She didn't know how long she sat there, lazily stroking her fingers through his hair, but the night was beyond quiet when he stirred.
"Wassasleep?" he mumbled, the words running together.
"Yes." She stretched out her stiff legs when he rolled over to lie on his front, a pillow under his head. "You want to stay out here?"
"Hmm."
Getting up, she went inside and grabbed a thick afghan throw to put over him. The nights could get cool, and he was already on nothing but a picnic blanket. She was tempted to stay beside him, but she wouldn't take what he wasn't ready--or able--to give. From what she'd picked up after all these years of knowing him, Noah never actually slept with another person.
She tucked the throw into place and was about to leave when a strong hand encircled her ankle. Looking down, she saw that he was still in the same position on the pillow, his head turned away from her. Yet when she tried to tug away her foot, his fingers tightened.
Lips curving in a shaky smile, she said, "I need to go find a sleeping bag. You might like the cold, hard ground, but I prefer luxury."
A stroke of his finger over her skin before he released her.
Returning inside, she gave herself a moment to cry and to punch out her rage on the pillows. She hated Noah's parents right now, maybe even more than the man who'd hurt him.
Heart still thumping after she'd washed off her face, she dug up the sleeping bag she'd bought for a camping trip Becca had organized a couple of years ago. Putting it aside, she changed out of her slip and robe, and into warm microfleece pajamas. By the time she returned to the picnic blanket, Noah seemed totally out of it. Moving quietly, she rolled out the sleeping bag and getting in, turned on her side so she could look at his face.
Even in sleep, there was a tension about his features that said he didn't rest easy.
Reaching out, she stroked his hair again until the strain seemed to lessen. She kept it up until her own eyes were so heavy and gritty that she fell asleep with her hand lying by his head, golden strands brushing her fingertips.
Noah woke in the hazy gray of early morning, but for once, he felt no sense of constriction, of being trapped. It took him a couple of seconds to realize he was outside in Kit's garden... and that Kit was curled up on her side in a sleeping bag next to him.
Everything came racing back: what he'd told her, what she'd said, the way she'd touched him.
His heart thudded in a raw combination of anguish and shame and hope. She was still here, so maybe she wasn't going to kick him to the curb. Maybe.
Moving very, very carefully, he ran a single finger over her cheek. She made a frowning face and snuggled down. He knew he should let her be, but he couldn't. He had to know how she'd look at him this morning. So he did the same thing again, pressing a little bit harder so it wouldn't tickle.
This time she didn't frown, just kind of settled under the touch.
When her eyes opened a few minutes later, he had to fight not to look away. He had to see, because now, while she was unguarded, that's when he'd see how she really felt. Later, she'd hide any disgust because she was a good person, a kind one. At this instant, she was vulnerable and he'd take advantage of that vulnerability to see... to know.
At first, all he saw was drowsy grumpiness. "I was sleeping."
"I know." He kept his hand on her cheek. "I wanted to wake you."
"You know I'm not a morning person," came the mutter before she yawned, her gaze clearing.
And then she truly looked at him... and he saw what he'd always seen when Kit looked at him: no shame, no pity, no disgust. Just Kit's stunning amber eyes looking at him as if she saw something of value in him.
"So?" she said with a scowl. "You woke me. Now entertain the beast."
He felt his cheeks crease. "I don't feel sleepy. It has to be at least five hours since we fell asleep."
"Since you fell asleep." She poked him in the chest. "I was stroking your hair, remember?"
He did remember. The strokes had been soothing and caressing and just... caring. He'd never had that, never let anyone close enough to show care. "That was nice. Will you do it again?"
"I might." A sparkle in her eyes, she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. "But for now I'm going back to sleep."
He didn't think she'd be able to fall asleep, but he'd forgotten how often she had to sleep at odd times because of shooting schedules. She was out again in minutes, but that was okay. He could deal now that he'd seen her eyes, seen that she still saw him as Noah, the man she wanted, and not Noah, the boy who'd been helpless in that Cape Cod room all those years ago.
He didn't know where they'd go from here, but for this one morning, everything was all right, and he could watch Kit while she slept beside him.
Kit groaned as she walked into the kitchen after her shower. "I hate camping."
"I kind of liked it." The freedom, the night air around him, the stars above and Kit beside him. It was all he needed.
"Hmph."
"Come here, Grumpy Guts." He held up a plate with a fresh waffle doused in syrup.
Eyes lighting up, she hopped up to sit at the counter and didn't even protest when he insisted on feeding the food to her, taking a bite now and then himself. "Here." He handed her a mug of coffee when he saw her glancing around for a drink.
"Mmm, my favorite blend." Breathing deep, she took a sip. "More waffle."
Laughing at her tone, he opened the waffle maker to take out the one he'd started cooking partway through their demolition of this one. He got most of the second one since Kit declared herself full after a couple more bites.
"Can we talk about stuff?"
He felt his back stiffen at the careful question. "Yeah." It came out harsh.
But Kit's question wasn't what he'd expected, wasn't about what had happened to him as a kid. "You don't like sex, but what about the rest?"
"Jesus, Kit, you know I've been around the block. I've probably done everything they write about in Penthouse and then some."
Kit scowled at him over the lip of her coffee mug. "If I come up with something you haven't done, will you do it with me?"
"Yeah, why not?" If she was still willing to be with him, he'd give her everything he could. "But babe, you'll be eighty before you unearth anything I haven't done."
"Uh-huh." She sipped her coffee. "Have you ever had a massage from a lover, given one yourself?"
He stared at her, blinked. "No."
A smug smile. "Oh, what's that I hear?" She cupped a hand at her ear. "It's the sound of Noah St. John eating humble pie. Why yes, Kit," she added in a deep voice, "this humble pie is mighty delicious."
"Smart-ass." He grinned. "I thought you were talking about sex stuff."
"It falls on the spectrum--that's why they call them massage parlors."
"Are you going to offer a happy ending?" She was right; it all came down to sex.
Another scowl. "I'm not that kind of girl." A pointed finger. "And you owe me a massage tonight."
He went to reply, shut his mouth when he realized that a massage would give him permission to put his hands on Kit. For a while at least, it wouldn't be about sex. It would just be about touching her, and he wanted to do that. He'd always wanted to touch Kit. "I guess I'd better buy some oil."
Chapter 34
Kit had no idea what she was doing. Noah needed a counselor, but since he refused to even consider going to see one, they had to stumble through this on their own. Part of that meant reading everything she could online about abuse survivors. She did that during the day while Noah hooked up with David and Abe to go see a set of drums David was thinking of buying.
The first thing that became clear was that Noah's belief that as a male, he should've been able to protect himself, wasn't unusual. According to the help sites and forums, even small boys picked up and internalized the wider world's ideas about "real men." How those ideas had savaged Noah broke Kit's heart.
In his case, his parents' actions had furth
er solidified his beliefs. Robert and Virginia had made him feel like he was the one who'd done something wrong, boarding school a punishment. "Bastards."
Breathing past her fury, she continued to read.
When Becca called her midway through the day to ask her if she wanted to hang out, Kit said, "I'll take a rain check this time, okay? Thanks for thinking of me though."
"Of course! I know breakups can be hard."
"We're back together," Kit told her, hope a fiercely optimistic candle in her heart. "Wish us luck."
Becca paused before saying, "Good luck, Kit." Her voice was quiet. "I'm sorry, I still don't think he's good for you--but if you love him, I'll back you."
"You're a good friend." One who'd been there for her from her Primrose Avenue days and who'd seen her in the aftermath of the first go-round with Noah. Kit couldn't blame Becca for her view on Noah, but neither would she let even the closest friend influence how she saw the complicated, talented man she loved.
Hanging up after a lighthearted conversation about monster makeup, Kit continued to read. Enough to know that she could really screw this up. She was so scared of getting things wrong and messing up everything. And she couldn't talk to anyone without betraying Noah's confidence.
No, wait. She sat up straight. Fox knows.
Grabbing her phone, she called the lead singer. "Noah told me," she said and didn't elaborate. "He won't go to a counselor, Fox."
"Yeah, I know." Fox blew out a breath. "You're going to have to figure this out between the two of you."
"I don't want to mess up." Already she'd made a mistake in not actually asking him if he wanted to exchange massages. "I don't want to hurt him."
"He doesn't want to hurt you either," Fox said. "He's done a piss-poor job of showing it to date, but that guy will walk on hot coals for you if you ask. So I figure you two have a better starting place than most."
Kit tried to hold on to that thought as she did some more reading. Harper called around midday and told her she had a meeting with the Redemption people tomorrow, which she noted down. But otherwise, her day was quiet. Even the media coverage about Noah and Fox's fight was relatively low-key.
It totally fizzled out once Fox joined the other guys on their drum-kit-buying slash just-hanging-out trip and a blogger uploaded photos of Noah and Fox laughing together after Fox offered Noah a bag of frozen peas. The two were also pretending to throw more punches.
Kit had to admit that photomontage made her smile too.
They're such guys sometimes, she messaged Molly, attaching a link to the article.
The other woman replied quickly. Fox stole those peas from our freezer. I was planning to use them for dinner!
Laughing so hard her shoulders shook, Kit sent another message. Did he tell you Noah looked worse?
Of course!! :-)
Kit decided to call Molly, and the two of them had a good laugh before the conversation turned serious. "Sarah's doing laps in the pool," Molly told her. "I think she's more comfortable here now, but she really wants to go home."
"I can understand." Kit would want to be in her own space too. "Has Abe been by?"
"No, but he messages me or Fox several times a day to check on her." Blowing out a breath, Molly said, "I had my phone on the counter earlier and Sarah saw his message on the home screen."
"Oh." Kit worried her lower lip. "What was her reaction?" After what she'd seen at Zenith, she had no idea what was going on between Abe and Sarah--or what had gone on in their marriage and divorce.
"It's strange, but she looked shocked... and kind of sad." Molly sounded like she was moving around as she spoke. "Thea says Abe's been extra quiet and uncommunicative but that he's staying stone-cold sober."
"Good." At least if drugs and alcohol were out of the equation, Abe and Sarah could finally talk. "Is that your other phone ringing?"
"Drat. It's a work call."
"Go grab it. We'll catch up later." After hanging up, she threw together a quick salad for lunch, then continued her reading.
Noah picked up dinner on his way back home from what had turned into an impromptu jam session at David and Thea's, and they ate out in the garden--at his suggestion. He was really comfortable out there, Kit realized, another idea bubbling in her mind.
"So when's this massage thing happening?" he asked an hour after dinner.
Surprised and happy he'd brought it up himself, she smiled. "You sure you want to do it?"
"Yeah. I bought this stuff." Going into the house, he came back out with a bottle of organic vanilla oil for sensitive skin. "I figure your skin's softer than mine."
"It looks great," she managed to get out, though her stomach was full of butterflies. The idea of having Noah's hands on her, those guitar calluses deliciously rough against her skin...
Breathe, Kit. This is just a massage. That's all it can be.
The point was to teach Noah that sensual touch didn't always have to lead to sex, that intimacy could be built in other ways... that he could give her physical pleasure in other ways. The latter sounded selfish, but the things Noah had said, his behavior, it all pointed to the fact that should he be unable to give her pleasure, he'd take that as a failure on his part, and that failure could lead him to some very dark places.
Kit was going to do everything in her power to keep him from going there.
"Do you want to go first or shall I?" she asked after spreading out a blanket in the center of the living area, Noah having shifted the coffee table out of the way.
"I'll do you," he said without hesitation.
Butterflies in full fury, she nodded and, going down to her knees on the blanket, took off her T-shirt while Noah came up behind her. Her yoga pants, she was definitely keeping on. She didn't know whether to take off her bra or not, decided to leave the decision up to him. "You can unhook the bra if it gets in your way," she said as she lay down on her stomach.
Noah didn't say anything, but she felt his warm, strong presence behind her, heard him twist off the cap on the oil, sensed him pour some onto his palm. Vanilla scented the air. Then his hands were on her, and the rough, warm feel of them brought tears to her eyes. She'd waited so long for him.
Noah put his hands on Kit's shoulders, careful not to use too much pressure. She was so fragile in comparison to him, her skin delicate. He immediately found he couldn't work properly from the side. "I'm going to straddle you. Okay?"
"Just don't try to bridle me for a ride."
Chuckling, he straddled her on his knees and ran his hands over her shoulders.
"Harder, Noah. I won't break."
He obeyed the request in small increments until she let out a groan at the sweep of his thumbs on either side of her spine and kind of went all lazy and loose-limbed under him. Realizing he'd found a sweet spot of pressure, he kept it up as he went down her back.
When he reached her bra, he unhooked the clasp and kept going. Her back was flawless, one of her best features. When she wore those dresses with a plunging back, he just wanted to stroke her like she was a cat. Today he had full permission, so he indulged himself.
"What about you?" she mumbled at one stage.
"I like doing you," he said, running his hands up her back.
She moaned again. "'Kay."
There wasn't much conversation after that; Noah sank into the sensory experience, into the feel of Kit's body under his hands, the scent of vanilla in the air. He'd had women offer him massages before, but he'd always said no. He'd certainly never wanted to return the favor. It had all been wham-bam-get the fuck out of here. Yeah, he was no prince.
But with Kit he wanted to linger, wanted to touch, wanted to just do the things that gave him pleasure. No expectations, no demands.
His body hadn't gotten the memo though, his cock hard as rock at the physical stimulus of having Kit's ass so close, her upper body all but naked in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he continued the massage; it wasn't until a while later that he realized Kit hadn't said a word for o
ver half an hour.
"Kit?" he said softly.
No answer.
Putting his hands on either side of her head, he leaned down to check her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even.
He grinned. She was so not going to be pleased with him when she woke up and realized he'd massaged her to sleep on the floor. He, on the other hand, felt like a smug asshole.
Grabbing a blanket, he covered her. Then, thinking of how it had felt to sleep with her outside, he found an extra pillow and sprawled on the blanket by her side. He didn't really sleep, the demons vicious tonight, but that was all right. Every time they howled too loud, he stroked Kit's bare back until the simple human contact silenced the voices.
Chapter 35
Noah couldn't help keeping a wary eye on Kit over the next few days. He kept expecting her to turn around and give him a look of disgust--and though he knew Kit would never be so cruel, he couldn't stop the demon voices. Those same demons sent him running into the darkness night after night so that he wouldn't have to deal with his failure as a man with her.
He made sure not to wake her, and he stayed on the property, running countless laps. No matter how fucked-up he was, he wasn't going to leave Kit vulnerable again. If she called out for him in the night, he'd be within reach. Protecting her was the one thing he could do.
On the fourth day after the massage, the two of them having barely been in the same room since, he returned home from a songwriting session with the guys to find a furniture truck parked outside the front door. Casey and Butch were standing watch as two hulking men unloaded the truck.
Scowling, he headed over to where Kit stood in the doorway, dressed in a green tank top and black shorts, old tennis shoes on her feet. "You didn't tell me you were getting a delivery." He'd have made sure to be nearby. Her stalker might have gone quiet, but he hadn't given up; Kit's agent had received a letter meant for Kit only two days earlier.
"Nothing you haven't seen before," Harper had muttered over the call Kit had put on speaker. "Usual poison and delusion. I'm adding it to the file."
Now Kit skewered him to the spot with her eyes. "Did you want me to put on my running shoes and hunt you down?"