by Donya Lynne
Her scowl deepened and she huffed. “No, he doesn’t allow it.” She turned away, a mixture of shame and anger rolling off of her.
“There you have it then. You don’t follow orders.” He kept himself calm, feeling her emotions rise on a tidal wave.
This was what cobalt did. It burrowed in and fucked with the minds and emotions of those using it. Miriam would be like a roller coaster for the next couple of months as she went through withdrawal, her moods changing in a snap, even if she wasn’t showing other symptoms. And if he was allowed to help her through the worst of it, Io would likely trigger her to snap as often as he could just so she could learn how to identify what was happening and cope with it when she did.
She spun around and pointed at him, banging her hand against the comb, causing it to fly across the bed. “Look, no one orders me around.” Her eyes blazed with defensive anger even as she glanced sheepishly at the launched comb. “Least of all my father.” She jutted out her chin, bringing her gaze back to his.
Miriam was clearly someone who was fighting to find her own voice and to be heard. Io got that, but he needed her to see that there were better ways to go about making her voice heard than going off in search of her next high. He stood up and calmly walked around to the other side of the bed and retrieved the comb.
“I’m just saying, Miri, if the shoe fits—”
“Excuse me? If the shoe fits?” Now Miriam looked hurt as well as angry. “Didn’t you hear me? No one controls me, especially not my father.” She crossed her arms. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. I thought you were on my side. I thought you were different.”
Io knelt in front of her, his elbows on his knees. “I am on your side, Miri, but you have to take responsibility for your actions and own up to them. You use cobalt. You’re an addict. A junkie. And you use because, whether you admit it or not, your father made you. You let him dictate your life even in this, Miri.”
She looked away from him and tried to get up, but Io grabbed her hands and pulled her back down.
“You’re wrong,” she said, frowning.
“Am I?” His grip tightened on hers as she tried to pull away.
“I do what I want, when I want. My father has no control over me.”
“Really?” Io wasn’t buying that line of shit for a second. “Admit it, Miri. You’ve let your father control you. You’ve let him direct everything you do. Even your drug use.”
She refused to look at him. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you need to see it, Miri.”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Of course there is. Open your eyes.”
“I don’t want to open my eyes!” She turned her fury on him, unleashing her voice like it was a whip. “Damn it! There’s nothing wrong with me! Just dry my hair, for God’s sake. That’s all I wanted. Not this….” She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting around since she couldn’t free her hands. “This…third degree from you!”
Io released her hands, but before she could get away, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to the floor, pressing his mouth against her ear as she tried to push him away. “I don’t take orders, either, Miri. Not even from you, who I would die for.” The words had left him before his brain-to-mouth filter could engage, but in that moment, he knew he had never made a more honest statement. He would do anything for Miriam. Even die for her if he had to. Where was this profound devotion coming from? How had she gripped him so tightly in so short a time?
In an instant, she stopped struggling. “You would die for me?” Her voice sounded small and confused.
“In a heartbeat.” He ran his palm down her back, knowing in his heart he had found a female worth going to the ends of the Earth for. “And I am different. I’m different because I won’t close my eyes to what you’re doing. I’m different because, unlike your father, I want to help you find who you are. I’m different because I’m not afraid to touch you.” At this, he paused, his mind going back to earlier, before her shower, when she had been so close to opening her hand against his chest to fully touch him. “And damn it, I want you to touch me, too. Really touch me, Miriam. If you want to, touch me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Without fear. If this is what you want, then please….” He trailed off, waiting, hoping, needing her to touch him.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered. Vulnerability didn’t seem to be a trait she liked to show, so for her to trust him enough to let him see her weakness meant everything to him.
“Why not?”
The two seemed to be balancing on the edge of a razor, both of them hardly breathing as they settled against one another on their knees, the quiet stretching between them even as they spoke. Io felt like Miriam was on the brink of a breakthrough, as if she was wrestling with admitting the truth to herself, let alone out loud to him.
“Tell me, Miri. Why is it you don’t know how to touch me?”
She trembled, her arms barely around him, her hands curled into protective fists. “Because….” She shivered again and Io smelled the telltale scent of tears.
Io’s hold strengthened. “Because why, baby? Tell me.”
Miriam exhaled and dipped her head until her forehead rested on his shoulder. They sat together like that for a long time, neither speaking, both hardly breathing, until finally she said, “Because my father won’t let me.”
Ah, surrender.
Finally. She saw. She could admit it. Her father had more control over her than she wanted to acknowledge. And if she admitted his hold on her here, she would eventually see—if she didn’t already—that Io had been right about her father’s control over her drug use and every other facet of her life.
“I know, baby.” Io smoothed his hands up and down her back. “I know, but he’s not here now. And if you’ll let me, I’ll teach you how to touch me.”
Strange how something so simple could be so monumentally difficult, but after living in fear of touching and being touched all her life, he could understand her hesitance, even if he couldn’t relate. What must her life have been like under such strict rules? Io couldn’t even fathom what life without touching another person outside his immediate family would be like. And Miriam didn’t just live without touch, she lived in fear of it, because anyone who laid hands on her would be punished, perhaps even put to death, depending on the circumstances.
He flattened his palms against her back. “Feel that?” he said. “Feel my hands?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Put your hands on me this way.” He pressed his palms against her back, his fingers splayed.
Miriam trembled as she slid her arms more fully around him, stopping once self-consciously before opening her fists. Her fingertips pressed into his back, and then as if she had taken a deep breath and jumped into the deep end of the pool, she flattened her hands on his back.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Io said.
She shook her head. “No.” A weak breath of air that sounded like a feeble attempt at laughter escaped her.
He began caressing her back with slow, tender circles. “Now, do what I’m doing.”
This was a first for Io. He had slept with more women than he could count, but he had never had to teach any of them how to touch him. On the contrary, most had been well-versed in how to touch a man.
Oh, he was sure Miriam knew the mechanics of intimacy, and she had certainly seen others engage in caressing and feeling, but knowing how things worked and actually experiencing it were two totally different things. It was like driving a car. You read your driver’s manual, learned all the rules, and had probably watched others driving to the point you knew the mechanics. Even so, that first time behind the wheel was a scary thing, and when all that knowledge was put to a live test, nerves could get in the way.
Miriam was taking her first real drive with a male. She was assimilating everything she had read, seen in movies, or witnessed first-hand, but for the first time she was in the drive
r’s seat. What she had read or seen with others was now happening to her.
And for a first-time driver, she wasn’t bad. Not at all. On the contrary. Io only hoped he would have the strength to stop before things got out of hand.
* * *
Miriam mimicked what Io was doing with his hands, letting hers ride up and over the gentle, sloping contours of the muscles in his back and shoulders.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Just feel me.”
She did as he said, shutting down her sense of sight and using her hands to see him, much the way a blind person would.
“That’s good,” he said.
He felt bigger and stronger than he looked. How strange that eyesight could diminish the power she could feel simply by touching him.
She smiled as he leaned back and wiped a lingering tear from below her eye as his free hand ran down her hip and thigh.
Keeping her eyes closed, she bit the inside of her lip as her fingers drew over his shoulders and down his arms. He flexed, making his muscles pop out more sharply under her palms. Passing over the edges of his short sleeves, she found his skin to be warm and soft, smooth, but underneath was like stone. He slowly raised his arms, taking her hands with them.
“What do you feel?” he said, his voice coming from beside her face. So close, in fact, that she felt his breath on her cheek.
“You’re like a sculpture. Carved and solid. Hard like stone, but warm.” She grinned as his cheek pressed against hers, rubbing her the way cats rub their humans with their heads. “You feel bigger than you look, too.”
He let out a quiet laugh, and his cheek rose against hers as he smiled. “I do, huh?”
“Yes.” She bowed her head bashfully.
Only minutes ago, she had been angry with him, but now she couldn’t imagine why. Touching him was fascinating and provocative, sensual in the purest form. She skimmed her hands back up his arms and inward over his hard, rounded shoulders before dropping them down to his chest.
“Mmm.” A quiet purr broke behind his sternum and vibrated against her palms, his solid pecs lifting as he moved against her, sitting taller. His left pec popped once against her hand, and she gasped.
“Do that again,” she said on a breath, pressing her hands more firmly against his chest.
“What? This?” His left pec jumped again, followed immediately by the right.
Miriam inhaled sharply. She didn’t know why, but him flexing his chest like that turned her on. “Yes.”
“Do you like when I do that?” His body crept closer to hers.
With her eyes still closed, every other sense was heightened. The scent of clean skin assaulted her, and the way another quiet purr bubbled in his chest was like a roar.
“Yes,” she said.
He moaned as she skimmed her hands down the sides of his torso, feeling each ridge of muscle.
“How am I doing?” She opened her eyes to find that Io’s were closed.
“You’re a natural,” he said.
The chemistry between them was undeniable. She felt it, and it was more than obvious he did, too.
“So I passed?”
He nodded and opened his eyes to look into hers. “With flying colors.”
Wow. What was happening here? Between them? Whatever it was, she didn’t want it to stop.
“I’d better dry your hair before this goes much further.” Io cleared his throat and took a deep breath, blew it out as he scooted back.
She stared in wonder as he reached for the hair dryer and stood up. As she drifted up from the floor to the bed, her gaze ranged down his tattooed arm and back up his torso to his chest as he turned and faced her. Using only her hands, she had discovered Io in a way her eyes couldn’t capture.
“I liked touching you,” she said, blinking her gaze up to his.
Shadows turned his hooded eyes smoky, and he hesitated for a heartbeat, his lips parting on an inhale as if he could taste her on the air. “I liked it, too.” He held her gaze through another breath. “Which is why I had to stop.”
With a lick of her lips, she looked down. Miriam understood what he was saying, and she agreed that letting themselves go down a more physical path with one another probably wasn’t the best of ideas. Not that she didn’t want to, because all that touching had set her imagination—as well as her libido—into motion. Io was the sexiest, most alluring male she had ever met. He was the first male she had ever wanted to do bad things with…or good, depending on whose point of view she was referring to, hers or her father’s.
In only a couple of hours, Io had changed her life. He had shown her so much already, awakening her to a way of living she had never thought possible.
Her life would never be the same.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Io took a step back and held the hair dryer down at his side, his groin tightening. He hadn’t thought it possible, but Miriam looked even better with wet hair that hung down in tangled tendrils over her face.
He took another deep breath, beginning to doubt he could make it to nightfall without doing something that would be bad for his health, such as grab a fistful of that lustrous hair, yank her head back, and bite her while his other hand shot up her T-shirt to cup her breast.
God, he was in deep here. And the way she was looking up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushed, wasn’t helping.
He reached out and gently pushed the strands from her face, letting his fingers glide through her hair as he swept it over her shoulder. “Turn around for me,” he said quietly, lifting the hair dryer.
Throwing him a come-hither look, she did as he asked and shifted around to face away from him. Did she know what she did to him?
The air in the room was electric with the chemistry between them, and it felt as though they were both only barely holding back from taking their affection further. The semi in his sweats indicated he was more than ready to take the next step.
“You’re a beautiful female,” he said, letting his palm smooth down the length of her straight hair.
She bowed her head. “And you’re a beautiful male.”
Io had never been called beautiful before, but he liked how the compliment sounding coming from her, especially in that quiet, husky voice that set his heart to beating a new rhythm.
“I’m sorry I upset you earlier,” he said, standing so close that his torso almost touched the back of her head. “But I want you to see what you’re capable of, Miri. I want you to see how special you are and that you don’t need cobalt to help you deal with your problems. And the only way to do that is to help you be honest with yourself.”
“I know. I think I’m beginning to understand.” She kept her head bowed, her voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s you helping me.”
“Why’s that?” He combed his fingers through her hair.
She didn’t answer right away, as if she was carefully choosing her words. “Because I like you. And I get the feeling you understand. I feel like you get me better than anyone ever has. And…well…no one ever stands up to me like you just did.” After a short laugh, she added, “It was nice…in a way.”
Io hadn’t been expecting that. “You’re not used to someone like me, are you?”
She laughed softly, glancing around to the side without turning all the way around. “No, actually. I’m not.”
“And you like it.”
Her brow arched. “Cocky, aren’t you?”
With a chuckle, he leaned forward and draped one arm over her shoulder before kissing the top of her head. “Maybe a little cocky. Is that a problem?”
Fresh laughter, light and airy, burst from her as she reached up and touched his hand. “Not at all, actually. It’s kind of refreshing.”
Now it was Io’s turn to laugh. “Refreshing?”
“Yes. Most of the males I’ve met are spineless wimps who would let me walk all over them if I gave them half a chance. I like that you aren’t like that.”
Io didn’t like hearing about other males she ha
d met and he stiffened, standing back up. “You don’t need to worry about those spineless wimps anymore, Miriam.”
“Oh, why is that?” She sounded like she was flirting with him.
“Because now I’m here. And I don’t like to share.” With that, he switched on the hair dryer.
As he gently pulled long strands of her hair out and away from her body, he wondered over what he had just said. He had never felt possessive of any of the females and human women he had been with in the past. In fact, he had enjoyed sharing them on occasion, and he had with Arion before the truth had come out about Ari’s sexuality. But the idea of letting anyone else touch Miriam caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle and his muscles to twitch. He didn’t like the idea of any other male even looking at her.
He turned his attention back to the way his fingers threaded through all that black silk spilling over her shoulders. He gently pulled her hair away and let it fan out as the hair dryer blew hot air against it. Over and over, he pulled and fanned, pulled and fanned, her hair drying and falling over his hand and forearm in lustrous, shiny waves.
She dropped her head back, eyes closed, relaxing as he brushed drying sections of her hair aside with his fingers to reach for others as yet untouched. Finally, he grabbed the brush and ran it through the nearly dried strands, gently pulling them straight as he aimed the dryer and drew it down the length with the brush.
All too soon, he was finished.
“You’re done?” She sounded disappointed as he set the hair dryer on the nightstand.
“Yes.”
“Shit.”
He grinned. “I guess you liked that.”
“It felt nice.” She sounded like she was holding back.
“I can keep going if you like.” Io would brush her hair all day if she asked him to. Right now, he would do anything to please her. Shit, he would paint her nails for her if he had polish and thought it would make her feel good.