Page 47 of Dancing With Lies

“Oh, I’m capable, alright. The question is, is that what you really want, Roxie?”

19

Roxie

Instead of answering, she swam away to the shore, where she gathered her clothes up. He’d follow her if he really wanted the answer. She walked into his house, tracking sand in but she didn’t care. Tomorrow she’d sweep it up. She had other plans right now. Sweeping wasn’t in any of those plans.

She’d decorated and filled this house and knew it intimately now. A quick pilfer through a cabinet produced towels and she was soon on the stairs to a bathroom. When the shower water was right, she got in and started to rinse the salt from her skin. By the time she had her hair washed he was at the door to the bathroom. Through the glass pane that kept water in the shower stall, she saw him and watched.

There was uncertainty on his face, but he didn’t look away. There were no virginal blushes or feigned modesty on his part. He just looked at her through the glass, sizing up the situation.

“I don’t think it’s fucking you want, Roxie.” He pulled off his own clothes, which meant he’d taken the time to dress again before he left the beach, she noted with amusement. “But I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“What do you think I really need, then, Lincoln, if it’s not sex?” She looked up at him as he stepped into the shower. She devoured his handsome face with her eyes, loving the features she’d never forgotten.

Water moistened his skin, made him blink as he stepped closer, then closer, until he was under the spray in the black-tiled shower, his eyes a magnet she couldn’t look away from. Her back was pressed against the wall, but she didn’t notice the jolt of the cold ceramic, all she saw was the fire in his eyes.

“I think you need something you haven’t had in a long time, Roxie. Something that I’ve wanted to do from the moment I saw you on that stage at the Thompson’s gala.” He paused, his brown eyes on her lips, then on the blue of her eyes. “I think you need a long, comforting hug.”

His arms slipped around her shoulders, pulled her up next to his body. Her first thought was to protest, to demand he get out of the shower if he wasn’t going to fuck her brains out, to deny that she needed comfort. But it felt too good to be in his arms.

His left hand came up to her head, pressed her face to his shoulder, and she cradled her cheek in a hollow there automatically. He felt like home.

A long sigh escaped her lips as the heat of the shower and his strong arms took away the tension that made knots in her neck and back. She stood there with him, completely naked physically. Thoughts flitted around in her brain. They told her this was a mistake, that it was heaven, that she should run, that she didn’t want to be anywhere else but right there with him.

Lincoln didn’t move other than to breathe steadily against her cheek. He didn’t grope her or thrust anything at her, he simply held her. It had been so long since a man held her like this. That was her own doing, she’d barely let Nathan hold her in the same way, but then she’d rarely needed comforting like this.

She’d had a few close calls since the night her parents died but she’d always handled matters in her own way. She’d concluded after that night that she didn’t need anyone to assure her everything would be alright. There had been moments when she’d needed help and she hadn’t hesitated to ask for it, but comfort? That wasn’t something she’d let herself need.

Still, it was probably telling that the two times in her life when she’d questioned everything she thought she knew about the world, Lincoln was there. She’d thought Nathan would be the man she’d marry. She thought they’d sort out this arson business and settle his substance abuse, that she could help him to overcome his addiction.

Now it was clear that was all based on stupidity. Her relationship with Nathan was over, dead and buried as far as she was concerned. He’d told her it was over, but that wasn’t what sealed the fate of the relationship. He’d called her a whore and that was unacceptable.

“I knew deep down, when he admitted to me that he burned down Elmo’s that it was over between us.” She said, not caring if he caught on to what she was talking about. She was talking more to herself than to him. “I almost died that night. Emily almost died. I thought she had when I lost her in the smoke and flames. People were rushing around crazily and someone knocked me away from her. I let her go and I’ve had nightmares since where I never find her, that she dies in the flames, waiting for me to save her.”

“But she didn’t die, Roxie.” He responded, reminding her of the truth. He kissed the top of her wet head but didn’t move otherwise.

“No, she didn’t. But what if she had? I can’t be with someone that has so little regard for the lives of others. Or someone that thinks it’s okay to burn down a building for his own gain.” The wet streaks running down her face might be from the shower, or they might be tears. She wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter.

“You’re a forgiving, compassionate person, Rox. Don’t kick yourself.” His right hand came up to hold her head, to massage that place where her head and neck met, but only to comfort her.

“I know my parents fucked up a lot, they must have, but they did teach me one thing. Violence is never the way. They both told me to never accept violence from someone who says they love me. To never let someone abuse me because there’s never a reason for a man to put his hands on a woman with anger in his heart.”

“Some would say the stuff that goes on in your world is abuse, Roxie.” He rebutted, but she didn’t push him away.

“No, we go into those situations knowing what’s going to happen. When it’s all done right, the sting of a lash or a hand isn’t abuse, it’s pleasure that can’t be described or understood unless you’ve been there. That stuff isn’t done out of anger or to abuse, it’s done to inflict pleasure, and that’s different.”

“I see. What Nathan did isn’t the same at all then.”

“No, it’s not.” She moved back a little, pushed her head off his shoulder. He wiped away the moisture from her eyes, and she wondered if it was tears. She hadn’t cried since the night her parents died, not until Nathan came into her life. She should have known when she shed the first tear, even if it was frustrated tears, that she needed to let the man go. No man that caused these kind of tears was worth her time.

“You know you didn’t deserve any of that, don’t you? The destruction of your home, the things he said, the things he did. None of that was your fault.” He murmured, his thumbs now behind her ears, tilting her face up to his.

She examined his eyes, needing to know what came next, but his eyes were two brown orbs conveying only…care. “I know he was a dick, Lincoln. I’m not upset that it’s over if I’m honest. That relationship has been dead for a long time. I just didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t want it to be over. I put a lot of hope into it, but it’s okay. It’s done.”

A smile chased away the shadows of regret in her face. Lincoln smiled back, relieved that she wasn’t going to break down.

The atmosphere changed as she stood there clutched in his arms, protected from the world outside that wanted to break her. Awareness flared into life, though it had been simmering on the back burner all day long, even before the incident with Nathan. She’d known all day this was how the night would end, if only he’d allow it to happen.