Free I Got You, Babe by Jane Graves

was telling her that no matter how angry he’d gotten, he was nothing like her imaginary abusive boyfriend. And when she remembered how he’d kissed her, like a man who enjoyed giving pleasure as much as taking it, she knew it was true.
    “And no matter what you promised me in that diner,” he added, “I never would have made you do anything you didn’t want to.”
    What if I want to now?
    The thought came so clearly into Renee’s mind that she was afraid for a moment that she’d spoken it out loud. It was the weirdest thing. Now that she knew he wasn’t a sex-crazed maniac, sex with him was all she seemed to be able to think about. She didn’t actually want to do it. Well, not all of it, anyway. But she wondered what would happen if she inched closer to him, laid her hand against his cheek, and kissed him. Just one kiss to bring back the memory of how wonderful it had felt. What would he do?
    After all the protesting she’d done earlier, he’d probably skip right past the police station tomorrow morning and take her straight to the loony bin.
    “Don’t let men hurt you,” John told her. “You don’t have to put up with that.”
    The concern she heard behind the brusque tone of his voice sent her guilt level soaring. “I know,” she said softly. “I won’t. Not anymore.”
    A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, as if he didn’t believe a word of it, as if he had volumes to say on the subject but realized it was pointless.
    “Good night, Alice,” he whispered. Then he closed his eyes and was still. Minutes later she heard his soft, rhythmic breathing and realized he’d fallen asleep.
    Renee turned to look at him, taking advantage of the first chance she’d had to stare at him all she wanted to without his looking back with anger or pity, or her worrying that he was going to catch her in a lie. The serenity of his face in slumber highlighted by the glow of the fire made him fiercely handsome, and she inhaled the sight of him. As afraid of his touch as she’d been before, that was how consumed she was with the thought of him touching her now.
    Every memory of sexual intimacy she had was with a few teenage boys who knew nothing about sex. If the way John kissed was any indication, he clearly did. For a long, seductive moment she let her mind wander again, wondering what it felt like to have a man make love to her. Not a boy, who got it up and got it over with before she even realized it had started.
    A man.
    She felt a rush of longing so powerful it hurt. She’d had plenty of boyfriends over the years, but when they found out that her no really meant no, they hadn’t stayed around long.
    It wasn’t as if she didn’t want sex. What she didn’t want was the consequences of sex. Not just the pregnancy/AIDS/social disease thing. She remembered the few times she’d given herself to boys who’d given her nothing in return, the shame and loneliness she’d felt, and she was determined never to feel that way again. After her wake-up call eight years ago, she had promised herself that until Mr. Right wandered along, she’d use her body only to hang clothes on and to transport her brain from one location to another. And it was a promise she’d kept. During that fateful summer of her eighteenth year when she’d begun her journey toward self-respect, she vowed that the next man she gave herself to would be a man she trusted. A man she loved.
    A man who loved her.
    Then she breathed a soft, regretful sigh. Even if she did find a man she could trust, a man who wanted more from her than sex on demand, how could she let him love her when she’d be a fugitive for the rest of her life?
    She rolled to her side and lay still, trying to put thoughts of tomorrow out of her mind, hoping to get at least one restful night’s sleep before she was forced to start deceiving John all over again. Then the glint of something silver on the kitchen counter caught her eye.
    John’s car keys.
    Renee froze. It took her a full