Destroy Me (Crystal Gulf Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  Comprehension doesn’t last long.

  It never does.

  Chapter Eight

  Bach

  I run my hand over Harley’s thigh.

  I don’t normally take advantage of girls when they’re drunk. Most of the time I’m just as drunk and we’re taking advantage of each other. But this time I’m the sober one, and Harley’s obliterated. Her skirt rode up on her thigh when she moved to lie on her side about an hour ago. The silken pale skin begs to be touched and caressed. I can’t help it. The second my hand touches her I can’t stop. I slowly move my hand down the back of her thigh, the back of her knee, and down her calf. I repeat the pattern until my hand is just as soft as her flesh and our temperature is the same.

  She moans in her sleep. I hate to let her go but I know what’s coming. I gently remove her head from my arm and shake out the numb tingles. Without jostling her I get out of bed and go grab my trashcan setting it near her head. She’ll need it.

  Recalling why she needs it makes me want to lay into Justine all over again. How dare she drag my Harley, my good sweet Harley, into a room filled with that much sin and chaos? That world wasn’t made for her. She drank too much, swallowed too many pills with an air of dangerous abandon that worried me all night. Harley was me last night. Seeing myself in her made my stomach roll. I don’t belong anywhere near her conscience. Harley and Bach are as the same as Harley and Justine. The differences are what make her so special.

  She moans again, this time rolling onto her back. I sit on the edge of the bed with the trash can ready to go. Her tits practically fall out of her corset now that she’s on her back. I can see the edge of her light pink areola. This is how she fell asleep in the garage. With men around her. I imagine not being there and my hands start shaking. The idea of Harley getting hurt is worse than the image of me burning alive in that shed.

  I followed her all night, never took my eyes off her once, not even when she went to the bathroom. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done watching her drink and get high. It was a new kind of burning alive knowing it was my fault she was there to begin with. When she finally passed out I picked her up and carried her to my car. She didn’t fight me. Her light brown eyes looked into mine as I walked her inside my house and put her in my bed. Before she fell asleep she reached out and caressed my cheek, whispering my name like she was finally home. She knew I’d pick up the pieces. Last night was a test. Harley trusted I’d never let her fall, because my lies were the very thing that pushed her off the ledge.

  “Mmm.”

  I cup her cheek with my hand and guide her head over the edge of the bed. She grabs my wrist as her body heaves. Puke fills the garbage can at an alarming speed. I close my eyes at the sounds she’s making. Her body isn’t used to throwing up like mine. She’s going to be so damn sore she won’t be able to walk. When she can’t get any more up I return her head to my pillow.

  “Bach,” she pleads.

  “Try not to move. Just breathe.”

  A tear escapes her eye and slides down her cheek. “It hurts.”

  I set the garbage can down and crawl in beside her. Very carefully I pull her closer to me so she’s lying in the crook of my arm. “Take deep breaths slowly.”

  Her delicate fingers shake when she reaches to wrap them around my neck. “You lied,” she whispers.

  “I lied,” I whisper back.

  “You give a shit about me.”

  “I only give a shit about you.”

  “I’m going to puke.”

  I grab the garbage just in time for round two. “Puke, babe.”

  For the next couple hours she rivals my worst hangover. Unfortunately I lose this battle. Even I didn’t puke that much. When I bring her water it comes right back up. She can’t keep the ibuprofen down. Her body is trembling. I hate myself for doing this to her.

  “I should take you to the doctor.” I smooth her sweaty hair off her face, feeling helpless. Her makeup is smeared around her eyes. Her lips tremble from the strain of throwing up. She shakes her head. “Are you sure?” This is my fault. I did this to her.

  “I want to sleep.” She tries to pull my covers over her.

  “Don’t you want to change? Getting comfortable might help.”

  “I don’t want to move.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  I leave her and go over to my closet. In the very back are some of my clothes I don’t wear anymore. I find a pair of my old high school gym shorts and then grab a plain black shirt, setting them on the bed then crawl over to her. When I move my hands beneath her to unzip her skirt her eyes snap open. She closes them just as quick. She trusts me too much. If she was any other girl the feel of my hands sliding their sexy black mini skirt off would be the start of something that had nothing to do with trust. “For what it’s worth you drove me crazy last night. I didn’t know you could dance like that. Although I didn’t like it so much when you were dancing with that two. After all, I was the only ten in the room. You could only go down from there.”

  I drop her skirt on the floor and then grab my shorts. I’ve never put clothes on a girl before. It’s a strangely new concept. She can barely lift herself off the bed for me to get them over her ass. When she drops down I see her wince. “Can you roll over so I can untie your bodice, my lady?”

  She groans as she rolls on her side and I untie her strings as fast I can. Her corset gives way and her ribs expand back to normal. She slowly returns to her back. I lift the corset off, revealing her perfect tits. “Sit up. Just for a second,” I promise when she moans. I grab her wrists and pull her up, plunging my shirt over her head before she gives up.

  “There.” I lie her down gently. “Does that feel better?”

  In response she pukes over the side of my bed.

  “I get that a lot.”

  She glares at me. “What are you so happy about?”

  I got to wake up with you, I don’t answer. “I’m not happy. I’m just not as miserable as you right now. I can understand how you can confuse the two.”

  Her gaze sends flames my way. “I feel like shit. Like someone ran me over and then dumped me in a frozen lake and then beat me with a baseball bat. Stop with the jokes. They’re not funny.”

  “You’re even beautiful when you’re mad at me.”

  “I’m more than mad at you. Why am I here? Why do you keep playing with me? Why am I in your bed when you can’t stand me?” She’s only talking shit. She knows I want to do more than stand her.

  Now I’m as miserable as her. “You’re here because you were passed out drunk on the floor in a mini skirt surrounded by the underbelly of society. The only safe place was in my bed. Which, I will admit, is a bit of a mind fuck.”

  “Don’t say it like that. I knew you were there.”

  “What if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t there, Harley? Something could have happened to you!” I scream so loud she flinches. I keep screaming, because damn it, I’m scared. “Someone could have raped you! You could have choked on your own puke. You could have been dragged into some perverted bastard’s car and gotten kidnapped. You could have taken a bad drug or met the wrong person. I could have lost you! Why would you do something so stupid?”

  She looks away. “I wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t there.”

  I catch her eye. “You did it before you got there.”

  “Justine told me you were going to be there.”

  I sit up, trying to shake the images of Harley in trouble. “I can’t lose you, Harley. You can’t do that again. I can’t breathe knowing you might get hurt. I can take not having you, but I can’t take losing you too.”

  Forget it. Just forget it. Pretending is going to lead to this again. She’s going to end up passed out without me and everything she is will be ruined. It’s going to hurt her. I refuse to hurt her again. I let it go. I let everything keeping me from her go.

  She looks at me oddly. I can tell she knows everything I told her was bullshit, but there’s still t
hat part of her that will probably never believe a word I ever say again. I didn’t lie about the weather. I lied about the only true thing I’ve ever felt in my life.

  “Did Dylan tell you to watch out for me?”

  “He did.” She bites her bottom lip and looks away. “Look at me, I wasn’t finished.” She does. The pain in her eyes is almost unbearable. “I promised Dylan I would keep you busy for six months while he was gone. But that was before I got to know you. That was before I just wanted to see you to see you. It only took one time. After that my promise to Dylan went out the window. He has nothing to do with why I keep coming back to you. Dylan left you here with me. He left us together. And now I need you. I need you more than him.”

  She touches her chest like she did when I lied, except it’s not pain that she’s trying to keep in, it’s something I never thought I’d make a girl feel. Emotion. “Bach,” she whispers, “what exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I need you, Harley. I don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve to be here right now. But I want to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve even one second with you. Dylan can’t have it. He can’t have something that’s mine.”

  Her mouth is slightly agape. Bach Bachmen just blew her mind.

  “Say something.”

  “I need you too,” she admits quietly, looking around her like someone’s going to jump out and attack her for doing so.

  “What about Dylan? Do you need him?”

  “Not anymore.”

  The shed’s not on fire anymore. It will be again. It never stops burning. But for right now Harley’s pulling me out of the flames.

  I lay down beside her and she rolls over into my arms. I have a lot of things I still need to say, but for right now admitting I need someone is good enough. Because now Harley has the power. I gave it to her. She can leave and take it with her. The shed won’t mind. It’s waiting to burn me.

  “I did not expect this.” Her voice is muffled against my chest.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I knew you were lying but I didn’t know for sure. I think I just wanted to believe that you were because the alternative meant you chose someone else first after promising to come to me. That you left me just like Dylan.”

  “I left to protect you. Lot of good that did.” I run my fingers through her hair to remove it from her face so I can see her better. “Can we talk about something else?”

  She looks nervous. “Sure … ”

  I talk soothingly so the rage in my voice won’t scare her. “If you ever get high again I’m going to lock you in my closet and bring you water and food until you’re too old to even remember what drugs are. I can’t function knowing you’re out there doing what girls like Justine are doing. That may be unfair of me, but fuck being fair. You’re worth way more to me than that shit. They can handle it. They know who to trust and who not to trust. It’s a fragile game they play but they’re used to it. You can’t play it. You shouldn’t even want to!” I’m screaming. I don’t mean to scream. “He had his hands all over you! What if he slipped something in your drink? What if, Harley!”

  She reaches up to touch my face, delicately trailing her fingers over my skin. “I was pretending I was dancing with you. It’s the only way I could do it.”

  “We pretend a lot.”

  Sadness enters her eyes. “I don’t want to pretend anymore, Bach.” I move down to kiss her but she shoves my chest. “Puke breath.”

  I grab her face and bring it close to mine. “I don’t give a shit about your puke breath. If your breath smelled like puke forever I’d thank you for letting me get close enough to smell it. I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you walked into my living room with Dylan’s pain in your eyes. I wanted that pain to be mine.” I don’t wait for her to say anything. I want her mouth.

  The moan she gives me feels better than knowing she needs me too. It’s the sound you make when you want something so damn bad and you finally have it. She wants me. I give her what she wants. I stroke her tongue with mine as hers tries to figure out the rhythm. Right before she gets it I change my pace. I don’t ever want her to figure out where I’m going to touch. She has to wait for me to give her what she wants. I reach behind her head and press her mouth harder against mine, threading my fingers in her hair. She can’t get close enough. I can’t get close enough. My tongue goes deeper, her body pressing into mine. The only reason I stop is because I know she doesn’t feel well still. Otherwise my clothes would be off her, and her smooth naked skin would be against mine. I’d take what’s mine until she couldn’t walk, until my name was the only word she could remember.

  “Why would Dylan do that?” she wonders, trying to catch her breath.

  “He knew you’d never want me.” That was a major point of contention between Dylan and me. I proved him wrong. He never should have left her with me.

  “He was wrong.” Her smile is wide and naughty. “Although I don’t know why I do. You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “I love your ass.” I run my finger over her lips. “I love your lips.” My finger brushes over her eyelashes. “I love your eyes.” When they flutter closed I kiss them. “I’m such a pussy, Harley, it’s unbelievable.”

  “You really are,” she teases. “But since it’s my pussy doing it to you I won’t hold it against you.”

  Her teasing turns me on. Nothing turns me on anymore. “You want to try eating something?”

  At the mention of food her smile shatters. She shakes her head and cuddles up to my blanket. “Punishing you hurts.”

  “That’s what you get for thinking you can run with the wolves. Little Red Riding Hood should have kept right on walking. She should keep running. Am I the most selfish bastard in the world for wanting you to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  I smile at her. “Good thing I’ve always been a selfish bastard.”

  “I can’t tell yet. I know the second you want to run again I’m going to lose you. I only get this for a few hours. Then you’re gone again. With Justine, Brittney, or anyone else lucky enough to get you.”

  I force myself to hold her gaze. “I don’t want to run anymore. I haven’t for a long time. It’s second nature, Harley. I can’t help it. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to have sex with anyone else. I don’t want to drink until I can’t walk. I don’t want that shit anymore. But I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t do it anymore.” I press my forehead to hers. “I can’t take being me. The other night I had to drag myself out of bed with Brittney. I couldn’t even look myself in the eye. Wait,” I demand when she tries to wiggle free. “I hated myself for it. The only way I could sleep with her was by thinking about you. All I could think was this is all I’ll have because I had to let you go. Women who don’t love me, who don’t help me when I fall but push me over the edge. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. Why would I want them over you?”

  “We’ll never work. We can’t. You’re waiting to prove yourself right. You don’t think you deserve to be happy and you’re going to do everything in your power to prove it.”

  I panic. She’s got that look in her eye. The one that means she doesn’t believe me anymore. “I was high. I was fucking losing my shit over you. What else was I supposed to do? She was offering me escape and I took it.”

  “Come to me!” For someone with a hangover she’s got a set of lungs. She pats her chest roughly. “I care about you, Bach. Why do you keep punishing me because of it?”

  “No one’s ever cared about me before. I don’t know how not to hurt you.”

  She shakes her head sadly. “Loving you is going to kill me.”

  My body stills. What … ? She loves me?

  The second she realizes her mistake she bolts upright in bed like I hurt her. She covers her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t take it back. Please, baby, whatever you do don’t take it back.” I grab her face between my hands and look into her scared angel eyes. �
�Don’t be afraid to love me.”

  “I’m terrified, Bach. You’re going to destroy me. I know it. You know it. The whole world knows it.”

  “I’m terrified too.”

  She holds my wrists, looking at me as if I’m making her orgasm and stabbing her with a sharp blade at the same time. I’m satisfying and killing her. I’m doing the only thing I know how to do.

  “You want to know the worst part?” she whispers.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you to destroy me. I want you to have every single part of me. I want you to do whatever you want with those parts. Kiss them, love them, break them, and leave them. I don’t care as long as you’re the one doing it. That’s not good for me.”

  “I’m not good for you.”

  “But that doesn’t matter, does it? Sometimes the one thing we’re not supposed to have is the one thing that makes us want it so much more.”

  “I want so much more.”

  She nods knowingly, letting me go. “Show me.”

  “How?” I grumble, letting her go, too.

  “You know how. Stop running. Stop drinking. No more drugs. No more sex. Get better. Show me that you think you’re worth it so I’m not the only one who does.”

  “Why don’t you ask me to not be Bach Bachmen?”

  “I’m not telling you to stop being yourself. I’m telling you to get better. I’ll help you. I promise. If we have to start knitting and watching the Food Network then that’s what we’ll do.”

  I roll out of bed. Her Square talk was making me itchy. “Come on. You need to eat and drink something.”

  “You’re running.”

  “No I’m not,” I assure her. “I want to make you feel better.” My cocky smile makes her roll her eyes. “Come on.”

  I take her hand and pull her out of bed slowly. She leans against me as I lead her to the living room. After she’s curled up on the couch and the TV is on I go to the kitchen. “Your options are a peanut butter sandwich, just peanut butter, or just bread. I haven’t been shopping in over a month.”