by Meka James
“You should be on the next episode of Hoarders.”
“You’re such a comedian.”
“I know. I should take my act on the road.”
“Right. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’m gonna take your bag upstairs.”
I watched as he walked away. Once he was out of sight, I headed into the kitchen. Pulling open the dishwasher, I discovered it was empty, so I proceeded to load the dishes.
All the feelings I had the first day I walked into this house were still there. It felt homey and had a warmth to it my own house lacked. I didn’t have that underlying anxious feeling when I was here compared to when I was home. I could never fully relax there. Even when faced with the expectations Mal had for his house and our relationship, I was more at ease here. Our relationship. I was in a relationship with Malcolm, one I wasn’t looking for a way out of now.
I rinsed my hands off once I finished loading the dishwasher realizing, Malcolm hadn’t come back yet. I picked up the few items of clothing and headed up the stairs in search of him. He sat on his bed, shirtless, head hanging down and resting in his hands.
“Are you okay?”
He seemed startled by my voice. “Yeah.” His eyes went to the clothes in my arms. “You cleaning up after me?”
I shrugged. “I was coming up anyway, easy enough to bring them. I, um, cleaned the kitchen, too. Well, loaded the dishwasher anyway.”
He gave a slight laugh as he got off the bed. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, I just did it.”
He took the clothes from me then headed into the bathroom. It could have been my imagination, but it felt like the air was different between us. He seemed to be in deep thought about something when I entered.
“The bathroom will hopefully pass your strict standards,” he joked when he came back. “You can head in there to change or do whatever nightly routine you might have.”
“Are you annoyed that I’m here?” I blurted out before I could think twice about it.
His eyes widened before his brow crinkled. “Never. Why would you think that?”
“Because when I came up here, you looked...I don’t know, you just seemed unhappy or something. Never mind. I’m being stupid. Forget I said anything.”
I moved to grab my bag off the bench at the foot of the bed and found myself wrapped in Malcolm’s arms.
“I want you to live with me, Ginger. That’s where I hope we’ll eventually get to. Until then, I’m more than happy to give you as many sleepovers as your heart desires.”
My hands came up to caress his biceps. I gave them a squeeze. “I like your arms,” I said, squeezing them again.
His arm tensed, causing his muscles to contract.
“Show off.” My hands moved over to his chest before I stretched up to give him a quick kiss. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Um, earlier, at my house. Just now...I always feel like I’m flaking out on you.” My fingers played with the curly patch of hair on his chest.
“You apologize entirely too much for no reason.”
A simple statement. One that was most likely true. And I was sure he didn’t mean anything by it—he wasn’t trying to be mean—but it didn’t stop the anxious, self-conscious feeling from creeping in.
“Sor…” I stopped myself and attempted to pull away.
Malcolm’s arms were locked in place, preventing me from making an escape. He didn’t say anything. He simply held me there. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and started counting in my head. My hands curled into fists against his chest. His hands wrapped around them. I really wished he’d say something, crack some sort of joke, but he didn’t. I didn’t fight it. I didn’t try to pull away. It wasn’t until I felt his hand on my face that I finally opened my eyes. Fearing he’d be angry, I was too nervous to look up at him.
“Old habits,” I whispered and mustered up the courage to face him.
Patience. That’s what was written all over his face. Calm, collected patience. Something that should’ve put me at ease, but it only served to make me feel more like an idiot.
“To stay ahead of the trouble, or try to at least. Apologizing is second nature.” I rambled on.
“Calida, I’m your man, not your daddy. I don’t dole out punishments, so you don’t need to apologize for speaking your mind or expressing yourself. Nothing you say or do will result in you being in trouble, whatever the hell that means. And especially never in relation to you talking about how you feel about anything.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Now, go get ready for bed.”
I jumped when he gave me a playful smack on my ass as he walked away. I picked up my bag and hurried into the bathroom, careful not to slam the door. I dropped my bag onto the counter and covered my face with my hands.
“God, why am I such a freak?” I mumbled to myself.
Why was I constantly doing or saying the wrong thing? But I wasn’t imagining his mood. There was something on his mind when I walked upstairs. There had to be a reason he was just sitting there instead of coming back down.
I shook my head as I unzipped my bag. “Just let it go, Calida. It’s been a long day. He’s probably just tired.” I started laughing quietly. “I’ve really lost it. I’m in here having a full conversation with myself.”
When I exited the bathroom, I dropped my bag on the floor beside the door. Malcolm sat at the foot of the bed, wearing a pair of dark blue basketball shorts. When he stood, my face got warm as I wondered if he wore anything beneath them.
“What are you thinking that created that blush?”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. I was not about to voice those thoughts.
He moved toward me, slow and easy, with a mischievous smile on his face. “I can get it out of you. I know your weakness.”
Again, I shook my head, taking a slow step to the left. I had a good idea of what he had planned.
“Oh yeah. Now I really want to know.”
He lunged for me. I squealed, barely dodging him. I headed for the door, but his arms were around me. He began to tickle me, making it hard to breathe through the laughter.
“What’s in that pretty head of yours?”
“Mal…”
He picked me up, and I found myself on my back on the bed under his merciless attack. No escape. He’d trapped me between his legs as he straddled me. He was relentless, laughing at my fruitless attempts to get away.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My sides hurt. “St...stop...you win…”
He stopped almost instantly, and shifted so his full body weight wasn’t holding me down, but the contact remained. One leg was thrown over the lower half of my body, and one arm laid across my stomach. I stared up at the ceiling, attempting to catch my breath. He propped himself up with his other hand. The weight on my stomach lifted, and his fingers brushed my overgrown bangs out of my face. His warm hand travelled down to my jaw, turning my head to face him.
“That wasn’t very nice of you.”
He looked happy and playful when he answered. “Not my fault you’re extra ticklish.”
“I’ll get you back for that.”
“Bring it on, baby.”
I shoved him, and he started laughing as he fell to his back. “I should make you sleep on the couch.”
We repositioned ourselves so we were facing each other.
He frowned. “You wouldn’t be that cruel would you?”
“Probably not. The last good night’s sleep I’ve had I got here.”
A cocky smile spread across his face. He put his hand on my waist and pulled me closer to his body. “Is that so?”
“Yeah...but it could just be the bed, so maybe you can sleep on the couch, and I won’t have to share.”
“Ouch! You know how to wound a man.”
I laughed. “That’s what you get.”
“Fair enough. But…” His fingers slippe
d under my shirt, softly gliding across the skin on my waist. “You still haven’t told me what was on your mind.”
Instinctively, I grabbed his hand before he could tickle me again. “Don’t you dare or you will be on the couch!”
Malcolm smiled, then leaned forward to kiss the tip of my nose. “Guess I’ll play nice then.”
“Thank you. And fair is fair...but you have to tell me what you were thinking about when I first came up here.”
I bit my lip, mentally kicking myself for bringing it up again. I’d just had a whole conversation with myself about letting it go. When the smile on his face faltered, I really regretted saying anything.
Malcolm repositioned us both, pulling me to his chest as he wrapped his arm around me. He then reached up to turn off the lamp, bathing the room in darkness. Crap! Was this his way of signaling it was the end of the conversation? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?
His fingers stroked my arm, and I swallowed the apology that was on the tip of my tongue.
“I’m waiting,” he said through a muffled yawn.
“Oh. I have to go first?”
“Yep.”
I was glad it was dark now, so he couldn’t see me blush again. “Um...well…” I took a breath. “I wondered if you wore anything under your shorts,” I blurted out.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even laugh. I felt him searching around until he found my arm. Moments later, I got my answer when my hand was placed inside his pants right on his penis. It came to life almost instantly at the contact.
My first thought was to pull away, but instead my fingers closed around his thickness. “You could have just said no.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have your hand on my dick.”
I didn’t need to see his face to know he was most likely smiling at his comment. My hand slid up, and I let my thumb graze across the tip. His breath stilled. That emboldened me. I gave a slight squeeze as I let my hand slide down his length again.
“Ginger…”
“Hmm?”
Malcolm pulled my hand from his pants, and had me on my back, devouring my lips before I even processed what happened.
He held my arms together at the wrist with one hand. He settled between my legs, and pressed his erection against me. I took a shocked gulp of air when he moved to kiss my neck. He nibbled and sucked the flesh there. His hips rocked forward. My eyes squeezed shut. His hand went under my shirt, and palmed my breast. His fingers pinched my nipple. His weight pressed me into the mattress. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My mind went blank.
Chapter 39
Calida
I awoke to an empty bed. The clock beside the bed read eight a.m. Easing out of bed, I went in search of Malcolm. I turned the knob. It was locked. Why was I locked in his bedroom? My eyes closed when the memories came back. Us in bed. Me groping him. Then he got excited and started making out with me. I’d freaked out. I’d had a panic attack.
“No. No. No.” My fingers fumbled with the lock as I tried to open it.
I ran down the stairs. An eerily quiet house greeted me. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. Did he leave the house last night? He’d locked me in the room. He had to. I didn’t remember doing that. I didn’t. Did I? My stomach lurched at the thought. Why couldn’t I remember everything?
I was near panicked by the time I finally spotted him sitting outside on the deck. He turned when he heard the door open. That look. I remembered that look. It was the same one he had the morning after I’d burned Seth’s stuff. Neither of us spoke. He looked tired, like he’d not slept all night.
I walked out on the deck. He got up from the lounger. I stepped toward him. He stepped back.
He stepped back.
I pressed my lips together. My chest tightened, and I fought to ignore the giant boulder in my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.
“Once you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”
Malcolm’s inability to meet my eyes…devastation radiated from him. What had I done?
My throat burned in my attempt to hold back the tears. I wanted to say something. Needed to say something, but words eluded me.
He swirled the cup in his hand, then brought it to his lips and finished off what I guessed to be coffee. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower. Unless you want to go first.”
I shook my head. Malcolm hesitated, as if figuring out the best way to get inside without coming too close to me. I stood between him and the door. Finally deciding on his path, he headed toward me. I didn’t move, but just as he passed by, I reached for his hand. I worried he’d pull away or just keep walking. He stopped, but didn’t look back at me.
“Wh...why did you lock the door?”
Malcolm didn’t answer right away. The longer he took, my apprehension grew. Was he going to say he didn’t, that I had? I silently prayed he’d not say that. I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t handle knowing I’d done that to him. My stomach ached. Blood pulsated in my ears. My heart pounded like an angry drum. I needed him to look at me. If only he’d look at me, I’d know things would be okay.
“So you’d feel safe.”
All of the air was knocked from my lungs. I let his hand go. Why couldn’t I remember what happened? If I could remember, I could make things right. I knew I’d freaked out on him, like the first time. But worse. With the way he acted, whatever happened was a million times worse than before. He wasn’t even trying to talk about it. That was not a good sign. My entire body felt heavy. I stared blankly at the trees until my vision blurred.
I headed back into the house, closing the door quietly behind me. My legs carried me up the stairs. The devastated, defeated expression on Malcolm’s face was in the forefront of my mind. The door to his room was partially closed. The sound of the running water filled my ears as I walked in. The bathroom door was wide open. Steam filtered out, creating a hazy cloud. I could see Malcolm through the clear shower door. He stood with his arms out, resting against the marble walls. His head hung low as he let the water beat down on him. I needed to make things right. I needed him.
Malcolm looked up in surprise when I opened the door and stepped inside. “Calida? What the hell are you doing?”
I ignored his question as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and laid my head against his naked torso. “You make me feel safe.”
I waited for his arms to close around me. They didn’t, so I held on tighter out of fear he’d push me away. Water pelted my face, blending with the tears that I let fall.
“I’m sorry. I know you said I apologize too much, but it’s all I can do. I don’t know why I freaked out. I don’t remember what happened other than the fact that I did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever I did or said. But please, I can’t take the silent treatment. I—”
“Shhh…” he said, finally returning my embrace. “Stop, baby, just stop and calm down.” Malcolm rubbed my back through my wet pajamas. “I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment. Why would you think that?”
“You didn’t try and talk to me. You always want to talk, but you didn’t. You could barely look at me. Like...like that morning.”
He let out an audible exhale then pressed his lips to the top of my wet hair. “I was giving you space.”
“Wha...what did I do?”
“You really don’t remember?”
I shook my head.
I wasn’t sure what he was figuring out, but it took him a while to finally answer my question. “You had a panic attack. Started hyperventilating and passed out.” His answer was short. His tone tense, like he was holding something back.
I blinked some of the water from my eyes. It was then I noticed scratches on his chest.
My fingers ran across them. “I did this?”
He didn’t answer. When I glanced up, he didn’t divert his eyes. Part of me wished he had. The anguish they held cut me to the bone. I wanted to run, to hide from it and him. The though
ts, the easy excuses I relied on all ran through my head. He deserved better. That one screamed the loudest. Running was easy. Running didn’t hurt.
No. I needed to fix this.
“Tell me all of it, Malcolm.”
Chapter 40
Malcolm
I closed my eyes not wanting to remember what happened last night, but being unable to forget. It all happened so fast. One minute we were okay, and the next was the worst moment of my life. Ginger touched the scratches she’d caused. I deserved them, and a hell of a lot more. Fuck! Part of me was worried about the fact she didn’t remember, but a bigger part of me was relieved.
Now she wanted me to tell her. To remind her of how much she’d feared me last night. When she’d walked outside this morning, the first thing I wanted to do was hold her. To make sure she was okay, and to apologize for sending her into another attack. What came out was me giving her an escape.
“Malcolm. Please tell me.” Her voice was small, but that fearful look from last night had vanished. That fact alone gave me a little peace of mind.
“You aren’t the one that needs to apologize. Not by a long shot. I fucked up last night, and I’m sorry for that. I pushed. I pushed too much. Again. And I’m sorry. Sorry doesn’t even cut it. There needs to be a better word for how regretful I am.” If ever there was a time in my life I could have cried from being so lost, last night was it.
She shifted, and I thought she was pulling away. Instead she kissed the scratches on my chest before stretching up to try and kiss me. I turned my head, letting her make contact with my cheek.
“Oh…am I no longer allowed?”
“It’s not that. Let me just finish my shower, and then we’ll talk.”
She frowned before taking a step back. I expected her to get out of the shower, but she didn’t. I watched in shock as she started to unbutton her top.
“What are you doing?”
She pulled off the soaked garment and tossed it to the back of the shower. She then wiggled out of her shorts and tossed them away as well. “You want to shower, so we’ll shower. I’m already in here and wet, so why waste more water?”