by Dakota Gray
I am beyond turned on. I let him fuck my mouth as deep as he needs to come. His breath turns into choppy pants. I bring my hand up to lay flat on his pelvis to push him. I want to taste him, all of him. The taste of his precome changes, and then he’s spilling into my mouth. Tarek is delicious. I catch the last few drops.
Eventually I have to stop licking and stroking him. His legs are trembling too hard, and the caresses are more torture than pleasure. I put his clothes back in place and finally look up.
I can’t read his expression, but his thumb is gentle as he brushes my dimples. “Nina?”
“Yeah?”
“I will never let you air dry anywhere but on my face.”
“Be still my heart. The romance you promise me.”
He lifts me to my feet like I weigh nothing and kisses the fuck out of me. I believe he’ll keep his word. I believe this man looks at me and thinks I can hang the stars and moon. I try to hold the warm sensation that blooms in my chest as tight as I can.
But I’m the first to break the embrace. “We should get back downstairs. I’m sure your friends have noticed our absence.”
“Doubt it, and who cares if they do?”
Maybe. “Direct me to the nearest bathroom so I can at least try to fix my makeup.”
He leads the way to one. I shoo him off and that takes a long while because the man can read me like a book. When I’m alone, I get a good look at myself in the bathroom’s mirror. What’s ten steps below a hot mess? That’s what I am.
I use the restroom, wash my hands, and cringe at myself while trying to decide the best course of action. I left my purse in the car, and all I have on me is my lipstick. All I can do is work with what I’ve got. I wipe off everything but my eyebrows and reapply my lipstick.
I open the bathroom door. Have you ever been so scared you pee a little? Duke’s standing on the other side of the wall. His arms are crossed, his somber expression is gone, and what’s replaced it is probably the face he uses in court to cross-examine hostile witnesses.
“My mother sent me to look for you. Well, you and Tarek.”
“He should be down at the party already.”
“Must have missed him.”
I raise my brow and hope it says all that I can’t. “Do you have something else you want to say to me?”
The Devil in Armani smiles at me. “I see what he sees in you.”
“And that is?”
“You’re his type. You’re also not his type.”
“I don’t get your riddle.”
He straightens from the wall, offering his arm. I hesitate before I take it. Duke pats my hand, and I’m sure it’s supposed to soothe me, but I don’t think he’s ever met that word.
“What I said isn’t a riddle. You’ve had it tough. That’s something Tarek can understand.”
I wait for the punchline and nothing comes. “And? But?”
“That’s all. I’ve known him for years. He’s never quite made it to content, but you make him happy. I think he’s finally found someone who gets him in return.”
In return. What the hell does that mean? We turn a corner in the massive house, putting the patio back into view, and I still don’t know how to reply. I drop my hand from his arm. “What all did you dig up on me?”
“I stopped after I got to your ex, because that’s all Tarek wanted to know.”
“You stopped?” No part of me buys that. Not with this man. “You didn’t look under every rock?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and then looks me dead in the eye. “I trust Tarek’s judgment of a person.”
I believe him now. “And Nate’s judgment?”
“I trust him with my life.”
If that isn’t a snake oil answer. “That’s not the same.”
He smiles. “Ah, there’s your date.”
And the Devil walks away. I’m not sure if our conversation was to reassure himself or me. I’m just left baffled. What the hell does he mean I’m Tarek’s type? When people say that they never mean it in a good way.
I’m confused as shit.
Funnily enough, Tarek’s expression is mine as Duke stops for a few seconds to tell him something. I meet Tarek halfway and wave in his friend’s direction.
“Satan called and told me Duke isn’t welcome in hell.”
He snorts before placing a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You just talked to Duke, alone. Lemme get you another drink.”
I laugh. “He didn’t grill me. He’s just…”
“Duke.”
“Duke is exactly what he appears to be—ruthless and loyal.”
Tarek seems to consider that. “I’m impressed. Usually people only see the ruthless part.”
“I saw the way he looked at Kennedy. I think he would grovel through broken glass for her.”
He kisses the tip of my nose again. “Wanna know what he said about you just now?”
“What?”
Tarek laughs, probably at my I-will-cut-Duke tone. “He said, and I quote, ‘The dimples are a smokescreen, but she likes you.’”
“He did not say that.”
“Hand to God.”
“Well, he’s right about one thing.” I walk a few feet away from him and wait for the question.
“Which one?”
I throw a smile over my shoulder unleashing my dimples. “They are a smokescreen.”
His brown eyes get all dreamy. “I am stupid over you.”
We laugh, and I wish I could say I shook off the exchange between me and Duke. All I can say is that even after a few more Manhattans bitterness still flavors my tongue.
NINA
* * *
IT’S three a.m. and sleep is elusive. Tarek’s heat is at my back, between my legs and my nape. He’s spooned into me, naked as the day he was born. So am I.
But I can’t shut my brain off. I keep going over and over in my mind the moments we shared, flipping them this way and that, so unsure if what I experienced, how he made me feel, is real. A part of me knows that’s a remnant of my past—another fucking one. How can I believe my lying eyes? I’m just being too sensitive.
Yet the truth is Duke’s words are keeping me up. Was Tarek soft and kind because he knew what my ex-husband had done? Is that why he never mentioned the scars on my pelvis? He’s been close enough to see them. When I told him the dirty details, was his reaction all an act? He’s never questioned or pushed.
I’m so his type. When Duke had first said those words, I thought he meant a woman who could laugh and was a little wild. Maybe even a woman with a lot of curves, some of them just stomach rolls.
I can’t sleep because the last time I tried to push down worries, tell myself I was reading too much in a man’s action, I ended up in a hospital.
I crawl out of the bed away from Tarek and try to breathe through the panic building in my stomach. My chest’s hot and hollow. That heat crawls up my neck, and I know I’m breathing, but my airway feels too tight.
And see. I haven’t had a panic attack since the months after I left Thomas for good. I shake my hands and head to the bathroom. I avoid letting my gaze hit my mirror. I climb into the tub and turn on the water and breathe. Tarek has treated me with respect. He’s been kind. He’s been attentive. He’s pushed me to dig deep and look at the world a little differently.
He has a type.
My stomach flips and I swallow, hard. I’m whipping myself into a frenzy, but I can’t seem to derail the emotions. At some point I opened myself up. I let him in. I exposed my weak spots. I hate how the fear in that one thought wraps around me like a cocoon. A heated argument, and he could jab those wounds with mercenary precision.
I close my eyes and breathe. Over and over, I try to tell myself I’m overreacting. None of that changes the truth. I’m not ready. I’m pushing myself to be because it’s been years since I’ve had a relationship. It’s time, isn’t it? Underneath all the smack-talk I do, I’m still the girl who curled herself into the fetal position when she left
her abusive husband. I’m still too broken to love or be loved.
I may not ever be anything else now, and…is that what makes me Tarek’s type?
I’m so glad the water pouring into the tub is loud. Tarek won’t be able to hear me cry.
24
Tarek
* * *
I’m up before Nina, in her bed, her home…her life. Even though we had sex last night once we made it to her place, there was an added dark cloud hanging over us. This morning I can’t escape the unease that something is going to tilt us sideways.
I take Nina in lying beside me, naked, and vulnerable in more than a physical way. One hand is under her pillow. I don’t think she knows I know about the switchblade she keeps under there. I fight the impulse to kiss her awake, or to finally tell her how I feel. The last would just feel a tad too manipulative, because I’ve lived this eggshell existence before. I know what comes next, and I can only pray this time, just this once Nina and I make it to the other side. So what am I do to but go on?
My stomach snarls, demanding to be fed. I roll out of bed and head to the kitchen. From wall to wall in the small space there’s ingenious storage like pots hanging like decoration above the stove. Even the oven mitts sit framing her oven in a stylish way. The inside of her fridge has the same eclectic choices. Since I know she has a job at a wedding later this afternoon, I pull out the works—sausage, eggs, and biscuits.
When the scent of breakfast doesn’t wake Nina up, I put together two plates and carry them to her room. I stop at the threshold. She’s sitting at the edge of the bed. A scarf covers her hair. Her robe is parted exposing the crease of her breasts, but it’s cinched tight around her middle.
She doesn’t quite meet my eye, but her shoulders bunch up as I get closer.
I ignore the rock sitting in my gut. “Up for breakfast before heading out for work?”
“You…shouldn’t have.”
The tension filling up the space between us, is thicker than before, and my soul feels heavy from it, but I’m not the kind of guy who can ignore it. “Nina, what’s wrong?”
She takes the plate I offer and raises her gaze to mine. The skin beneath her eyes are puffy. She’s been crying. She’s forced herself to look at me as though she has the same prayers as I—please let us make to the other side of whatever this rough patch is.
I sit beside her on the bed, knowing, just fucking knowing she’s about to gut us.
“I had trouble sleeping.” She plucks a sausage and bites into it.
“And?”
“I’ve been obsessing and…feeling a little unloveable.”
I swallow, because what can I say? I can tell her I love her. I love her so much sometimes the shit hurts. I love that she wakes up on my side of the bed even though her side has plenty of room. I love watching her put on makeup. She’s so particular with every color of eyeshadow, every pencil and powder. I love that she laughs like she doesn’t expect it to happen and that only amuses her more.
I love Nina, and it won’t be enough because some dickhead made her believe it wasn’t possible. Society doubled down. Even the nicest of women might have insinuated Nina brought her abuse on herself, asking why she hadn’t left earlier. Bullshit. All fucking bullshit that makes me and Nina sit in this very moment.
“You are not unloveable.”
“Logically, I know I might be making a mountain out of a molehill,” she says not acknowledging my words. “So, I have one question.”
“You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer.”
She puts the plate aside on the edge of the bed, blows out a breath and takes another and another. Finally, she asks, “Duke said something to me, and I’ve tried really hard to shake it off. I’ve tried to tell myself I’m reading way too much into it. But I can’t ignore the pit in my gut.”
I reach out to touch her and she pulls away. “Okay,” I say and try to ignore the pang of hurt that she pulled away from me.
“What did he mean I’m your type?”
My stomach drops.
She’s witty and kind and girly as shit. Fuck, she has a room in her house for her nieces to play. A whole ass room. She took a chance on herself and her craft without flinching.
That doesn’t change the fact when we first met, all I knew is that life had kicked her in the teeth. She had dimples that made me dizzy. Those are things most, if not all, my ex-lovers and ex-girlfriends have in common. I’m human, and I want to lie because I feel like I’m about to lose everything, but the truth is my only option.
“Duke meant that I am attracted to women with dimples.” I pause and take a breath to say the rest. “I am also sometimes attracted to women who…” I place my plate next to hers on the bed then scrub a hand over my face. “I tend to be attracted to women who have been broken in some way.”
She gasps so softly I shouldn’t have heard it, but I do. “Tell me how what you do is so different from…” She licks her lips and doesn’t say men like Thomas but I can feel those words. “You look for women like me. You hope in all her brokenness she’s grateful for a little scrap of attention, kindness. And then what happens? Before me, what always happens? It happens so much you have a type.”
My heart feels like it stops beating. In the silence I fill in the words she can’t bring herself to say. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I attracted to women who’ve been deeply hurt? Is that the only reason I stuck around for her? Is that why I made sure she had a chance to win the contest? Do I get off on trying to save women? And won’t I toss her aside, because like me, she’ll never be fixed?
Ever since college I’ve dated broken people, broken women because that feels safe. They’ll know firsthand just how ugly the world is. I won’t have to explain or expose all my ugly parts for them to understand. They’ll just know life isn’t perfect.
With the hurt in her gaze, I can see how that looks. I can know I maybe haven’t unpacked all my shit.
I try to combat the truth in the silence. “I don’t look for broken women.”
“But you don’t turn away from them.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “They understand. That’s it. That’s all.”
Her brows knit and her eyes turn glossy. “They’ll accept your shitty past because at least it’s better than a fist? Is that what you’re saying to me right now? Is that really your excuse?”
“No. I—”
“We…” she starts and breathes deeply, “need time away from each other to really…” Her face contorts with pain and she tries to sniff back the tears. “I’m so fucking mad at you. Why did you have to look for women like me to feel better about the shitty things you’ve done in life? Why did that have to be your monster?”
“I don’t—”
“Stop. Just don’t say anything else.”
She gets up without another word and goes into her restroom. I don’t know why I sit there on the bed. She won’t come back out. She shouldn’t. I should have walked away, told her no. But that thing in me, that hole, that monster needed a feeding. I wish it could just eat me and be done with it.
I wish I could be the guy who never considered ending his own life and taking whoever else with me. I wish I could see the world in rose-colored glasses. I don’t want to be perfect. I just want to be whole.
But Nina’s done with me and that’s…fucking fair. Fucking right.
Eventually I get dressed. I leave because as I’ve known since the moment she laid eyes on me, she deserves better.
25
Tarek
* * *
“Morning,” Nate mutters and settles down on the bench press opposite of me. He makes no move to go through his usual routine. Duke takes the press to my right.
I glare at Duke. “You were just here yesterday.”
“Yup.” He yawns then lays back, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shake my head. “You guys really aren’t subtle when it comes to interventions.”
Duke yawns again. “But before yester
day, we hadn’t seen you in a few weeks not since things with you and Nina went to shit.”
That’s the truth. If I hadn’t blown through a big chunk of my vacation time for Nina’s trek, I would have disappeared into the nearest national park to camp out for a few weeks. Or until the ache in my chest disappeared or I’ve stopped picking up my phone to call Nina just to see if she was okay.
I don’t tell my friends all that because they’ll worry, ask questions, and still, I’ll be the man who fucked women who were broken in some way. My intent doesn’t matter, only my impact on Nina’s life, her emotions, her feelings. I made her feel unlovable in the most twisted way.
I look to Nate. “Nina and I didn’t work out. I’ve been keeping my head down. Should have called or texted you guys back.” I shrug.
Nate makes a noncommittal noise. “Have you been eating? Sleeping?”
Nope. “I’m fine.”
Nate glances at Duke, and Duke sighs. “Was it something I said or did at the engagement party? I can—”
“Don’t,” I stop him before he can finish. “Don’t even think of the word meddle. Just back off, okay?”
He frowns at me. “Want to hit Fade after work?”
“Nope. Nope to anything you have in mind to try and make me feel better.”
Nate snorts. “You gotta know he’s not going to listen. He’s going to jump on the Make Tarek Better train and not stop until you are.”
Despite how I feel, I manage to find a laugh. “If he does, we’re taking a hike in Yosemite every weekend from now until the end of time. If that doesn’t scare the piss out of him, I’ll call both of your mothers. They love me best.”
Nate whistles. “That’s hardcore, man.”
Duke narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t even play.”
