Pull Me Close: The Panic Series

by Sidney Halston

  I grab her by the wrist and turn her around so I can see the back.

  “Fuckin’ Christ, where’s the back? It’s missing.”

  She looks over her shoulder. “It’s like that.”

  “Katherine, corazón, this”—I move my hand around her—“is a lot to take in.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Didn’t say that.” I pull her in so that she’s pressed against me. “I just wasn’t planning on spending my evening fending off other men. Guess I’ll have to do that now.”

  She smiles. “I wanted to look nice for you,” she admits. “We’ve never done this before.”

  “You always look nice for me, baby,” I say.

  “Well, I wanted to look very nice for you,” she says, pressing a kiss against my lips. “And I kind of wanted to dress up, well, for me. I never do that.”

  “I’m glad you get to do that. I’m glad we’re going out.”

  “Me too.”

  “And the hair? It’s sexy. I love it.”

  She lets out a breath. “Thank God. Looks like Nico can still fuck Katherine?” she says, teasing me about my text earlier.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say with a wink.

  Thirteen

  Intoxicated

  Nico

  Dinner is sublime. I hadn’t realized how well Geo and Katherine got along. We are seated around a small round table, Katherine sandwiched between me and Geo, and the two women are laughing and joking the entire night, sipping champagne the whole time. Too much champagne, in my opinion. But I want her to have the fun night she deserves and has missed for so many years.

  After dinner, Geo suggests we go to Panic. I’m about to shut that idea down, so that Katherine doesn’t have to make up an awkward excuse, when she surprises me by squeezing my hand and nodding softly, as if she’s unsure and needs a little push.

  As soon as she’s buckled into my car, I turn to her. “You sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’m just drunk enough to want to go but not drunk enough that I’ll throw up all over my shoes.”

  I laugh at her silliness. “They’re sexy as hell, so that would suck.”

  “It sure would.”

  I pull up to the front of my club, and the valet immediately comes to my door. I don’t let the kid help Katherine out of the car; I go around and do it myself. I’m the only one who’ll be touching her, and I’m also shielding her from any accidental peep shows, given that dress she’s wearing. David and Geo pull up behind us in their rental, and we wait for them to get out. We walk straight to the door, Mauricio lifting the velvet rope without so much as a word. I move through the club, my fingers laced with Katherine’s, to the VIP section, where Diego lifts the other velvet rope.

  I escort my guests to a special table off to the side where I know Katherine will be most comfortable, because it’s relatively secluded, yet we can see the entire club since it’s on a platform extending above the club. I signal for Jessica, one of the VIP servers, and ask for a bottle of our best champagne for the ladies and a bottle of Blue Label for myself and David—and, of course, Matt, whom I texted as we were heading over.

  “Well, look who we’ve got here. The better-looking twin,” Geo says as she stands and hugs Matt.

  “Why is it that these two assholes get the pretty women and me, the nicer, cooler, and better-looking one of the group, is single?” he says as he lets go of Geo and then brings Katherine in for a hug—after asking for permission first, of course.

  “Hi, Matt.”

  “Hey, beautiful. You still with the wrong brother?” he says to my girl, an arm around her shoulder.

  “Hey, man, go find your own woman,” I growl.

  Matt leans in, and I can hear him whisper to her, “You’re at the club. Proud of you.” He plants a kiss on her cheek.

  I may tease them, but it makes me infinitely happy that they get along so well. Matt disliked Naomi from day one, and he’s liked Katherine from the beginning.

  Katherine

  Matt’s arm is around me, Nico is across from me, and David and Geo are whispering something loving (or naughty) to each other. Whose life is this?

  My heart melts at the scene around me. Four months ago I couldn’t have dreamed this, and now I’m living it. I love these people. Really love them. My heart is so full right now it feels as if it’s going to burst.

  After a few sips of champagne, Geo, who is in a scarlet dress so tight it looks painted on, jumps up. “I love this song. Come on, David.” She pulls him over to the dance floor. Matt leaves to take care of something on the other side of the bar, and I’m alone in the booth with Nico, who is sitting with a cigar in one hand and a tumbler of amber liquid in the other, looking so damn sexy and dangerous.

  “You drunk, baby?” he asks, indicating the flute with a nod of his chin.

  I put the flute on the table and slide closer to him. He puts his cigar and drink down and wraps an arm around my waist.

  “Drunk enough to want to say something to you, but not drunk enough that it won’t count.”

  “What do you want to say to me, corazón?” He tucks some stray hair behind my ear and his thumb strokes my cheek.

  “I’ve decided I’m going to let myself fall in love with you,” I say.

  His smile fades. He brings his other hand to my cheek, those emeralds eyes looking intently at me.

  “Then you need to catch up, baby, because I’m already in love with you.”

  “What? Are you drunk?”

  “Drunk enough that I want to make love to you on this table right now, but not enough to actually try it.”

  I laugh and throw myself on him.

  One hand holds me tightly against him, while the other one grabs his phone. “One second,” he says as he ferociously types something into his phone. Jeez, so not the right time to be texting.

  “Come on,” he says at last and helps me up. He pushes the table back a little so that we have more space. I’m not exactly sure what is going on, but I don’t question it. Suddenly the fast-paced dance music stops mid-song and the DJ comes on the speakers.

  “A special request,” the DJ says. The strobe lights stop and the overall lighting dims, and then a familiar song that does not at all belong in a modern dance club starts playing. People look confused for a moment, as do I until I recognize the song: “Just Breathe” by Pearl Jam.

  “Just breathe,” he tells me, because I’ve stopped breathing. He brings his lips to mine and whispers, “I love you, corazón.”

  A big lump forms in the back of my throat. “This was our first-date song. The one you played in my house when we pretended to be on a date.”

  He pulls me close, my head to his chest. “And here we are. Not pretending,” he says.

  It is the best night of my life, and I don’t know how things could ever get better than this.

  I’m falling in love with the man who saved me from myself.

  —

  Life is great. What more can I ask for? In the last few months I’ve been having great sex on a regular basis, and by that I mean all the time, multiple times a day. Every day Nico shows me how much he loves me by just being there with me.

  I look around my tiny apartment, which seems cluttered, since he’s practically living here. Based on the neatness of his own apartment, I know what a neat freak he is, so I’m sure he isn’t comfortable with his suits and clothes squished in a corner. Even though I’ve tried to make room, his stuff is everywhere, and my tidy little apartment is a mess.

  I talk to Geo every day since she left to go back to Paris almost two weeks ago. She’s become such a good friend, and it feels like I’ve known her forever. She keeps hounding me about the wedding, which is in two weeks. Nico has mentioned it a few times too, but when he sees me getting all worked up, he just drops it. Geo, though? She doesn’t drop it. Not at all. She’s practically begging. She’s even said she’d send me a bag of Valium and Xanax if it would get me on the plane. Yesterday she threatened to s
hoot me with a tranquilizer gun.

  Even though I’ve gotten so much better, there’s still one thing left to conquer: the damn elevator. Climbing all those stairs in Nico’s building is a pain in the ass, and that’s why Nico has essentially moved in. I love it, but I know he’s uncomfortable since it’s so small compared to his. So today I’ve decided I’m going to finally—finally!—overcome the elevator fear.

  Every day I’ve tried, but I have so much anxiety over it, I turn back around and take the stairs or run back into my apartment.

  “Do one thing that scares you every day,” I say to myself as I walk to the elevator. It has been months since I’ve started to leave my house, and even though I’m feeling great and the anxiety is down to a mere simmer, I still can’t face the elevator.

  I keep thinking that if I can get in that stupid elevator, I can go to my sister’s wedding. Because nothing can be worse than being in a tiny steel box held up by a cable. If it malfunctions, either I’ll plummet to my demise or I’ll be stuck inside, helpless and in the dark.

  For weeks now I’ve walked over to it every day, pressed the button, and then run back to my apartment when it dings open, like it’s a monster coming to get me. I know that I’m working myself up. I know what reality is, and I understand the extremely low statistical likelihood that any of the things I envision will actually happen. I’m not completely insane. But I also can’t help the fear that bubbles up inside me and distorts my logic.

  Today, however, I woke up with a new sense of bravery and determination and I’m going to take advantage of it.

  I know that the cable is made of steel and it will not break.

  I know that the elevator is in working order.

  I know that it takes only 22.9 seconds from the time it closes on the fifth floor to the time it opens in the lobby.

  Still, I’m nervous. Less so than previous days, though.

  I dial Nico because even with everything that I know, I need someone with me.

  “My sweet Katherine,” he says over the music in the background.

  “I need you.”

  I notice the change in him, even over the phone. “Wait, what? I’ll be right there.”

  The fact that he is so quick to rush to my rescue is heartwarming, but I don’t need him physically here, so I clarify quickly. “No, no, no. Stay there. That’s not what I meant. I need you to stay on the line with me.”

  “Okay. Hold on a second—I need quiet. I can barely hear you.” I hear the music become quieter and quieter. “All right. What’s going on?”

  “If I say the safe word and tell you to call the police or firemen or whatever, just do it, no questions asked, okay?”

  “What?” He sounds alarmed. “What the hell is going on, Katherine?”

  “I’m getting on the elevator and I’m going to the lobby. If it gets stuck, I need you to call for help.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Katherine, you scared the fuck out of me.” He lets out a breath. “Okay, I’ll wait on the phone. Or do you want to wait for me to come over? I can be there in ten minutes and do this with you,” he says while I press the button.

  “No. I need to do this alone. Also, what good would it do me if you’re stuck in there with me?”

  “It’s not going to get stuck,” he says with a chuckle, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

  “So how’s the club tonight?”

  “I heard the ding, baby. Stop procrastinating and get inside.”

  I look at the open door. The elevator car looks so ominous, and now I don’t know if I can do it.

  “Get that cute little ass in the elevator.”

  “Never mind—I changed my mind.”

  “No. You’ve never called me for this before. You’re obviously feeling good about it. I’m proud as fuck of you for doing this.”

  As the door starts to close I press the button again, and the closing doors reopen.

  “So get inside. You can do this.”

  “Nico, I don’t—”

  “Yes, you can. Don’t finish that sentence. You’ve done more in the last few weeks than you’ve done in a long time. You can absolutely do this. I know you can. Don’t you want to be free?”

  I do. Damn it, I do. I take a step and then another one. My feet feel heavy and my heart is beating a mile a minute. I can hear that he’s breathless too.

  “Corazón, just roll with it. Get inside,” he says softly.

  “I’m inside.”

  “Okay.” He exhales. “Press the L and count to thirty. Nothing can go wrong that fast. You know this.”

  I press the button and the doors begin to close. My heart is beating hard against my chest and I’m starting to feel light-headed. “I got this,” I say, mostly to myself. “I can do this. I got this.”

  “Baby, I got you. I’m pulling you close and holding you tight. I got you.” And then the door opens. The descent was so uneventful, it was almost anticlimactic. I’m elated.

  “I did it,” I say as I walk—not run—out of the elevator. “I did it, Nico. I did it,” I say into the phone. I wish he was here. I wish I could hug him. It’s kind of monumental for me.

  I hear some commotion outside, and the doors to my building swing open.

  He came!

  Nico takes off his helmet and looks around for a second. Our eyes meet. He drops the helmet to the floor, takes long deliberate steps toward me, and catches me by the waist to lift me up. “I’m so fucking unbelievably proud of you, baby,” he says, and kisses me silly.

  This is a turning point. I feel it. My heart feels it.

  “I can’t believe you came.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t get a speeding ticket.”

  He slowly sets me down, and my hand goes to his face, brushing against his lush beard. “You could’ve been hurt.”

  “But I wasn’t.” He brings me in close, my arms around his waist and my cheek against his chest. “I’m going to get a ticket for parking on the sidewalk, though.”

  “You should go, then.”

  “I probably should,” he agrees. “But I’m not. Let me move Matt’s bike real fast. Give me a minute.”

  He runs, picking up his helmet on the way out. When he comes back a few minutes later, he takes my hand. “Did you have any particular plan after you came down? Or did you want to go anywhere?”

  I shake my head.

  “How do you want to get back to your apartment?” When I look at the elevator and don’t answer right away, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. As we head up in the elevator, he nibbles on my ass, making me laugh and squirm and all in all forget that I’m in the terrifying machine.

  “Can’t believe you came all the way here, Nico,” I say as he sets me down inside my home.

  “I wanted you to remember this as a positive thing. The subway isn’t a terrible thing, Katherine. It’s scary because of what happened to you and the memories you have of it. Same thing with the dark and the elevators that remind you of the train. Now, I hope, when you have a negative thought about the elevator, you think of all the wonderful things I’m going to do to your body, which I hope to one day do inside an elevator.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  “It really does, doesn’t it?” he says with a smirk.

  “Don’t you have to go back to work?”

  “Fuck work.” He rips my T-shirt off my body. I can’t believe how heated his eyes are. “After I fuck you right here against this wall, we’re going home. My home. I’m fucking you on every flat surface there and I’m not letting you go until you agree to move in with me.”

  “Mo—What?”

  “Shh. You’re in your head.” He dips his head, takes one of my nipples in his mouth, and sucks. Hard.

  “Ahh, Nico,” I pant, pushing his head closer to me. He slides his hand down my jeans into my wet panties. When he can’t get his big hand comfortably in, he takes it out, lets out a growl, and pulls my jeans apart, sending the button f
lying off.

  “Those were my favorite jeans,” I complain, but my annoyance is short-lived, since he’s sliding my tattered jeans down my legs and turning me around. He uses his feet to spread my legs apart. At the same time, I hear him open his zipper and push his pants down. Then, from the corner of my eye, I see his suit jacket fly to the floor. With one hand he moves my arms over my head and pins me against the door. “Need to be inside you,” he pants as he pulls my ass back a little, and then he’s in. It’s a weird angle, since I’m not really bent over, and the cold door is pressed against my chest.

  Seems like Mr. Control in the Bedroom is completely out of control. He’d probably say he’s in charge, since I’m currently being manhandled, but the fact that he can’t even spare the time to take off his pants all the way tells a different story.

  He grunts as he slides inside me, over and over. Then he lets one of my hands go. “Do it. Touch yourself,” he demands, and I reach between myself and the door and rub my clit as he moves in and out of me, his control long gone. It doesn’t take much for me to come, and I tighten around him, unable to formulate thoughts. He lets go of my hand, grabs my hips, and finishes, his nails digging into my skin and his lips on my shoulder. “Fuck, Katherine. Fuuuck!”

  We stay connected like this for a few moments. Eventually he steps away and pulls his pants back up. “Owe you a new pair of jeans.”

  “And panties,” I add, looking at the tiny scrap of lace that somehow ended up in two pieces. “And a T-shirt. Damn, Nico, you destroyed every article of clothing I had on.”

  “Are we gonna pretend you give a shit about the clothes?”

  “Yes. I need to at least pretend. Dignity and all that,” I say as I wink and sass my way to the bathroom to clean up.

  When I get back, I see he’s tossed a bag on my bed. “Pack up. At least for a week.”

  I don’t argue. I don’t tell him that just because I got in an elevator twice doesn’t mean I’ll be able to do it again. Luckily, though, twenty minutes later I am able to get on the elevator again. And for the next week I’m holed up in sex bliss with Nico.