by Rebel Farris
“So beautiful. You are the most tempting woman. But are you ready to give yourself to me?”
Thoughts. Thoughts sprang up in my mind, and I fought to keep them at bay. I wanted to live in this state of mindless ecstasy forever. I knew that whatever he did, it would ruin me. Nothing would ever compare, and as much as it scared me, I couldn’t not take the chance. He had me in thrall. Even if I only had him once, the memory would be enough to last me a lifetime, knowing that I had one perfect night.
I know he wanted me to think about the consequences of making the decision, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to.
“Do it, Xander.” My gaze snapped to his. “Ruin me.”
In one smooth move, he lifted me up and pulled me back down, impaling me. There was no friction because I was so wet for him already. But the size… He was so much larger than I expected, the invasion so shocking, I cried out.
Haunted
The sun peeked through the curtains in just the right way that unfiltered streams of light blazed right in my eyes, waking me the next morning. I recognized the familiar sensations of being entwined with Xander, since we woke up every morning in this state like we couldn’t help ourselves. I’d been sleeping in his bed every night since my second night here, but…
Flashes of memories of the night before played in my head like a well-produced porn. Thanksgiving dinner, the dancing, the fucking… It was beyond everything, but in the light of day, it scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t do relationships because relationships didn’t work. They never did. It might be exciting or heady now, but what happened when one of us lost interest, or we fought? Then it would all fall apart. One would be left hurt, while the other found comfort elsewhere.
The roles weren’t gender-specific, but the result was inevitably the same. I’d decided long ago that I’d take no part in it because the chances of finding something that worked were akin to winning the lottery. And I was never lucky.
The look on Xander’s face was nothing less than ownership, but not just that he claimed me. It was as if he let me know in those looks and touches that I owned him. It was heady in the moment. I was able to brush away the scary facts of life, but I couldn’t set aside reality forever. I wasn’t capable. I lived in my head and relied only on myself. This situation had already pushed me beyond my comfort zone.
I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. I didn’t want to confront that reality yet. I made my way upstairs and showered, then snuck back down and set to making breakfast. Looking back, I should’ve known better. Quiet as I was, there was power in the sense of smell to wake someone. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he appeared in the kitchen.
I was, however, shocked that he did so stark naked. And that his first destination was me, as he wrapped me in his arms.
I stiffened.
He pulled me in tighter, his hands roving over me. I couldn’t stop my body’s response, as hard as my mind fought him. When his fingers slipped past the hemline of my shorts, he knew the effect he had.
“Fight it all you want, zvonová sklenice. I see you.”
He toyed with me some more, slipping his fingers fully inside and grinding his palm against me until I fell limp against him. I let out a moan. I could feel the pressure building and responded by thrusting into his hand. I was on the precipice of release when suddenly he was gone. His hand and his body had vanished. I would’ve fallen if the kitchen counter wasn’t in front of me.
I fought to regain my composure, and when I could stand straight, I thought about finishing what he started. But before I could, he returned fully dressed and stopped at the front door.
“You will wait to finish that.” He paused, opening the door and pressing a palm to the screen. “Tonight.” His voice carried an edge that was less of a command and more like a dark promise. I shivered in response.
I jumped as the screen door clacked shut in the wake of his exit. My flight response pressed in on me heavily. I’d normally bolt at this point with any guy, but my options were limited here. This was a mistake of epic proportions. I let my hormones fuck this situation, royally, and I’d no one to blame but myself.
All day, I was tense. I couldn’t relax. My mind kept roving over the fact that I couldn’t get away. And he’d warned me—he’d given me the chance to back out. I’m the one who stupidly said yes. I let myself get carried away. It was almost like I was losing myself and becoming someone else. It scared me more than the prospect of not leaving.
I went outside to shoot. The whole house was spotless, though I hadn’t moved on to the second floor yet. I couldn’t concentrate to read, and music hadn’t been able to hold my focus either. I needed to get my mind off this shit.
It wasn’t that late in the day, but because it was winter, the sun was already below the treetops. It was bright but shady throughout the whole yard. I set up the cans and shot off round after round until the large box of bullets Xander had given me was a little over halfway empty.
I was getting better, only missing every third shot at first, but by the end, I was hitting at least ten in a row. And the more I concentrated on getting it right, the less I thought about everything else. By the time I was ready to go back in, I was feeling pretty good.
And that’s when it happened. I heated up some leftovers. Xander came in, we ate, watched the news and an episode of The Outer Limits, then went to bed. He didn’t touch me or make a move. He stayed a normal distance away, giving me the space I was accustomed to. It was an unremarkable night. We lay down in the bed, and I listened to his breathing, focused on his every move, waiting for him to touch me. He didn’t.
He acted as if the night before, or even this morning, never happened. And while half of me was grateful to not have to come up with an excuse why I didn’t want to, the other half was curious as to why. I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but I didn’t want to break the spell. Was he purposely giving me space? I sighed. I wasn’t going to ask, so I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning was the same—waking with the sun in my eyes, realizing that I was half-lying on Xander, our legs entwined. The only thing different was that he was awake. His fingers skimmed the bare skin where my shirt had bunched up in my sleep.
I could admit in the light of day I was slightly confused by his behavior. He had me on the edge of release, backed off with the promise of more, then nothing. My mind warred with indecision, trying to understand it all. Ask what his motives were? Play along and forget it all happened? It almost felt like a test, but he wasn’t watching me closely enough to glean anything from my actions. Or maybe he was?
I liked to consider myself emotionally enlightened. I knew where my hang-ups came from. I knew the history in which my actions were grounded. But I also knew that I was powerless to stop myself from following that path. Xander called it a source of strength, but the fact that I ran and hid from all relationships when they became too heavy—that wasn’t strong. Until that moment, I was okay with that. I was content.
But why was I content with being weak? I hadn’t accepted weakness in any other area of my life. Up until now, I’d always looked at my independence as my greatest asset. This whole situation was fucking with my head. I wanted to pull my hair in frustration. I jumped out of the bed faster than I’d ever moved. Xander startled, but stayed in place.
“I need to go for a walk. I need to think. Alone.” I looked up and met his eyes. “I’ll take the gun.”
He searched my eyes as if he was reading something in their depths and nodded once.
I pulled on my shorts and grabbed the borrowed sweater I’d been using from the closet. Needing out of the house right away, I quickly stomped to the door, shoved my feet into my boots, and was outside in a couple of seconds. I didn’t bother with a hairbrush or toothbrush—I couldn’t care less. I needed space. I needed to breathe—to think.
My boots crunched across the limestone gravel until I was under the shade of the trees. The white rock
s were covered by a mixture of sparse grass and fallen leaves. Central Texas was beautiful in the way that it was unique. The rolling hills were speckled with verdant plant life mixed with more arid desert-dwelling plants. How they existed in the same place was beyond my knowledge, but the mix lent itself to familiarity. I could look at a sturdy oak tree with a cactus nestled at its base and I knew I was home.
It was the only part of that word—home—that recalled fond memories. Home, as in the house I grew up in, was a far cry from a fond memory. The house I grew up in was a tiny three-bedroom trailer that looked identical to three others on the street. In fact, they were identical, aside from the families that lived in them and the secrets they contained.
From the outside, we looked like a normal family. Two parents, one child. And my stepfather and mother were good at putting on a show. They had tons of friends; every family on the street would stop by in the evenings to sit in lawn chairs in the front yard, having a beer, chatting some, sharing lots of laughter, before the sun would set and they’d head home to go to bed and start the day over again.
And most days, it worked like that—but then there were the days that it didn’t. Fred would have one too many beers, or he’d switch to the harder stuff, and when everyone left, the fighting would start.
My favorite part of our home was my closet. I don’t know if that’s weird for a child to think that, but it was my safe haven. I don’t remember if my mama had ever told me that was where I was to go, but as soon as I heard raised voices, that’s where I’d be. I’d shut off the lights in my room, sit in the floor of my closet surrounded by my stuffed animals, and pull out the flashlight and book that was always in there. I’d try to block out the screams for help from my mother. The thumps of flesh hitting flesh. The crash of furniture toppling over.
Tears would stream down my face, but I wouldn’t dare make a sound. Never.
I do remember her telling me that. To stay quiet and out of the way. You don’t want to draw his attention, and I’m not sure I can protect you. I don’t know how bad he’d hurt you when he gets like that. The fights never started the same. It was a wholly random thing. Sometimes the food at dinner didn’t taste the same as the last time. Sometimes the house wasn’t clean enough. Sometimes it was the sound of her voice or the look on her face.
I never understood the lure of living in abject terror. Why she stayed. Even when we escaped and ended up in the women’s center after a particularly vicious night—why did she go back? I’d asked her once…
“Why do you do it? Why don’t you leave him for good this time?” my eight-year-old self asked.
My mother sighed and looked out the window of the car. “Because I love him. When he’s not in one of his moods, he’s good to us. He takes care of us and supports us. We need him.”
I knew right then that I’d never let myself need a man. No one would ever have the power to make me love them when they were so horrible. I couldn’t wrap my mind around a love like that. But the fact was that the older I got, the more I knew that my mother wasn’t the only one. It happened more often than anyone ever talked about.
I’d seen women at work who’d come in with makeup caked over bruised faces. My neighbors were a prime example; the only saving grace to them was that I was sure that Joanne dished it out to Billy just as bad, if not worse, than he ever gave to her.
But what was the point in learning to outfight your man? Wasn’t life just easier without one?
Diction
I’d stumbled upon a stream, perhaps the same one that ran in front of my cliff. I couldn’t tell. Streams and creeks were a common thing out in Texas Hill Country. I sat on a log on the edge of the bank, tossing little pebbles into the mostly still surface of clear water.
The sun was high in the sky as my stomach gave a growl of protest. I hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and it was likely lunchtime. I needed to make my way back soon. I looked down at the pistol where it rested on the ground next to my feet. I didn’t bring any extra bullets, only the six that were chambered. Not that shooting would be a bright idea. Xander would surely panic and come after me, and I’d likely end up shooting him.
Which brought my thoughts back to why I was out here in the first place—Xander. He didn’t seem like the other men I’d met throughout my life. He had a serene calmness to him and wise eyes that held a history he left unspoken. I knew what he meant when it came to letting people in. I really didn’t know much about the subject. I’d pushed everyone away, ever since my mother… I shook my head. I wouldn’t let my mind stray there again. I’d given her and the past too much air space today. It was time to let it go.
Not that I hadn’t let it go years ago. Or maybe I’d just deluded myself. The fact that I still let it control my actions was a definite signal that I was still letting it get to me, perhaps too much. Maybe I needed to suck it up and give someone a chance. Xander hadn’t done anything to deserve my runaway routine. Not that I’d run away. I couldn’t, but I knew that if I’d had the chance yesterday, I would’ve taken it.
The facts were, he was sweet and charming, he gave me my space, and asked for very little in return. Actually, the only thing he’d asked of me since I’d arrived here was to be sure I was ready to be with him. Which wasn’t beyond normal expectations of human interactions. In fact, it was more considerate than anyone I’d ever been with. Most of the guys I dated were thrilled at the idea that I’d granted them access. They didn’t waste a second making sure I was really ready for that step.
Maybe I owed him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was the freaking unicorn of men and I’d just won the lottery. Though now I was picturing him as a Lisa Frank unicorn, complete with rainbow colors and glittery sparkles. I laughed and shook my head. Tossing a last pebble into the stream, I stood and grabbed the gun off the ground.
I hadn’t wandered too far from the house before stopping; it wouldn’t take me too long to get back. I knew that it was easy to get lost out here, even with a good sense of direction. Even though I had to retrace my steps, every step closer to the house had my mind retracing the memory of our night together. Not just the sex, though that was beyond great. We had off-the-charts chemistry. But the rest of it. The thoughtfulness of him moving the TV into the living room for me so I could watch the parade. The laughter in his eyes as we danced around the living room.
He was unlike anyone I’d ever met, and not just the fact that he was from another country. We seemed to get each other. Like we operated on the same wavelength. My heart grew heavy. I needed to stop letting the past control me. I was pushing away a rare chance at happiness and all for some painful memories that were best left forgotten.
My mind was made up. I was going to stop dealing with this in the usual manner. I’d try and trust him.
As I breached the clearing that was his front yard, I found him immediately. Perhaps because he was in the place he always was, day in and day out—the garage. It looked as though he was just setting things up for the day. He wasn’t covered in grease yet, and he still had on his flannel shirt, rolled up to his elbows.
As my boots crunched on the gravel below me, he froze, but he didn’t turn to face me. He was giving me space to make my decision. My heart melted a little more at that, and my feet picked up their pace. He’d been watching me this whole time without looking, and he was very observant, constantly taking cues from my mood and giving me what I needed. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Or at least given him credit where it was due?
“I still need a few more days, but I am getting close to finishing it. You can leave soon.”
I halted. I hadn’t expected him to say that.
“That’s not why I came over here.”
“No?” His hands gripped the grill of the truck in front of him, knuckles whitening under the pressure.
“No. I came to tell you I’m sorry.”
His grip didn’t loosen, but his shoulders dropped a fraction. I stepped up behind him, letting my hands trail around his
trim waist until I was wrapped around him, pressed against his back. His body shuddered underneath my touch. It felt empowering, like I held some tiny bit of power over him. My fingers found the edge of his T-shirt. I slipped my hand underneath, trailing my fingernails lightly over his stomach, tracing the waistband of his jeans. His grip curled around the edge of the grill a little more.
“I believe I owe you an apology,” I whispered. “Let me make it up to you.”
I stepped back, and he turned to face me. I reacted on instinct and fell to my knees, though I couldn’t meet his eyes, still scared of the vulnerability I was offering up. I winced as the rough concrete floor of the garage dug into my knees. He stepped in front of me, but then his hand was held out in my line of vision.
“Stand up.”
I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up. My gaze fixed on his eyes, trying to understand what he wanted. They were unreadable.
“Take off your shorts.”
My eyes stayed on him as I kicked off my boots and popped the button on my cutoffs. I pulled them off with my panties, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes left mine to look down. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. The sweater still covered all the scandalous parts, but I assume he thought my addition was amusing. He looked back up to me.
“Perfect.” He smirked, probably at my addition to his request. “This is how I want you every day in my house. This is how I know that I am free to touch you when I want. If you put them back on, I will know that you need space. Does that work for you?”
I swallowed. He was full of keen insight. I really didn’t think there was a more perfect solution. I wasn’t good with talking about my feelings, and he understood that without me saying it. And he was offering me a visual cue. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep them away. I nodded.
