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My stomach heaves and I fight the urge to throw up. I hate telling him I love him, but sometimes I have to. I don’t want to risk angering him further.
I notice another voicemail, but it’s from my mom. I shut my eyes and hit play.
“Hey honey, it’s your mother. You know the woman who gave birth to all nine pounds of you? I haven’t seen you in months, sweetheart, and you barely call me these days. And no, texts don’t count, young lady. Is everything okay, baby? I miss you. Call your mama.”
My mother is the only family I have, and we are deeply close. But I try to limit how often I speak to her these days because I’m afraid. The fear that she’ll find out what’s going on eats at me every day. I can just see it, me hyperventilating on the phone, describing every detail of my life with Ash. It would destroy her. She’d demand I involve the police and wouldn’t accept no for an answer. I can’t let that happen. My entire world would crumble.
I pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the pool of tears from streaking down my face. I’m so sick of crying. I release a long sigh. I need some music. I find the exact song I want on my phone and let the words carry me away.
* * *
DAMIAN
I make my way back to the apartment carrying croissants and a variety of bagels. I wasn’t sure what she liked, so I bought a little bit of everything. I worried about leaving her alone, but I needed to go to the bank to deposit a check I completely forgot about.
As I approach the door, I notice an extravagant flower delivery left next to Lilah’s door. I pick it up so that I can bring it to her, and then I spot the note.
For my only girl. I love you, baby.
Ash
Fucking bastard. My breathing turns savage. So, he thinks he can beat her and then send flowers? As if that’ll erase the damage. Rage fills my body and poisons me from the inside out. I gotta get a hold of myself before I see her. I thought of throwing these damn flowers away, but I can’t. If she finds out I did that behind her back, she may never trust me.
Finally, a bit calmer, I realize there’s music playing from inside my apartment. I reach into my pocket, finding my keys, and open the door. Her back is to me as she sways to the beat of a sad song, my shirt still on her body. Walking inside, I quietly close the door behind me and place the flowers down.
I lean against the wall watching her, captivated by the curves of her body. My tongue darts out, licking my lips. I can’t look away. She bends to the beat, circling her hips to the haunting words about giving up but not wanting to.
Her hands grip the hem of the shirt, lifting it a little as she moves. The urge to replace my hands with hers is so strong. What I wouldn’t give to feel her tight curves gliding against me.
The music continues to play as her body moves rhythmically, matching every beat. Her hands slowly slither from the sides of her full breasts and down to her thighs. I feel like a voyeur, but I can’t stop. She’s so perfect.
Throwing her head back, she whirls around. With her eyes closed and hands weaved in her hair, she’s lost to the sound. Just as quickly, her eyelids flutter open and go wide, redness creeping into her cheeks. She lunges for the phone on the kitchen counter to turn off the music.
Steering toward her, I cage her with my body until we’re almost touching. I want her to keep dancing. I can tell she needs it and so do I. “Turn it back on,” I say, placing my hand over her trembling one. Her back is to me as I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You looked like you were having fun. Don’t stop on my account. Plus, I kind of liked the view.”Why the hell did I just say that?
She reluctantly turns around after putting on the music, her pink cheeks getting redder by the second. I smirk, unable to help myself. I don’t know what it is about her that does me in.
The music keeps playing as I put out my hand to her. “Dance with me.” She regards it for a moment and then takes it.
I pull her in nice and close, loving the feel of her curves flush against me. Her hands loop around my neck as we move to the music like two lovers reuniting. I slide my hands down her back, wrapping her tightly around me. I want her to know that a man’s touch doesn’t have to hurt. I want her to feel it. She lays her head against my chest telling me she knows.
In this very moment, it’s just me and her. My fears and my past be damned. But once the music stops playing and this moment ceases to exist, I know my mind will tell me not to trust my heart.
“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” she murmurs, lifting her head and interrupting my thoughts.
Scanning her face, I detect no sign of regret. “What are you afraid of?”
She traces her thumb along my jaw. “You.” Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, as if she’s at war with what her body wants and what her mind is telling her, just like I am.
I loosen my hold. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.” But that’s a lie. This feels wrong, but damn if it doesn’t feel all kinds of right too.
Her eyes close briefly, as if knowing the truth. “Aren’t we?”
Fuck. She’s right, because I can’t stop thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t, and they all involve her naked.
I release a strained sigh. “Damn, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I detangle myself from her warmth and start to leave but her tight grip around my arm stops me.
“Forget I said that. Just— just don’t go.” She entwines her hand with mine and comes closer. Her brows pinch together while heavy breaths escape her mouth. “We weren’t done dancing.”
