Page 54 of Cara
“Not good enough. You'd already be on the ground if I came at you full force. You need to be smarter, faster.”
“I'm trying.”
“Try harder,” he spits back, breathless. “You’re better than this.”
I swing at him, but he blocks it. I try again, but he catchesmy wrist. I slam into him, freeing myself from his hold, growling in frustration.
“Think of your past. Think of the people who have underestimated you, forced you to run from the life you had. Let that anger consume you.”
It’s hard to breathe. Unable to do anything else, I focus on the anger instead of the pain in my hands.
He steps back, maintaining my defiant gaze. “Think of those bastards who hurt you. The men you’re fighting when I hear you scream out at night.”
He’s felt my flinches when he touches me. Heard my fits of panic echoing through the halls after a nightmare.
My eyes still widen that he dares to say it. “Don’t think you know me just because you looked at a fucking computer screen, asshole.”
“That’s right. Get angry,” he urges, willing to scrape my wounds to get a reaction out of me. “Think about that life—their face, their smell, their touch. Think of running, leaving your husband. Who made you do that? Imagine them.”
I'm convulsing.
My chest is crashing down on me.
I lunge at him, striking his stomach, and he seizes my arms. I wriggle free from his hold, driving my elbow back into him. He grunts, and I quickly recall Xavier’s lessons, thrusting my knee into his groin with all the strength I can muster.
“Fucking hell,” he groans, releasing me immediately.
Rageconsumesme.
I pivot and strike his cheek with the side of my fist, unhesitatingly. I continue until he stumbles back, his grip faltering.
The first draw of blood only propels me faster. He falls back onto the mat with a gasp, and I climb over him, wailing on him.
“Stop.” His voice distorts into nothing. “Cara, stop!”
His fingers press into my back as he flips us,pinning me onto the mat below. He seizes my hands, forcing them down beside my head.
“Stop!” he gasps, looking down at me.
Desolation sweeps through me like a disease, a Pandora’s box that should never have been opened. It pours out, tears springing to my eyes, streaming down my face into my hair.
“Let me go.”
“No,” he says, his typically subdued gaze softening.
Shoving him away, I shield my face as I spring to my feet.
“Cara.” He is quick, seizing my arms. He won’t let me go. “This is good. You needed this.”
I whirl on him, eyes wide. “Neededthis?”
He firmly grasps my forearms, yet his thumbs delicately trace my skin. Gasping from our struggle, he bends his head, seeking my lips. He doesn’t expect the slap I wage upon his cheek, the growl I let out as he tries to exploit my vulnerability. “I'm married.”
“Cara, you can’t be touched without flinching. It’s okay to seek out some comfort. It’s normal.”
I shake my head, despite knowing he’s right.
It’s not normal how little warmth I allow myself. This deprivation feels sinister within me, something I can’t control. I’d do well to lose myself in tenderness. I could even close my eyes, imagining the hundreds of times Xavier took me to bed when we were married. I could recall all traces of him, his sounds when he took me like a man possessed. I could hear his voice in my ear, professing his love as fervently as his body did.
