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She stares at the fabric like it has the answers to every one of life's mysteries.
Her voice is a whisper. "He couldn't get it up. For years. Because he didn't want me. Because I wasn't desirable. Because… I don't know. Usually it didn't work. Sometimes it did. He wouldn't talk about it. He wouldn't get help. I kept trying things, working out, wearing lingerie, whatever. But it didn't matter. I was too… too something." She blinks back a tear. "I snapped one day. I couldn't take it anymore. So I found an apartment and I told him it was over. I didn't say it was sex, but he knew…"
"Lacey…" I pull her into my arms. "It's not you."
"But… He… for years. He watches porn. He masturbates. It must be me."
"Lacey, you're fucking irresistible." I run my fingers up her thighs until she purrs. "The way you react to me is so fucking beautiful."
"But you just… you just rejected me."
"I didn't want to." I stare back at her. "But you're drunk. I can't have that."
"Okay." She nods. "I… I just…" She blinks back another tear. "I don't know if I'm ever going to believe it."
"You will."
"You promise?"
"I do."
By the time we get back to my place, Lacey is asleep in the passenger seat. She looks peaceful. Calm. I hate to wake her, but I'm not about to leave her out here.
She stirs as I unlock the doors and undo her seat belt. Her brown eyes fix on mine. All that shame and tension is gone. I'm sure it will be back, but for now, she's unburdened by her past.
"Sorry," she murmurs as I take her into my arms and lock the car. "Alcohol always makes me sleepy."
I have to set her down to unlock the front door. She's tired, not pass-out drunk. The former is adorable. The latter is a problem—I can't trust someone to say when to pain or need or pleasure if they can't say when to booze.
I can't trust someone with my body if they refuse to take care of theirs.
She slings her arm around my shoulder to step inside. Her body is soft and warm and all I want to do is carry her to my bed and leave her there forever.
She's opening herself to me.
She's looking at me like she needs me.
I know better than to fill this empty space with the first thing I find. This is just sex. And it should stay that way.
Otherwise, we'll both get confused. I'll get ideas about how being needed matters more than anything else.
She's different.
The way I feel around her is different.
But that's not enough to change things.
I help her up the stairs and lay her down in my bed. She clutches at my arms with soft moans.
"Mal… I… I really do like you." Her eyelids flutter open. She smiles the smile of an old lover. "I'm sorry things are complicated with your brother."
"Life is complicated."
"That's true." She tugs at my arm. "Come to bed with me."
"You're direct when you're drunk."
"I know. That was when we got into the most fights about it." She opens only one eye. "Just sleep. No funny business."
