All I Need: Ian & Annie

by Callie Harper

  Every interaction I'd had with women had been within certain parameters, boundaries that I'd set. Annie, so natural and easy, full of sweetness and kindness, she threatened everything. With every laugh and casual touch, she broke down my barriers better than a well-trained riot squad. She was so guileless, so unpretentious and genuine, I had no idea what to do with her. Frankly, she bewildered me.

  What I did know was that I had to touch her. I didn't think I could go another day without holding her in my arms. All sweetness and softness, her luscious curves, those lips. I was done with just looking. I needed more.

  But I couldn't enter into some rom-com type relationship with her, playing the chivalrous boyfriend who brought her flowers and complimented her on her new hairdo. That wasn't me. Long gone were the days when I could engage in anything resembling normal boyfriend/girlfriend interactions, openhearted and open-armed, trusting the future and whatever life might bring as we held hands and skipped together off into the sunset.

  No, I needed her on my terms. I just didn't know if she would accept them.

  After she fled, I stayed up late in the library, savoring my Scotch. But even my family's Scotch now made me think of her. She was insidious, her charm far more dangerous than anything I'd ever encountered.

  I'd gotten so good at isolating myself. I prided myself in my ability to read people, sensing their thoughts and motivations perhaps even before they knew them themselves. It helped to stay in control, manipulate others, and avoid that worst of all possible feelings: vulnerability.

  But that was the problem with Annie, she didn't have any subtext. She wasn't saying one thing and meaning another. She said exactly what she thought, no matter how unwelcome that thought might be. She didn't dress to seduce, yet I found her more seductive than any woman I'd ever known. I didn't know how to play my usual games with someone so straightforward.

  So I'd offered her a whole new game board. I sipped my Scotch, gazing into the fire. I had no idea how she would respond. I'd set out the trap. Now all I had to do was wait to see if she took the bait.

  * * *

  §

  * * *

  The next day was Saturday and it was a long day. She avoided me like it was her job. I felt my old familiar surliness returning, and I thought about throwing a bit of a tantrum. I could demand attention like a toddler, reminding her she'd been hired on as caretaker. That meant she needed to take care of me. But that would only be satisfying for a moment. I wanted to see the longing in her eyes, the heat I'd only caught a glimpse of so far. I wanted to fan those embers into flames. Tantrums tended to have the effect of a cold bucket of ice water. The resounding splash might provide momentary satisfaction, but the aftermath would prove terribly unsatisfying. So, I let Annie avoid me, scurrying around the corner if she heard me drawing near, fleeing outside as I entered the kitchen.

  Longer still was Sunday. On Sunday, she spent the whole day back at her mother's house. I knew it was in her contract. I'd agreed to the terms. But why the hell did she have to go away like that? Twenty-four hours seemed excessive. She belonged here with me. I roamed the halls, finding the gloom and crumbling opulence oppressive. I used to enjoy my post-apocalyptic dwellings. It appeared as if Annie had taken that away for me, too.

  I even ignored an invitation to a video call from a woman who liked things just as twisted as me. The kinkier I got with her, the further I pushed her boundaries, making her suffer, the harder she came for me in the end. She and I had had some marathon sessions, going all night in a dance of dominance and submission.

  But what did I do, alone in my haunted house? Did I do what any sane, rational red-blooded man would? Just a click away waited hours of indulgence most men would pay dearly for, and this didn’t even involve a monetary transaction. This was a woman in a stable but boring relationship who liked to play naughty while her partner was away.

  I declined. I knew I was losing my mind, but I didn't want her brand of kink at the moment. I wanted Annie. I didn't even know if she'd enjoy playing the way I did, but I had to find out. Her sensuality and responsiveness, combined with her untouched innocence created a potent drug. I was clearly addicted.

  Guess what I did instead? Did I drink myself into a stupor? Good guess, but no. Did I write Annie a love poem, comparing her eyes to twinkling stars and her lips to ripe berries? Hell no, I hadn’t undergone a complete personality transplant.

  I worked out. Over the years since the accident, I’d taken grim satisfaction in bulking up. It felt like a personal act of defiance, getting powerful and huge even as my skin remained scarred and my foot mangled.

  Pumping iron, adding weight, I groaned and grunted through grueling sets. The thought of Annie’s wide eyes when she’d come upon me fueled me on. I’d been surprised to find her there, seeing me without my shirt. Not many had. I knew my back wasn’t a pretty sight. She’d gasped when she’d seen me. But then she’d stayed right where she was, open-mouthed at the sight of my chest. That was the look I wanted to see again.

  After a shower, I settled down in front of my computer and instead of working out some of my pent-up sexual tension like I should have, I did some research into advances on my various medical conditions. I didn't do it often, but I had to admit, when I did look into the subject the pace of medical breakthroughs was astonishing. Fifteen years ago when I'd gotten injured, doctors simply didn't have the technology to repair my foot. Now, it seemed new practices abounded, promising new approaches and methods. I stayed up late, clicking on links, reading descriptions of case studies and experimental procedures.

  At one a.m. I shut it off. The thing about all those cutting-edge reports was none of them came with any kind of guarantee. I'd learned over the years, doctors would promise anything if they knew they'd make big money doing it. Back in the day, there'd been nothing my parents wouldn't have paid to make me well. And they found plenty of doctors who assured them they had the miracle cure. None of it was covered by insurance, of course. Charlatans, all of them. The disappointment my parents felt after I suffered through yet another painful, invasive procedure only to experience no improvement? That was nothing compared to my utter despair.

  It took me a while to fall asleep. I took a painkiller. Nights had been easier under a heavy haze of alcohol. Mornings, however, never used to exist when I self-medicated like that, and tomorrow morning Annie would be returning. I didn't want to sleep through half the day while she was around.

  * * *

  §

  * * *

  It turned out I could easily have slept until noon. She came back early Monday morning, but she continued to pull her disappearing act at the slightest sound. Finally, around lunchtime, I found her in the kitchen. She startled as I entered the room, looking up at me with big eyes.

  “So what's your plan here?” I asked her directly. “Are you going to hide from me 24/7?”

  “That depends.” She put down her fork and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “On what?”

  “On whether you're going to offer me any more crazy propositions that I can't stop thinking about.”

  I grinned. “You can't stop thinking about it?”

  She flushed, looking down at her salad and picking up her fork again to toy with it. “I didn't say that,” she protested lamely.

  “Yes, you did say that.”

  With a sharp exhale, she raked a hand through her curls in frustration. “Well, I didn't mean to say that.”

  I raised up my hands to signify a truce. “Listen, I'm not going to hunt you down.” Even if that was exactly what I wanted to do. “I'll leave you in peace. But if you want to come find me, you know where I'll be.”

  She looked down and bit her lip. She snuck a quick glance up, briefly, but then looked down again. Bastard that I was, I loved seeing her so agitated. “You’re impossible.” She shook her head.

  “Come tell me all about it tonight in the library.” I forced myself to leave. This was a decision she needed to make. I knew wha
t I proposed went far beyond anything she'd ever done or experienced before. But honestly, fulfilling my half of the bargain would take me far outside my comfort zone as well. I hadn't exactly made a habit of sharing all my innermost thoughts and feelings, and I told her I'd answer any questions she asked. I planned on following through on my end of the bargain, as long as she did, too.

  That night, I fully expected to not see her at all. I got comfortable in the library, fire crackling in the fireplace, Scotch poured by my side, and I settled in with a good book. I wasn't picky when it came to reading. I devoured it all, from classics to best-selling thrillers, from dry nonfiction biographies and histories to the latest thinking on current events and politics. That night, I planned on getting through a book I’d just found online about successful next-gen marketing campaigns that took advantage of social media. I wasn't the CEO of Douglas Distillery the way my father had wanted, but I sat on the board of directors. I knew the brand was stagnant. Maybe something in the advice could be applied and breathe life into the nearly 250-year-old brand.

  When Annie appeared at the door, I was honestly surprised. I knew her seeking me out wasn't exactly the equivalent of accepting my offer. But at the very least, it meant she was considering it.

  “Come in,” I welcomed her. “I promise I won't bite.” Unless that's how you like it. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, her hair down, looking young, sweet and nervous.

  “What are you reading?” She settled down next to me on the couch, playing it casual like we were two schoolmates studying for a quiz.

  I set the book aside. “Nothing half as interesting as you.” She brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it, as if she were struggling to work out the answer to some kind of a problem. “What's on your mind?”

  “I want to know how you got injured.” She looked up at me with a directness in her gaze, a fist at her hip as if she were steeling herself for an argument.

  “Yes,” I replied calmly. “You've made your desire known on many occasions.”

  “Then why do you have to make this so complicated?” She waved a hand in the air in frustration. “Why can't we just talk like regular people?”

  “I am quite outside the norm, I'm afraid. Deviant to the core.” I wasn't going to apologize for it. I was who I was. What she had to decide was what she wanted to do about it.

  I stretched my arm along the back of the couch, not touching her, yet encircling her in my warmth. I could sense her response to my closeness, the way she leaned into me, her teeth nipping at her lower lip. She wanted more, too, she was just afraid of it. I reached my hand into her hair, slowly caressing, winding her curls around my fingers like fine silk.

  “I'll tell you anything you want, Annie. I see your mind racing, full of questions. Now's your chance. Ask me, and I promise I'll tell you everything.”

  She looked up into my eyes. “Tell me how you got injured.”

  “You know the price,” I reminded her.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.” She bit her lip again, and it was all I could do not to capture that plump lip in my mouth, licking and sucking and biting on it myself. But she needed to tell me she wanted it first. “Do you trust me?” That was the key question, wasn't it? That was the crux of this exchange. Neither one of us could take part in it without trust.

  Slowly, she nodded “yes,” then looked back up into my eyes.

  “Then trust me, Annie. The way I'm going to trust you.” I traced my thumb along her jaw, up her cheek. Her skin felt so soft, such a stark contrast to my own. She swayed into my touch, leaning into my hand, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Do you agree?” I murmured.

  In a whisper, she gave it to me. “Yes.”

  “All right then.” I withdrew my hand, and began the only way I knew how, by telling her about my friendship with Liam, Jax and Chase.

  “It all started the summer I was ten. I used to visit here in Scotland, but after my granddad passed I headed out to Naugatuck Island with my mother and sisters. I met Liam first, then Jax and Chase soon after.” I told her how we used to fill our summer days, young, unsupervised and always up for a good time. There was a shed on my family's property and we made it into a hangout, gaming and movies on the screen, plenty of snacks and drinks. We were too young to get into anything serious, and some of what we had done had been downright wholesome, going fishing, sailing around in Chase’s 16-foot sailboat.

  “Where was this again?” She hung on my every word, and didn't want a moment to pass without complete understanding.

  “Naugatuck.” From her blank look, I realized she had no reference point for the small, wealthy island that served largely as a vacation spot for the New England elite. “It's an island off the coast of Massachusetts, mainly a place for rich people go on holiday.”

  “So Liam, Jax and Chase, were they all kids you knew from school?”

  “No, kids I met on the island. Chase was the only one my parents approved of. Liam was a local, the son of a firefighter, and Jax's dad was working construction, a seasonal laborer, even lower on the rung.”

  “But you became friends anyway?”

  “Kids aren't born snobs, they're made into them. And, sadly for my parents, it never really took with me. The four of us had way too much of a good time together for me to worry about what my parents thought.”

  “So how did you get injured? Was it with them?”

  “Eager for me to get to the point?”

  “You've made me wait so long.”

  I smiled. She had no idea how long I could make her wait for what she wanted. “Anticipation makes the reward that much sweeter.” She rolled her eyes, not understanding my meaning. She had so much to learn. Good thing I'd be her teacher.

  “Yes, Annie, I was with the three of them when I got injured. We always messed around when we were together, grabbing a kids’ skateboard—”

  “And giving it back later, of course,” she interrupted.

  “Yes, Goody Two Shoes, we didn't leave any little kids crying in the street. But by the time we got 14, we were on to bigger and stupider things. And one day, Jax and I decided it would be cool if we took a 34 ft. long catamaran out for a joyride.” Her face darkened. “Chase and Liam hopped on. We headed out, none of us knowing exactly what we were doing but full of the kind of confidence all 14-year-olds possess.”

  “Oh, Ian.” She knew this story wasn’t going to end well.

  “Oh, Ian indeed,” I agreed. “A storm came up.” No words could do it justice. I'd never seen anything like it, before or since. The white foam walls crashing over us, the gale force winds blasting out of nowhere, it was a bad one. “Once the sun set on us, the power cut out and everything went black.”

  “That must have been so scary.”

  “Terrifying. Everything was happening so fast. We were rushing around, bumping into each other, trying to hold on, trying to steer. Thank God, Liam had the sense to call the Coast Guard.”

  “He was the one who lived year-round on Naugatuck?” She was a good listener.

  “That's right, and his father was a fireman so he'd had proper safety protocol drilled into him from day one. It didn't make him smart enough to not hop on board a stolen boat, but he did save our lives by placing that call.”

  “So the Coast Guard saved you all?” She looked at me so anxious and concerned, I wished I could give her a happier ending to the story. But I’d promised her I'd tell her the truth.

  “Yes, Annie, the Coast Guard saved us. But not until after the boat had cracked in two.”

  She gasped and brought her hands over her mouth in horror. “Did you go overboard?”

  “No, Chase did. He got thrown right off as the ship split apart. Liam had the sense to tie himself to a life raft and dive down after him. He saved Chase’s life.”

  “What about you and Jax?”

  “We clung to the boat.” Now came the part I didn't like talking about. It was the part that still woke me up at night, bathed in sw
eat, gasping for air. The next few minutes had changed the course of my life forever. I didn't want to talk about it, but I’d promised her that I would.

  “The boat caught fire. The mast fell over and pinned me down. It crushed my foot and broke my back when it fell on me.”

  “Oh, Ian, I'm so sorry.” Her voice quavered with emotion and I found myself not quite willing or able to meet her eyes. Instead, I plowed ahead.

  “Jax tried to get to me and help me, but the boat was at this crazy angle and lurching around in the waves and wind. There were flames everywhere, and I don't think he could've lifted the mast even if he had managed to get to me. It took three full-grown men to pry me out from under it.”

  “The Coast Guard?”

  “Yes, they got there fast and rescued all of us. But I got badly burned while I was trapped there.”

  “Ian.” She reached out and touched my shoulder. I looked at her face and saw a tear on her cheek.

  “Come here,” I said quietly, gathering her to my side. She burrowed into me, nestling her head against my chest. Funny how good it felt to comfort her over the pain that I had suffered. “Shhh, it's all right.”

  “No, it's not,” she protested. “It wasn't fair what happened to you. That must've been so terrifying, trapped like that.”

  “I was the idiot who had the idea to steal the boat in the first place. I should've known better.”

  “But you were only 14. 14-year-olds can't think straight. Believe me, I've taken care of two of them, and they make stupid choices all the time.”

  “Some choices are stupider than others.” I felt a twinge of pain in my leg as I said it, as if adding an “amen” to my sermon. She reached her hand up and gently stroked my neck, bringing her fingers to where my skin was mottled. I grasped her hand in my own and drew it back down to my chest, where underneath my shirt my skin was unscarred.

  “Does it hurt, if you’re touched where you were burned? Does your back hurt?”