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11
EMERY
Isabella is the only person I’ve willingly been close to in years. Since she was born, actually.
And after all that time, I’ve learned to be afraid.
Because if people touch me, it usually means they want to hurt me.
That must be why I can still feel Adrik's hand around my arm an hour later. Not because his touch was electric, sparking something inside of me I haven't felt in over six years…
But because I hated it.
I hated the way his hand was huge and warm against my skin.
The way his chest brushed across my aching nipples, sending a shiver through my body that concentrated between my legs.
And I especially hated the way his blue eyes flared, pinning me in place as if his hand wasn’t already doing that. Hypnotizing me with promises of everything he could do to me.
Everything he wants to do.
Everything he will do.
I groan and roll over into the ridiculously soft sheets. But even that doesn’t help. How can I argue I’m being “held captive” when my room is nicer than a high-end spa? I haven’t lived this luxuriously since before I got pregnant, back when I was still trapped at home with my dad.
I groan again and shove a pillow over my face. Thoughts of my father and my past life are not going to help me sleep.
Then again, at this point, nothing is.
What I wouldn’t give to be my daughter right now. She’s peacefully snoring in the next room, thrilled with her cool new bed and her cool new go-kart, looking forward to the cool new dog Adrik is going to buy her come morning time.
Children don’t know the taste of fear yet. And they never look a gift horse in the mouth.
I, however, can’t stop looking.
Because this gift horse is wrapped beautifully. But I have to keep hunting for the downside. Beneath all of Adrik’s surface-level beauty is… well, something. I’m not sure yet. An enigma that needs answers. A shadow that needs light.
“It’s just adrenaline,” I mutter, hoping that if I say it with enough conviction, it will become true. “That’s all it is. Leftover adrenaline. I need to relax.”
I can think of a way to help you relax.
I hear his deep voice rumble in my head. A shiver works down my spine.
If I squeeze my eyes closed, I can almost feel the shift of the mattress under his weight. I can practically feel the warmth of his body sliding against mine, his fingers tracing my jaw.
Actually, wait—those are my fingers.
They’re moving on their own, playing out a fantasy I don’t want. A fantasy I shouldn’t want. A fantasy I can’t want.
But if that’s the case, why am I swollen and aching?
Just the thought of him is enough to bring my body to the edge. All it would take is a little nudge. A little teasing, and I’d tip into the oblivion I haven’t felt in six endless years.
“It’s been so long,” I whisper. “I need this. I deserve this.”
Everyone deserves to hide from their fear, if only for a moment. Everyone deserves to feel good.
That’s such a good little kiska, imaginary Adrik croons in my ear. Look at you behaving so nicely, waiting for my permission before you come.
My fingers ghost over my skin, circling around my pebbled nipples, pinching them, kneading them. They hover at the edge of my panties hesitantly.
You can have it, if you want,his voice rumbles in my head. All you have to do is ask.
I whimper. “I have to ask even in my fantasies?”
Always.
Adrik gets off on me begging. Each time he’s made me beg, his eyes have darkened. His fingers have dug into my skin a little harder, a little more feverishly.
As much as I’ll never admit it, I get off on it, too.
Because since the moment Isabella was born, I have been afraid. I look over my shoulder everywhere we go. I check every exit again and again, wondering who might be lurking in the darkness.
Adrik takes that fear away.
I don’t have to be afraid of anything if I’m with him. I don’t have to be in charge of anything. He’ll take care of it all.
All I have to give him in return is… everything.
So when that voice murmurs in my ear again—Beg for me—the only thing I can say is…
Yes.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please touch me.”
Mercifully, the touch—my own, although it doesn’t really feel like I’m controlling anything right now—moves lower and lower. I slide my hand between my legs. My panties are damp. The simple friction of my hand is enough to make me hiss.
Adrik’s voice in my head urges me on.
Beg for me.
Plead for me.
All you have to do is ask, and I’ll give you everything you never knew you wanted.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please.”
The pleasure is hurtling towards me like a runaway train.
But something else is coming with it.
With every passing second, I feel myself tensing tighter and tighter. A clench I can’t release. A claw clamping down on my mind, my body, my breath, and squeezing it all from me.
In one last desperate attempt—for God’s sake, I’m so close—I circle my finger over my clit. But the jolt of sensation brings on a wave of panic so debilitating that I almost cry out in fear.
I’m drowning.
I’m drowning.
I’m—
I swallow a scream and fight my way back to the surface.
And when I open my eyes, I see that I’m still alive.
I have to sit up and rasp air into my lungs for a full minute before I can breathe normally. “Fuck,” I mutter.
I haven’t been able to make myself come in years without having a panic attack. I thought things might have changed.
Seems I was wrong.
Maybe I’m too broken to be healed.
* * *
