Page 72 of Redemption

I grab the box of rubbers off the dresser and cross the room in two long strides. Climbing into bed with her, I say, “Oh, I can keep up, all right.” I press my growing erection into her thigh to punctuate my statement.

Pres moans, arching her back as she rubs against me purposefully. “God, Beck. How do you do it?”

“Do what?” I pepper kisses along her jaw.

“Make me feel so alive. So wanton.” She gasps when my hand slips between her thighs. Fuck, she’s still soaked. “I never thought I’d feel this way again.”

I’m sure she’s sensitive, so I’m careful to keep my touches feather-light. “I could ask you the same. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

She frames my face with her hands, turning me toward her. “No, you’re not getting it, Beckett. I haven’t felt any kind of desire in a long, long time. I didn’t even feel the need to touch myself. I thought that part of me was dead, and I was honestly okay with that.”

I move my hand to her back so I don’t distract her. If she’s going to say something like that, I need her to explain before letting my imagination get the best of me. Pres had more than a healthy appetite when we were first together. I understand her reluctance to be intimate with that abusive fuckface she married, but to lose her desire entirely? To not be concerned about its disappearance? Something had to have happened to cause that.

“Why, Pres?” I draw figure eights on her lower back, directly over those fucking initials. Knowing Presley, she’s especially sensitive to that particular scar, and I need to prove to her that it doesn’t bother me. Not in the way she’s worried about, anyway.

“I learned to use sex as a tool, and in doing that, it became a matter of self-preservation rather than satisfaction. Sebastian was... when he’d get in that zone, I knew that if I didn’t offer up my body, he’d take his rage out on me with his fists. It seemed like the lesser of two evils at the time. During... he wasn’t exactly kind, which made my interest dwindle even more until there was nothing left.”

“Presley, did he... were you forced?” I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. In the time it takes her to respond, I’ve reminded myself five times I cannot flip my shit in front of her, no matter how horrifying her answer may be.

She gives me a sad smile. “No. As much as I hate myself for it, I went to him willingly.” Pres looks away, staring at something over my shoulder. “Except for the last time.”

I’m trying to remain calm, but it feels like my blood is literally boiling. I’m vibrating with unspent energy, which I really need to get in check before I scare the shit out of her. I climb out of bed and practically rip my dresser drawer off the track when I pull it open to grab a pair of boxers. I’d rather not have my dick hanging in the breeze while I’m trying to avoid going nuclear. I clasp my hands on top of my head and pace the small space in between the bed and dresser, taking deep breaths.

Presley sits up in bed, clutching the blanket to her chest. “Beckett? You okay?”

My eyes swing to hers. “No, I’m not fucking okay!” Damn it, too loud. I take another deep breath and try again, this time lowering my volume. “How can I be okay with something like that? The more important question is, are you okay? When did this happen? When—”

“Right before I came back.” She clears her throat. “When I first got here... did my mom ever explain why she wanted you to stay away from the house?”

I shake my head in reply, doing the breathing exercises I learned during counseling. In for four counts, out for eight. In for four... out for eight.

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I was in bad shape, Beckett. I thought Sebastian was actually going to kill me. He’d never taken it that far before, probably because I didn’t usually fight back. But that night... I found out he was having an affair. I don’t know why that set me off like it did, considering everything else that’s happened over the years, but I refused to back down. I felt so betrayed—which is ridiculous when I think about it—and I flew off the handle. While I was yelling at him, he got this manic look in his eyes that I’d never seen before. It’s like he was looking right through me, so on instinct, I ran, but I never even made it to the elevator. Anyway...” Presley pulls her knees up to her chest under the covers. “While he was... I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I didn’t want him to have any more of my tears. So, when he was done, he beat the crap out of me until I blacked out. I’d never seen him lose complete control before that night. When I woke up, he was gone. I was pretty out of it—the doctor said a concussion will do that to you—but I knew that if I didn’t take the opportunity to leave at that exact moment, I’d never have the chance again. I somehow managed to get dressed and make it down to the lobby, but the effort must’ve taken too much out of me because they told me I passed out. I woke up again in the ambulance, but I was still too groggy to remember much.”

I lean against the dresser, curling my fingers around the edge. “What did the police do when you told them what happened?”

Presley gulps. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“What?!” I scrub a hand down my face. “Why the hell not?”

Her hazel eyes narrow. “You don’t get to judge me, Beckett.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not judging you. I’m curious why you’d let him get away with that when you had the chance to report it. Surely, the hospital documented all your injuries. He should be behind bars, Pres.”

She shakes her head. “It won’t happen. He’s too powerful. He has too much money, too many connections, and he’s too damn manipulative. Millions of people adore him, Beck. He’s their savior. Sebastian is a smooth talker, and he’s well-practiced at deception. The charges would never stick. The only thing an accusation like that would do is make me a target for the media.”

I finally feel like I have enough control over myself to be near her again. I sit next to her on the edge of the mattress and weave our fingers together. “Honey, you don’t know that. You can’t let him get away with this.”

Pres sighs. “I’ve made peace with it, Beckett, and I need you to respect that. Karma will bite him in the ass one day, hopefully, sooner rather than later. I’ll be happy if I can get this divorce to go through without any problems. My attorney said it should be pretty simple since I don’t want anything from him. Provided he doesn’t contest it, that is. I just want to be done with that part of my life so I can move on.”

I don’t like the idea of him getting away scot-free, but I decide to let it go for now. If Presley doesn’t press charges, I just might need to personally teach that motherfucker what it’s like to be pounded on by somebody bigger than you.

I cup my hand around the back of her neck and press our foreheads together. “I really wish I would’ve said something that day. Maybe none of this would’ve ever happened.”

I can feel her frowning in understandable confusion. “The day I left?”

“Well, that too. But I was referring to the time I saw you in New York.”

She rears back. “I’m sorry, but what? When did you see me in New York?”

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