Page 93 of Intrepid

The artist in me craved the pain, while my body craved his torment. Ultimately, I craved more of him. So much so, my thighs clenched with the urge to cross my legs every time my mind drifted to that night, tangled in his sheets, wrapped in his arms. I hated the way my pulse hastened, my body came alive at the mere thought of him. That angry look in his eyes warning me not to push him. The wrath of his lips against mine. The punishing drive of his hips, promising regret.

I’d reached the brink of desperation. Obsessed.

I needed distraction. Something that would keep me from overthinking everything like I always did, seeing as Bea had gone to Simone’s for the weekend.

A gallon of ice cream in the freezer begged me to crack it open and sob, while watching The Notebook, or some other sappy romance that’d never come close to the kind of messed up relationship I had with Ty. Instead, I cranked up Janis Joplin’s Piece Of My Heart, one of my mom’s favorites, and picking up a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper from the table beside my art easel, I lifted it in the air like a toast to her. “To fucking heartbreak, and the men who put us through that shit.”

The TV I’d paused showed a woman bound by her arms, her head tipped back, lost to pleasure, though it almost looked like torture, while a man feasted on her somewhere outside of the camera’s view. In time to the music, I stripped off my jeans, and popped my bra free, sliding it through my sleeve. I tossed both garments into my hamper, and kept on dancing in nothing more than a Guns N Roses tee, a pair of boy-shorts, and the knee-high striped tube socks I’d slipped on to help me slide across the hardwood floor.

The charcoal drawing set before me served as a decent diversion, the subject being the woman paused on the TV. Nothing but a still shot, which I’d turned into a sensual image of dark clouds surrounding her, seducing her, as she reached upward, desperate to touch something. The pain and despair I’d captured in her expression mirrored my own.

So not a complete distraction, to be honest. But, hey, I’d found my mojo again.

The pounding at the door made me jump, and I scrambled toward my phone, turning down the music that blasted from the Bluetooth speaker on my desk.

“Sorry!” I shouted, figuring it was the neighbors complaining, as they often did when Bea had her tunes cranked too loud.

Another wallop at the door skated down my spine, and I tiptoed toward it. With no intentions of answering, I peered through the peephole.

Ty stared back, the bright blue of his eyes nearly blinding me. The sight of him tugged free a gasp, and for whatever reason, I ducked, before wondering what the hell I was doing.

I unlocked the door, forgetting for a moment how little I happened to be wearing, until Ty’s gaze dipped lower and back. I tugged the shirt down, trying to cover as much of my thighs as I could. “Um. You weren’t …. I didn’t …. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I see that.” He peered past me as though looking for someone. “You alone?”

Affronted by his question, I frowned and crossed my arms. “You assume I’m sleeping with someone else already?”

“I thought your roommate might be home.”

Oh. Right. I rolled my shoulders, the heat of embarrassment flaring in my cheeks. “Sorry. No, she’s at her girlfriends all night. Do you … want to come in?”

I stepped aside, feeling small, as he passed me and stopped just inside the foyer.

The moment I shut the door, his hands were on me, pushing me into the wall behind me, my back sliding up the surface as he lifted me and dove head-first into my neck.

“You don’t know how bad I need you right now.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t know. We’re back to playing games again.” I tipped my head back, as he devoured my neck, the feel of his lips on my throat sending me into a lust-drunk stupor.

Fight it, my head battled, but his lips disarmed me like ninjas out for the kill.

“My head’s all messed up. I got this noise banging around my skull all the time, but when I’m with you, it’s quiet. It all goes away.”

“Then, why do you avoid me? Why do you constantly push me away?”

Instead of answering, he shut me up with his kiss, and his hands slid up the hem of my shirt, fingers possessively digging into my waist.

“Did you think about me, Sera?”

Always the same question, designed to weaken me. To drag me into his bullshit, so the moment I gave in, he could swoop down and steal my dignity.

“You know I did. That’s how you torture. You’re a torturing asshole, Ty.”

“You know what torture is?” His whisper in my ear sent a shudder down my spine. “It’s wanting something more than fucking air and pretending like you don’t.”

“Why do you pretend? If you want me so badly, then why play games about it?”

He leaned in to kiss me again, his way of not answering my questions, and I kicked my head to the side before he could reach my lips.