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She half expected him to pick her up and toss her onto the bed. Instead, he stroked his hands over her bare skin, his fingers finding the dips and curves of her body with infinite care. He turned his face into the arch of her neck and pressed his mouth against her throat. Then he tugged the bra free from her fingers and let it fall to the floor.
Caroline didn’t have time to feel self-conscious before he covered one breast with his big hand, gently massaging her pliant flesh. She gasped at the sensations his touch created, unfamiliar with the cravings of her own body.
His eyes had darkened with desire, the pupils filling up the pale irises. His face was flushed, and the scar on his cheekbone stood out in stark contrast. His nostrils flared, and Caroline knew he was breathing in her scent.
As he cupped her breast, she pushed her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt. He reflexively tensed, and her fingers skimmed over the muscles that layered his body. She slid her hands higher, reveling in his warm, hard flesh.
He watched her the entire time, and the only indication that her touch affected him was the way his breathing hitched when her fingertips stroked over the small nubs of his nipples.
“Take this off,” she whispered, and he complied instantly, reaching behind his head to grab a fistful of shirt and drag it upward.
She couldn’t prevent a small indrawn breath. His body was designed for a woman’s touch, and she was helpless to prevent herself from running her hand over his chest. She took note of the small scars and imperfections, wondering how he’d gotten the marks.
She traced a long, thin scar that slashed over his ribs, and then a cluster of small, round burn marks just below his collarbone. “Who did this to you?”
He covered her fingers with his own and pressed her palm flat against his flesh. “It’s old history,” he muttered. “Forget it.”
Caroline understood that these were the injuries he’d sustained as an adolescent, and that he didn’t want to talk about it. But she couldn’t let it go, any more than she could prevent herself from wanting to soothe the boy he’d once been.
“I can’t forget it,” she replied. “I need to know what happened to you.” She framed his jaw in her hands, feeling the roughness of his whiskers beneath her fingertips. “Trust me.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she could see the wariness in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. You should know.”
Carefully removing her hands, he walked away, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. He radiated tension, and Caroline sensed how difficult it was for him to tell her what she wanted to know. He stood at the window, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough.
“You know I grew up in Hunters Point. My mother walked out on us when I was about three years old, and I never saw her again.” His tone was flat and emotionless, but his entire body was tense. “My father couldn’t take care of me on his own, so we moved in with my grandmother.” He paused. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes.” What she really wanted was to go to him, and surround him with her love and support, but she understood that he needed to keep some distance between them. “Go on, I’m listening.”
“By the time I entered school, my father couldn’t hold a job. He was either too drunk or too high. My grandmother went back to work, which meant she was never around. And all I wanted was to avoid my old man. Because when I didn’t—”
“He took his anger at the world out on you,” Caroline finished.
Jason snorted. “As long he had enough booze or drugs to make him pass out, things were fine. It was when he couldn’t come up with enough cash to buy his next fix that he was dangerous.” He angled his head to give her a sardonic look. “When I was eight years old, I started stealing to get money for his heroin. Believe it or not, it was easier than trying to explain the cuts and bruises to my teachers.”
Caroline had dealt with literally dozens of child neglect and abuse cases in Richmond, but Jason’s story wrenched at her heartstrings. What must it have cost him to deliberately ignore his moral compass, and do something that he knew was wrong?
Dragging the bedsheet around her body, she came to stand just behind him, but restrained herself from touching him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I met Eddie when I was twelve. He taught me things that no kid should ever have to learn.” He turned to look at her. “Do you know how many homes I broke into as a teenager? How many people I robbed?”
Even in the dim light, Caroline could see the self-loathing on his face, and she ached to reassure him. “You were young, and desperate. And you never physically harmed anyone. You did what you had to, in order to survive.”
