by Daria M Paus
“Why aren't you running the fuck away from me?”
I wasn't sure whether he was annoyed—or confused, and even though it was an excellent question, I didn't have the answer. In fact, I was wondering the same thing. It was what I did. Ran. Every time it was about to get serious; every time there was trouble; every time I’d risk feeling something. I’d been repeating the pattern ever since the idiot Adam made me fall for his lies and broke my heart. I’d come to one conclusion: relationships weren’t worth the trouble. I was better off without them. But with Johnny, I wasn't running. I didn't even want to. And I felt so much more than I'd ever felt with anyone before him. It didn't make sense. I didn't understand, but maybe I didn't have to. Johnny had pushed past all the barriers and broken through my defense. I should be scared, and maybe if I started to think—I was. But I didn't let myself see further than this moment. Johnny was the first man I'd ever felt like staying with, through the bad, the deep, and the good. He was the first one I wanted to truly be with. And he was also the only one who I was certain, I could not be with. A future with Johnny was impossible. Maybe that was why I wasn’t afraid. I didn't have to fear what I knew would never come to be.
“I don't want to”
He scoffed. “You should.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, and I wanted to scream. One more unanswered question. It seemed to be all I got from him. If he wanted to shut me out, why hadn't he done it from the start? Why couldn't he make up his mind about what he wanted from me?
“Fine!” I snapped. “Don't tell me. And don't come near me again until you—”
The look on his face cut me off, and for a moment I was stunned. The unmistakable shine in his eyes and the obvious struggle to keep the emotions away, caught me off guard and softened my anger.
“Please,” I said. “I don't want to give up on you, but I can’t—” My voice broke. I took a deep breath and tried again. “At least let me be your friend. It's obvious you need one.”
For a long time, he just stared at me. That well-known spark came back as his eyes locked on mine. It took my breath away, weakened my knees and made my heart gallop.
“No.” He tore his gaze away, breaking the magic. “I can’t. Just leave me alone.”
“Johnny.”
“No.”
“I don't believe you.”
He threw out his hands. “Fuck, Bree.” One hand ran through his hair and his jaw trembled with tension as he looked down at his feet. When his gaze finally met mine, his face was a mask of coldness. I wanted to scream, to shake him. Hell, even slapping him seemed like a good idea.
I settled with a controlled, “Don't do this to yourself. Don't shut everyone out.” I had to fight to keep my voice down. “Don't shut me out.”
“I don't need you,” he scoffed. “Get the fuck out of my face.”
His words made me want to shrink away and lick my wounds, but no matter how much it hurt my ego, and my heart, I wasn't ready to give up.
“I care about you, why is that so bad?”
“I don't care about you,” he shot back. “Is that so bloody hard to get? Take a fucking hint.”
I gasped. I couldn't help it. A few hours ago, he’d been wrapped in my arms, crying out my name. How could something so good have turned so bad in so little time?
Listen to him, the little voice said. He's right. Who are you to him anyway? I wanted to cry. How many times does he have to say it? It went on. Tears sprung to my eyes. I looked up at him and a few rolled over my cheeks. He looked away.
I reached out, but he moved away before my hand landed on his arm.
“Just fucking don’t.”
For a few seconds, I hesitated, torn between sparing myself the heartache by doing as he wished, and the need to fight for what I believed in.
I grabbed his hand before he could snatch it away.
“I know what you're doing but it won’t work,” I said. “You can't push me away.”
“Just go.” His voice was tired, desperate. “Get away from me.”
“No, I’m not leavin’ you.” I reached out my other hand letting it rest flat on his chest.
“Don't,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don't fucking touch me.” He grabbed my hand, removing it.
“Johnny listen to me!”
“No!” He shoved me away but I clung to his hand.
“Get away from me.” His voice went from a snarl to shouting. “Get the fuck out of my life!” He yanked his arm away from my grip, and the sudden force made me stumble. I lost my balance and landed on my butt with a small yelp.
His eyes widened, lips parted and it looked like he’d stopped breathing completely. After a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, he managed a trembling whisper.
“Do you get it now?”
I nodded from my position on the floor. I got it. I really did. He was trying so hard to make me hate him, to make me scared of him. From day one I'd seen straight through his hardcore facade. I didn't need to read his journal to know of the pain he carried inside. It was written all over his face every time he lost himself in thought. How no one else seemed to have noticed was beyond me.
“I get it,” I said. “I get that you’re pushin', people away ‘cause you’re scared. I get that you’re hurtin' so bad but you don't dare to let anyone in. I get that you—”
He sunk to his knees. I was at his side in a flash. Harsh words and bruised feelings forgotten as I wrapped my arms around his trembling body.
“I get it,” I whispered. “That's why I ain't gonna fall for your bullshit no matter how harsh.”
“Fuck you.”
Ignoring his bad language, I let my hand run through his hair in an endless calming motion.
His body relaxed in defeat and I tightened my arms around him, mumbling soothing nonsense into his neck.
He pulled away, glancing at me through strands of hair hanging in his face. Then he averted his eyes, moving to sit back against the wall. With a sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. The wind whipped his hair back, and when I studied his face in the glowing porch light, the unmistakable trace of tears glistened on his cheeks.
I moved to sit next to him. “What happened to you?” I asked. “Who hurt you so bad?”
The barely noticeable shake of his head didn't surprise me. I sighed.
“You have so much light in you,” he whispered.
I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but as he went on, I suddenly understood, and my heart broke a little bit more.
“I will ruin you. I'm poison, Bree. I don't wanna do that to you.”
I took his hand. “Who told you that?”
“I don't need someone to tell me. It's fucking obvious.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I ruin everything I touch. You’ve read the tabloids. You know what they say.”
“You’ve had some serious bad luck, that’s all.”
He let out a sharp laugh, muttering the word. “Bad luck . . . I am the bloody bad luck.”
“Well, I’m not superstitious, so I reckon I’m as safe as I can be.”
“I’m not a black cat or a fucking broken mirror, I’m—” he cut himself off, seeming to struggle with the words before adding in a small voice. “I’ve done things . . .”
“I don't care.”
He fell silent and I took the opportunity to process what he’d said. What could have happened to make him hate himself so much? To make him believe he was such bad luck to the people in his life? What were those things he talked about?
Johnny spoke up, snapping me out of my head and back to the moment. “I said some horrible things to you.”
“It's ok.”
“No. It’s not ok. This is my point. I’m—” His voice broke. I waited for him to catch his breath. “I’m a fucking mess,” he sighed. “I thought I'd fixed it, dealt with it, got my shit together but it's back, I’m—" He let out a long breath. “I’ll never be free from it. You shoul
dn't have to see this.”
The raw honesty made me gasp. It was rare coming from him, but when it did, the uncensored pain behind the words cut like a blade through my heart.
“It’s too late for that,” I said. “I'm here. I know you now, and I wouldn't want to change a thing.” I squeezed his hand. “You don't have to hide from me.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Bree I’m—”
I put a finger to his lips, hushing him. “It will be fine. You're going through a lot, I get it. But while we’re here, let me help you.”
He let out a quick laugh. “I have to hand it to you, you’re the most stubborn person I've ever met.”
I chuckled. “I hear that a lot.”
He gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“Let's go back inside.” I stood, holding out a hand for him. With a few seconds delay, he took it and looked up into my eyes. The exchange made me feel like he didn't just allow me to lead him out of the storm, but to somewhere more frightening than that. He let out a trembling breath and closed his eyes. I studied his face as he struggled with emotions. Then he opened his eyes, got to his feet and let me lead him back to the bedroom.
13
Let me love you
He lay down on his back and closed his eyes. For a moment, I stood next to the bed, watching the small rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
The bed moved under my weight as I climbed to sit next to him. He looked at me, keeping his eyes locked on my face as I watched him.
"You ain’t what you think you are." I let my hand caress his arm, up to his shoulder and across his chest. "You’re not bad. Not poison." I shook my head at the weird choice of word. How could he think like that? I didn't know what he’d been through, but I suspected it was bad. How could anyone have such thoughts about themselves if they hadn't been told so numerous of times? Maybe not verbally, but in some way. I was sure there must’ve been a great deal of emotional abuse or trauma involved to leave him with such feelings. I felt like crying as I thought about it. How could anyone ever tell him he was anything less than beautiful? In just a few days I'd seen straight through him, and I wasn't scared, wasn't poisoned. All I saw was a broken man suffering from too many empty promises and heartaches. How anyone could call that poison was more than I could understand.
"You don't know what you’re talking about,” he said.
"I do. I can feel it."
It looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he sighed and closed his eyes, letting out a long quivering breath.
"Hey," I brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. "You ok?"
He opened his eyes. Without moving a single muscle of his face, he kept on staring at me with those deep dark eyes brimming with tears. My heart swelled with emotion and I had to look away.
When I looked back, his eyes were closed and a wet trail glimmered on his cheek. I reached out, brushing my finger over it. Then I let them stay there as I shifted closer to him. His gaze caught mine, and my heart skipped a beat from the intensity.
I hesitated a few seconds, then leaned in to kiss him. When I pulled away to watch him, his eyes were closed and lips slightly parted. I placed a hand over his heart, feeling the quick beats under my trembling fingers.
He let out a breath, only to suck in a new one. Slow, calming. He swallowed, took a new breath, and then finally, looked up at me.
The look on his face spoke louder than any words could have. The vulnerability, the surrender. Raw feelings he'd never let slip, until now. The reckless abandon of fear. His heart exposed for me to either crush or hold. I hadn't been scared before, but now I was.
I'd wanted him to give himself to me fully, to not hide or hold back. So why did I hesitate? How could I even have any doubt?
He will ruin you. My mind warned. He knows it. You know it. He wasn’t poison, but he didn't need to be. Being himself was enough. Broken, damaged, Hollywood hunk. I was doomed to end up with a broken heart.
Watching him now, I couldn't care. I hadn't been given this chance just to give in to my own fears.
He reached out a hand, caressing my cheek and the moment our skin touched, warmth rushed through me and I knew there was no backing out. I was in too deep already. I’d been from day one.
I kissed him again, and the moment his hand slid into my hair and pulled me down, I knew he'd given up and let the struggle end. His hand trembled when it slid over my shoulder, and his breath quivered as his lips hovered over mine.
"I can't escape it." His voice was raw, broken.
"Then don’t.” My lips brushed against his. "You don't have to act in front of me."
I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips against his. My body was on fire as I moved on top of his, but I wanted to go slow this time. To enjoy every second, to feel every inch of his golden tanned skin under my fingers.
Johnny looked good without a shirt. That was a fact. I’d known it long before meeting him, but tracing my fingers across hard lean muscles was something totally different. I couldn't even begin to explain the feeling. He didn't just look good, he was gorgeous. He felt gorgeous. He tasted gorgeous. He was everything I’d dreamed of, and so much more.
I let my lips trail kisses along his jawline and he turned his head to give me full access, letting out a low moan as I continued down the side of his neck. The sound made my belly clench and my pulse quicken. For a moment, the absurdity of the situation made its way into my mind. Things like this didn't happen to people like me, but here I was, in bed with the sexiest movie star in the world, and he was moaning and shivering under my lips. It wasn't the first time I questioned reality, or my sanity, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
My lips moved down his chest, taking the time to kiss and lick every inch of skin until he trembled with anticipation. My smile tickled his skin. He shivered and squirmed under me as I moved across his belly, lips and hands caressing soft skin until the waistline of jeans stopped me.
I grinned up at him, enjoying the gasps and quivering breaths as I began unzipping the jeans. He held his breath, his body still as I slid a hand inside.
With Johnny, going slow was hard. I wanted all of him. Fast. It took all my willpower not to rip his clothes off, and I knew he was just as impatient. I wanted this moment to last forever.
My hands trembled as I finally allowed myself to remove the last layer of clothes. I studied his chiseled body, illuminated by the moonlight, and the feeling of amazement filled my senses. My presence on the island no longer felt like a coincidence. How could a pure chance—a fluke of nature—have brought me to this moment?
My pulse throbbed in every possible place in my body as I hovered over him, savoring the sight, reveling in the feel of his warm hands on my skin. His eyes locked on mine and for a few seconds, the world stood still. There was nothing standing between us, no barrier, neither physically nor emotionally. He was all mine, body and soul—and I was his. Johnny Grey. Mine. How I wanted it to stay that way, for more than one night of passion. I wanted him for life. But if a few moments like this was all I was going to get, who was I to ask for more?
His skin burned my body as I slid down on top of him and the gasp coming from him made my heart skip a beat. He whispered my name, and for a brief second, I hesitated. Then his arms wrapped around me and I buried my face into his neck. His breaths came in irregular gasps, and mine quivering and shallow as I tried to remember how to even breathe at all.
I kept my eyes locked on his face. The way his eyes fluttered and lips parted in a silent cry would be forever imprinted in my mind. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. It was enough to throw me off the edge as well. And as the last energy pulsated through his body, I let mine sink down onto his. I lay there, trembling and gasping for air, and he did the same.
14
Defenseless
The sun shone through the bedroom window the next morning.
I squinted at the rays seeping through the curtain
. They shone so brightly, taunting me with their positivity. Didn't they know they meant the end of us? Of me?
Would Johnny feel relieved? The chance to finally get rid of me had come. A calm sea. He could easily take me to the boat and ship me out of his life, as he’d wanted from day one. The only thing that had kept me here was the storm . . .
I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t wake him up. I could stay like this forever, tightly wrapped in his arms, head on his chest.
Listening to his heartbeat and feeling the light movement of his chest as he breathed made my throat tighten with emotion and that familiar burn of tears form in my eyes. Even if we stayed in touch, which in reality wasn't very likely, there would never be another moment like this.
"Fuck, the sun?" His sudden voice made me jump.
I shifted, untangling myself from him so I could see his face.
"Storm is over," I stated the obvious.
He let out a deep sigh. "Bloody hell.”
"You have to go back?" I made it sound like a question, even though I already knew the answer.
"I can’t.”
I completely understood. And even though it wasn’t gonna happen, at least not for me, I blurted, "We can stay here."
He gave me a sleepy smile. "Screw the rest of the world, ay?"
He hadn't said no. My heart started to beat faster. Was it possible he wanted me to stay?
"A few more days?"
He scoffed. "Hell, a few more weeks."
I gasped. Did he really mean that? Weeks? With me?
He looked at me, a frown forming on his forehead. “Unless you wanna go home?" He asked. "I can take—"
"No!" I blurted and immediately blushed. Too much, and definitely too obvious. "No need," I said in a calmer voice. "I wanna stay, just . . . just let me call my family."
He chuckled. "Of course." He reached out to brush a few strands of hair out of my face, and the second his fingers touched my skin, images of last night flooded my mind.
I still remembered every inch of his perfectly sculpted body, still felt the taste of his salty skin as I'd trailed kisses down his body.
