CHAPTER 21
Dane
It had taken everything I had not to tear off after Kenzie. But I gritted my teeth and put my jeans back on, and then plopped down on the couch.
What in the hell had I been thinking when I’d offered her money to sleep with me? Jesus! Maybe a money arrangement was the only thing I’d ever known for adult intimacy. But Britney had been about getting my rocks off.
Kenzie was different, and it screwed with my head that I’d hurt her.
I hadn’t done it on purpose. The offer had been made out of desperation. Now that I’d touched her, had the privilege of watching her come, I was addicted.
Dumbass! I knew Kenzie was nothing like anybody I’ve ever known.
I’d just blown any chance I’d had to gain her trust. She didn’t have to tell me that I had. I could see the disappointment and betrayal in her beautiful eyes.
“It’s going to fucking haunt me,” I said in a loud and disgusted voice.
Kenzie reminded me of a wounded animal, and I hadn’t healed her. I’d acted like a wolf who was just waiting to prey on a vulnerable creature.
I put my head in my hands, feeling defeated.
There was no way I could set back time and take the offer back. I was stuck with my fuck-up.
Problem is, I didn’t really want her for money at all. I’d made a promise to myself that I’d never do that again, but I’d forgotten all about how it felt to have a woman let me use her body for money.
It sucked.
But in a moment of desperation, I’d caved and resorted to the only way I knew to have a female in my bed: I’d offered her money.
Kenzie isn’t just another female.
Hell, I’d known that since the moment I’d set eyes on her. I wasn’t going to deny that I wanted her, but it wasn’t just sexual.
I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and then rested my head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering how I was going to get Kenzie to forget all about my stupidity.
I hurt her. I’d seen the naked, vulnerable, wounded look on her face, and it made my damn chest ache with remorse.
Pretty much everybody except Paige had disappointed Kenzie, and the last thing I wanted to be was just another person who she thought only wanted her for one thing. Truth was, I wanted her for almost everything.
I wanted to have breakfast and coffee with her every morning.
I wanted to be in the same room as she was just because it made me happy.
I wanted to be the one she came to whenever she needed to talk or just to have somebody who cared about her close to her.
I wanted to be everything for her.
But I’d turned into the one that she had to run away from because I offered her money for sex.
“I didn’t mean it. That’s not what I want,” I said, so pissed off that I hated myself.
I don’t sell my body.
Her words had been like a slap alongside my head. I’d treated the woman who meant so much to me like a common prostitute. And I detested myself for doing it.
Kenzie had jerked me out of my solitude in a good way.
And I’d repaid her with one of the biggest insults a person could ever get.
I can go to her. I can apologize. Tell her I didn’t mean it.
However, I’d held back for a reason. Words meant nothing to Kenzie. She’d been hurt too many times to believe whatever came out of a person’s mouth. Actions spoke louder than words, and I was going to have to prove to her that I could keep my hands to myself. I needed her to know she had more value than just her body.
It was clear that she wanted to be alone. Not that I could blame her.
I’ll leave her alone, but it won’t be easy.
My best option was to try to be a friend before I became her lover. Really, I wanted her trust more than I wanted to fuck her. Okay, maybe it didn’t seem like her trust was a priority because my balls were blue, but I wanted all of Kenzie, and most of all, I needed her to know that I was her safe haven, the guy who would never hurt her.
I wanted to call Trace and ask him what he would do if he was in my position, but I stifled the urge. It wasn’t like there was a gaggle of women on the island. He’d make one conclusion, even if I asked it hypothetically, and he’d be correct since Kenzie was the only female on the island. Besides, Trace would never blow it like I had.
As I thought about the wild-eyed look of panic and pain I’d seen on Kenzie’s face, I knew I was going to have to play it cool.
Much as I wanted to go see if she was okay, I had to back off and give her time and space.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the ceiling since there was nobody around to listen to me. Kenzie had given me her trust, and when she panicked, I wasn’t there to calm her fears. Instead, I’d acted like a spoiled rich bastard who could buy what I wanted.
There were things she wasn’t telling me, but I’d let her decide when and what she wanted to reveal.
I stood, knowing I was going to have to make sure she was okay. I wouldn’t back her in a corner; I just had to know that she was all right.
I left the pottery room I’d set up for her, cursing myself again for being a prick as I sprinted up the stairs, stopping in front of Kenzie’s door on the way to my room.
The only thing I could hear was the hum of the shower, and the faint, muffled noise of running water.
She’s okay. She’s in the shower.
My heart was pounding in my ears, and I had to fight back the compulsion to talk to her.
It was Kenzie’s move. I’d given up the right to insist on anything when I’d said something incredibly stupid.
Move on. Give her space.
I was never really sure how I’d found the strength to turn away from her door and walk down the hall to my own bedroom.
My gut ached like I’d taken a sucker punch as I entered my suite.
I dropped my clothes as I made my way to the shower, stunned as I turned the corner and saw my own reflection.
The first thing I saw was my scars.
Moving closer, I examined the markings. Yeah, they’d definitely faded, but they were still on full display. I could see every one of them since I was buck naked.
Were they as bad as they used to be? No
Could I still see them? Oh, hell, yeah.
I touched the scar on my abdomen where they’d done surgery on my internal organs to stop the bleeding. I touched a few more surgical scars before I moved to my face.
It was possible that no children would run away in fear, but the markings and burns that had occurred were glaringly obvious to me.
“I had a woman who didn’t care if I was scarred, and I screwed things up,” I rasped, still angry with myself.
I turned away from my reflection, pissed off that I’d even stopped to look at it in the first place.
My imperfections were never going to go away.
My scars would never disappear.
I went to take a shower, hoping that getting myself off would relieve some of my tension and erase the memory of Kenzie’s reaction to my offer to make her nothing more than a glorified prostitute.
It didn’t work.
Her hurt expression haunted me.
In my mind, I probably deserved it.