by Amy Rose
I feel his arms snake around my waist, and he pulls gently on my hip turning me, so I am facing him. “What did he do to you? You said he hurt you, will you tell me how?”
I shake my head, I knew he would ask this question, deep down I know that I should tell him everything, instead I wrap my arms up under his arms to cup his shoulder blades and push myself as close to his chest as I can manage, letting all the tears flow that have been threatening to fall all evening, I feel one of his hands come up to my back and stroke gently, trying to calm me, reassure me that he isn’t going anywhere.
“Shhh, it’s okay Angie, you’re safe. I’m here.” That one word, safe, it’s one I have longed to hear from him, even more so than the other four-letter word that I also crave.
He holds me in his warm embrace as I fall apart, sobs are now wracking my body. I sniff loudly and his shirt is completely soaked through from my tears, I pull away. “I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined your shirt.”
He lifts my chin to look at his face, that beautiful face. His eyes are glistening, I can see they are wet from unshed tears. “I don’t care about my damn shirt Angie. I care about you.” I stand on my tippy toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.
Leaving the close proximity of his body, I take three steps away from him before turning around and looking at his profile, he is looking out the window. What I am about to do next is going to break my already broken heart into even more pieces, how will he react? Maybe he will be glad. I mean what guy wants an overly emotional girl? Maybe he will just turn around and leave. Maybe he will admit his true feelings?
“Elliot, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.” His head whips around to meet my gaze so fast. The look of shock so clear on his face, he lifts both of his hands and runs them through his hair.
“What?” He looks at me.
Pushing on, I continue “I think that you’re better off without me and I’m….well….I’m safer alone.”
He shakes his head from side to side slowly, still pulling at his hair, he drops his hands and crosses to where I stand. “Why?”
His one-word question is almost my undoing. I don’t have a reason, a good one anyway. The only one I can use is my fear. I need to push on though, I need to give him a way out. I’ll blame it all on myself.
“I can’t be in a relationship with you, Elliot. You deserve better than what I can give you. You could have your pick of any woman in the world and they would be very lucky to call you theirs. I thank you for the time we have shared together, but it’s over. I think it’s best that you leave now.” I turn from him and walk out of the room, toward the front door of the apartment. I clasp the handle within my grip and open it, making it clear that I want him to leave.
All the while my head is screaming at me to stop being stupid, to close the door and tell him the reason why I’m scared of a relationship, a serious relationship.
He walks back into view and looks from me to the door and back again. “You want me to leave?”
I don’t trust myself to speak, the emotion feels like a golf ball stuck in my throat, so I just nod. He walks over to me and looks me in the eyes, reaching out he closes the door without exiting, he puts his hands on either side of my face and pulls me to him. He kisses me with so much passion I feel as though I might catch on fire. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and claims me, trying to make me forget about tonight and make me remember just how good we are together.
My body welcomes his touch and reacts like always, a hot electrical current running over every inch of my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me, lifting my hands to curl around his hair and tug gently. He drops his arms from my face, sliding them over my body until he reaches my waist then the underside of my ass. Picking me up in his arms he deepens the kiss even more. We are both breathless when we finally separate. He lets my body slide down his own slowly, he places his forehead against mine and whispers “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Angela, and I will fight for us.”
I feel as though I could do a triple backflip at his confession. He doesn’t want to leave; he loves me and he will fight for us. This amazing man loves me. Knowing he feels this way lifts a lot of weight from my chest, I feel free, he feels the same way I do.
“I love you too, Elliot.” I feel his exhale of breath and his scent overpowers me; it draws me in every time. He presses his lips against mine again, softly this time and it’s over way too soon. A wide smile forms on my lips and I feel content, happy, and over the moon at the same time.
Before I lose my train of thought, I decide to speak once more, “I’ll tell you everything about Dylan one day, I promise. Will you do me a favor?” I await his response.
“Anything you want. All you have to do is ask”
So, I do. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”
He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead he nods once to show he understands, he pulls back his head so his deep blue eyes are blazing straight into my own. “I’ll stay with you tonight, tomorrow night, and forever if you will let me, baby.”
I lower my arms, dragging my hands along his shoulders, down his arms all the way till I take his hands in my own. “Come to bed?” I ask.
He licks his lips before replying. “How do you feel about me sleeping beside you in my boxer briefs?”
At first, I’m surprised at his question and find it a little odd until I remember where we are. Being here in my apartment, of course he doesn’t have pajamas to wear. It then dawns on me that I, too, don’t have anything to wear to bed, anything appropriate anyway.
“Would it be easier if we went back to your place? We both have clothes there.” I smile at him. I wouldn’t mind if he stayed here. I could rub my hands up and down his abdominal muscles, skin on skin.
He speaks softly “If you don’t mind, it would be easier for me.” A pause then he continues. “Whose place is this anyway?”
I giggle, I was expecting him to ask. “It’s mine” I reply, I swear I see a change in the way he is looking at me, not shock, more intrigue.
“Yours?”
I nod. “It sure is. I own it, no mortgage either.” I give him a wide grin, teasing him just slightly. Turning away from him, I walk into the living room and collect the cover sheet and drape it back over the sofa then collect my phone from the floor. Next, I close the curtains and wander back to the kitchen to pick up my clutch, switching off the lights as I go.
I make my way back to the foyer and see that Elliot hasn’t moved. “Let me get this right, you own an apartment in one of the most expensive buildings in New York?”
I laugh at him “What, you’re surprised?” I lightly punch him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I am surprised.” he shakes his head as he opens the door for us to exit. I flick the remaining lights off before walking out. Once the door is closed, I lock it and we walk the few steps across the foyer to the elevator. Elliot presses the call button, we stand there in silence, when the doors open we slip in and I select the ground floor. “One thing I can say for you is that you’re full of surprises, you know that, Miss White?”
I feel a smile forming across my lips “I sure do, hopefully the good ones will outweigh the bad.”
The doors open and we exit together, he slips his hand in mine and we walk out the front door. I see Elliot’s Mercedes SUV waiting. Price jumps out of his position in the driver’s seat of the car to open my door, but Elliot gets there first. He closes my door and is hopping in on his side within a few moments.
“Since we are revealing real estate holdings tonight, I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I own an apartment on Fifth Avenue,” he blurts out.
I laugh at his statement, before getting myself together “Well, I’ve shown you mine, so I’d love to see yours sometime.”
“Are we heading home now, Sir?” Prices voice interrupts our moment.
“Yes, we are. Thank you, Price,” Elliot replies.
With that, Price pulls out
into traffic and we begin our journey back to Sands Manor.
~ Chapter Ten ~
Angela
We travel the distance home in quiet. He has just witnessed my wealth; the fact that I own an apartment in one of the most sought-after buildings on Central Park West must have come as a shock to him and yet he hasn’t said anything, no doubt thinking about how he can broach the subject. I, on the other hand, know that once we get home there will be a conversation about Dylan. Elliot places his hand on my knee shortly after leaving the front of my apartment building and it stays there until we pull into his driveway.
Elliot exits the vehicle and opens my door for me, offering his hand. We walk a few steps away from the car, and it pulls away toward the main house garage.
“Angie, I won’t push you. If you don’t want to talk, I understand. But I want to ask if we can we talk about what happened earlier.” I look up into his face and could see concern etched across his beautiful features. I knew he would ask, so it didn’t come as a shock and I had already decided I would tell him everything. I would stay calm and speak slowly, unfortunately that’s not how it happens.
“You remember how I told you once that I had a violent ex-partner?” I pause.
Elliot nods, “I remember.”
“Dylan is my ex, the ex who abused me. The one I have nightmares about. There is a restraining order in place that states that he cannot be near me. So, technically it was broken tonight, however he didn’t know I would be there and I sure as hell didn’t know he would be. I can’t be around him Elliot. I just can’t. So, I left as soon as possible.” I speak very quickly, so fast that Elliot might have missed some parts of that outburst. I can hear myself speak with venom in my tone.
I look down at my feet, let go of Elliot’s hand and start to walk toward the guest house, a few tears rolling, unwelcome, down my face. I had only taken three steps when Elliot spoke “Angie, baby, are you okay?”
As I keep walking towards the house, I hear his footsteps coming up behind me quickly. I make it to the door before he reaches for my hand; capturing it he pulls me towards him. I keep my face down, not wanting him to see my tears. He places his other hand under my chin and lifts my face gently, lifts it ever so slightly. I lift my lids and look into his eyes.
I can’t hold the tears back anymore, so I don’t. I grab the key out of my bag, turn back to face the house and unlock the door, walking straight in, Elliot right at my heels. I place my clutch on the kitchen counter with his keys and then lean against the countertop for support. Elliot wraps his strong arms around my waist and moves his head, so it is sitting on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, honey, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” I turn around pressing myself against his body, crying into his chest, his hands rubbing circles on my lower back, while he was gently kissing my hair. I’m not sure how long we stay like this, but he doesn’t say anything else, he just lets me get it all out of my system.
Once the tears stop falling, I pull away, seeing the mess I made of his shirt “My heavens, I thought I had ruined your shirt earlier. It’s nothing compared to what it looks like now. I’m so sorry, Elliot.” I put my unsteady hands to his top button and undo it.
“Baby, like I told you earlier, I don’t give a shit about my shirt. What I care about is you. You’re hurting and I can’t stand it.” He grabs my hands in his, stopping them from undoing his buttons, and kisses them.
“Dylan told me you knew each other. He said you were friends in high school, but you lost contact. I didn’t even for a second think that he was that asshole who hurt you.” His grip on my hands tightens.
“Elliot, you’re hurting my hands.” I tug on my hands for him to release his hold and he does.
“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?” I nod, clenching and releasing my fists, getting the blood circulating.
I walk away and sit on the couch, leaving Elliot at the kitchen counter. I decide it’s time to tell him everything. He can then make his decision about me, whatever that may be.
My voice is barely above a whisper, but since it is so quiet in here, I know he can hear me. “It was horrible seeing him there tonight, Elliot. I haven’t seen him since our last court appearance. I’m still scared of him. You don’t understand, you couldn’t understand. The fear he instilled in me while we were in a relationship. All I had to do was look at him the wrong way and he would fly off the handle and take it out on me. Physically, he beat me Elliot, not just with his fists. He kicked me, he punched me, he hit me with objects lying around the house. The last time, he broke my leg and several of my ribs with a baseball bat. If the neighbor hadn’t heard all the commotion and phoned the police that night, I don’t know what other injuries I would have sustained.
“When the police arrived, I wasn’t conscious. They woke me, and two paramedics arrived shortly after. I came to for a short time and I saw him in handcuffs sitting beside the front door with a policeman standing over him. I don’t recall much from later that night, but I remember my injuries: fractured cheek, broken left leg, three broken ribs and a cut lip. My recovery was long and hard, but I did it. I survived, Elliot”.
“How is he not in jail?” he asks
I shake my head. “I have wondered the very same thing. I have the protection order, but as far as I know he never served any jail time.”
Its something that has always bothered me. When I asked the Assistant District Attorney who was prosecuting the case, she told me his legal council was very good at making people think in different ways. In other words, he made people believe Dylan’s side of the story instead of my own.
I sit still on the couch not saying another word. Wanting to show him proof, I lift my dress slightly and look at my right leg. The scar is still evident above my kneecap where the bone had stuck through from that worst night of my life so far. A reminder of what I have been through and survived. I close my eyes and run my fingers over the scar absentmindedly.
I feel the depression of the couch beside me as Elliot sits down. I open my eyes and see his hand reaching out to touch my scar, his eyes filled with pain, “Is that from him?” he asks softly.
“Yes, it’s a daily reminder of what I have suffered.” he runs his index finger over the scar and then bends down and kisses it, as he pulls back. I can see his eyes are moist; he buries his head in his hands. Seeing the scar must have been too much for him, “Hey, don’t cry,” I say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He slowly raises his face to look at me, and our eyes lock in place.
Without breaking eye contact, his hand finds mine and he holds it in his own. “I will never, ever hurt you. I will never raise a hand against you. I will never willingly cause you pain. I want to look after you and care for you and make you feel safe when you’re with me. I never want anything to happen to you,” he takes a breath. “I’m not a violent man, Angie, I never have been, but I have to admit that hearing what he did to you makes my blood boil. I want to show him what it’s like to be on the receiving end of an attack like that.” He looks down at our hands that are intertwined and he raises them so he can kiss my hand. He then holds it against his cheek.
I reach out with my free hand and stroke his other cheek with my thumb. I don’t know what to say in response to his heartfelt speech. I did, however, want to reassure him, so when I speak, it is a simple “I believe you, Elliot.”
After what seems like a long time, Elliot slides off the couch, standing before me, pulling me with him. We are standing close together, our faces only inches apart. I want to kiss him so badly. After all that has happened tonight, I want him to reassure me, I want to feel that spark is still there between us. So, before I can second-guess myself, I reach out my hands, landing on his waist, slowly sliding up along the planes of muscle underneath his tearstained business shirt. I feel the heat of his skin coming through the fabric. I continue the slow journey up, slipping my fingers onto his jacket, coming to a stop when I have the fine wool blend lapel between my fingers. Then withou
t hesitation, I pull him toward me, pressing my lips to his and I kiss him. It isn’t a soft and slow kiss; instead it is a hard, fast, and passionate kiss.
It only takes a couple of seconds, but Elliot wraps his arms around my waist and pulls the lower half of my body closer to him, pressed against the firmness of his muscular body. He opens his mouth to grant me VIP access. Our tongues meet each other and dance, a dance they are getting very good at. I let go of his lapel and slip my arms up further, my hands clasping around the back of his neck, I bite his bottom lip gently and he responds with a deep throaty moan, which kick-starts my libido.
I must stop this kiss now, before it goes any further. So, I pull back, releasing my arms. I take three steps back, needing to give ourselves some distance, some separation. That works for about five seconds. Elliot makes it to me in only one step and he is kissing me again, just as passionately as the first had been. He wraps one of his arms around my lower back and the other around my knees, lifting me up. He starts to move, walking and I know exactly where he is taking me. Straight into the bedroom.
I wrap my arms around his neck once more and kiss him, I kiss him with everything I have to give. We stop moving, he lets me slide down his body, slowly. I feel his body pressed up against mine, until my feet are touching the floor. I can feel the bed behind my legs, I had to be the strong one, I had to stop this before it goes too far. Both of us are waiting for marriage. I pull my arms away from his neck and push hard against his rock-hard abdominal muscles. “We have to stop, Elliot. Now.” I breathe. My voice is soft, and completely void of conviction.
The room is pitch black around us. I fumble my way around the bed, using it to guide me to my destination, to the bedside table, where I know a lamp is positioned. I quickly locate the switch and turn it on. I look up to the end of the bed where I had just been, and Elliot is gone, no longer there. I close my eyes and then re-open them, just in case my eyes are playing tricks on me, but no, still he wasn’t there. I sit down on the bed, placing my head in my hands and take a few deep breaths. I try to keep the panic that is building up inside of me at bay. He couldn’t have really left, could he?