by S. Nelson
I know he’s trying to rein in his anger before speaking. He really is trying to be different with me. It’s evident in how he speaks to me and how he respects my boundaries now. Before, he would have been ranting and raving all over the place, not giving a shit who was within our vicinity to witness his craziness. He would have called me some sort of name and dragged me off somewhere.
But everything is different now.
We’re different.
Individually and together.
“What were you and Eli talking about?” His tone is calm. Too calm. It’s in that moment, I realize Drayden is still dealing with jealousy issues when it comes to his brother and me. There’s absolutely nothing for him to be jealous of, but I won’t get anywhere if I even bring it up. He’s too stubborn, and he’s going to feel what he’s going to feel.
I look up into his tense face and put him out of his misery. “He was merely commenting on the palpable tension in the air between you and me.”
“We’re not mad at each other,” he blurts out. “So what the hell is he talking about?”
“I don’t think he’s talking about that kind of tension, Dray.” I smile slightly before looking back down at the ground. It takes him a good minute before he understands.
“Oh,” he says quickly. “Ohhhhh,” he says again, fully getting the meaning this time. He lifts his hand and places it underneath my chin, lifting my face so he can look directly into my eyes. His touch practically sets my body on fire. I love this Drayden. He’s gentle and kind. “Well, he’s not wrong, Essie. Anyone with two eyes can see there’s something brewing between us. Hell, it’s been there the entire time. Only now, it’s not hidden behind anger and betrayal.”
Leaning down, he places a soft gentle kiss on my mouth, teasing my lips with his sweetness. He pulls back quickly, realizing his family is now watching us, but I know he did it more for my benefit than for his.
He frees me and walks back over to his brothers, Dex and Cal, who he was having some sort of heated debate with before he broke away to come and talk to me. Even though there is physical space between us again, I can still feel his touch on my lips, and it’s as if he’s still caressing me from all the way across the living room.
At some point, I make my way to the kitchen to grab myself another drink. One of the smaller nephews runs into the room after me. He’s being chased by his older sibling, so he isn’t paying much attention to anything except escaping whatever fate he’s in for if his brother catches him. I turn away from the fridge right at the exact moment the boy collides with my stomach. He doesn’t hurt me but he looks stunned, not believing he just slammed into me. His little hands are still resting on my stomach, feeling around for something.
Then his small, innocent brown eyes make their way up to my face. I’m smiling down at him when he says, “My mommy told me you had a baby in your belly. Where is it?” His voice is like an angel’s, but his question is one posed from the devil himself.
It tears me apart.
My heartbeat picks up its pace and my smile falls instantly. I back away from him but not quick enough before Bridgette walks into the kitchen to witness our little interaction. She sees her son’s hands on my belly and then she sees the look on my face, the tears I’m trying to hold at bay.
But I fail.
The tears fall and I run from the room. I run down to my old bedroom and slam the door behind me. Throwing myself on the bed, I release all the tension and anticipation I’ve been holding on to since the moment I walked through those doors tonight. His small voice keeps playing over and over in my head, torturing me with every tick of the clock. My mommy told me you had a baby in your belly. Where is it?
My head is buried in the pillow so I don’t even hear anyone come into the room. I feel a soothing hand on my shoulder and when I raise my head, I’m relieved to see it’s Dela. I don’t think I can handle reliving what happened with Drayden. Not right in this moment.
“Are you okay, honey? Bridgette told me what happened.” She’s rubbing my back, trying to take the pain away, but it isn’t really doing the trick. I appreciate her thoughtfulness, though.
“I need a minute, okay?” When she doesn’t make a move to leave, I say, “I’ll be fine, really. I’ll be right out.”
“All right, but if you need me just yell, okay?”
“Okay,” I say with a small, wilted smile.
I’m alone for a whole five minutes before there is a knock on the door. Before I can answer, the handle turns and the door is pushed open. Drayden is standing in the doorway with a look of concern written all over his face. He’s still, not saying a word.
Eventually, he clears his way inside, making sure to shut the door tightly behind him to give us some privacy. The bed dips slightly from his weight and I’m instantly engulfed in his strong arms. He turns me around and brings his lips down to my forehead, kissing me once before wrapping me fully in his protective, warm embrace.
It’s too much.
I sob.
He rocks us back and forth, whispering soothing words to try and get me to calm down. Eventually, it works. I push away from his looming body long enough to wipe the tears from my face, but not before his lips meet my cheek. He lingers a little too long. When he pulls away, we stare at one another, not knowing quite what to do or how to act. Then he leans back in, this time his lips resting on mine.
At first it’s comforting, mirroring the kisses he’s placing on my forehead and temple, but just as quickly it turns into something more.
And I welcome the distraction.
I part my lips and he takes the invitation, slipping his delicious tongue inside my mouth, tasting me. Claiming me. His hands move to cup my face, keeping me in place as he ravages me.
I reach over and run my hands down his chest, over his stomach. Without thinking, I advance even lower, brushing against his very obvious excitement.
Drayden breaks the kiss momentarily. “I can’t take this anymore, Essie,” he groans into my mouth. “I need you.” He’s back to nipping and sucking my lips, swirling his tongue with my own until both of us have to come up for some much needed air.
The second time we break apart, I’m able to let some coherent thoughts enter into my lust-induced haze. “Dray, we can’t do this.”
“Why? Why can’t we do it? Why don’t you want this, Essie?” He looks hurt at the thought I’m rejecting him yet again.
“I do want this. That’s why it has to stop now. I’m not ready for something to happen between us. Not yet.” I move to get off the bed but he stops me. His hand circles my waist and holds me to him.
He looks at me, trying to read my mind, but it’s useless. And when he knows the moment has truly passed, he withdraws his hand and stands up. “Take your time and come back out when you’re ready.” He doesn’t look back at me as he makes his way out of the bedroom.
The rest of the night passes by with us shooting looks toward each other. Looks of unease, only smiling in the way which comes about as a result of an uncomfortable exchange. I know his mother witnesses some of these looks, but she never comments on them. Not to me, anyway.
Finally, when I’m both emotionally and physically drained, I say my goodbyes and head out toward my car. Of course, Drayden walks me out to make sure I’m okay. I’ve only had one indulgence, a couple hours ago, so I know he isn’t checking to see if I’ve had too much to drink. He’s checking on my emotional status.
“Can I take you to dinner, Essie? Tomorrow night?” He has somehow managed to pin me against the side of my car, his hand resting on my waist as his legs trap my lower body. And just like that, we’re back to where we were before.
A place of uncertainty.
I want him so badly, but I know it can never be. I decide to accept his invitation so I can explain once and for all why we can never be together. He has to stop this sweet torture and allow us to both move on.
“Okay. But I will meet you.”
“No, you won’t, and I won�
�t hear another word about it. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know the time.” Then he smiles and kisses me quickly before removing his body, allowing me to get into my car.
I drive home with all different emotions floating around, confusing and distracting me.
I hope tomorrow goes as planned.
{ Chapter 31 }
I sleep most of the day away in anticipation of meeting Drayden later on for dinner. When I check my phone I discover a voicemail from him, letting me know he’ll be picking me up at seven and for me to be ready.
He’s punctual, arriving at my door exactly when he says he will.
I’m wearing a fitted green dress, which compliments my dark tresses nicely. I know it’s the right choice for the evening when I see the look of pure desire plastered all over his face as he slowly scans my body.
When his eyes finally make their way back up to my face, he says, “You look beautiful, Essie.”
“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Warner.” He’s wearing a pair of dark dress slacks, a crisp white shirt and a suit jacket, but no tie. I love him in a suit and tie. But how he stands before me now is dressy yet casual, putting me a little bit more at ease. If that even makes any sense.
The whole time he walks us to his car, he keeps his hand on the small of my back. There are a few times when I try to squirm away from his touch because it’s doing naughty things to my body, but his hold on me only intensifies until I’m right back where he wants me.
Right next to him.
Halfway through our dinner, I’ve already debated half a dozen times about whether to halt this thing from developing between us before it goes too far. I flip-flop continuously between wanting to start something up with him and telling him we can only be friends.
Either way, I decide now is a good a time as any to get him to open up to me a bit more about his life and his past. If he truly wants anything to develop between us, either romantic or a friendship, then he has to start sharing some of his secrets with me.
“So,” I start, “can you tell me who Elizabeth was to you?” I bring my fork to my lips, eating as if I didn’t just blindside him.
“I…I don’t really want to talk about that, Essie. We’re having such a good time; why ruin it with my past?” He continues to eat, as well, but there is much more tension in his hold of the utensil than there is in mine.
“What is the point of all of this,” I say, gesturing between us, “if you won’t tell me anything about yourself. I hardly know anything at all.”
“Well, what’s your story, huh? Why don’t we start with you?” he retorts, deflecting the conversation back into my court.
“I’ve already told you my whole story. Back in the beginning.”
“The whole story?”
“Yes,” I say, confused at his slightly-accusatory tone.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I respond louder, practically drawing the attention of every other patron in the restaurant.
He looks over at me and cocks an eyebrow before finishing his meal. “Well, that’s a discussion for another night then.”
We eat the rest of our meal in silence. I’m not sure what he wants from me. I told him the whole truth about my background. My same old story. No parents, being bounced from foster home to foster home until I took off when I could. He knows I hustled my way through life.
Damn, it’s how I met him. He was my newest hustle.
But what does he think I’m hiding from him?
The only thing I’m keeping to myself is the horrific details of the time when I was made to do unspeakable things, especially at the tender age of fifteen.
I’m going to keep those details locked far away. But there is no way he could have found out about that. Is there?
So, I’m back to my main question. What the hell does he think I’m hiding from him?
~~~~
We’re completely silent on the drive back to my place. The radio is playing but it’s doing nothing to shake this uneasy feeling. There is a lot we still have to discuss if we’re ever going to move forward, whether it’s as friends or something more. The only problem is neither one of us wants to go first.
We’re both hiding something, something which could be the very thing which would bring us closer, but we’re both stubborn people. I know he isn’t going to open up to me without some more incessant prodding. Just like he knows I’m not going to open up to him without the knowledge my secrets will be safe with him.
I’ve grown to have strong feelings for Drayden, but I’m still unsure as to whether these feelings are mutual. I’m fully aware he desires me, but does he even really like me? Does he think about me as much as I think about him? Is he consumed with as much guilt as I am?
Losing our child was neither one of our faults. I know that deep down in my soul, but it’s so hard not to blame myself. I surely don’t blame him; although I kind of guess he lays partial blame to himself.
It’s in his eyes.
Shortly after the death of our son, Ethan, he carried around such guilt; it was dripping from his pores. I saw it in the looks he would give me. I would see it in his form. I even heard it in his whispers when he thought I wasn’t listening.
But I’m tired.
I’m tired of wanting him but not being able to have him. I’m tired of blaming myself for my own misery. Yes, I did bad things. And no, I’m not going to blame it all on what happened to me growing up, although what happened did help shape what type of person I became.
I’m tired of trying to prove to myself I’m a different person now. Because I am.
The hope of Ethan helped shove me toward the path I was truly meant to be on. I wanted to be a better woman ever since the first time I felt my son kick.
My little boy made everything real.
Losing him only proved life is tangible and there are no guarantees, so if I want something or I want to be a certain way, well then, I better get a move on.
I know I initially started out this evening half-prepared to convince Drayden why we shouldn’t be together, but I’m not so sure anymore.
But first thing’s first: he has to open up to me if he wants me to trust him fully.
Once he pulls up in front of my apartment, he shuts the car off, gets out and comes around to my side to open the door for me. Taking my hand, he helps me out and we walk toward the front of the building.
“Well,” I say, “thank you for dinner, Drayden.” I can’t very well tell him I had a nice time because we really didn’t talk about much. The food was good, but that’s about it. Once I asked him about Elizabeth, he shut down.
We really are no further along than we were yesterday. At least at his house last night, we shared a moment. One which was gone to soon. But now, it’s all awkward again, sexual tension so tight you can slice right through it. We simply can’t seem to build anything on top of it.
I stop by the front door and turn my body toward his. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I sure as hell don’t want to make the first move. If there is even a move to make. After about thirty seconds of silence, he speaks up. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside, Ess?”
“Uh…I wasn’t planning on it.” The wind picks up out of nowhere and blows my hair right in front of my eyes. Tucking it back behind my ear, I continue to look up into his beautiful face.
He moves closer. “But I know you’ve thought about it.” He moves even closer. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong, but I don’t know what good would come of it. You still don’t want to tell me anything about your past, and I’m still not willing to move forward in whatever this is between us until you do.”
A pent-up rush of air comes swirling out of his mouth. He’s frustrated and I don’t blame him.
So am I.
“Fine,” he says quickly.
“Fine what?”
“Fine, I will answer your questions, but it goes both ways. You’ll give me the information I want,
as well. Fair is fair.” He grabs my keys from my hand and opens the door. I guess he doesn’t want me changing my mind or anything.
Once we’re inside, I walk straight into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine I thankfully have stashed away for emergencies. I’m not much of a drinker, although you wouldn’t know it from the past couple months. Sadly, I used alcohol as a way to numb myself. It worked for a while, but the longer I did it, the worse I became, so I stopped drinking a few weeks ago.
However, tonight is an exception. I need to take the edge off if I’m going to be having any kind of in-depth conversation with the one man who can truly ruin me if he so desires.
“Do you want some?” I ask him as I raise the bottle in the air for him to see.
“No, thanks. I want my wits about me for this.”
I plunk down on the couch next to him, my leg brushing against his as I situate myself into a more comfortable position. I take two big gulps before setting the wine glass on the table.
Well, here goes nothing.
“So, can you please tell me who she was?” I’m careful with my attitude. I don’t want to come across as bitchy or insensitive. I know something awful has happened, and I don’t want to trivialize it by using the wrong tone.
Taking a deep breath, he dives right in, probably to get it over with as quickly as possible. “Well, Elizabeth and I were high school sweethearts. Everything about our relationship was cliché. I was on the football team. She was a cheerleader. We were both going to attend the same college so we could be near each other. Then after we graduated, we were going to get married and start a family.” He leans his head back on the couch. “We were really in love. She was my whole world. But after college ended, I went to work for a local construction company and she got a job with a local law firm. Our days were long and we hardly had time to see each other, even though we lived under the same roof. I started getting jealous, questioning her all the time which would only lead to more fighting. Then one evening, when she came home late, I exploded. I hadn’t been able to reach her so I started drinking, which only made things worse. I wasn’t listening to anything she told me, cutting her off every time she tried to speak. I think I knew she wasn’t cheating on me, but I was so frustrated our plan wasn’t turning out like we had dreamed. I wanted her to be as upset as I was, so what better way to do that than pick a fight over something stupid, right?”
