Page 91 of Mercy & Malice

“No, it’s reality since your mom is down the hallway. I said I’d get us a place, then we could make out on the stairwell anytime.”

We get to her bedroom door as she utters, “No, we wouldn’t. You barely want to touch me.” Her face drops as she asks, “Are you worried it won’t be as good as you expected? Or is the thrill gone since I’m willing to have sex with you now?”

I don’t know what hurts worse—the pained expression on her face, or the words that I think she’s already convinced herself are true.

Cupping her cheeks in my palms, I gently lift her face until her eyes meet mine. “The thrill will never be gone. You’ve been through hell, and I just don’t want to do anything to make it worse.”

“I just want to feel like me. Like us.” She huffs as she looks past me. “I wonder what we’d be like together if it’d never happened. If you weren’t scared to touch me or break me.”

I have to tell her. But I will when she’s sober. Explaining that I’m scared to come since the last time was in the cage sounds foolish. But I’ve realized it’s why I keep holding back. There’s no way she’ll ever suck my dick again. But I’m also worried if I ejaculate it’ll remind me of that moment in the cage.

“I’m not scared to touch you. I’m terrified out of my fucking mind that I’ll do something wrong and never get to touch you again. Don’t you see that? Yes, sex would be fucking amazing. But I need you.”

It’s only a matter of time before she hates me. It will come to pass. There’s no way around it. My father didn’t make me the devil he wanted her to see when she looks at me. But he’s not done. And neither am I.

50

BROOKE

His words echo in my mind. “How about for tonight we role play. I’ll be me from forever ago and you be you from then too. We’re normal, horny teenagers. No baggage. No trauma. And we’re just two people who want to fuck and have a good time.”

He says, “It wouldn’t have just been fucking if it happened then either. And we can’t right now while you’re drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to know I want you but just tipsy enough that I don’t care about everything else. Perfect combo.”

I already see the denial on the tip of his tongue. Crushing my mouth to his, I let my tongue plead my case so I don’t express the desperation I feel. But he still pulls away. I release him and take a step back. “Okay. Point taken. Unwanted it is.”

As I go to step away, he catches my wrist, his mouth in a hard line before he asks, “Unwanted?” His body presses into me as my back rests against the door. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to turn you down? I’m trying to be a better man for you.”

“You are,” I say.

We go into my room, and I kick off my shoes and shove my jeans down then climb into bed. Sex isn’t happening. So, sleep it is.

When I wake in the morning, I see the partial outfit from yesterday that I’m still wearing, and all the night’s events come rushing back—including the liquor in the form of a headache.

Dragging myself off the bed, I go into the bathroom and shower, then get back in my empty bed while the aspirin finally takes effect.

Micah enters the room eventually with a plate of toast and glass of water.

“Good morning.”

He drops the plate on my nightstand as I say, “I’m not ready for the day.” He chuckles before he lies beside me in bed. “I’m embarrassed about what I said last night. I’m sorry.”

Micah props up on his elbow, his gaze on me. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He shifts, his uneasy stare on me. “But I do want to talk about it more now that you’re completely sober.”

I dread what he’s about to confess. Is this it? Where he tells me he doesn’t want to be with me? “What about?”

When he sits up, his shoulders slump forward for a few seconds before he climbs off the bed. He looks nervous as he rubs his hand across his chin and paces the length of the room.

“Micah, you’re really worrying me.”

He drops to sit on the edge of the mattress. His fingers interlocking on his lap. “I don’t know how to say it, so I’ll just try my best to make sense. I can’t explain how bad I want to have sex with you. But I’ve been avoiding it and didn’t even fully realize it at first. The reason has nothing to do with you. It’s me.” His eyes drop to the floor for a few seconds before they meet mine. “The last time I came was in that godforsaken hell. And it was one of the worst moments of my life. I felt so sick to my stomach and wanted nothing more than for the sensation to stop. I was getting pleasure from your pain.”

“It’s not that simple, Micah. It wasn’t your choice.”

“My head knows that, but I’m scared my body won’t. I’m worried I’ll come and I won’t be able to feel anything else but what I did then. I don’t want to relate something good with you to that horrible moment. And I’m afraid my mind and body won’t distinguish the difference.”

I’m horrible. Here I was feeling rejected and worried about myself. When it was Micah struggling with what happened to him. “That experience—that trauma—didn’t just happen to me. It happened to the both of us. And you’re allowed to have doubts and fears from it. Just be honest with me and we’ll sort it out together. Our first time would be a lot even without the baggage, but now it’s even heavier with it. But I refuse to let them take that from us forever. Maybe it won’t be good for you. If we try and it’s not, then we don’t have to have sex. If you’re not comfortable with it, we won’t. Sex isn’t everything, and it’s never been the only thing I wanted from a relationship with you.”