by L. A. Witt
Somewhere in the heat of making out and turning each other on, I rolled onto my back. Elliott followed, settling on top of me with his narrow hips between my legs.
And cold panic zinged through me.
I didn’t stop kissing him or touching him, but I suddenly wasn’t losing myself in him the way I wanted to. I tried—Jesus, I tried—but for the first time, I didn’t like being under Elliott. His larger frame was weirdly intimidating in a way it had never been before.
“Let me get on top,” I said between kisses, hoping I sounded playful and not worried.
“Mmm, I love when you’re on top.” He rolled onto his back and grinned as I straddled him. He slid his palms up my sides. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
I grinned back, but every time his fingers trailed across my skin, my heart sped up…and not in a good way. Even now that he wasn’t on top, now that I wasn’t pinned down or restrained, the feeling wouldn’t go away.
I leaned down and kissed him hard, as if that might chase away all my unwelcome thoughts at the same time it turned him on. Elliott moaned, sliding his hands up my thighs and onto my ass. As he wrapped his arms around me, I had to fight the urge to push them off. Since when had a man’s embrace made me claustrophobic?
Since I saw him take down Jesse.
Damn it. Come on. Elliott would never hurt me.
But when he held me, I saw him tackling Jesse. When he caressed my skin, I saw him pinning my ex to the floor. When he whispered in my ear, I heard him snarling a threat to—
I jerked back and swallowed a rush of bile.
Elliott froze. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. Fucking everything.
But this didn’t make sense. Elliott had been disarming a man with a weapon, not getting violent for the hell of it. He was doing his job.
So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him in the video?
Why the fuck was I still scared?
As soon as I mentally acknowledge that I was scared, I couldn’t do it anymore. “I’m sorry.” I moved off him and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Pressing my fingers into my temples, I sighed heavily, trying not to fucking lose it.
“Hey.” He touched my shoulder, and I flinched. “Samir…”
I rubbed my eyes. “Damn it.”
“Talk to me,” he whispered as he sat up beside me. “What’s wrong?”
The warmth of his thigh against mine turned my stomach. I hated myself for it, but I wanted to scoot away and put a few inches between us. I’d come into this room wanting to lose myself in him, and now I was so desperate for breathing room that my skin was crawling. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this tonight.”
Elliott was quiet for a while. I kept thinking he might touch me again, and I was terrified he would because I didn’t think I could stop myself from flinching.
Finally, he whispered, “Is this about what happened at Wilde’s? The video.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Was there really any point in denying it? Mute, I nodded.
He exhaled, arm brushing mine as he deflated beside me. “I don’t know what I can say. He was armed. Subduing him was my job. If I hadn’t, someone else could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I know.” I rested my hands on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet. “I have absolutely no rational explanation. But I can’t get that video out of my head. Seeing you…” Attacking someone. Subduing someone. Easily overpowering someone who’d easily overpowered me in the past. I shuddered. “I’m sorry, El.”
Silence hung between us for a painfully long time.
Finally, Elliott said, “Do you want me to go?”
No. No, I don’t want you to be anywhere but here. I want us to be touching and sweating and screwing until we can’t move.
But I need you to leave and I can’t explain why.
Sighing, I nodded. “I think I just need to be alone tonight.”
Elliott didn’t say a word. He got up, and I listened as he gathered his clothes and got dressed. Then he stopped. I could feel his gaze on me but couldn’t make myself look at him.
A solid minute passed before he softly said, “Are you going to be okay tonight?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Was I really kicking out a guy who stopped in the middle of being kicked out to make sure I was okay?
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, and I wondered if he believed me. I sure as shit didn’t.
Without another word, Elliott left.
And when the front door shut behind him, I fucking hated myself for being so relieved.
Chapter 17
Elliott
I couldn’t breathe as I shut Samir’s front door behind me.
What the hell just happened?
On the way down the walk, I wanted to be sick. Like literally double over and heave. I knew what had happened in there, and it nauseated me.
Samir was afraid of me.
Maybe he understood what had happened in the video, maybe he didn’t, but in the end, he was scared. I’d felt him fighting it even as we’d gotten into bed. His kiss and his touch had been as needy as ever, but there’d been this hint of tentativeness that he probably hadn’t even realized I’d noticed. Like someone cautiously petting a dog even though they were secretly terrified it would take their arm off.
My throat ached and my eyes stung with the threat of tears as I got into my car. I stared up at his house for a second, but I didn’t want him to think I was a creeper lurking in his driveway after he’d asked me to leave.
With a heavy sigh, I backed out and headed down the dark, deserted street. I didn’t know what else to do. Samir couldn’t relax with me here, and he’d asked me to go, so I was going. Yeah, it hurt, but what was I going to do? Tell him I was staying when he clearly wanted me gone?
I cleared my throat. Tapping my thumbs on the wheel, I glanced in the rearview even though his house was out of sight now. Tonight wasn’t the first time fear had tried to join us for a threesome. Samir had a lot of abuse to work past, and I didn’t take it personally.
Except this time, he hadn’t just been recoiling from his demons.
He’d been recoiling from me.
He hadn’t said it out loud, but he didn’t need to. I’d seen the way he’d looked at me in the VIP lounge, and how devastated he was by what he’d seen in that video. If I had to guess, he’d struggled hard with whether or not to take me at my word, because God knew Jesse had probably come up with all kinds of excuses for his behavior. My explanation about what happened sounded perfectly rational to me, but what did it sound like to a man who’d been lied to and gaslit for so long? That was why I’d brought Casey in to vouch for me, and that seemed to ease some of Samir’s worries, but he hadn’t relaxed completely.
I’d spent the rest of my shift chomping at the bit, eager to get to him so we could talk some more. I hadn’t expected him to pounce on me as soon as I came through the door, but I didn’t argue. If he was ready for us to get back to fooling around, then I’d happily follow his lead. Which I had. And then…
Then this.
Gripping the wheel in one hand, I rubbed my neck with the other. There was no point in asking myself what had happened, because I knew. But what the hell was supposed to happen now? I was hurt that he’d kicked me out and that he was probably struggling to separate me from what he’d seen in the video, but I didn’t blame him. His ex was a fucking psychopath. Anyone would be gun shy after being with him for so long.
How do I show you that I’m not him and I never will be?
My heart sank.
Even if I can show you that, are you even ready for another relationship?
I blew out a breath. I should have known better. Ending a toxic relationship was still ending a relationship. He needed time to deal with it. Probably even more time than if Jesse had just been a normal boyfriend. I was kidding myself if I thought Samir was ready for anything beyond sex, and I was definitely kidding myself if I thought sex was all I wanted with him. Maybe I’d just been alone to
o long, or maybe he was just that sweet and amazing, but I had feelings for him that went way beyond what we did in the bedroom. When I thought about him, I didn’t just picture him naked in bed. I saw him carrying on conversations with his pets while he made their food. I saw him leaning against me on the crowded couch when we were watching TV because we were too tired for sex. I saw his face lighting up with that gorgeous smile.
My heart sank even deeper. Hell, it hurt now. Even though it was possible we’d reconnect tomorrow—that maybe he just needed to sleep on things—I was scared that he was slipping through my fingers. That I wasn’t going to see him again.
Because damn it, I wanted to see him again.
Fuck. I fell for you, didn’t I?
Oh yeah. I’d definitely fallen hard for him.
So now what do I do?
~*~
I got up around eleven the next morning. I usually slept until noon or one because I worked so late, but today there was no point in tossing and turning for another hour. Exhausted and frustrated, I shuffled into my kitchen and started making coffee.
Last night replayed in my head just like it had since I’d left Samir’s place. Whenever I’d managed to doze off, I’d dreamed about it. Whenever I was awake, I’d thought about it. Big shock that it didn’t stop just because I was upright with the lights on.
So what now?
I debated texting Samir to check in with him, but I couldn’t find the words. Everything I thought to say—even the blandest and most benign message—sounded like something Jesse might have used to weasel back into Samir’s good graces.
Can we talk about last night?
Is everything okay?
How are you?
Fuck. What could I say? What could I do? Was he mad at me? Or was he just afraid of me? And which option was worse?
The second one. Definitely the second one. I could handle someone being angry with me, but scared of me? God, no. Especially not someone I was sleeping with. Or had been sleeping with. Somehow I doubted another night together was in our future. Definitely not until we’d sorted things out.
So, now I just needed to get in touch with him so we could sort things out, but hell if I knew how to do that without making things worse.
And what if he was right to be wary of me? Had I been too forceful with Jesse? Could I have handled it less violently?
I couldn’t remember a lot of the actual fight. When instinct and adrenaline take over like that, memory can get spotty. I’d learned that in combat. An intense firefight should have been burned into my mind, every second crystal clear, but it just didn’t work that way. The firefight came back to me in fragments, more feelings than actual images, and I couldn’t have given a play-by-play if someone paid me.
All I remembered of that altercation with Jesse was seeing the knife and needing to relieve him of it. Get rid of the knife, get him into a position where he couldn’t fight back, and then get him out of there. The rest was vague and fuzzy. The bruise on my face filled in a few gaps. Some missing skin on my knee and elbow filled in a few more. I supposed I could watch the video if I really needed to know every swing, but I couldn’t stomach it. I didn’t want to see the video that had made Samir recoil from me.
In the moment, I’d been absolutely sure of my actions. Jesse being Samir’s ex hadn’t come into play. Had it?
No. No, it hadn’t. I’d been pissed at him for being there, but once the knife had entered the equation, I’d gone at him like I would have anyone else. Casey and Julien had even commented later that they were surprised I hadn’t busted his skull on the floor just because I could.
I shuddered. I wasn’t interested in that. Neither were they, really, but they could both see why a man might want to play basketball with a lover’s abusive ex if given the chance.
So no, I didn’t think I’d overreacted to Jesse that night. Question was, how did I convince Samir?
~*~
For the first time since I’d started at Wilde’s, I didn’t want to be here. Not because I wanted to be someplace else—everyone had their moments when they were stuck at work and wanted to be elsewhere. No, I wanted to be anywhere but here.
The thought of doing my job actually made me sicker than I already was. I prayed like hell no one did anything stupid tonight because I didn’t want to put my hands on anyone. Deep down, I wasn’t even sure I could if I needed to. I’d never second-guessed myself like this, and I didn’t like it at all.
“Hey.” Liam appeared beside me. “You with me?”
I shook myself. “Yeah. Sorry. Just, um…” Might have killed my ability to do my job. “Not a lot of sleep.”
My boss didn’t buy it. I could see it in his eyes—he saw right through me. He gestured sharply at the bar. “Can I talk to you in my office?”
I nodded despite the instinctive oh shit the boss wants to talk to me lurch beneath my ribs, and followed him through the thin early evening crowd. We slipped behind the bar and into the back hall, and he closed his office door behind us.
Leaning against his desk, Liam folded his arms loosely. “You’re not you tonight. You’ve been twitchy ever since you walked in.” He inclined his head, and his face and tone were concerned, not hostile. “What’s up?”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “You know that asshole who whipped out a knife the other night?”
“Uh-huh.” He sounded like he was gritting his teeth. “Your man’s ex, right?”
I winced. “Yeah. Well, someone videoed the whole thing.”
“Shit. Are you serious?”
“Yep. And of course, Jesse sent it to Samir.”
Liam cocked his head. “Why the hell would he send a video of you two fighting? Does he want Samir to see what an asshole he is?”
“He wants Samir to see how violent I am.” I leaned against the door, suddenly out of energy. “You can’t see the knife in the video. It basically looks like Jesse started talking shit, and then I put him on the floor.”
Liam squirmed, visibly uncomfortable. “Which is not something an abuse survivor wants to see his new boyfriend doing.”
“Exactly.” I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I think he believes me when I tell him Jesse had a knife, but last night….” I let my head fall back against the door. “I swear to God he was afraid of me.”
Liam grimaced. “What happened?”
I hesitated, not sure how many intimate details to give, but finally just told him the whole story minus the physical stuff. As I spoke, Liam’s eyes lost focus, and he silently nodded along.
When I was done, he said, “Ouch. I mean, that had to be a kick in the balls for you, but for him? Having been there, done that, I get it.”
“I do too.” I sighed. “I’m not mad at him, you know? All I want to do is fix this.”
Liam pursed his lips. “Just give him time. I’ve been in his shoes before, and it’s hard. That shit doesn’t go away overnight, and I don’t just mean the ex himself. In fact…” His expression darkened and he shifted his weight. “There’s also a possibility Samir might go back to Jesse.”
My stomach dropped into my feet. “What?”
Liam avoided my gaze. “It’s what I did. When my ex started threatening Jon, I went back to him. I didn’t want to, but I was afraid he’d actually hurt Jon.” He swallowed as he met my eyes. “Jesse came at you with a knife. If Samir thinks Jesse will hurt you…”
I thought I’d felt sick leaving Samir’s place. Acid burned in the back of my throat, and I had to fight it back. “What do I do?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. Samir and Jesse aren’t the same as Travis and me, and you and Samir aren’t the same as Jon and me. There’s no one-size-fits-all with this shit.” He took a deep breath. “So I don’t have any advice because what would be a solution for one situation could make another one ten times worse. But if he does come to you, just be there for him and let him call the shots.”
I nodded slowly, forcing back some more queasiness. “Fuck.
”
Liam pushed himself off the desk and came a little closer. He looked in my eyes as he put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Right now, all you can do is give him time. Follow his lead.”
“Which means not contacting him.”
“Right.”
I gulped. “And what if he doesn’t make contact with me?”
Liam’s features scrunched with palpable sympathy. “Then I guess you have your answer.”
Chapter 18
Samir
Three days had passed since Elliott left my bed. I’d barely slept. I was a mess of guilt, fear, confusion.
In my office between patients, I tortured myself by replaying that video again and again. Over and over. As if it was on some infinite loop, I kept watching Elliott take down my ex. I still couldn’t see the knife, just a sudden shift in Elliott from coolly staring at Jesse to dropping him.
Was I being stupid? Of course I was going to second guess every man that came along after two boyfriends had been violent with me, but was I being fair to Elliott? He was a bouncer. Sometimes he had to do that shit.
Yeah, and what kind of person gets a job like that?
I swallowed hard. It seemed like a gig that would attract bullies and abusers. And yet, Elliott was soft-spoken and gentle. When he’d escorted me out of Wilde’s the first night, he could have easily hauled me out and shoved me into the parking lot. It didn’t matter who’d started the fight, only that they got us out of the club before it cost them any business. But he hadn’t. He’d kept himself between me and Jesse, and when he’d touched me, he’d been firm but gentle. Never threatening. Never rough. Small wonder I’d been comfortable with him from the start.
In the weeks since then, I’d gotten even more comfortable with him. I could breathe around him in ways I hadn’t been able to around my exes. Elliott had never given me a reason to think he’d ever raise a hand to me. But then, had Ollie or Jesse?
Yeah, actually, they kind of did. Ollie had made subtle threats—playful at first, then less so—about wanting to strangle me, and one night he’d finally tried. The first time Jesse had backhanded me, he’d startled me, but hadn’t really surprised me. I’d known it was coming sooner or later. With both of them, things had started out great, and then I’d started a slow descent into a progressively less bearable feeling of uneasiness. They’d steadily gone from the occasional biting comment to a constant sense of menace to physical violence.