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“No.” I finally whisper the answer.
His fingers drop from my neck, letting air rush back in
to my lungs.
His arms shake, like he’s trying to let go of something, and when his eyes drift back to mine they’re still dark, but coated with sadness.
He shakes his head at me, and then turns away, leaving me panting for air in the entryway.
“Wait,” I call after him.
“Leave it the fuck alone, Mik.” He growls, waving a hand to dismiss me. He marches over to the liquor cabinet, pulling a pricey bottle of whiskey from the top shelf and popping it open. He brings the bottle to his lips, not even bothering with a glass as he takes a long chug.
My stomach burns at the thought of even drinking that. Bile threatens to rise up at the sight. Ever since that night, the sight of whiskey makes me nauseous.
“I’m sorry.” I blurt out. “I was…” What was I? Scared? Ashamed? Embarrassed? All of the above. “I trust you, I do, I just don’t know what to think.” I throw my hands up. “It’s all too much sometimes, ya know? And I constantly feel like I have to choose. You. My family. Auden.” My voice cracks when her name leaves my lips. “Why can’t I just love you all?” I feel the tears threatening to escape as I plead with him.
Finally, he spins on his heel, the bottle still firmly in his grasp. His dark eyes peer over me, my dress is ripped at the collar, the dark purple fabric hanging limp over my tits and exposing the top of my bra.
“You have to choose.” He tells me, no trace of emotion in his words. “And you have to choose me, baby girl. I can’t protect you if you don’t.” He brings the whiskey to his lips and takes another long gulp.
“Protect me from what?” I ask, the question coming out whiny. I’m exhausted from hearing the same spiel over and over again.
Trust me.
It’s for your own good.
I need more than that. Reasons, evidence, anything to tell me why I’m trusting him.
“Take that off.” He demands, using the bottle to gesture toward my dress. He completely ignores my question, instead switching tactics.
There's a heat in his eyes and his gaze is trained on me.
I obey, if only because his words light a fire in my core and I hope that this action will get me one step closer to the truth.
Slowly, I pull up the fabric of the dress lifting it over my head and dropping it next to me on the tiled floor. Noah’s eyes are trained on me, watching every movement as I bare myself for him.
I wonder if it’s the symbolic act for him, the idea that every time I peel off the layers of clothing I’m opening myself up for him, one less barrier he has to break through to get back to where we were.
It’s strange how much can change in one night.
I fell asleep in love.
And I woke up broken.
For the past year I’ve been fighting everyone. Him, my family, my fucking head. Nothing falls into place, nothing is right anymore.
I thought I wanted to be numb, that I wanted to be catatonic to avoid all of the damage spiraling in my head. But now, I think I just want his hands on my body, his harsh words. I want him to fuck me until I can’t remember anything, until it all just melts away.
His gaze lights a fire underneath my skin, burning it’s way through my body. Slowly, his legs stalk toward me. The soles of the Italian leather shoes hitting the ground is all I hear as he makes his way over. He abandons the half-filled bottle on the entryway table in favor of bringing his hands to me, running them down my bare shoulders.
“Fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, his hands still on me, exploring every inch of my skin.
His lips hit mine next and nothing about this kiss is soft or sweet.
It’s harsh and demanding. He takes what he wants from me, what he needs. Holding me tightly with his hands gripped onto my hips. I let him take the lead, let him take control. It’s what we both need right now.
He pushes me back against the front door, one hand pressed against my chest to hold me in place while the other runs down my body.
