Caught in Us

by Layla Hagen

  I nod, a little spasm shaking me. When he reveals his torso, I let my eyes drink him in. The supple muscles of his abs. . .The defined lines starting from his sides, shaped in a V that goes downward, disappearing into his pants. I linger on those as he removes his jeans, petrified to look further down, even though he's wearing boxers.

  "You can breathe now, you know," Damon says, and I realize I've been holding my breath. I let it out with a laugh. And just like that, he puts me at ease. I still feel my cheeks heat when I glance at the bulge in his tight boxers.

  “Aren’t you hurting from the fight?” I ask.

  “Just a little sore. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I got used to the pain. I almost don’t feel it anymore.”

  “I can take care of you.”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  I lie on one side, resting on my elbow when he slides under the covers with me. He kisses me slowly, his hands entangled in my hair. Then, without notice, he flips me on my back completely, interlacing his fingers with mine, spreading my thighs apart with his knee. I become hyper-aware of everything touching me: the silky sheets underneath me, the rough skin of his fingertips. When he kisses me anew, heat gathers almost instantly between my thighs.

  "Dani," he grits, his raspy voice intensifying my shivers. "I love your smell. Can I kiss you here?" His lips feather gently over my collarbone. He moves the blanket, and I suck in a lungful of air as a chill reaches my dripping wet panties.

  "Yes." My voice comes out in a whisper, breathy and needy. His next touch sets me on fire. Damon traces the shape of my collarbone with his lips and tongue. I immediately feel every inch where our bodies touch: his knee between my thighs, pinning me against the mattress; his hands laced with mine. My hips arch involuntarily, meeting his. His right hand lands on my hip, sliding slightly under my t-shirt. I wince and he removes it, leaving me feeling cold and empty.

  "You can keep your hand there." I'm taken aback by the protest in my voice. I don't recognize the stranger who says the next words. They’re barely a whisper, but they come out of my mouth. "You can move it further up, if you want to." It must be the heat between my thighs that turns me into a stranger.

  Damon pauses, inching away from me. "Don't tempt me like this, Dani." Caressing my cheek, he says. "I'm here to take care of you tonight and kiss you, nothing more."

  "I thought guys always want more." I bite my tongue. Why the hell did I just say this to him? I’m grateful he isn’t pushing me, after all. A foreign need awoke in me tonight, it's true, but I know I'm not ready for this.

  He looks amused. "I didn't say I don't want more. There will be plenty of time for more. I don't want to rush you, even though I’d love to kiss every inch of your skin. I would start here..." He trails his finger down my collar bone, and then to my right breast. I bite my lip, not breaking eye contact. As he trails his finger down to my knees, I wish he would kiss me. I’m not sure if that would bring relief or more torture, but he doesn't do it. "Then I would kiss you here." Now he drags his fingers from my knee up and up on my inner thigh. When he gets to the point where his fingers touch the edge of my very short shorts, a violent quiver shakes me. We both suck in our breaths.

  "Damon." I fist his smooth hair in my fingers. The void between my thighs fills with more heat.

  "I will make love to you soon enough, Dani. And it will feel so good." There is so much delicious promise in his voice. "But not tonight, not here. I want you to be ready for more." His lips nip tenderly at my neck and shoulders. I revel in the feeling, losing myself. His tongue darts into my mouth again, plunging with ferocity; it makes me think how that elusive ‘more’ would feel.

  Our hips touch, the friction between us inciting a feeling like I’m blooming from the inside—or possibly combusting. The air between and all around us seems to consist of sparks. I feel them shimmering on my skin. I’m convinced I could extend my hand and catch the sparks. As if feeling where I need his touch the most, Damon tugs my shorts upward ever so slightly. I regret wearing panties underneath my shorts. A whimper escapes my lips. The shimmers that were floating on my skin are now bouncing on my nerve endings, threatening to burn. As his fingers trail near my tender spot, the realization that my panties are soaked hits me. God, he knows what he's doing. His fingers hum just at the edge of my panties, but he feels how powerful my body's reaction to him is. I know because a deep groan reverberates from his chest and a spasm rakes him hard, completely undoing both of us. He cradles my face with his hands, kissing me deeply, urgently. His breathing pattern changes to frantic. My pulse slams and reverberates through me, making it impossible for me to think straight. Just when I think his resolve will crumble, Damon breaks off his kiss.

  "Whoa."

  "Yeah," I say.

  "Dani, you are burning my control in a way I didn't think possible."

  "Funny, I can say the same."

  "Okay." He leans on his back, next to me. "No more kissing tonight or I will not be responsible for my actions."

  I giggle.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I can't believe you're here, in my room. Well, I can't believe that this—us—is real."

  He turns to one side, frowning. "Why not?"

  "I suppose it's because I spent so much time imagining what it would be like to have a boyfriend, constructing scenarios and...Don't mock me," I punch him lightly when he starts chuckling. "Girls do that."

  "How's the reality compared to your little scenarios?"

  "I didn't think it could feel this good and intense," I say truthfully.

  "It usually isn't."

  "Has it been like this before for you? With other girls?"

  "Let's not talk about other girls," he says gently. "I have nothing to hide; I just don't think it's good pillow talk."

  "You’re right."

  "And for the record, no. I have never felt this way."

  I nod then blurt out the most inappropriate of questions. "You've made love to a lot of girls, haven't you?"

  His gaze bores into mine for a long time before he answers. "No. I've been with a lot of girls, but I will only make love to you."

  Chapter Fourteen: Dani

  In the morning, I know he left without opening my eyes. The bed is cold, but it still keeps a whiff of his smell. I smile in my pillow, refusing to open my eyes. If last night was a dream, it was the best ever. When my eyes finally flutter open, my smile turns into a grin. My room is as large and peculiar as ever, but it suddenly seems less cold and empty. His mere presence here last night filled it with his warmth. The cup next to my bed reminds me of his gentleness. My tender lips remind me of his barely restrained passion. I see a note next to the cup and pick it up, the tips of my fingers prickling.

  Thought it would be best to leave before everyone wakes up. You will have to tell me what you dreamt. You had the most adorable smile when I left you.

  My stomach fills with butterflies as I read his note again and again.

  "Dani!" My mother's distant voice reaches me through the closed door. It comes through the interphone on the corridor. She's up early for a Sunday. "Come to the living room."

  I dress quickly and go downstairs, curious. Maybe it's last night’s bliss, but I’m hoping Mom wants something she never has: to do something together today, like shopping or going to a spa together. Neither things are among my favorite activities, but Mom loves them. I wonder if I could tell her about Damon and ask her for advice about dating and boys in general. Hazel's mom is always willing to give both of us advice on anything. I hold onto the hope that Mom can be like her today. I need her to be that mom today, whom I can tell a boy slept in my room and held me in his arms until I fell asleep. The mom who tells me what part is right, what part is not, and what my next steps should be. I’m self-sufficient in every challenge, but this is foreign territory, and I can’t find the guidance I need alone. I need my mom.

  When I enter the living room, I know something is wrong. Both my parents are inside, sitting on the c
ouch. They’re not fighting, screaming, or otherwise hissing swear words at each other. They’re talking in a more civilized manner than I’ve ever seen them. They stop when they notice me.

  "Take a seat, Dani," my father says, pointing to the chair next to the couch. After I do, he continues in an aggravated tone. "It was brought to our attention that you have been behaving in an unacceptable way lately." I let out a sigh. The school must have called them after all. "Your teachers are dissatisfied with you. You even got detention."

  "One teacher is dissatisfied with me, and I sucked at his subject forever.” I often get B’s in Trig, only rarely managing to scrape an A. Two weeks ago, I got a C—my first C ever—but it’s not the end of the world. “As to the detention, I got one in twelve years of school. I'd say it's about time, isn't it?" I study my parents' faces, trying to understand their sudden interest. Is it just because my school record isn't impeccable for once? Since when do they care what I do?

  "We were also told you are spending an inordinate amount of time with Damon Cooper," Dad says.

  "Ah," I say, half-relieved to finally understand where all this came from, and half-annoyed. "So that’s what this is about. Damon."

  "We specifically told you to stay away from that boy." Mom speaks now, her words clipped and almost whispered.

  "You gave me ridiculous reasons for it. You don't like his dad. So what?"

  "He used to go to a public school in one of the worst areas in Rhode Island. He acts like a hooligan. He probably is one." Mom shakes her head.

  Now I am very annoyed. "You don't even know him, Mom." I have to look away from both of them as I feel tears forming, stinging my eyes.

  "You shouldn't be around people like him, Dani." Mom's tone is gentler. "He has a bad influence on you. It'll just get worse."

  "The low grades, the detention...” Dad says.

  “I got one C; it’s hardly the end of the world. I have A’s in every other subject.”

  “This isn't you, Dani," Dad adds. "We know you."

  Anger surges in my throat. I ball my hands into fists, trying to keep my voice calm. "Really? Let's do a small test. Mom: at what age did I get my period? When did I get braces, and when did I have them taken out?" I watch my mother, giving her a few seconds to think. She comes up with nothing more than a bewildered expression. I expected it, but it still hurts. She was never talkative with me, or willing to display any affection, but a small part of me hoped she was a silent observant. That she at least knew what was going on in my life. Her blank face shatters those last fragments of hope. "What is my favorite meal? What is my favorite book?" I ask. Mom purses her lips. "You know nothing about me. You never wanted to know anything about me." I turn to Dad. "Do you even know what grade I'm in?"

  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I do."

  "When was the last time you were at a school celebration? Never, that's when." Tears start rolling down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe them away.

  "Dani, be reasonable. I work very hard, and your mother has her commitments. There was simply never enough time—”

  "For me. You always found time for your weekly bridge game and gatherings with friends. You might not have paid attention to me, Dad, but I have to you. Up until I was sixteen, I still hoped you’d change and talk to me longer than to say good morning or good night. I believed the weekend would come when you’d want to spend time with me."

  My parents look stunned. Underneath the layers of surprise, I also detect hurt. It pains me, but I've kept quiet long enough. If they think their behavior was right, it's high time I let them know it was not.

  "Mom, you do nothing all day except meet up with other rich and bored housewives, or go shopping. You are so bored you redecorate the house once a year. And still, among all this sea of boredom, you never take a few minutes a day to talk to me, other than to remind me of my pitiful sense of fashion. You two either shout at each other or ignore each other. That is when you don't have to put up a good show for friends or business partners. Somewhere in this war between you, I was caught in the middle. Maybe you both grew so cold-hearted you never knew how to give me anything more than silence. Fine, I respect that, but don't pretend you know me. I simply want to have someone who cares about me. Damon does."

  "We might not have been the best parents, Dani," my father interjects, "but we are your parents, and you need us."

  I laugh sadly. "No, Dad, I don't. You know when I needed you? When I was seven years old and our dog bit me during one of your garden parties. You instructed our driver to take me to the hospital because you were too busy entertaining your guests. I was scared and hurting, and I wanted my parents, not a stranger. I needed you when I was fifteen and I got appendicitis before Christmas. Neither of you were home and the staff had the day free. I took myself to the hospital in a cab. Then I had a hard time convincing the hospital to perform the fricking surgery. You see, they needed the approval of an adult who was in charge of me." My eyes burn, tears rolling down in streams. "Oh, how I needed both of you then. Do you remember what you said when I called you and asked one of you to return to stay with me?"

  Of course, they don't.

  "You said it's an easy surgery, and you must remain skiing with your business partner. You wanted to strike a deal with him by the end of the trip. James flew over here all the way from motherfucking Australia to be with me. You taught me how not to need you, and like the excellent student I've always been, I learned the lesson."

  I look away, the sight of them too much to bear. I can't believe I imagined today would be the day Mom would finally act like a mother: kind and caring. What an idiot I am. Delusional, really.

  "Why didn't you send me off to boarding school like you did with James?" I ask. "You had no problems shipping him away when he was a kid. Why didn't you do the same with me?"

  My mother looks as if I've slapped her. "I wanted to be near you. Sending James off was a mistake. Children should grow up next to their parents," she says. I read the meaning of her words. I can tell I’m right by the resentful look she gives my father.

  Dad always had his work. Mom was desperately alone after she gave up her career for him. When James was born, that loneliness was curbed. Then Dad insisted on sending him to boarding school. She refused to let Dad send me away. I imagine she thought of me as a pet of some sort...or a doll. She wanted me next to her, but had no idea how to be a parent.

  "From now on," my father says in a business-like tone, "you will be watched." Ah, here it is. I've heard of his controlling nature, but never experienced it first-hand, perhaps because I've never done anything out of the ordinary. I've always blended in with the decor. I was the invisible daughter. "Paul will drive you to school and back, as always, but he will remain on your school premises at all times."

  I want to point out that Damon goes to the same school, so that won't do anything, but I refrain myself.

  "If you go to Heather's—”

  "Hazel," I correct him.

  "Paul will also drive you there and wait for you."

  "What exactly do you think you'll accomplish by doing this, Dad?"

  His features harden. "You deserve more than him."

  I swallow my next words. He listens to me. He took care of me last night. Even made me a goddamn tea. When was the last time either of you did anything like that?

  "He's just a thug who fights for money," he continues.

  I freeze. So they know that, but they don't know I was with him yesterday at the fight, or that he spent the night here. If they knew, this conversation would be much uglier.

  "Father, you do know I’ll gain possession of my trust fund in a few months, when I turn eighteen, right?" My throat constricts. My clueless parents; they are more toxic to me than I ever thought. "After I graduate and move to England, you'll be lucky if you get a call once a year for Christmas from me."

  Neither of them replies, so I leave the room, fighting tears. I just have to bear this until I turn eighteen. The trust fund was set up by
my grandfather and will give me complete freedom. My parents might try to control my every move until I turn eighteen, but ultimately, there is nothing they can do to cut my wings.

  ***

  Back in my room, I pace around until I calm down, and then call the only person in my family I can count on: James. He picks up right away, as usual.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice muffled.

  “Ooops, you were asleep. Sorry. I can call you later at a better time—”

  “There is no bad time for my little sister to call.”

  Warmth fills me and I climb on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

  “What do you want to talk about?” James asks.

  I gulp, realizing I haven’t properly thought this through. James does encourage me to go out with boys, but there hasn’t been one in my life until now.

  “Err...so you know that new guy at school I told you about...” My voice fades as I try to come up with a good way to break the ice on this topic.

  “Dani!” His voice is strong, the sleepiness from before completely gone. “Did you have sex?”

  I groan. Leave it to my brother to break the ice with a hammer. Thor’s hammer.

  “No, James. You know me.”

  “Well, just checking. Hormones beat neurons most of the time.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I tell him.

  “Sorry. I’m listening. What did you want to talk about?”

  I fiddle with a pillow for a few seconds before I find the courage to utter the next words. “I...well, he spent the night here yesterday. But don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

  “Define spent the night,” James says. I swear he speaks through gritted teeth.

  “We didn’t do anything except kiss, James. I thought we covered that.”

  “No, we covered sex. That’s fourth base. There are still two and three—”

  “Okay, okay,” I say hastily. “I don’t need the talk. We only kissed.”