctant to even discuss the feelings that had sprung up between them. He continued, amending his words. “I can’t walk away from Jason.”
His head was filled with all the unspoken thoughts, such as how he yearned for her and wanted desperately to be a part of the relationship between her and Jason, and how he knew that, in the end, it was all up to her.
Dory became even more frightened and confused. What if they found out that Jason was not his son? Would that be the end? She longed to hear him tell her that he loved her, and now a part of her could not help but wonder if he would walk away if Jason was not his son.
“I need time to think,” she said. “I have to consider everything.”
“Think all you want,” he told her. “Just don’t forget to consider this.”
This time when he took her into his arms, it was not merely to comfort her as it had been the first time, but to take for himself the comfort which, ironically, only she was able to give him.
His breath was warm against the side of her face. “I need you, Dory.”
She was torn by two impulses. If she stayed, she would be beyond saving. If she ran away, she would never know the truth of whether he could ever love her.
Up until last night, every time she had felt him getting too close, her defenses had slammed on the brakes. Where were her defenses last night when it mattered, and where were they now when, in spite of everything, she moved easily into his embrace?
She felt her muscles go weak as he caressed the back of her neck and splayed his strong fingers in her hair. One last shred of defense warned her that she’d better back away. She knew where this was heading. They both knew. Certain things didn’t have to be said.
He had told her that he needed her, and the words still left an empty space within her that was filled with doubt and uncertainty. Maybe need would be enough.
Need was different. Her own need came from a place so deep down inside that it had to be dragged kicking and screaming to the surface. The fulfillment of that need last night in his arms was potent and powerful, for it encompassed everything that was necessary for her survival.
They were both kneeling on the ground, facing each other. In Ben’s hot, ardent gaze Dory recognized his need. All thoughts of a special dinner had vanished from her mind long before this moment. This, she thought, as she yielded to his need, this was how she would show him how much she appreciated what he had done for her last night.
Ben’s breath caught in his throat when Dory’s fingers slid up his chest and began to unbutton his denim shirt. His flesh burned at the brush of her silken hands as each button came undone.
She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and watched as he did the rest, pulling it out of his jeans and tossing it aside to reveal more of his beautiful masculine form to her eager eyes.
When he was stripped to the waist, she rose fluidly to her feet. Standing before his kneeling form, she began slowly to undress.
Her body was beautiful in the sunlight that slanted through the branches of the trees. The bare skin of her shoulders looked even paler compared to the rich, deep darkness of her hair. He longed to crush the silky tresses in his fingers, but he held himself in check, so mesmerized was he by the sight of her that he was helpless to do anything except stare at her.
She stepped out of her jeans and left them in a soft heap on the ground. She heard his quick intake of breath when she came forward and took his hand in hers and pulled him gently to the ground beside her.
His whole body went rigid when her fingers moved to the zipper of his jeans and he moaned audibly when a slender, white hand slipped inside to grasp him.
She felt a surge of blood through her veins at the sheer power of him and the incredible heat that burned beneath her touch. She had an overwhelming ache for his power, his strength. She wanted to hold it, to taste it, to feel it inside of her. She could have lain back and opened herself up to him and let him fill her aching body and her need all at the same time. But this was no longer about her need. It was about his.
She melted against him, dark lashes fluttering closed, lips parting to rain feather-soft kisses across his naked chest. The tip of her tongue brushed his nipples, tickling them into hardness, before moving downward to savor the taut skin at his stomach.
His breath was coming in short, hard bursts through his nostrils as she slid his jeans down past his slim hips. He tangled his fingers in her hair as her dark head moved with torturous intent to that place that throbbed for her. She was driving him wild with her kisses, but it was a sweet kind of torture, one he would gladly die of. But no such relief was in store for him.
The pressure mounted. When he was on the verge of exploding, he grasped her by the shoulders, fingers biting into her flesh with unintentioned hardness, and pulled her face back up to his.
He kissed her hard, devouring her with all the craving that was in him, while his hands sought the soft, giving flesh of her breasts, the firmness of her nipples straining against his palms.
Last night, in the dark, he had gotten only a glimpse of her smooth, firm flesh by moonlight. But here beneath the trees, in the diffused light of day, he saw her clearly. Her eyes were closed, but his were open, devouring every inch of her beauty and committing it all to memory.
His touch moved over her bare breasts, cupping, lifting, caressing, teasing, stroking their soft, sensitive undersides, thumbs working in slow, seductive harmony over her nipples. She sucked in her breath when his hands slid to the hollow of her waist and glided like skaters on ice to the swell of her hips. She could feel the scrape of his calluses against her buttocks when he cupped them tightly and pulled her up against his swollen arousal.
She had wanted to satisfy his need, and somehow he was satisfying hers, and she realized with some detached part of her mind that their needs were one.
She was overwhelmed by the strong, flavorful taste of him on her lips, the scent of him, hot and sexual, the sound of his breath ragged at her ear, and though she wanted to experience each individual sensation and luxuriate in every stroke of his fingers and flick of his tongue, she was unable to go slow, feeling instead like a comet hurtling through the sky.
When his fingers sought that place that burned like a wildfire out of control, it was only the sound of her moan and the press of her body against his hand that made him linger.
One slender ray of sunlight fell upon her breast, illuminating the flawless skin, guiding the way for his mouth to seek the hardened little peak that strained upwards, inviting him. He took it into his mouth and kissed it deeply. fully, seeking its nourishment the way a starving man seeks sustenance, knowing that, at the moment, it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her skin was hot and somehow even softer with the heat. Her scent seemed intensified from it. Mingling with the smell of the earth and the leaves, it created a raw, primitive urge that threatened his self-control.
She twisted provocatively beneath him, her mouth hot and persuasive under his, insisting yes, yes, and inviting him to possess her fully.
In the end, caught up in a whirlwind of unstoppable passion, they both abandoned any attempt to go slowly. They clung to each other, tumbling about on their carpet of crushed grass, arms and legs entangled, mouths melded together, tongues meeting, breath mingling.
Her own passion out of control, Dory sensed his need and matched it with her own. It was basic and elemental and so very necessary. “Ben,” she whispered, her fingers entwining in his thick dark hair, “make love to me. Now, Ben. Now...”
She was open and ready for him, lips parted, legs widening, arms embracing. He surged into her, his lean. limber body answering her heated demands.
Passion and energy raced unchecked between them. She kissed him and touched him and weakened him. She demanded when he expected surrender, thrilling him in a way he had thought existed only in a man’s wildest fantasies. But this was no fantasy. This was real and it was honest. Their need was not just of the flesh; it was for each other.
The feel of him filling her, taking her higher and higher until she craved sweet release, was unlike anything Dory had ever experienced. What had begun as a tender effort on her part to satisfy his longings had turned into a wild symphony resounding throughout her entire being. She closed herself around him, pulling him deeper into her sweet, moist softness, and with her own pulse thundering in her ears, she loved him back with a desperate hunger of her own.
The spring air evaporated the perspiration from their bodies, and the cadence of their breathing gradually returned to normal as they lay on the ground in each other’s arms. Overhead, a canopy of leaves shielded them from the bright sun that was inching higher in the clear blue sky. One random ray broke through to illuminate the velvety moss at the base of the tree beneath which they lay. Birds chirped unseen in the branches while butterflies flitted about, going from one wildflower to another.
Dory felt strangely content in the wake of their lovemaking. It was as if something had been settled between them. There was no need for pretenses any longer. No more excuses. The attraction that had existed between them from the moment they met had been acknowledged and satisfied in a way she’d never thought possible.
He had made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world. He had not only taken, but he had given, making her pleasure as complete as his own. He was a paradox, a man capable of taking from her the thing she loved the most, yet at the same time, giving her the thing she needed most. In his arms she felt renewed.
She nestled in the crook of his arm, her dark hair spilling across his shoulder, feeling warm and protected and a million miles away from everything which, not so very long ago, had troubled her. She stirred, stretching like a kitten in the grass, and raised her eyes to look at him.
He seemed to be a million miles away, and although his expression was thoughtful, it showed no sign of regret. For that she was glad.
Her fantasies about him had proven accurate. He wasn’t an easy lover. He demanded and took as much as he gave with a fierceness that frightened her, for she knew the depths from which it came.
She didn’t want to think about the real world that waited for her in the clearing. Or the painful issue still at hand. Or the fact that, in spite of everything, there still lurked the tiniest bit of doubt in her mind.
He had spoken so emotionally about the son he’d never seen. At times, even though his voice had been scarcely a whisper, she’d been chilled to the bone by its ominous ring. He was a man determined to have a child of his own, that much was evident. The question that hovered in Dory’s mind as she lay snuggled against him in the warm spring sunshine was whether or not he would still be around if that child wasn’t Jason.
Not wishing to say anything that would break the spell of the moment, and pushing her own misgivings aside, she asked, “What are you thinking?”
He ceased the lazy pattern he was tracing over her skin with the tip of his finger. “To tell you the truth, I was trying not to think.”
“Is it working?”
“No, not really. I used to be good at it, though, in prison.”
Dory shuddered against him. “It must have been so horrible.”
“It was like there was this little switch inside of me that I could flip to shut off my brain. I worked, I ate, I slept. The next morning I got up and worked and ate and slept again. Life became a series of mechanical maneuvers. There was no need to even think about it. Of course, then there were the times when the switch was stuck in the on position. That’s when things got really rough. There you are in this tiny, caged space, just you and your thoughts to drive you crazy.”
He rolled away from her and sat up, and she could feel the unmistakable bite of tension in the air. Some wounds never healed, and she suspected that the ones he had sustained to his heart and his mind in prison would stay with him always.
