Lost: A New Adult Contemporary Romance Part 23

"Most of them are just from the usual beatings... you know, whatever he had in his hand at the time," he whispers.

"This big one here is from where he threw a plate at me," he says, pointing at a long, straight scar with a white center and a dark outline. His voice wavers so much that I worry he's going to break down telling me. "It cut me when it broke."

I gasp and cover my mouth in horror as he traces the long, painful-looking scar with one shaky finger. Why am I doing this to him? Why am I making him relive all the nightmares just for me?

"I'm so sorry, honey," I whisper. "I'm so sorry I brought this up. I just wanted..."

He interrupts me with a firm but gentle kiss.

"No, ask me anything you want. You need to know about my secrets too," he quietly tells me. His voice is weak and frail, as if he's ashamed of himself. I wish I could pull all the horrible memories out of him and hide them somewhere far away, where he'd never have to relive any of the misery.

"Owen, I want you to lay down, okay?"

He nods and then lies back on the bed as I pull the comforter over him, and then I duck out of sight beneath the blanket.

"What are you doing?" he asks, but I don't answer. He'll understand soon enough.

My lips brush against his soft skin as I kiss the lowest scar I can see on his torso, and I slowly work my way up his body. I can't possibly get all of them-there's just too many-but I'm going to kiss every scar I can.

He sucks in a breath as he suddenly realizes what I'm doing, and I feel him tremble beneath me.

The long, jagged lines, the small, white dots, the strange, impossible-looking shapes that can't possibly be accidental... they're all part of the boy I love, and he needs to know that I love them too. He found a way out of h.e.l.l, fell in love with a mess like me, and I can't imagine being without him now.

He shivers as my lips flit across a long brown scar and I smile, happy that I can make him feel good. Maybe he can do what I can't and teach himself to remember good things when he thinks about his scars. If all I could ever give him was the memory of this morning-of me kissing him and all his imperfections-it'd still be the best thing I'd ever done.

I pop up from beneath the blanket and kiss his lips as I hold him in my arms. His eyes are wide with wonder and he kisses me back like I'm the most special person in the world. I want to curl up next to him forever and never have to remember anything bad ever again.

I run my hands slowly down his back and then stop as I feel the ridge of a scar beneath my fingers.

"What's this one from?" I ask, tracing it along his back with one finger. It feels like it goes on forever.

"I accidentally broke the broom when I was sixteen," he answers. "It was behind the car, and I ran over it when I backed it out of the garage. Dad beat me with the broken end of it."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, touching the painful memory with the tips of my fingers.

"That's just the top one," he whispers, and he kisses me softly.

I run my hands further down his back. Five... six... seven... G.o.d, how many times did his father hit him?

"You're lucky to be alive, Owen..."

"I'd give Samantha some of that luck if I could."

I have to pull him out of that memory in a hurry, and I lean in and press my lips to his as I hold him close. I can't give him back his sister. All I can give him is me.

He draws me in to him, pressing his body against mine as he kisses me back. The kiss starts out soft and slow, but it quickly ignites with a pa.s.sion that takes my breath away.

"I want to try again," I whisper. "Like last night."

"Are you sure?"

I nod silently and gently kiss him.

"Tell me when to stop," he whispers in my ear, still holding me tightly against him.

I feel so warm and safe in his arms that I never want him to let go. His lips find mine again as my mind starts to get hazy. I love the way this feels, the way my mind wanders off into a pleasant fog when he kisses me, and I let my body take the lead. It knows what it wants better than I do anyway.

I moan softly as he runs a ticklish finger down my cheek, down my neck, and then even further down my sides until he reaches my hips. His touch feels incredible and my skin starts to burn. My body is alive with desire now and my heart races in excitement.

Owen rolls me on my side and lies behind me, still holding me close as he runs his hands from my hips up to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. My body writhes against him of its own will, and suddenly I can't seem to catch my breath. Each one comes as a short, frantic gasp as his touch sets my body on fire.

As amazing as his touch feels, I'm still scared. It feels so good, but I know that any moment now, all the nightmares are going to come back to haunt me. My body is going to remember what happened when I last felt this good, and then my memories will betray me.

"You still doing okay?" he whispers in my ear.

I'm grateful to hear his voice because it drags me out of the darkness and pulls me back to his side. I lean over my shoulder to kiss him, and I clasp my hands gently around his and guide them slowly down my body.

"Please don't stop," I beg, my voice trembling almost as much as the rest of me.

I close my eyes and try not to shake as I feel his fingers fumbling with the waist-string of my pajamas, untying it, slipping underneath the fabric and touching my legs. An intense, amazing feeling shoots through my body, bounces around inside my chest, and then escapes through my lips in an ecstatic moan as he finally touches me.

I can feel the connections forming in my mind as if I'm trapped in slow motion. Intense, almost agonizing pleasures build up inside me. Every nerve in my body burns with delight, but the darkness is growing. Any second now, I'm going back into my nightmare. I know it's coming-I can feel Darren hiding somewhere inside me, just waiting to grab me and drag me down into the darkness again.

"You're lying in bed with me," Owen suddenly whispers in my ear, dragging me away from my fears and back to his side once again.

A bolt of unbelievable, electric pleasure arcs through my body, and I cry out as I writhe against him and clutch at the frame of the bed with one hand. I don't know how my other hand got up there, but it's tugging at his hair as his fingers slowly ma.s.sage me from the inside and drive me into a burning frenzy. I've never felt this good in my life!

"You're in your own bed," he whispers, keeping the same slow rhythm with his fingers the entire time. "You're safe, and you're with someone who loves you."

Every time my mind is about to drop into the darkness, his voice pulls me right back out and keeps me in the moment with him. Every touch-each incredible stroke-drives me closer and closer to the edge, and my clothes cling to me from sweat as I shake in his arms.

I shut my eyes as the indescribable feelings surge up inside me, but all I see is Owen's smile and beautiful gray eyes in my mind.

"You're safe with me," he whispers. "Let yourself go. I'm here to catch you."

I freeze up in his arms and my voice catches in my throat. I can't breathe. I can't scream. I can't do anything but shake in beautiful agony as the incredible feelings crash down on top of me. A high-pitched cross between a gasp and a whimper finally breaks free of my chest. Every muscle in my body feels like it's contracting as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure washes over me.

I'm back in my bed again a few seconds later with Owen's arms wrapped tightly around me.

"Maria? Are you okay?" he asks in concern, holding me close as I start to cry.

"I'm okay," I manage to get out in between sobs. "Really. I'm okay."

How do I explain to him that I'm crying from happiness? I'm crying because I'm overjoyed that terror never came. I don't know how to tell Owen that he kept me here by his side the whole time-lifted me out of the darkness-and now I finally have a memory that Darren can't take away from me.

This moment belongs to Owen and me.

Wednesday, March 13 5:30 PM.

Maria.

Owen's phone beeps again, and he sighs in frustration and shuts it off.

"d.a.m.n it, stop texting me already!" he mutters, shaking his head. I pause the movie and put my arm around him.

"Was that your mom again?"

"Yep. Exact same thing over and over," he answers angrily. "Why aren't you coming home? When are you coming down? We miss you! So much work to do around the house and your father's getting too old to do it all!"

I grit my teeth as he throws the phone across the room, and it lands with a thud on the carpet near the front door. I've never seen him this angry before, and it's a little frightening.

"She knows why I don't come home," he whispers sadly.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket and I nearly leap off the sofa in surprise. Now my mother is calling me? Are both of our parents conspiring to make this night as miserable as they can?

"h.e.l.lo?" I ask, waiting to hear her thick Jersey accent. I consider it a miracle that I didn't inherit her voice.

"Hey there, sweetie!" she calls out cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Um... good, how are you?" I answer. I quickly grab a pen, scribble a note on my napkin, and pa.s.s it to Owen.

"My mother."

He grimaces and flashes me a thumbs-down.

"Doing great, honey. Your father and I want to know when your spring vacation is. You coming down?"

"It's in three days," I answer quietly. "I can't come down again, though. I'm still working in the research lab and don't get the time off."

"Seriously? They're still working you like that?"

"Yeah, it sucks," I lie. I love lab work. I wouldn't be a biologist if I didn't.

"Okay, well what about graduation? They're letting you off for that, right?"

"I hope so. It's in May, I think-I'll get you the dates."

"Soon, please. Your father's got a business trip coming up, and he's gotta make plans, you know."

"I will. I promise," I answer with all the cheerfulness I can muster. I wish I could just take my diploma and run for it, but there's no way I'm getting out of seeing them at graduation.

"Speakerphone ahoy," I scribble on the napkin. "Don't laugh."

"We really miss you, honey," calls out my mom over speakerphone as I push the b.u.t.ton, and Owen nearly loses it at her accent.

"She sounds like she's on The Sopranos," he whispers, trying not to burst out laughing.

"I miss you too, mom," I answer. It's not really true anymore, though. I used to miss her a lot, but then... well, I'm on my own now. I have to be.

"Micah misses you," she says, and my stomach rises into my chest. "He says you never call him."

I don't know what to say to her. I barely talked to my brother after that nightmarish visit because every time I did, I had to relive it all over again.

"He wants to know why you never call him. You should really call him, you know?"

"I know. I'm just so busy these days," I respond, picking the first excuse that comes to mind.

"You be a good girl and call him, okay?" my mother tells me, and I don't answer.

Owen strokes a hand softly through my hair and then down my back. I feel myself tense up at his touch, but then I finally relax again. I love being with him and I'm proud of myself for letting him into my life. I never imagined I'd ever have a boyfriend, and somehow I ended up with the best one ever.

"I have to go. I'll get you those graduation dates."

"Love you sweetie!" calls out my mother as I disconnect the call.

Would she still love me if she knew what happened to me, or would she treat me like she did that woman on the news when I first tried to tell her what happened? I was too scared then to find out, and now it's too late.

I kiss Owen on the cheek and snuggle up on his lap. As I'm about to unpause the movie, his stomach grumbles loudly right next to my ear.

"Skipped lunch, huh?"

"Yeah," he answers just as his stomach growls again, this time even louder.

"I dunno," I tease. "It's telling me breakfast too, now!"

He nods, looking embarra.s.sed.

"Wait, seriously?"

I was just trying to make a stupid joke.

"Yeah... I didn't have breakfast either."

I stare at him for a second, wishing I could read his mind so I didn't have to dig for answers like this.

"Owen... when was the last time you ate?"

"Snacks and cocoa with you on Sunday," he responds quietly, and I gasp and cover my mouth.

"Owen!"

I'm up from the sofa in a flash, grab him by the arm, and drag him behind me into the kitchen.