“Jesus, Jeanette.”
Trusting in him completely, Jeanette let him make love to her. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her upper thighs. River cursed and thrust harder, faster. There was no coaxing, no uncomfortable moments of shyness now. Only two people meant for each other moving in unison, as vibrations continued to gather into a ball of electrifying bliss inside her body. She knew this man, maybe better than anyone, and her heart recognized his.
Without warning, Jeanette was thrown headfirst into the most intense orgasm of her life. She’d thought nothing could top what they’d already shared. And maybe she was deluding herself, but Jeanette had a feeling River wasn’t just sating a physical need but also quenching the thirst of a soul that had longed for its mate. Fanciful, yes, but who cared? It was her moment, and she would damn well make it good.
This was what she’d been missing. This was what she’d wanted with him. Not just his friendship and not just a friends-with-benefits thing either. She wanted River, every last inch of him. And she wanted him for the long haul.
River stared down at Jeanette and felt the ice around his heart melting. He’d been alone for so long, the dream to find that one person, that one individual who would accept him, want him, even need him seemed impossible. This feeling of complete rightness had him worried. Nothing ever came to a Jennings without a price attached.
Yet he did dare, because Jeanette was worth it. He would gladly lose his heart for just the thread of a chance to be with her for this one night. That was River’s last thought before he thrust deep. He built the pleasure, binding them together until he didn’t think they would ever be separated again. With each stroke, his cock swelled harder.
River leaned over her, covering her body with his, and pushed forward one more time. He came, filling her with hot liquid and shouting her name into the darkness surrounding them.
He sweated and gasped like he’d run a marathon, their bodies sticking together, when he felt Jeanette squeeze those delicious female muscles one last time. She shot into the endless starlight with him.
River came back down to earth and slipped free of her. He sprawled out beside her on the soft clover, then cupped her delicate pussy. Jeanette murmured his name and seemed perfectly happy to stay right where they were forever. Her smooth cheek rested against his chest, illuminated by the moonlight. River was no poet, but he knew that if Lord Byron was looking down on Jeanette in that moment, he would undoubtedly be scribbling out stanza after stanza of how breathtaking she looked when she let her heart soar free.
But beyond the beauty of the moment, he could feel her fast breathing. Her fatigue. He kissed the top of her head and allowed them both to revel in the moment. Reality would intrude soon enough. It always did.
Chapter Eight
After he’d gotten them back to his apartment, they’d both fallen into bed, exhausted and in need of sleep. Unfortunately, the nightmare came right on time and even managed to pick right back up where it’d left off. God forbid he should ever sleep in peace. Or even dream about something nice for a change. Like Jeanette. No, that sort of freedom wasn’t for him. His nights were filled with abuse and anger. Blood and tears. It would always be that way. No matter how many years he put between himself and that awful time.
In the nightmare, River walked back out into the hall as quietly as he had come in and went into Larry’s bedroom. It was dark and smelled of Larry, like stale cigarettes and beer, but this time River was beyond noticing. He was beyond caring about the unkempt bed and the soiled clothes strewn all over the floor. He walked with one thought—retribution. And Larry Briggs was way past due.
He came to the side of the bed and picked up Larry’s beloved billy club. He clutched it in both hands and knew a kind of rage that he’d never felt before. Every horror Larry Briggs had visited on him and his foster brother was tied to this one piece of wood. The thing that Larry was so fond of using on them when he was in a particularly ripe mood would be the very thing that sent him to hell once and for all.
River walked with new purpose back to where his foster brother lay sprawled on the floor of their bedroom. With all the power of a ten-year-old who had spent his life fighting to stay alive, River swung
the club and slammed it into the back of Larry Briggs’s head. It knocked him to the side and off Joey. River took a breath before swinging again.
Larry was dazed but still alive. As he turned over, preparing for a fight, Larry stopped short when he saw his own foster son wielding the billy club. His billy club. Anger registered in Larry’s eyes, but before he could get his bearings, River swung and hit him again. This time Larry’s eyes rolled back in his head, and River knew his world had just gone momentarily black.
River heard him moaning. He wanted to take a moment to revel in Larry’s pain, but as he saw him blink and attempt to open his eyes, he knew it was now or never. As blood dripped out of Larry’s eyes, River hit him again and said, “Go to hell.”
Larry fell limp.
The minutes ticked by. River shook with rage and hate. He held tight to the club as if it were a lifeline. And when he looked down at Larry, blood pouring out of a crack in his skull, the crack River had put there, a sense of peace stole through him. Was Larry dead once and for all? River didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that he wouldn’t be tormenting him and Joey, not anymore.
He dropped the club to the floor. It landed with a decisive thud, like a gavel on a judge’s bench. Larry Briggs had been tried and sentenced for his crimes. A movement caught River’s eye, and he glanced over at Joey. He was curled up into a tight ball, rocking and sucking his thumb.
Jeanette woke to what sounded like the mumbling cries of someone in pain. She turned her head to find River in a dead sleep, his entire body covered in sweat and a look of pure anguish on his face. The nightmares his mom had warned her about? River clutched the bedsheets in a tight fist. Oh God, it was worse than she’d realized. Jeanette’s heart bled for him. Was this what it was like for him every night? It was as if he were trapped in time, forced to relive the horror of his childhood. Jeanette didn’t know the full extent of the abuse, but she couldn’t understand a God who would allow any sort of cruelty to children.
She reached out and touched his arm. “River,” she said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. “Wake up, darling.”
River stiffened, and his gaze shot wide. “Jeanette?”
“Yeah.” She smoothed a palm over his damp cheek, wishing she could take away the demons that tormented him.
He covered her hand with his and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. It didn’t escape Jeanette’s notice that his fingers shook. “Did I wake you?” he asked as if more concerned with her than the painful memories he’d just relived.
“You were having a nightmare,” she said, hoping he’d open up to her, just once let her in. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly,” he muttered, his hand squeezing hers a little tighter.
Her hopes plummeted. What had she expected? At six-foot-four, every inch of it covered in lean muscle, River exuded strength. He’d never let weakness show, never rely on anyone but himself. Jeanette knew that.
But there was a tender side to him too. Sometime in the middle of the night, Jeanette had come awake to River leisurely washing her with a warm washcloth. It’d been the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced. He’d taken great pleasure in stroking the soft cotton over every inch of her body. Of course, the touches had stirred her passion, and they’d made love all over again. It was a night to remember. A night she wanted to keep close to her heart forever.