by Kira Ward
It briefly crossed my mind to call Kyle and get him to come over and get rid of him. But Kyle had been a little standoffish lately. I’m not sure how quick he would have been to rush to my rescue.
I finally sighed and crossed the room, deciding I should probably see what he was up to in my bedroom. I almost wished I hadn’t.
He was standing at my dresser, digging through my underwear drawer.
“These are cute,” he said, holding up a pair of thong panties that a friend had given to me in college as a joke. “I bet you look nice in these.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Why don’t you put them on? Or are you already wearing something like them?”
He glanced at me in the mirror above my dresser, a leer in his expression that made my heart skip a beat.
“You should go,” I said, forgetting all about any sort of etiquette. “I really just don’t want you in here.”
“Why? We’ve been on three dates. Don’t you think it’s time we get to know each other a little better?”
“I think you should go.”
“Come on, Sloane. Don’t be a prude.”
I opened my mouth to argue, the words right there on my tongue. It would have been beautiful, too, the perfect tongue lashing for a guy who had no idea how to treat a lady. But then he was in front of me, grabbing my wrists so tightly that I thought for a minute that he might break them.
“Most girls are more than happy to jump into my bed by the third date. Hell, I’ve been known to get lucky before the first date had completely ended. But you…I’ve never been left with a kiss on the cheek at the front door.” He moved closer to me, brushing his lips over my jaw before nibbling at the bottom edge of my earlobe. “I thought it was quaint at first. But now it’s getting a little boring.”
“Please go,” I said, forcing as much steel into my voice as I could.
“I don’t think I want to.”
He slid his lips slowly down my throat, nibbling here and there as he went. I stiffened, pulling back as far from him as I could get. His grip on my wrists just tightened, and he pressed his body against me until there were no secrets between us, until I knew he wasn’t just teasing me. He was serious, and I was paralyzed with fear.
He pushed his hips against me, his erection rubbing obscenely against my hip. He lifted his mouth to mine, forcing his tongue between my lips. There was something about it, something about the invasion that woke me, that broke my paralysis. I lifted my chin, made him think I was responding to his kiss. Then I lifted my knee and slammed it into the pathetic bulge in his expensive slacks.
He jerked back, the movement forcing my wrists harder against the wall. I cried out, jerking my arms down. I was free. I turned and ran into the living room, grabbing for my bag and the cellphone that was tucked inside. But he recovered much quicker than I thought he would. He was behind me, throwing out words that made my ears burn. He pushed me, and I fell forward, skinning my knees on the carpet as I slid into the couch. My bag fell from where I’d abandoned it on the coffee table, the contents spilling. I just caught sight of my cellphone sliding under the front edge of the couch when he landed on top of me, slamming his knee into my back. I screamed, and my last thought before he rolled me over was a prayer that someone had heard me.
Chapter 11
Major
“Not tonight, man,” I said into my cellphone where it was balanced between my shoulder and my ear. “I have some proposals that I have to go over.”
“Getting back to work already?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. Don’t see why not.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah, well, you make me feel lazy, what with all the hours you put in at that law firm.”
Jack laughed. “Well, we can’t all be freelancers and make our own hours like you, my friend.”
“I guess not.”
I dropped the phone onto the counter a minute later, watching the picture of Jack disappear as he disconnected the call. Then I turned my attention back to the skillet of sausages and peppers I was sautéing on the stove. I felt a little guilty for turning down his offer of drinks. I wasn’t really lying. I did have a couple of proposals to look at, but they could have waited. The truth was, I just didn’t feel up to the whole bar scene again. I’d been staying in every night that week and I had to admit that I felt better for it.
I was getting fucking old! I had never preferred my own company over that of a pretty girl in some dark, smoky bar. But I just couldn’t get the enthusiasm up for it that night.
I gave the sausages a final toss on the stove, then turned the fire off and poured them over rice that I already had on a dinner plate. I carried it into the bedroom and settled back against the headboard, flipping on the television with my free hand. An episode of Chopped pulled up from the DVR, and I was ready to settle in for the night.
My mom would laugh if she could see me right now.
And that thought reminded me that it had been a couple of weeks since I last talked to her. I should call her, make sure she was alright. Not that my mom would ever admit if there was anything wrong. She was one of those women who was always a pillar of strength even when she was falling apart inside. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for me to act out after my dad died. Because I felt like I was the only one grieving for him. I never saw her cry, never saw her struggle in any way. She just marched on, her head held high, determined not to let anything get her down. And that made my grief feel so much heavier because it was like I was carrying it alone.
I could see now why she didn’t openly grieve in front of me. But I didn’t understand it then.
I took a healthy bite of my dinner and turned up the television, laughing when the contestants opened their baskets and found ice cream in the appetizer round.
I was aware of the moment Sloane got home because I felt the vibration of her front door slamming. She could never just close it. She always had to kick it with her heel or push it too hard with her hand, slamming it instead of shutting it. The doors were heavy; it didn’t take much to close them. Every time I heard her slam it, I reminded myself to call Todd and ask her to have a little more respect for the old door. But then I quickly forgot until the next occurrence.
But not this time. I set my plate down and reached for my phone, and then I remembered that I’d left it in the kitchen. Shit! She wasn’t even in the same room with me and Sloane still managed to interrupt my dinner.
I paused my show and started to get off my bed when I heard voices. They were muffled, but they were coming from the bedroom. I’d never seen her bring a guy home and definitely had never heard more than her off-key singing coming from our shared bedroom wall. The idea that I was about to be on the receiving end of a little overheard sexual activity made the greasy sausage turn into an unpleasant ball in my stomach.
I climbed off my bed and grabbed my plate of food, thinking I might finish it in the living room when I heard Sloane scream. I paused, not quite sure if it was a scream of pleasure or one of pain. It was followed by silence. I waited a second, then decided it was something I didn’t want to know about and started to head out again. And then it happened again. But this time the scream was quite clearly one of pain. And fear.
What the hell was happening over there?
I stared at the wall as though it might suddenly become transparent and show me what was going on. But, of course, that didn’t happen. Instead there was nothing but silence.
She was fine. I was sure she was fine.
Besides, if she wasn’t, I was probably the last person she would want to come to her rescue.
Hell, I didn’t even like the girl.
Chapter 12
Sloane
I hadn’t wanted him to come inside. I’d been dating Ryan for less than a week. It was our third date, and I’d decided it would be our last, so I’m not sure how he ended up in my apartment. I don’t invite people, especially men, into my apartment. Hell, I’d onl
y lived on my own a week, and he wasn’t the first guy I wanted to see my asylum.
So much had happened in the past week. My first apartment. My first job outside of college, a dream job that I thought I’d have to work years to get. My first experience with vandalism when someone keyed my car. I thought it was my neighbor, Major, in retaliation for my calling the building manager two nights in a row because of the noise he made on the other side of the thin wall that separated our bedrooms. It wasn’t the best way to build a neighborly relationship, calling the police on him. But I had to do what I had to do, right?
And now…
Please, please, please!
I managed to get my hand up by his throat. I clawed at it as he tried to hold me down by the shoulders, causing him to roar more with anger than pain. He slapped me hard across the face, knocking my head backward against the floor. I cried out again, tears stinging my eyes. And that made me mad. I wasn’t going to cry in front of this guy. I refused. I lifted my legs, pushing with my shoulders, doing everything to keep him from pinning me to the ground.
I felt his nails dig into my wrists, felt something give as my arm fell back against the floor. I twisted, turned all my weight toward that side of my body, trying to get leverage with my free arm, but he managed to grab my upper arm and force me down against the floor. He had me now, his pelvis holding my hips hard against the floor. I twisted my head away from him as he tried to kiss me, breathing so heavily that his breath washed over me in a sour effect that made my stomach turn. I wondered if I vomited if he would leave me alone. Or would he just keep going, so determined to prove his prowess that even a little struggle, a little vomit, wouldn’t deter him?
I tried to scream again, but his mouth on mine just swallowed up the sound.
This wasn’t happening. That wasn’t his hand pushing up under my shirt, his fingers tearing at my bra. He wasn’t shoving his tongue in my mouth, cutting off my air, the sourness of the wine we’d had at dinner bringing bile up into my throat. I tried to lift my legs, tried to turn my shoulders, tried everything to get him off of me, but I could hardly move. He was so tall, so heavy! I felt like I was being crushed by two hundred pounds of dead weight.
And then…and then it was gone. He was gone.
I immediately drew my legs up against my chest, protecting myself in case he came back. There were sounds, dull sounds, but I didn’t really understand what was happening. All I knew was that he was gone and I didn’t want him to come back.
Chapter 13
Major
Damnit. I want to finish watching Chopped.
I headed for the door again, but then another scream made it impossible for me to ignore. I set my plate of food down on the kitchen counter and stepped out into the hall, standing just outside Sloane’s door and listened. I heard a crash and another scream, and I knew I had to do something.
I tried the knob, and thank God, the door opened. I didn’t think I could have kicked that solid piece of wood open. I spotted them right away, on the floor in front of the couch. Her purse was turned over, the contents scattered across the floor, the coffee table turned on end. He had her pinned to the floor with his body, one hand at her throat and the other under her shirt. His mouth was on hers, but she was trying to turn her head, tears coursing down her cheeks.
My vision just turned red. All I could see was some asshole taking advantage of an innocent girl. It didn’t matter who the girl was. No woman deserved that sort of rough treatment.
I grabbed the guy by the back of his neck and lifted him off her like he weighed nothing. I tossed him backwards, watching him crack his head against the door with a satisfying thud. Then I twisted my fist in the front of his shirt and lifted him, taking him out into the wide hallway.
I buried my fist in his stomach, not once but two, three times, then I thrust my knee up into his face which was bent at the perfect angle as he tried to catch his breath. His nose snapped with an unforgettable crunch. I could have done more. He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, no longer the big tough guy he thought he was. Instead, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him down the stairs.
“If I ever see you near here again, they’ll need corpse sniffing dogs to find your body. You understand me?”
He was having trouble focusing. But he managed to nod.
I tossed him out the door and watched as he slowly struggled to his feet and stumbled over to his car. He glanced back at me once, then tore out of the parking lot so fast that his fancy car fishtailed.
I had to bite back the urge to laugh.
I went back upstairs and stopped by my apartment to grab a first aid kit I kept in the bathroom. Then I was back in Sloane’s apartment. She hadn’t moved except to pull up into herself, hugging her knees so that all I could see was the top of her head and the dark linen of her slacks.
I hesitated, not sure what to do now. I didn’t want to frighten her, but I needed to see if she was injured. I couldn’t just leave her there all alone.
I finally just went to her, kneeling beside her among the debris of the struggle. I had to push her wallet and a small, delicate compact out of my way, afraid of breaking something. Then I reached out a hand to her, hesitating before I gently set it on her shoulder. She sort of squeaked, pulling away as she pulled her legs tighter up against her chest as though she was trying to make herself even smaller.
“Hey,” I said softly, “it’s Major.”
She peeked at me from under her arm. And then she lifted her head slowly.
“Where is he?”
“He left.”
She looked toward the door, then at me again. “Yeah? Are you sure?”
“I escorted him out myself. I watched him drive away.”
She nodded even as her eyes lingered on the door.
“He’s gone,” I said. “A little worse for wear. I’m pretty sure he won’t be back.”
“You beat him up?”
I shrugged. “Guy deserved it.”
Color flooded her face. And then she surprised us both by bursting into laughter. She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle the sound, but it did nothing to stop it. It was one of those gut aching laughs that just can’t be denied. It was about as far from the reaction I had expected that she could give. But it made me laugh, too.
We sat there on her floor, the contents of her purse scattered around us, her upturned coffee table position almost as a barrier to the rest of the room, creating an intimate little space there for the two of us. And we laughed until tears were once again streaming down her face and my belly felt as though I’d done about a billion crunches.
When the laughter calmed, she turned into me, leaning back against the couch so that her head was sort of just lulling there. That’s when I saw the blood on her chin. He’d busted her lip. And there was a definite handprint on the side of her face.
I touched it, outlining it with my fingertip.
“He hit you.”
She shrugged. “He was an asshole. I was just too stupid to see it sooner.”
“How long have you been with him?”
“That was our third date in five days.”
“You move fast, don’t you,” I said, running my thumb over her bottom lip to catch a drop of blood that was forming there. “I mean, geez, calling the building manager on me the first night in your new apartment. Three dates in five nights. Talk about a speed demon…”
She smacked my wrist, but not hard enough to move my hand from my face. And then she wrapped her hand around me, pressing her fingers against the tender skin over my inner wrist.
“Thank you.”
I studied her perfect green eyes for a second. There was something there that I could get lost in, a need that spoke to something deep in my soul. I had to look away before it could suck me in.
I grabbed the first aid kit and busied myself looking for an antiseptic.
“You cut your lip. You should let me clean it up.”
“It’s fine,” she said
even as she ran her tongue over it.
“It should be cleaned.”
I poured a little liquid from a bottle of hydrogen peroxide onto a gauze pad and held it to her lip. She hissed, but she didn’t pull away.
Strong girl.
“Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he…?”
She shook her head. “I think I might have bruises tomorrow, especially on my wrists, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
“Good.”
I pulled the gauze away and studied her lip. It was swelling just a little on one corner. I ran my thumb over it, pulled it down so that I could see the actual cut. It was pretty small, just a little slit that was mostly on the inside, like she’d cut it on one her teeth.
“You’ll live,” I announced.
She smiled. “Thank you, doctor.”
I shrugged. “It’s all in a day’s work.”
Her smiled widened. But then she began to look around, noticing the overturned table for the first time. “I guess I should clean up,” she said.
“You are such a slob.”
“You think this is bad? You should have seen my bedroom when I was a kid. My mom used to say that if there was a prize for messiness, I would win the grand prize every time.”
“I think my mom would have said something similar if she was that poetic.”
She slowly climbed to her feet, clearly already feeling some of the effects of her struggle. I jumped to my feet and helped her by gripping her upper arm. She smiled at me, but there was a weariness in the look that loosened my grip. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel threatened.
“It’s kind of stupid,” she said, a little hysteria creeping into her voice, “but I really just want to take a shower.”