Getting Lucky - Jennifer Lazaris Page 0,33

leaned back in his chair. “I understand why my proposition is difficult for you to accept, but—”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “No, you don’t understand.”

“Okay. So tell me.”

“Maybe if I had told you earlier, you would have understood. I just wasn’t comfortable. I’m still not. Not really.”

“Zoe,” he said. “Just tell me.”

“The reason I didn’t lose my virginity much earlier has to do with my sister, Kara. She got involved with a guy named Drew when she was seventeen.”

He frowned. “Go on.”

“Drew beat her up. He was smart and only hit her places that could be covered with a scarf or a shirt. She fooled my mom and step-dad for a long time, but she couldn’t fool me.

“She got pregnant, and my parents were furious. They kicked her out of the house, and she moved in with Drew. She begged me not to tell them about the beatings.”

He put his hand over hers and leaned forward. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

Zoe shrugged. “I was afraid for her, but I was twelve years old, and I idolized my sister. Kara insisted he didn’t always act like that, and said if I told, she’d never talk to me again. So, I ignored my conscience and kept my mouth shut.

“When she was nine months pregnant, he came home drunk and beat her unconscious. Thank God a neighbor called the cops when he heard Kara screaming. She went into labor that night with my nephew, Dylan. Dylan was fine, thankfully. Kara left Drew for good after Dylan was born. She didn’t want her son growing up in that situation.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ryder said, pursing his lips.

“See, I should have known better, even at twelve. My biological father used to beat up my mom. Kara gravitated toward what we were used to, you know?”

“Did your father hit you or Kara?”

Zoe shrugged. “Sometimes. Most of the time his main target was my mom. He liked to bully us. He was a huge bully.”

“Damn, Zoe. This is some crazy shit.” Ryder shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Zoe took another large gulp of wine. “I spent most of high school trying to get a scholarship, or I wouldn’t have been able to attend college. Funds were limited because Kara and Dylan lived with us, and Kara isn’t the best at holding down a job.

“Thankfully, I got a full scholarship, and decided to get a degree in social work. I wanted to help women in domestic violence situations.”

“Your work at the shelter,” he commented.

“Right. But, I still wasn’t comfortable around guys at college. I went on dates here and there, but never felt butterflies in my stomach or anything.

She looked down at the table. “For years, I thought there was something wrong with me. I knew I was attracted to men, but I’d never been guy crazy or anything. I thought I had a low sex drive or some other issue.

“It wasn’t something I could talk to my friends about, because they couldn’t understand. I really tried to get excited about the few guys I dated, but it just didn’t happen.

“I’ve come to realize that I was afraid if I fell for a guy, it would be for someone who wasn’t a very nice person. Someone like my biological father, or Drew.”

She twisted the linen napkin into a ball.

“Then, you came into the bar, and it happened.” She met his gaze. “I finally had those feelings. The butterflies and the dry throat. The pull of wanting to get to know a man. I was so attracted to you.”

She laughed nervously. “Hell, I even lost the ability to speak for a moment when you showed up. When you said I could stay at your house for the night, that’s when I made my decision.”

She lowered her voice. “I wanted to experience everything I could with you that night. I wanted to feel everything. Even if it meant I had to let you go afterward.”

***

Ryder watched as Zoe searched for something else to occupy her hands. She’d been nervous and flustered while talking about everything. She reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass.

“Zoe, I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered as hell, obviously.”

Things made more sense to him now that she’d explained her history. Thinking about what she’d experienced left him feeling helpless and angry.

“Were you afraid of me that first night?” he asked. Christ, he’d been pushy during sex. Had she been scared of him? The thought made him nauseated.

“No,” she assured him.

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