She tried to joke her way through it. “So I guess getting you to talk about ‘your women’ wasn’t such a bad idea after all, huh?” She’d been loading dishes into the dishwasher. Finished, she turned toward him and leaned back against the kitchen counter.He hesitated, then said slowly, “I was a little over the top. I’m just glad I didn’t scare you off with my runaway mouth.”Her smile was strained. Artificial. With a hint of that coolness she’d always used as a barrier between them in the past. “How could you? I was amazed you still wanted me, even after the trouble I’d caused. Even after what some bastard did to me.” The instant the words left her mouth, he could see she wanted to take them back. But it was too late. He’d heard what she said. And what she hadn’t said. He strode toward her, penning her in with his arms against the counter when she tried to scamper away. He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her head until she had no choice but to look at him. “Is that what you really think? That you were raped, and that somehow makes you less desirable?”“I didn’t say that.”“But is it what you think?”She shrugged. “Some say the only women who get raped are the ones who deserve it.”“Who the fuck cares what they say. The question is, do you believe it?”She didn’t answer, and that was his answer. “You do, don’t you? Why?”“Look, forget I said anything…”“Why do you think you deserved it, Jenna? Just who was it that raped you? Because I’m getting the feeling it wasn’t just some random stranger who broke into your house.”“I don’t know why you—”“Who. Was. It?”Her expression tightened with anger and pain and yes, he could see it plain on her face now, guilt. “A guy I was dating, okay? A guy I knew liked to do the same things that you like to do to women. A guy I wanted to do those things to me. I wanted him to be rough. To tie me down. To make me do things I was too embarrassed to try, even though I really wanted to. Only he liked it to hurt. A lot. And when I complained, when I told him to stop, when I decided he wasn’t the one I wanted to do those things to me, he didn’t listen. He broke into my apartment and he took what I’d been so stupidly offering.”“Jenna, it wasn’t your fault—” “He got caught and he’s in prison, but you know what? He’s going to be out in a few months. And do you know why? Because he bought the judge who convicted him. The same judge who’d dismissed sexual assault charges against the same man six months earlier. The same judge who’s low-balled the sentences of a dozen other sexual offenders. But I’m not going to let him get away with it. Because he’s the man I want, Noah. The man I’m going to seduce—the man I’m going to fuck if I have to—to get the goods to put him away.”Noah dropped his hand and took several steps back. He silently cursed when he saw the expression of hurt on her face. She thought he was rejecting her, judging her, when he was simply reeling from the information she’d thrown at him. He didn’t know which statement he needed to address first, but he was damn sure that if he said the wrong thing, he was going to demolish any chance he had at being part of Jenna’s life. “Okay, time out. Let me catch my breath while you catch yours.” He reached for her again. Tried to pull her into his arms.This time, she evaded his reach, moving back into the dining room, putting the table between them while he could do nothing but watch helplessly. “No.” Her expression, so open and honest just minutes before, had closed up tight. Her walls were back up, stronger than before, and that made him want to howl with frustration. “This is over. Leave.”He shook his head. “Jenna—”“I’m not asking you, Noah, I’m telling you. I want you to leave.” She threw her jacket at him, and he caught it. Her breath was hitching. She was close to losing it. And damn it, he needed time to process everything she’d told him. So even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he nodded. “Okay. I’m leaving.”He shrugged on his jacket and walked to the door. There, he hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Uncertain, he looked at her. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the door as if already imagining him walking through it. He wanted to kiss her goodbye or give her a hug, something so his last image of her wouldn’t be the defensive posture she was in now and so her last image of him wouldn’t be his back as he walked away. There was a reason he held himself back—for the first time that night, he wasn’t sure if he could control himself. But he wasn’t leaving her with the impression that he was going for good. “This isn’t over, Jenna. I’m leaving but I’m coming back. And we’re going to finish what we’ve started.”
