by J , Louise
I’m finding it impossible not to think like that.
“I was meant to go to his place tonight. I sent him a text saying I’d be staying here and I’ll call him tomorrow. Then I turned off my phone in case he called me after reading it. I feel so guilty, but I’m not ready to tell him my concerns, or be around him – or with him – and act like nothing’s wrong.”
“And you shouldn’t. If you need to think about things and have some time on your own, then that’s what you do. The only person you owe anything to is yourself, but I’ll bet Dane’s crazy about you. What guy wouldn’t be?”
****
It’s early Sunday evening and I finally drum up the nerve to turn on my phone. I feel like crap for avoiding Dane for this long, but I still don’t know what to do. He came to my apartment earlier, and I made Kayla say I was out with Leona. I feel sick with myself for doing that, but I just couldn’t face him. He must be keen to speak to me if he showed up here. That must be a good sign.
Obviously it means he gives a damn.
It’s time to face him now, I can’t avoid him forever. Sitting on the floor, I lean back against my bed with my mobile now on. I see that I have a cheeky joke text from my brother and three voicemails. They’re from Dane. One is from late last night, one is from this morning, and the other is from, if going by the time, shortly after he came here this afternoon. The first two messages are general, just questioning where I am and if I’m okay. From the third it’s clear to him that I have a problem. He probably already suspected that, but coming here would’ve confirmed it. Now I feel avoiding him was a mistake, because I have to answer for myself.
After pressing ‘call’, my heart attempts to thump its way out of my chest.
“Brooklyn,” he answers, on the second ring, his tone giving me no indication whether he’s annoyed at me or happy to hear from me.
“Hi,” I say, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken.” I wish I didn’t feel this combination of guilt and nerves. The guilt I deserve, but the nerves make it difficult for me to speak.
“What’s up?” I can ‘hear’ the frown accompanying his question.
“I just … needed to think.” Drawing my heels to my bottom, I hug my knees to my chest with my free arm.
“About?” I’m sure there’s a deeper furrow to his brow now.
I sigh, uncomfortable. “Yesterday.” I seem to have lost my full vocabulary.
“You need to do better than this, Brooklyn. What’s going on with you?”
“Okay.” I pause. “Did you see that lady in the bar? The one who was sitting at the table by the door?” It shouldn’t be necessary for me to explain which one out of the two ladies that was there.
“I expect you mean Clarissa. Yes, I did.” I can tell a question mark belongs after the “Yes I did.”
Time to be honest, Brooklyn.
“I saw her looking at us. I don’t doubt that you two have a history, and I don’t doubt that she still has an interest in you. I didn’t like the scenario. I didn’t like …” I sigh again. “It made me question why you’re with me. And why you didn’t want to be with her or any of the other women you’ve had fleeting whatevers with. I don’t like it and I’m not sure I can be with you. I feel insecure and I’m questioning why you want me. That’s not my style, Dane. I don’t know if it’s healthy for me to be thinking like this.” I swallow. I still feel guilty, but at least it’s out there.
“You’ve avoided me because you don’t know why I want to be with you?” He sounds dumbfounded. “You’re still unsure about me, even now?”
“I wasn’t unsure until yesterday. I just don’t get it, Dane, I know it probably sounds ridiculous, we both have a past and I can accept that, I really can, it’s just,” and all of a sudden, what I’m saying sounds even more stupid to me.
We’ve been together one week, and I’m complicating things. Deep down, I don’t have a problem with him having a past, and he’s never held back on anything I’ve asked him. He didn’t even hesitate when he said Clarissa’s name. What the heck do I say now? This just got a lot more embarrassing.
I rest my chin on my knees and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
“I want you to come here,” he says, his tone soft, but certain. He hangs up on me.
I’m stunned for a moment, and sit staring at the screen of my phone. A part of me is tempted to rebel and refuse to follow his order. But I messed up, so maybe he’s entitled to call the shots on this occasion. Only this once, though.
I jump up and quickly throw on a black oversized knit jumper, which I wear as a dress, along with some black over the knee socks. I’m out the door within five minutes of our call ending.
When I pull up in my car, outside Dane’s block, my nerves have me pinned to the seat. I can’t believe I avoided him like a silly teenager and now I have to see him face-to-face. He’s a thirty-three year old man, for heaven’s sake. If only we’d concluded things when we spoke, then I could pretend I didn’t behave the way I have.
Eventually I make myself move. Through the intercom, Dane again gives me no indication whether he’s annoyed or okay with me. That does nothing to ease my anxiety, I was hoping for a hint at least. Standing in the lift, I push the button for the fourth floor. I don’t know what I’m going to say, other than sorry. He knows my reasons, even if they do seem ridiculous now.
The upwards motion halts and the doors start to open. I almost jump out of my skin when I see Dane standing directly across from me. He’s leaning back against the wall, dressed only in black jeans.
Unexpectedly, the feeling of fear forms a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach and anchors me in place. I can’t make my muscles move, they’re none responsive. I haven’t seen that look in his eyes before. I don’t know what it means, but it’s intense.
He’s definitely unimpressed with my actions, and more so than it came across on the phone or through the intercom.
With effort, I pull my gaze away from his and take in his posture; the set of his shoulders, the placement of his arms at his sides, his hands, his fingers.
All relaxed.
The only thing out of place is the look in his eyes, but he’s otherwise calm and familiar.
His stare isn’t even aggressive, I notice as I take it in a second time. There’s something there, some kind of emotion, but nothing to stop me quickly reaching out and pushing the button to keep the doors open as they start to close.
Gripping the strap of my bag, I walk forward feeling braver than I did a moment ago. I stop a foot away from Dane. I yelp with surprise as he grabs my jumper at the center of my chest, into his fist, and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to mine. With his other hand he clasps my hair at the back of my head. It’s impossible not to kiss him back.
His scent. His taste. Him.
It was utterly insane of me to think I could stay away from this man.
With his mouth still glued to mine, and our tongues locked in a passionate battle, Dane turns us, my back now to the wall. Reaching under my jumper-dress, he seizes my crotch firmly. I’m overwhelmed by the sheer force of him, the degree of his want. As he starts to yank my underwear down, my mind is split between; shit, he’s going to fuck me out here – out here – and, yes, bring it on right now.
I comply and speedily step out of my knickers when they make it to my ankles. Slipping his hand between my thighs, he raises my right leg and hooks it over his forearm. I instinctively tighten my hold around his neck, and in a matter of seconds Dane’s other arm is under my left thigh, hoisting me up, and he’s shoving his cock into me. I bite down too late to prevent my gasp at his sudden, full entry. Oh-my-fucking-word!
I welcome his deep thrusts as he fucks me hard against the wall, muffling my moans with tightly pressed lips whilst praying the neighbors don’t come out. This isn’t the kind of make-up sex I’ve had before, this feels like a fucking argument; frustrated, angry, disappointed and passionate.
Time – I don’t know
how long – passes. Dane’s strength astounds me, the muscles in his back, shoulders and arms are solid as he holds me in place. I’m aware we haven’t said a single word to each other. Hopefully this means we can pretend none of the other stuff happened – and this is dealing with it.
I feel the buildup of sensations in my clit. Clinging to him desperately, I climax silently.
With his semi-suppressed, sexy as hell grunt, Dane comes inside me and it’s as though he can’t get deep enough to complete the act. This is the first time we’ve had sex since the messy finish to something that started off beautiful a few nights ago, so this is the first time he’s come inside me.
In a strange way, I feel like I’ve just claimed him as mine.
Dane is motionless, but for his heavy breathing, forcing the rise and fall of his chest to compress mine firmly. Now I feel obliged to say something. Keeping a listen out for the sounds of any potential approach, with my mouth close to his ear, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t doubt me.” His low tone within his slowing breaths is commanding, but not aggressive. “And don’t avoid me. If you have things on your mind, tell me, don’t hide from me. Know that I’m with you because I want to be. That’s all that matters. We, you and I, are all that matters.”
“Okay,” I say, taken aback by his statement and manner. “I’m sorry.” I truly am. I know for certain now that I’ve upset him. I didn’t think that was possible.
“Please don’t look at me with fear in your eyes again, Brooklyn. You don’t ever need to be afraid of me.”
Swiftly, Dane alters our position so that his hands are now under my bottom, I wrap my legs around his waist. He moves us into the apartment and kicks the front door shut behind him. Lowering the strap of my bag, I let it slip down from my shoulder and drop it on the floor. He carries me through to the bathroom.
Dane’s shower is ideal for two, and enclosed in obscured glass. Steam surrounds us, infused with the scent of honey and almond body wash, and the hot spray shoots down behind me as Dane lathers the front of my body. It’s blissful, so I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his soapy, slippery hands gliding over my skin. Although we’re silent, this isn’t awkward. It’s perfect. He seems to have forgiven me.
Opening my eyes, I admire him. His body covered in wet beads is so sexy. I lean forward and run my tongue over his nipple and up his pec, licking away the water. My journey continues over his shoulder and up the side of his neck. He shudders when I nip his earlobe with my teeth. Rising onto my toes to bring me level, I make my way along his jaw line, which offers the subtlest hint of stubble tonight, to his chin and up to his bottom lip, which I suck. We kiss deep, slow. I lower my heels to the floor. One of Dane’s hands cups the side of my neck, whilst the other rubs soapsuds over my back and bottom.
Dane turns me to face away from him, my back to his front and his erection against my spine. The shower cascades down over my front, washing away the lather. My hair is gathered and draped over my left shoulder. My exposed neck is lightly nipped and sucked. Hands capture my breasts in a firm hold. My nipples harden when they’re grasped between teasing thumbs and forefingers. Glorious sensations pass through me and I lean into Dane, standing tall and strong.
I palm his firm thighs as his touch travels down and stops between my legs. With his foot, Dane ushers my feet farther apart and his fingers slip into my folds, caressing. I clasp his wet shaft with my right hand and stroke. Dane turns my head to the side, his tongue seeking mine. Kissing, dual stroking, completely absorbed in each other, the only sound is the heavy spray of the shower. Nothing else and no one else exists right now. It’s only us.
He speaks against my lips. “Don’t stay away from me so long again.” Though his words sounded insistent, there’s no denying the undertone of it being a plea. It was subtle, but clear.
“I won’t.” I can’t.
I’m not sure if he’s referring to last night alone, or the past three, but, even though it’s perfectly normal for a couple to spend nights apart, I hated them.
“I want you with me every day. Let me take care of you.” Another request, I know I have a choice.
I know what I want.
It’s also obvious to me, reading into the way he said it, that this is something Dane needs.
I need it too, so I nod in agreement.
“Tell me yes.” His eyes demand my verbal answer as well as his words.
“Yes.”
He presses his lips to mine, it’s as though we’ve sealed the deal.
I resume my strokes along the length of his shaft, upping the tempo. Reaching between us, Dane halts my movement. “Not like that. I wanna come inside you.”
Facing the wall with my hands braced wide against the tiles, Dane pulls my hips back and slowly enters me from behind. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter through the sound of the spray now striking us from the side. One hand gripping my hip and the other moving to my shoulder, I’m held in place as he takes me with long, delayed thrusts. The feeling is both delicious and agonizing, spreading within me and up along my spine. My light moans are both from pleasure and a desire for more, I’m not sure if I want to thank him for this or beg for more.
As though commanding my climax, he speeds up, becoming fierce. From inside out the sensations build, my deep muscles tightening. I go over with a crash of painfully sweet waves. Seconds after, Dane comes and mingled with his groan is my name.
My name.
Twenty Four: Brooklyn
When did it get so dark? The only light source is from the moon, piercing the kitchen window and seeping into the hallway I’m standing in. The man in front of me is nothing more than a large, dark silhouette.
He’s blocking my way out.
The front door’s behind him. I can’t get to it.
The two steps I take back leads me to the wall, my back presses against it.
I need to get to the door. I wish he wasn’t so much bigger than me.
I know I won’t get past him.
Why won’t he let me go? Hasn’t he hurt me enough?
He inhales deeply.
And charges at me.
I scream.
Twenty Five: Dane
A woman’s scream pulls me from my sleep. In confusion, for a moment, I think I’m in a nightmare. I open my eyes to darkness and the sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Beside me on the bed, I can see Brooklyn’s seated outline. I reach for the side light and turn it on.
Brooklyn’s hands are covering her face, muffling her chaotic breaths. I sit up and curl my arm around her. She turns into me, clinging to me, panicked, like she’s scared. Her naked body pressed to mine, her cheek to my sternum, I can feel her skin, moist with perspiration.
Stroking her hair, I move the damp strands from her face. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Her nails pierce my back with the desperation of her hold, and I can feel the thundering of her heart against me. “Take it easy. Breathe, baby, just breathe.” I feel like I’ve taken a giant leap back in time, to a time when I used to have to calm Saffron after her nightmares.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Shhh, it’s all right.”
We’re silent for a few moments, and Brooklyn’s respiration starts to calm, her hold easing slightly.
“Do you wanna tell me about it, baby?”
Slowly, her head moves from side-to-side. “I just couldn’t breathe. It felt too real. Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry for waking you.” Her voice plays muted against my skin as she turns her face, nestling it against my chest. She breathes in deep … smelling me.
“This is all real, Brooklyn. It’s all real.”
She goes quiet, calmer, but her face is still pressed to my chest. Moments pass. Keeping her in my hold, I lay back.
With the blinds still closed and the side light on, Brooklyn and I haven’t moved, we haven’t slept and we haven’t said a word. Now she starts to reposition
herself. I straighten out my arm, and she moves her head from my chest to lay it on my bicep.
Her gaze slowly starts to trace my face. Her green irises look troubled and dull.
There are so many things I want to say to her, starting with an apology for scaring her when she first got here. I feel like a jerk. I’m not sure what’s worse; the look in her eyes now, or the way she looked at me last night. I wasn’t prepared for the way I felt when those elevator doors opened and I saw her standing there. A rush of everything I do feel, and things I don’t want to feel, took me over in one powerful hit. It was already simmering beneath the surface, like a volcano preparing to erupt.
I really wish she hadn’t avoided me the way she did.
As I open my mouth to speak, Brooklyn’s words come out first. “Why didn’t you speak to Clarissa? If I didn’t see her watching you I’d have thought you were strangers, but you obviously have some sort of history.”
Not something I wanted to discuss; there are other things I’m more interested in, starting with, “I want to know how you feel first.”
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t go back to sleep.”
“You didn’t either.”
“I was waiting for you to. How do you really feel?”
“Guilty that you have to be at work in about two hours and your sleep was interrupted because of me. Otherwise I’m fine.”
“You don’t need to feel guilty about anything. I’m sorry I scared you when you first got here. I’d never put my hands on you in any way that doesn’t make you feel safe or good, not ever.”
She licks her lips. “I was just surprised to see you standing there and at first I wasn’t sure if you …”
“If I what?”
“If you were angry with me. You weren’t,” she sighs, “I soon realized that. I know I don’t need to fear you physically, Dane.” Her direct eye contact suggests she means that, which is good and true, but I didn’t miss her reference to the physical aspect.
The fucked up thing is I can’t guarantee that I won’t hurt her emotionally. I don’t intend to, and I’ll do my best to avoid it, but I can’t make any promises.