“Like this?”
I arched against Derek’s fingers, moaning, “Just like that.”
He lifted my leg, slinging it over his hips to open me wider.
I wasn’t on top. We were in my bed, lying on our sides face to face.
For the first time.
I gripped his arm tighter as his fingers swirled and danced over my slickened center. “Right there, oh God, yes, right there.”
His ragged groan was music to my ears. “Yes, that’s it, sing for me,” he begged. With his eyes half-closed and his lips parted, he looked almost as far gone as I felt. I loved that. I loved how much pleasure he got just from giving it. I would never have believed, not for a second, that there was a man like him out there, but here he was, his breath matching my gasping pants, his hips thrusting against my leg in time with his fingers. He groaned again, and surged forward, rolling over me and pressing his weight against my chest.
I froze. “Derek?”
His eyes flew open, and all I could see was the stricken look on his face.
But all I could feel was his weight. Trapping me beneath him. I was pinned and powerless and completely at his mercy.
“Baby?” Whatever he saw on my face made him swear and pull back, releasing me. “Shit, baby I am so damn sorry. I lost control.”
The second he released me, the cold panic subsided. Hot shame surged in to take its place.
I stared at the ceiling. My body, poised at the brink of orgasm, still wasn’t on the same page as my panicked brain. I opened and closed my fists, willing myself to stop freaking out and ruining everything…
But I couldn’t.
Blinking fast to hold back the tears of frustration that always seemed ready to fall whenever Derek and I tried to make love, I turned my face away from his. “I’m sorry,” I sighed. It seemed to be something I’d always be saying to him.
I waited for him to soothe me. To hold me and tell me it was okay, that we’d take all the time I needed to feel good.
His silence surprised me into meeting his eyes.
He wasn’t looking at me. He was reaching for his jeans. “Are you leaving?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He pulled out his wallet like it was an answer to my question. “Derek?”
I had no idea why his calm silence was making me panic even harder. “What is that?” I yelped, scrambling back against the headboard.
It was a small slip of paper, torn off at one end. He was extending it to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach for it. “What is it?” I demanded again. I was shaking my head and I didn’t know why.
Derek held up his hand. “Baby, settle down. What are you afraid of?”
“I want to know what’s on that paper!”
“It’s the phone number for local support group.”
“For what?” I pressed myself even closer to the headboard.
He withdrew his hand and let it drop to the mattress. “There’s a meeting at the hospital every Thursday night. For people… mostly women… who are….” His eyes flicked up from his hand to meet mine, and when he saw my expression he seemed to falter. “Like you,” he finished, lamely.
The tears were falling and I didn’t care any more. “Like me?” I spat. “What, pray tell, do you mean? Women like me?”
“Women with… similar… backgrounds.”
“Who let their ex-boyfriends beat them up? You mean you want me to sit in a room with a bunch of other… victims?” I snarled the word. “I’m not a fucking victim, Derek. I thought you knew that.”
“You’re not a victim, Aria, but you can’t pretend it hasn’t… affected you.”
“Oh why? Because I’m fucked-up in the bedroom? Is that it? Maybe you ought to find yourself another woman who will put up with your damage then, huh? Someone who likes it when you get all caveman-macho.”
His eyes registered hurt. “I like to think I’m not exactly caveman-macho.”
“Whatever, that’s your problem.” I grabbed my shirt and yanked it over my head. “I told you, from the very beginning, and you said it was okay.”
“It is okay.”
“It’s clearly not if it bothered you so much you think I need a support group. How long have you had that in your wallet?”
His only answer was a sigh, but that was enough. Reeling, I leaped up. “So you’ve been carrying that piece of paper around, waiting for the right time to spring it on me that you’re not happy with our sex life?”
“Cut the shit, Aria, that’s not what this is about at all!”
“How about you, huh?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you have a support group? Huh? Jesus, which one would you even go to? AA or PTSD, or maybe some other emotional fuck-up you’re walking around with I’m not even aware of yet! So tell me, did you sit in a room with a bunch of strangers and let them shine a light on your deepest, darkest secrets?” I waited, but when he didn’t answer, I rolled my eyes. “No, of course you didn’t. You hid up here, away from the world, so why… won’t you let me… do the same?”
My last question came out in a strangled sob, and I rushed from the bed and into the bathroom before I broke down completely.
“Aria?” I didn’t look up, but I could feel Derek’s presence filling the room. Without thinking, I moved out of his shadow.
“I don’t want anyone to know, Derek. You know that. Why would you ask this of me?”
“Because I don’t want you to think I’m going to hurt you. Ever. I want you to trust me, baby.”
“I do trust you.” I looked up at him as he knelt down and bushed my tears away with his knuckle. “Why don’t you trust me when I tell you that?”
He hesitated. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and then he sighed. “Because, baby. You flinch.”
Anger rose back up again. I pushed myself to my feet and glared down at him, willing him to stand up so I could get in his face.
But he stayed kneeling below me.
I shook my head and looked away. I almost wished, in that moment, that he’d hit me. I knew that. I understood that, and now I knew I could fight back with all I had. “I can’t help that,” I gritted, balling my fists. “And you need to get over it. I’m sorry if it hurts your delicate fucking feelings, but I’m not some broken thing that needs to be repaired.” I glared down at him. “You are.”
It was a challenge. A low blow to hurt him, to make him fight back. To fight me. “Yeah, that’s right. You heard me. You’re a fuck-up, Derek Granger. You’re the broken one in this room, not me. And you need to get the fuck out of my face.” I hesitated. “And out of my house.”
All at once, he stood up, drawing himself to his full height. I almost laughed with the relief of knowing what came next. “Do it,” I taunted him. “Get it over with.” One slap. One punch and I could end this now before my heart shattered into a million pieces over losing him.
He never touched me.
Not even a kiss goodbye as he walked out the door.