The Billionaire's Betrayal (Highest Bidder #3) - Carmen Falcone Page 0,17
drop of hope fell into her ocean of uncertainty, quickly infecting the banks of water, and uplifting her. She’d done it, despite old painful memories. She’d made it to the finish line and come undone.
“Is this anything I’ve done? I’ve never had a woman have this reaction after sex,” he said, his voice both playful and concerned.
She shifted on the bed, loving how their sweat-slicked bodies brushed. “What’s their usual reaction?”
He peered at her with a boyish grin that made her want to kiss him all over again. “They’re usually thankful and satisfied.”
“I’m both.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Then why these, sweet Alexa?”
Sweet. She suppressed a chuckle. No one ever described her that way, and silly her, she got her stomach twisted upon hearing it from his divine lips. “I haven’t had pleasure with a man via penetration before.”
He frowned. “What?”
She chewed on her lower lip and gazed around his room. Tell him, her inner voice shouted. “After I got this scar,” she started, running her finger over her collarbone to draw attention to it, “I fled from home and never looked back. I dated a few men, because I needed to know I was still able to have sex. But there was never any spark, and after a while, I figured maybe something was wrong with me.” She imagined the face the buyers would make if they learned the infamous Madam Alexa had almost as little experience as most of the virgins she sold. Or shit, if the virgins knew she wasn’t the worldly woman she portrayed.
“Did some bastard touch you?” Brooks asked, gritting his teeth.
She thinned her lips, her heart tattooing against her rib cage so hard she heard the echo of the beats pounding in her ears. The image of her bald stepfather wearing a stained wifebeater and trousers—his home apparel after he returned from his work at the post office—populated in her mind. Come here, Allison. Come sit on my lap or you don’t eat dinner.
She shivered. Not only that, but if she didn’t follow his commands, he would hurt her. He’d hurt her mother, too. For so long, she hadn’t known if her mother had been an accomplice or a victim. She curled her fingers into a fist. Maybe a little bit of both.
Brooks touched her shoulder, squeezing it. “It’s okay, Alexa.”
No, it hadn’t been okay for a long time. But a man like him wouldn’t understand that her childhood had left her so severely wounded when it came to relationships, she probably would never catch up to the rest of humanity. “He started taking advantage of me when my mom wasn’t home. I was ten when it began, and I just remembered feeling wrong afterward.”
“Who was he?” he hissed.
“My stepfather,” she said, mentioning the man her mother had married when Alexa had been ten. Her birth father had never been part of the equation, and when she finally had one constant male figure in her life, she’d hoped it was for the best.
He shifted in bed, restless, until he sat up, shaking his head. His face set in a vicious expression. “Tell me he’s dead.”
Tension crackled in the air, and she rubbed her temple.
“Last I heard, he’s doing time in Florida.” Time for the fire that caused her mother’s death, but not for the abuse he’d caused her. She hadn’t wanted to be in her old life one more second than she had to, choosing to flee Florida and stay off the grid for months. Years. She’d lied, she’d stolen, and worked. She’d done what she needed to survive. A sensation of pride filled her chest, relaxing her muscles.
“What about your mother? Siblings? Didn’t anyone help?”
“No siblings. My mother didn’t know at first, then she pretended she didn’t know to keep her marriage. The night I left, he killed my mother, then caused a fire to try to conceal his actions. I heard it on the news.” A lump of regret formed in her throat, but she swallowed, willing herself to stay calm. She’d learned what happened days after she’d left. What could a fifteen-year-old do back then? No matter what the voice inside her taunted from time to time, she hadn’t caused her mother to die. If she had stayed, maybe she’d be dead, too. Right?
The muscle in his neck jumped. “What happened afterward?”
“I left Florida and never returned. Did what I could to survive. I knew if I came back, I’d be placed in some foster home, and then what?