Pax smoothed his knuckles over her cheek. “We’re not afraid of you, Teresa. Or of your reactions to us. Good or bad. And we sure as hell don’t think of you as damaged. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t cause it.”
She inhaled, let it out on a shaky sigh. “Don’t I know it. I’d like an hour in a room with those two sons of bitches who did this to me.”
“Me, too,” Pax said, smoothing his hand over her hair. “The easiest way to get past this is to be with someone you trust. When you’re ready.”
The way she looked at Pax, her gaze so trusting, was like a gut punch to AJ. “I am ready.”
Pax smiled at her. “I think tonight proved you’re not ready yet.”
She sighed. “Well, goddammit, I want to be ready.”
Pax took her hands between his. “Give yourself a break, honey. There’s no hurry. Or timetable.”
“Most men—”
“We’re not most men.” AJ sat next to her. “You need to understand that. We’re not going to pressure you. Ever. You want one of us, both of us, that’s your call. On your timetable. You don’t, we’re still here for you.”
Pax lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “We’re on vacation. We’ll be hanging around for a while. You can count on us, Teresa, no matter what you need. If all you want is a couple of friends, that’s what we’ll be for you.”
TERESA HADN’T INTENDED TO SPILL HER STORY TO AJ AND PAX. She never liked talking about it. Talking about it was like reliving it, and she’d rather have a hot poker stuck in her eye than experience that night again.
Yet as soon as Pax and AJ had come into the room, the story had spilled out. It was as if she’d needed them to hear it. She’d wanted them to know why she’d run out of the room. It was important for them to understand they’d done nothing wrong. It hadn’t been them; it had been all her fault—her issues. It was important they know.
And maybe she’d wanted to throw down the challenge, see if they’d run like the others had. She’d told a couple guys about the rape before, guys she’d dated for a while and had tried to get close to.
They couldn’t handle it, had closed up on her, pulled away, and she hadn’t seen them again.
She supposed she understood why. A woman who’d been raped and hadn’t been sexually active since was more trouble than she was worth, especially a woman a guy was just starting to date. She was a mess of emotional scars, terrified of being touched again, yet craving that closeness with a man. That was one hell of a commitment most guys weren’t the least bit interested in making.
A man would have to be crazy in love with a woman to make that kind of sacrifice, and no man had gotten close enough to her to fall in love with her. She hadn’t allowed it. All the guys in the Thorns knew about the rape, but dating them wasn’t an option. They had circled around her after it happened and become family to her. They treated her like a sister, someone to protect. She valued them and loved them all, but she couldn’t f**k any of them. And she doubted any of them saw her that way, either.
But she would have never made it through without the Thorns. Their anger and need for retribution for what had happened had allowed her to pull herself together. Then she had been the one trying to calm them down.
But they told her she was one of theirs and men protect their women.
But not all men. Which was why five years later she was still dateless and sexless.
And yet AJ and Pax were still camped out in her house, hadn’t turned tail and run when she’d spilled her guts about that ugly night. Instead, they’d pulled her against them, not afraid to touch her or get close to her. They hadn’t treated her like she was fragile—or damaged. They’d held her when she’d needed it most.
Even Joey was afraid to touch her most days. She wasn’t the easiest to understand or get along with; she knew she ran hot and cold.
And still, AJ and Pax hadn’t walked out yet.
But it was still early in . . . whatever it was going on between her and . . . them? She couldn’t choose one or the other. She had a history with AJ, had been friends with him, had a teenage love affair with him. And he’d come back all grown-up and so very masculine and sure of himself. To see how he’d changed and grown was damn appealing. His stormy gray eyes had always mesmerized her, his coal black hair so thick and soft she could spend hours just kissing him and sinking her fingers into his hair. And now he had a man’s body, held himself with confidence and pride and the knowledge that comes with having gone through what he had with his family, all the odds against him, and having survived it. She’d always admired his survival skills as a kid, and she did so even more now that she’d seen what he’d done with his life. The fact that they had unfinished business only added to the attraction between them. They’d only gotten started when he’d disappeared from her life. Teresa had always felt there should have been more between them. She’d wanted so much more with him.
Oh sure, she could have held a grudge at the way he dumped her that night all those years ago, but it was him being noble in the only way he knew how. At the time she couldn’t see it, but years later she realized that had been his way to keep her safe. She knew what kind of trouble he’d gotten into after that. He’d wanted to distance her from what he was getting himself into. It had only made her miss him more.
Seeing him walk into the bar a few days ago had shocked her female senses into awareness for the first time in . . . years. It was a shock she’d needed, reminding her that she was still a woman—a woman with desires.
Pax was the unknown, someone new and exciting and oh so self-confident. He owned whatever room he occupied. And when he paid attention to you—whoa. He was the kind of man who could get a woman’s libido soaring in a hurry because he had charisma, that slight touch of arrogance that wasn’t too much, but just enough to be attractive. She found herself craving being near him, wanting to touch him, smell him, get close to him. There was something elementally sexy about the man, and she wanted more of whatever that special magic was he created in her body whenever he touched her.
Either one of these men could give her what she needed.
How was she going to choose? And if she did, would she finally be able to follow through?
“I’D LIKE TO KILL THE SONS OF BITCHES WHO DID THAT TO HER,” AJ said, pacing the floor in Teresa’s living room.