Page 47 of Sex Coach

Fifteen

Jake

H e started touching me.

It got worse .

Those words twisted in my head, mixed with all the other things she'd told me, and I wanted to find the son of a bitch, twist him into a shape resembling a pretzel, then snap him into broken, bloody pieces .

Next to me, Michelle slept on, her face pressed against my chest. She'd cried so hard, it was like it was going to rip her into pieces. I was glad when the tears had finally faded away – not because they'd bothered me. Okay, they had, but not that way. It had hurt just because she'd been hurting. I hadn't known how to fix it. I didn't know what to do now .

The only thing that came to mind was that I needed to find that miserable bastard Parker and hurt him .

It helped that the fuck was in Chicago .

It didn't help that Chicago wasn't really that far away .

I needed to stop thinking about this, or I'd be tempted to book myself a ticket and hunt that bastard down .

He did six months in jail. It wasn't for...rape,she'd whispered the last word, like it hurt to even say it .

Six months. What he'd done left scars she still felt, and she couldn't even say the words without flinching, and he'd done a whopping six months. Bastard .

I must have made a noise because Michelle grumbled under her breath and wiggled around in the bed. Holding my breath, I waited, hoping I hadn't woken her up .

She needed the rest after that nightmare – and the storm that followed .

Once I knew she wasn't waking up, I slid out of the bed. The glass she'd used was still sitting on the table, so I picked it up and carried it out with me .

In the kitchen, I refilled it, slowly and methodically draining it as I stared at nothing. I didn't know how to handle...inaction. I couldn't just leave right now, buy a ticket, and go kill that son of a bitch .

I wanted to. She'd even given me his name, and I could find him. I could find him, I could hurt him. I could make him wish he'd never so much as looked at her .

Brooding, I put the glass down and covered my face with my hands .

"Jake?"

The sound of her voice, soft and sleepy, had me dropping them. "Michelle. I woke you up ."

"No...not really." She shrugged, stepping into the kitchen with the sheet wrapped around her shoulders. "I woke up when you weren't there. So maybe you not being there woke me up ."

She smiled at me and her cheeks dimpled. It was enough to knock the breath out of me, that smile on her face .

"What's wrong?" she asked, her expression sobering .

"I want to touch you." Flexing my hands, I looked down at them, then back at her. "And for the first time, I'm not sure how I should even do it ."

"I'm still me," she said softly. "I'm still the same me I was a couple of hours ago ."

"I'm not sure if I'm the same me." Pushing off the counter, I moved toward her .

Her eyes dropped down, and she glanced at the windows at my back. "You're...um...you're naked. And I don't have curtains," she said, catching her lower lip between her teeth .

"If anybody is that damn curious, then let them get an eyeful." I was amused over her discomfort over my own modesty, but I wasn't about to let hers be violated, since I could tell it would bother her. Once I was close, I reached up and covered the hand holding her sheet in place. "Dance with me ."

"There's no music," she whispered .

"Does there need to be?" Sweeping her into my arms, we started to move. I kept her hand trapped between us, sliding my free arm around her waist and pulling her snug against me. Her heart pounded against my hand – I could feel it. It raced so fast, and I knew it didn't have anything to do with us dancing. We barely moved as we swayed back and forth across the floor, slowly working our way closer into the bedroom .

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