Part Eighteen
Just as each time before, including the times he claimed to not remember, their mouths locked together, his tongue seeking, her lips granting. She felt the spark in her, the one she always had whenever he touched her, the one that damn near set her fire whenever his mouth touched her. She shifted her weight, pushing herself completely over him, letting her legs spread over his hips, gravity pulling her center down on him.
The hand that was cuffed to hers gripped her, his fingers squeezing so tightly that she was afraid he might crush hers. His other hand moved up, brushing over her back, finding its way into her hair, securing her face next to his. She tried to keep her mind from going anywhere scary, forcing herself to remember how much she'd always trusted him, refusing to think of how he'd tried to hurt her, recalled instead how gentle and loving she knew he could be. As she knew it would, her body responded without needing her mind's approval. There was no revulsion, no hesitation. It was getting a chance that it had wanted for a long time and it was perfectly happy taking it, not the slightest bit concerned about any lingering mental damage from the encounter she was instigating.
Slowly, carefully, she worked her mouth off his, trying to convince herself that she wasn't enjoying kissing him while telling herself she couldn't stop under any circumstances. Her mouth slid across him, her lips brushing across his jaw, his five o'clock shadow scratching her skin as she kissed and nipped and licked down his neck. From her position straddling him, she was well aware of his body's quick and eager response. She knew that she couldn't back out, not then, not even if she wanted too, because she'd succeeded too well in garnering his attention. He wanted her and she'd purposely turned him on and she knew there was a very real chance, if she tried to back out, that he wouldn't let her.
She turned her mind away from that possibility, concentrating instead on the way his light touch made her tingle and shiver and crave more. Even with what he'd done to her, her own body had been so very quick to respond, her own desire throbbing between her legs. She didn't want to feel dirty and gross for wanting him, his touch, but she couldn't help it. Later, after she was home and safe, she could consider how what she was doing was different than being raped, knowing the line wasn't quite as obvious as she'd convinced herself it was.
"Oh, fuck, Liv," his moan accompanied his fingers digging into her back, his encouraging response to her suckling his throat.
And that, she knew, was the difference. He wasn't above her, hitting her, pleasing himself at her expense. Instead, he was lying there, wanting her, letting her call the shots. It wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't how she wanted it. But it was better than the other option. It had to be.
Her free hand worked down his chest, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He caught on to her intention, moving their joined hands to help, letting the discarded cloth bunch at their connected wrists. For a moment, she was overwhelmed, realizing that she was having sex with her partner, with the man she had wanted, had loved, for so damn long. He was there with her, letting her touch him, his hands smoothing over her body, perfectly willing to act on their long-standing, long-denied attraction. In that pause, he leaned up, capturing her mouth once again, kissing her, copying her movements as his lips grazed down her neck, sucking her skin into his mouth as he had before.
She let him, luxuriating in the incredible sensation, believing that the physical release between them had been inevitable from the day they'd met.
But she realized, as amazing as he was making her feel, that she wasn't there to feel good. She was trying to protect herself. She was trying to stay alive. She needed to stay in control.
With a shudder, she pushed him back down, dropping her face to the skin of his chest before he could try to distract her again. She had to keep her eye on the prize, remember that she wasn't trying to get off. Shifting her weight, she worked her way down, her hands stroking down his sides as she pressed open mouthed kissed down his abdomen. She was on autopilot as she reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling slightly as she tried to hurry for fear of losing her nerve.
He moved to help, his hand still connected to hers at the wrist. She wanted to take the time to pat herself on the back, finding his reaction exactly what she'd thought it would be, seeing his goal all along had been to fuck her. She was glad that she hadn't fallen for his shit about just wanting to be nice to her, to protect her.
But unhooking his belt seemed far more difficult than the same action had ever been on any other man she'd ever been with. She lifted her face from his stomach, looking down to see why she couldn't get the damn thing off him, her vision blurred from tears she hadn't noticed.
Except she didn't need to see. Because she could feel.
His hands were closed around hers, preventing her from getting any further. She didn't understand, couldn't figure it out, and so tried to work at the metal catch without having the freedom to move her fingers.
"Liv, stop, what are you doing?"
She wanted to laugh at his stupid question, except that she was suddenly very, very afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start sobbing and never be able to stop. Pulling her hands out from under his, she renewed her attack on his belt, trying to unhook it, desperate to get control of herself and him too, knowing she could if she only moved fast enough.
"Olivia! I said stop!"
She didn't even know what was happening. One second she was straddling him, his erection pressing against her ass through his pants, trying to get his damn belt open. The next, she was flat on her back, her hands pinned up beside her head, her body squarely pinned beneath his.
Fear, disappointment, shock, even a twinge of heartbreak over the idea that he didn't really want her after all, all kinds of emotions were rolling around in her head, all of them trying to win out, none of them succeeding.
"Olivia, look at me!" He was above her, his face all she could see, his eyes unavoidable. "What are you doing?"
She stared at him, unable to look anywhere besides the heat and tension and confusion and anguish she saw in his eyes. "I thought you wanted to."
"Fuck, Liv, of course I want to. But why do you?" The myriad of feelings reflecting on his face were resolving into concern and she was jealous that he could even pick something to feel.
She didn't understand what he was asking. She didn't understand why he was objecting. But she did understand that his body was still interested and she decided he must have wanted to be on top. She told herself it was ok, as long as she was still consenting, and reached up to catch his lips.
He barely let her make contact, pulling away as soon as she saw her coming. "What is this? What are you doing?"
She started to resent him. She was giving him what he wanted, letting him have her body with no argument, and he refused to just take it. He didn't want to win unless he could defeat her in the process. The bastard had to have it his way. But she wasn't about to let him hold her down. "It's sex. It's what you wanted, right?"
His mouth fell open, but that was all the reaction he offered her.
"I'll have sex with you, El, you don't have to hurt me. You don't have to force me. I'll fuck you. It's ok. I'm ok with it." The tears, the sobs, were back, choking her as she tried to plead with him. "Please, Elliot, please just let me agree and then you won't have to force me!"
"Jesus, Olivia, you think this is about fucking you?" He sounded truly baffled by her words.
She tried to blink away enough of the tears to focus on his eyes. "It's not?" The idea that he didn't want to just didn't make any sense, not with the way his arousal was still pressed against her.
He was shaking his head, mumbling something to himself, reaching down, into his pocket, producing the key, separating their hands. "Jesus Christ, Olivia." He flung her hand away from him as he pushed himself to his feet. "I want you, but not that bad, not like this."
Completely at a loss for what she was supposed to do, for any kind of sign as to what he wanted from her, she curled onto her side and cried.
He didn't stay away for long. He was at her side in a minute, pulling her first upright and then into his arms. She didn't react or move or speak. Her body was wrapped in the fetal position, her sobs explaining her feelings, her confusion. He held her close, his hand rubbing along her back as he tried to calm her.
"Shhh, Liv, it's ok. I'm sorry." He rocked her slowly as though she were one of his wayward children. "What's going on, huh? Why are you so upset?"
She said nothing, letting out the fear and the tension and the upset, even the desire that had been coiling deep inside her. There was nothing to say anyway, no way to explain to him that she was terrified of him yet crushed by his rejection. And she didn't know how to tell him that his still bare chest was only serving to torture her further.
It was a long time before he spoke again, after her sobs had died off. She would have thought he'd drifted back to sleep except for the hand that kept stroking her back, threatening to relax her to sleep, faster than any pill would. One of his hands moved to cup her cheek, turning her to look at him, his eyes searching hers.
"You know me better than anyone, Olivia. Do you really think I could rape someone? Do you really think I could hurt you?" He sounded as hurt by the idea as she had been when he turned her away.
But despite the way she longed to believe him, if only to calm her internal torment, the situation didn't allow for trust. "You were stalking me. You tried to rape me. You kidnapped me at gunpoint, Elliot. What the hell am I supposed to think?"
His eyes narrowed and the hand on her back stilled. "I told you I didn't hurt you. That wasn't me. Somebody set me up. Set both of us up. Why is it so much easier for you to believe that I went nuts and tried to rape you than thinking it's one of the fuckers we've pissed off over the years trying to screw both of us?"
Her eyes narrowed right back, lifting her wrist with the handcuff dangling in front of his face. "You did kidnap me at gunpoint. Or are you claiming that was someone else too?"
A hint of a smile dared to form on his lips so fast she wasn't even sure she'd seen it. "No, that was me." He still seemed amused by it, as Olivia knew she would have been if she hadn't legitimately been afraid for her life. "But I told you I didn't have a choice. You wouldn't listen to reason. You're convinced I went to all this trouble to have sex with you."
"I wouldn't listen to reason? What part of being kidnapped by you ought to convince me to listen to you?" She scoffed, trying to ignore the odd sensation of having an argument with the man while she was in his arms.
Not for the first time in their partnership, Elliot's eyes held a certain twinkle, one she firmly believed meant that he could read her mind and knew exactly how off balance the sight of his muscled chest made her. His fingers brushed across her cheek, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "I haven't hurt you yet."
She glared at him, wishing that his touch hadn't, didn't always, set her heart racing. "You did shove a sleeping pill down my throat." She didn't think there was any need to mention that he'd nearly done the same with his tongue several times as well.
He nodded, another amused smile daring to appear. "I couldn't have you screaming for help when I stopped to pay the tolls, now could I?" He waited a moment while his arms settled loosely at her waist, making her think she was off the hook. "I went out of my way to protect you and I haven't done a damn thing to hurt you, so why do you think I want to fuck you while you're crying your eyes out over having to touch me?"
She refused to contemplate the hurt in his voice. She refused to contemplate the honest way he'd sounded. She had to keep herself from believing him. Because if he was really screwing with her, the double cross would be so much more devastating the second time around, not to mention entirely her fault. "You climbed in my bed and tried to fuck me while I was asleep." She pulled away from him, climbing to her feet and reminding herself again that he was the enemy, that she shouldn't be seeking comfort in his arms. "And you didn't really seem all that upset by the idea a minute ago."
He stood up, crowding into her personal space. "I've never heard of a woman trying to seduce her rapist."
His words made her feel disgusting, like she'd been in the wrong to touch him, and she recoiled. "I didn't have a choice! I thought if I gave you what you wanted you'd let me go!"
"Right, you're so god damn scared of me that you climbed on top of me. Come on, Olivia. You're not fooling me, so cut the crap." He leaned closer again, a sick, self-righteous smile giving his eyes a twisted, demonic gleam in the low light. "I didn't fucking try to rape you, Olivia, and you know that because we both know I wouldn't have to."
She shuddered from the harsh truth he threw at her. She had been turned on, even though she saw no other way out, and he'd known it. She would have had sex with him if he hadn't stopped her. And she wouldn't have been able to say he forced her. It made her feel so dirty that she wanted a shower. But all she could do was turn away, wrapping her arms around herself while she started to cry all over again. He was making her crazy, pushing and pulling, playing with her emotions. She didn't know how much more she could take.
He wouldn't let her go, grabbing the loose handcuff and pulling her around to face him. Then he held her chin, his fingers so tight they dug into her skin, his eyes dark and intimidating. "Don't you dare fucking tease me like that again or I will snap. Do you understand?" She looked down, refusing to meet his eyes, hating the pure rage she saw in them. When she didn't respond, he shook her, somehow pulling her eyes back up. "Do you understand me?"
She nodded, unable to say a word for fear sobbing would piss him off even more.
He glared at her, threatening her, scaring her, daring her to challenge him. She didn't, following mutely when he used the cuff in his hand to pull her toward one of the two doors in the cabin. As soon as he pushed through it, her eyes fell on the king-sized four-poster bed. Although he'd just sworn up and down that she was the fucking rapist, he was dragging her to the bed. She couldn't help the instinct that caused her to pull away, to fight his lead. His eyes were somehow darker, more furious when he looked at her.
"No! Please!" She knew no one was around to hear her shouts, but she couldn't help it. She'd just offered to screw him and he wouldn't have her, only to be forcing her moments later.
She'd thought she'd seen Elliot good and angry over the years. But she'd never seen anything like the wrath on his face when he gripped her forearm, pulling her towards him, using the momentum of her lost balance to hurl her toward the bed. She screamed again as she landed on her back, her arms and legs spread widely for only a moment until she curled in on herself once again, whimpering and crying and squealing from sheer terror.
"Oh, knock it the fuck off, Olivia. You're not a fucking drama queen." His hands were rough and unmerciful as he pulled at her arms.
She fought with all her might, praying that he would just leave her alone.
And then, with the clinking sound of the handcuff locking, he did just that, slamming the door closed behind him when he left.
It took her a long time to calm the hysterical panic that his fury had unleashed in her. She lay there, once again curled as tightly as she could, except for the arm stretched out and attached to one of the posts, crying herself to sleep.