Bad Mistake--A Scorching Hot Romance

by JC Harroway

  Just like that, any progress I imagined had been made between us disappears. Of course he would shut down after being vulnerable. I understand that. And it’s a timely reminder for me, too. I’m getting close to a man I hardly know because he won’t allow anyone near. Having naively trusted the wrong man before, and ended up with a tattered, exposed heart for all the world to see, I need to keep my guard up. I trust Nick with my safety and my body.

  But my heart is another matter entirely...

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nick

  I KNOCK ON the door to Brooke’s suite, my insides knotted with anticipation and regret. It’s only been a few hours since our tense exchange in the car, but despite having survived without it for the past thirty-five years, I somehow can’t breathe unless I’m basking in the warmth of her smile. I need to make things right.

  I drag in a ragged breath. How the hell did I wind up here? Not the penthouse floor of Saint Moritz’s most exclusive hotel, which has the best views of the lake and surrounding alpine peaks, but temporarily incapacitated by need for this woman. Because it has to be temporary...

  There’s little love to be had. Which means we should grab whatever love we can and never let go...

  Her words ring through my head. Since my first foray into love, when I gave everything and lost everything, I’ve sworn off feelings, even trying to control physical intimacy so I don’t get too close.

  Last night clarified things. Because the club, the sex, confirmed that, no matter how addictive Brooke is right now, it can’t lead anywhere. One time inside her and I feel prised open, the emotions I’ve tried to bottle up most of my adult life bursting free like shaken champagne.

  And this violent craving burning me alive, the constant physical need for her, scrapes away the numbness I’ve cultivated for protection. She’s made me want things. Impossible things that I can’t want. Can’t have. All I can do is hold on to my shit until I can achieve some physical distance. Maybe then the emotional distance will follow. It’s always worked for me in the past.

  Except, not only is Brooke spiking my blood like heroin, she’s urging further emotional catharsis. The idea of talking to my mother about the past has opened another floodgate. What if Brooke’s right? What if there’s a way to live without my harsh defence mechanisms? Seeking the forgiveness she talked about feels like climbing the mountains outside in bare feet. But what if the pain is less than the burden I already carry? What if I reach the far side of those snow-draped mountains and can finally breathe the pure alpine air without shame and regret?

  After what feels like hours, but can only be seconds, Brooke swings open the door. She’s wearing the work-out clothes I suggested in my text. Her flushed face is free of make-up, her hair damp from the shower. She too is a little breathless, as if she’s been waiting to see me as much as I have her.

  My eyes burn at the sight of her. I’m dazzled, my chest thumping with that now familiar thrill. How can I have been so rude and dismissive?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out. ‘I don’t want us to fight.’ I behaved like a dick. None of this is her fault.

  She shakes her head. ‘Neither do I, and I’m sorry too.’

  And then she smiles.

  Yep, there it is, the sunrise striking me full in the face and warming up all my frozen corners.

  I step into the room and allow the door to swing closed at my back. Wordlessly I cup her face, press my lips to hers, breathing in deeply as if I can suck her very essence inside and hold onto it as a keepsake. She melts into my chest, her soft lips pliant and then demanding under my kiss so I feel her forgiveness. My turbulent mind blanks. I allow myself to feel pure, physical sensation. She fits in my arms like a puzzle piece. My feet feel more solid under me with her touch. Her kisses leave me restored, as if she’s all I’ll ever need.

  We part for air. Reluctant. Panting.

  Her eyes are glazed with the same passion that’s led me to forget why I’m here apart from to lose myself in this woman again and again. Our disagreement was a perfectly timed reminder that relationships, beyond those one-nighters that I’ve perfected, involve feelings. Expectations. Compromise.

  And maybe if I was a different man I could change for her. If ever there was a woman to make me want more, it’s this woman. But it’s been so long. I’m incapable. I’m just not made for the light, for everything that degree of soul-searching involves. The well of bottled-up feelings in me is just too enormous. I couldn’t survive the pressure if the cork were ever to fly off.

  ‘What’s going on?’ She breathes. ‘I thought we could have a quiet dinner overlooking my view.’ She indicates the wall of windows the suite offers. The idyllic, panoramic, snowy mountain vista is one of the main reasons tourists flock here. But its beauty is nothing compared to this woman, who gives and gives and gives and then worries about keeping a tiny piece back for herself. The woman who sees something in me that’s redeemable. Sees a future I can’t make out myself. The woman I could care for if I was able to care for anyone.

  If I can survive the next forty-eight hours until I drop her back at her home in London, then I can retreat and repair the damage of allowing her too close. Closer than I’ve allowed anyone in years.

  Because, whatever the future holds, it will always carry the past.

  ‘You wanted to learn some self-defence moves.’ I push the hair back from her forehead so I can see the excitement flare in her luminous eyes. ‘So let’s go.’

  It won’t help safeguard her against press intrusion or social media trolls, but everyone should know how to defend themselves. She brings out my protective urges. I can’t walk away until I know I’ve taught her enough that I’ll be able to sleep at night.

  ‘Really?’ She smiles. ‘Thanks, Nick.’ She grips my arm, and I fight the temptation to spin her onto the bed and take us both to the place where we forget all the ugliness in our worlds.

  Instead I take her hand and tug her after me. Her suite is big enough to work in, but I’ve hired out the hotel’s gym for an hour so we can do this properly. There’s a matted area surrounded by mirrors, which is perfect for her to learn the few simple moves I plan to teach.

  In the gym we do a few warm-up stretches and then I switch into teaching mode, which means trying my best not to drool over her black-Lycra-covered body. But, beyond the urge to peel her out of her clothes and block out all the things I can’t have, there’s another weight sitting on my chest. I’ll have to put my hands on her in a way that represents that of an attacker, when all I want to do is caress, stroke and embrace her until I put that look of flushed ecstasy on her face. Until I remind myself that this thing between us is about sex and nothing more. Until I take all the stirred-up feelings and bury them back where they belong.

  I clear the ache in my throat, aware she’s waiting.

  ‘The best way to get out of a bad situation is to run.’ Tension hitches my shoulders at the idea of Brooke in danger. ‘So I’ll show you how to get out of the most common attack holds.’

  She nods, taking this seriously when it’s all I can do to stop myself from dragging her into my arms and kissing her until I feel calm. But will I ever feel that again? Because I have to walk away. I can’t run security for her personally now I’ve crossed the line. I’m too invested. So consumed by her that I’ve started to think what ifs...

  I want to be the one to keep her safe—always. But that can’t happen. Brooke is heroin, and I need to give her up.

  I latch onto the lifeline of her sparkling eyes shining with trust and affection I don’t deserve after the way I pushed her away earlier. But it’s like she said. That’s what I do.

  Why is she still here? Still trusting and giving and open?

  ‘First, the arm-grab,’ I say, taking her wrist. The bones feel delicate under my fingers, which detect the vital beat of her pulse. It reminds me of that first intimate touch after her fa
shion show in Milan, when I’d been powerless to maintain my distance.

  Yeah, you’ve been kidding yourself ever since...

  I tighten my grip, making this as realistic as I can without causing her pain. My body rebels, my brain demanding gentleness, my limping heart clamouring to hold her with care and passion and never let go.

  ‘So, pulling your hand away won’t work,’ I explain, my voice sounding tight. She tries the reflex move, which only makes me grip all the more and brings my body closer to hers.

  Brooke’s eyes go wide, and I want to stop this. The idea of someone hurting her makes me want to drive into the mountains with her and hide away for ever.

  I swallow hard, focus on the instruction the way I would with my students. ‘Instead, lift your elbow until it points to the ceiling.’ I direct her arm into position. ‘And then slice that arm downwards using your core muscles.’

  She nods, performing the move as instructed and knocking away my grip with ease. Her grin of surprise and triumph shifts something in my chest.

  She flings her arms around my neck and presses a quick kiss to my mouth. ‘I did it.’

  I extricate myself from her arms when all I want to do is kiss her again and not think about the number of hours I have left to be free to do such a thing. Because every time we touch I feel rejuvenated, as if I’m building myself a new cage. But, where the old one was steel and chains, this one is made of glass to let in the sun.

  ‘And now the most important part of the move,’ I say. ‘You’d run.’

  She nods. ‘Got it.’

  We practise the technique a few more times until her confidence is high and I feel less strung out with the strange restlessness. I tell myself it’s just the vile idea of Brooke needing to defend herself for real. But also, a part of me wants to impress her. Part of me is honoured that I can teach her something and that she’s determined to learn to take care of herself.

  ‘Next, the grab from behind.’ I stand behind her and hook my arms around her waist, gripping my wrists in the centre of her stomach. I’m conscious of my physical advantage and how easy it would be for a man like me to hurt a woman like her. Then I recall the same position last night, when I was buried inside her, ripped to shreds by the feelings struggling to fight free. How easily she dismantled my defences in the shower, until it was all I could do to keep breathing. How again in the car journey today she prised me open with her gentle insight and caring.

  Physically, she’s vulnerable, but emotionally she’s so strong. Stronger than I’ll ever be.

  Her body is tight against me, her eyes trained with trust on mine in the mirror. For a few seconds I imagine what it would be like never to let go. To try and keep her in my life back in London. Yes, we’re complete opposites, but we’re also similar.

  It could work...could be wonderful. But it could also open up a world of pain for us both. I have an ugly past and she makes me want to examine it. To pick over the bones and see if anything can be salvaged. But what if she’s wrong? What if I can’t be whole? She deserves better than half a man.

  ‘So, to get out of this, hold onto my arms and bend at the waist.’ I focus on teaching to stop the creep of foreboding over my skin. Once we return to London and I walk away for good, protecting her won’t be my problem. The next time I see her will be on a billboard or on TV, perhaps with someone else.

  The thought should give me peace of mind, a sense of my life soon returning to normal. Instead I’m hollowed out. Frantic. Filled with the sense I’ve forgotten to do something vitally important.

  ‘Nick?’ she asks.

  ‘Sorry.’ I snap from my daze to see she’s still staring at me in the mirror. ‘I zoned out for a second. Okay, make a fist and slam it backwards into my groin—but please don’t make contact for real. I’m kind of attached to my balls.’

  She laughs. ‘I kind of like them myself, don’t worry.’ She blows me a kiss and then performs the move at half-speed. I release her and clutch my junk as if I’ve truly been struck in the balls.

  ‘Now it’s time to finish me.’ I hunch over. ‘Lock your hands behind my neck and drive your knee up into my groin.’

  She follows my instructions, giving me time to dodge the blow for real, her eyes glittering with the excitement of feeling empowered. I wish I had all my equipment so she could really go to town on overcoming a man my size.

  ‘And now you’d—’

  ‘Run,’ she says with a huge grin. ‘I get it.’

  We practise a few more times, a warm sense of pride settling in my chest. ‘Okay. Last move—the choke-hold.’ Understandably, she looks a little nervous as I place my hands loosely around her neck. I feel her pulse fluttering against my palm and smile, my face twitching with tension. All I want to do is drag her mouth to mine.

  I’ve taught these moves a hundred times. But it’s different now, because she’s different. Because I care. I’ve let her in, and until I can get away, get some distance, I’m fucked...

  Her crystal-blue eyes seem huge as she looks up at me, waiting, full of trust.

  I know before I speak that my voice is going to crack. ‘Lift one arm up... Turn your whole body to the opposite side.’ I want this session over and done. All the physical contact in this context is torture. Because I want so many things, I’m crushed under their weight. But what I absolutely don’t want is to hurt anyone, especially Brooke. My brain is just tricking me with all this pseudo-aggression.

  ‘Crunch down your upper body. See how you’ve trapped both of my hands?’

  She nods. ‘Now what?

  ‘Strike up at my face with your elbow.’ When she does, I fake a stumble back, as if she’s made contact.

  ‘And now I’d run,’ she says, beaming.

  I nod, helpless to a flicker of a smile. ‘Well done. You picked it up very quickly.’

  I should feel satisfied that I’ve helped her be less vulnerable. Instead bile swirls into my throat. I care. She’s chipped at my defences with her compassion, her bravery and her light. And I need those barriers, because without them all the wants in me are snarling to escape years of confinement.

  ‘I have a good teacher.’ She winks, stepping closer. ‘Thank you, Nick.’

  ‘You’re a good student. I just hope you’ll never need to use any of this.’ I take her hand and rub my thumb over her knuckles to stop me tugging her into my arms and holding her until the solid beat of her heart reassures me that all this is make-believe. That neither of us is actually at risk. But the emotional peril is overwhelming.

  We fall silent, eyes locked. Face to face. Surrounded by our reflections in the mirrors, every feeling in me is amplified. We’re both breathing harder than we should—we haven’t exerted that much energy. But she must see the desperation on my face. Sense how close I am to disintegrating into a million pieces.

  ‘I’m here, Nick.’ Her voice is a whisper, her eyes aglow with her passion. ‘I see the real you. I see your integrity and your generosity and your calm strength. It’s okay...’

  Her words all but buckle my knees. Could this slight and delicate woman have what it takes to hold me together? I want to bear my soul, knowing she’s strong enough to take all of me.

  ‘Brooke...’ I start in warning, although I don’t know what I want. To push her away or to drag her into my arms. I need to reconnect after acting as her attacker because I feel more alive than I have for years when I’m with her—as if her light has shocked my heart back into rhythm.

  ‘I’m here. I feel it too.’ Her small smile slashes me.

  She does see me. Perhaps clearer than I see myself. The watcher has become the watched.

  Uncontrollable fire rushes through me. I pull her into my arms, desperate. She kisses me hard. I scoop her feet from the floor as I kiss her back with all my awakened emotions. Emotions I don’t want but can’t stop. Not while I’m with Brooke. I let them
flow through me, twist them into fear for her safety and the lust that just can’t be denied. Because those are easier to deal with than my bigger issues of once more caring enough to do something stupid and reckless.

  When we start tugging at each other’s clothing, she comes to her senses and takes my hand, dragging me back to her suite at a brisk pace. Inside, we shed clothes as rapidly as we can while walking to the bedroom and kissing. There’s no teasing or flirtation, no restraint or denial. Only the urgency that seems to have us both powerless in its grip.

  Her hands roam everywhere, branding my skin, tugging, demanding with frenzied need. And I feel it too, my foggy brain vaguely aware of the need to locate a condom before collapsing on top of her on the massive, sumptuous bed.

  ‘Hurry, Nick.’ She grabs the condom from me and tears it open.

  There’s nothing controlled about this coupling. It’s frantic. Furious. Need roars through me, driving me to get inside her as quickly as I can, as if life on earth depends on it. And in a way it does. She’s my salve. My balm. The ultimate distraction from facing my feelings, even when she’s the one bringing them to the surface.

  I work the condom on and settle my hips between hers, probing her entrance and then pushing inside in one sublime glide.

  She cries out. I rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths gust. I search for some remnant of my former restraint, try to master the needs in me that this woman has awoken so this isn’t over in seconds.

  How can she do this to me? I feel like an animal desperate to rut. To claim her as mine. To mark her and change her, as she’s artlessly altered something in me that I have no hope of ever repairing.

  For seventeen years I’ve commanded my body, my desires, my very essence. In a few days, Brooke’s destroyed the man I thought I was, tearing me apart and rebuilding me in another form, one spiralling out of control for this woman and the way she makes me feel redeemed.

  ‘Nick, I need you.’ Brooke crosses her ankles in the small of my back and grips my shoulders, urging me to move. I tunnel my fingers into her short, silky hair, wrap my forearms around her slender shoulders and press a kiss over her parted lips. Our stares lock as my hips move. No speech is required. No rules, bargains or safeguards. It’s just us, incapable of avoiding this violent connection.