by Aly Martinez
"I always thought I would freak out when I was with a man again. But I didn’t with you."
Slate's eyes flash dark and he swallows hard, yet somehow he manages to be gentle as he says, "Why would you freak out, beautiful?"
"It doesn’t matter why. It only matters that you made me comfortable enough to forget it."
"Son of a bitch," he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth.
I go willingly into his arms, squeezing as close as possible while trying to stop the tears of relief and happiness that are openly flowing from my eyes.
"Riley, I’ll never ask, but one day, you are going to have to tell me."
I don’t respond because I have nothing to say. I can’t tell Slate—ever. I just curl in even closer, lying with my body instead of my voice.
He holds me for hours as I drift in and out of sleep, but from what I can tell, he never even closes his eyes. His fingers constantly glide over my back and up my sides.
"I need to go. Dave will worry."
Slate lets out a laugh. "You’re not going anywhere. We aren’t doing this you-running-home shit anymore. You sleep in my bed, or I sleep in yours after we make love. And even when we don’t. I’ve never even slept with you, but I refuse to sleep without you again."
"You’re bossy." I stretch up and kiss the underside of his chin.
"No, I’m just not going to sit back and watch you distance yourself from me again. I missed you—something else I’m not willing to do again."
"Slate, I—"
"Sleep, beautiful," he says with a sexy grin.
"I need my pants," I shyly whisper.
"No pants."
I immediately clam up. I’m no choirgirl. I know middle-of-the-night sex happens, and I’m not positive how I would react if he woke me up like that. He must notice my anxiety because he immediately rolls me over and folds his hard body behind me.
He whispers in my ear, "I won’t touch you, but I want to feel you." A tender sentiment that makes me melt against him.
"I trust you," I whisper back.
"No you don’t, and we'll talk about that tomorrow. But at least you believe me tonight. Now go to sleep, Riley." He kisses my head and buries his face in my hair.
If he only realized how much I’m trusting him by being here at all.
My blood is fucking boiling. Holding Riley is the only thing keeping me from destroying the entire apartment complex right now.
"I always thought I would freak out when I was with a man again."
I knew she had been abused in some way or shape, but this? I was not prepared for this little revelation tonight. I need to talk to Dave. Then I need to find her ex-boyfriend and ruin him.
She’s been sound asleep for two hours, and I’ve finally been able to inch my way out from under her. I grab some sweats and my phone off the nightstand. I take one last glance over my shoulder before leaving, but she doesn’t budge as I silently sneak from the room.
"What’s up?" I hear Jimmy’s sleepy voice answer the phone.
"Riley Peterson. I know I called you off her last time, but I need everything this time. I’m looking for her ex-boyfriend. Spare no expense. Fucking find him."
"Should I also start stashing away bail money now?" he asks humorously.
"It wouldn’t be a bad idea."
"Slate," he warns.
"I’ll text you as much information as I can tomorrow and a picture of her so they can ask around. I don’t care what you have to do. Just get me his location," I snap.
"Shit." He sighs. "Yeah, I’ll get on it in the morning."
"Thanks," I reply, scrubbing a hand through my hair, but he has already disconnected the line.
I toss my phone onto the table and head out the door. One man holds the answers. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him keep them from me.
I leave the front door open just in case Riley wakes up.
I quietly knock on Dave’s door, but he doesn’t answer. It’s the middle of the night, but tough shit. He’s waking up. I knock a little louder, and finally, his eyes peek through the window. He swings open the door and shoves a gun down the back of his pants.
"Where is she?" he asks with concern etched across his face.
"Do you always answer the door with a gun?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Where the fuck is she? Or you might never get to knock on another door again," he snaps taking a step closer.
"Sleeping."
He instantly relaxes and small smile tips the corner of his mouth. "Good night, huh?"
"Fuck you. What’s her ex-boyfriends name?"
His eyebrows pop up in surprise before falling flat again. "I took care of him."
"If he is still breathing, you did not take fucking care of him. Now tell me his God damn name!" I roar.
"Jesus Christ, Slate. Calm the fuck down. First of all, you are going to do more harm than good if you try to become some celebrity vigilante. Just focus on her. She doesn’t need you out there trying to make this guy pay. She needs you to help her rebuild."
"Don’t fuck around with me, Dave. I’ll never be able to sleep again knowing he is out there. Not after what he did to her."
"Then don’t sleep, but you can rest easy knowing she can."
"I swear to God, you people talk in code. What the fuck does that mean?"
"That woman never sleeps. Yet it appears, with you, it’s not an issue."
"She have nightmares?" I ask, trying to seek out the logical explanation for her sleep issues.
"No. But I’m not ever going to tell you her business. You want answers? You ask Riley."
"Or you could just tell me so I don’t have to make her relive that bullshit."
He stares at me, obviously weighing a decision. But the sudden scream that comes from inside my apartment halts the conversation.
"Slate!" Riley cries, forcing us both into action.
Side by side, Dave and I sprint the few steps down the hall towards her. Just before we get to the door, he pushes me to the side, narrowly making it inside before I do.
My eyes fly around the apartment, searching for any possible trouble, but only Riley is standing in the middle of the room, sobbing with a sheet pulled tight around her naked body. Dave is the first to reach her, but she breezes past him, slamming into my arms.
"Oh, God. You left the doors open. I just…" She stops talking but continues to cry into my chest.
"Talk to me, beautiful. Are you okay?" I ask, rubbing her back. Her arms are locked around my waist and her body trembles against me. "Riley, you have to tell me what’s going on."
She doesn’t respond, and I turn to Dave, who is standing with his mouth hanging open. I give him a confused glance, and his eyes just go wide in return. He shakes his head and looks down, only to look back up with a huge smile.
"She doesn’t like open doors," he tells me before turning his attention to Riley. "It’s okay, babe. We were just out in the hall talking. Slate just wanted to let me know you were staying at his place tonight. You know, so I wouldn’t worry." He winks at me.
She turns her head to face him. "I’m sorry. I just got scared."
"No biggy. Nothing to worry about." He shrugs, and her whole body relaxes in my arms. "So are you staying here or coming home?" he asks as he turns toward the door.
"She’s staying," I quickly respond, and she tilts her head back to look at me.
"I am?" She tries to ask with attitude, but her voice is still on edge.
"I already told you not a single night again, and especially not after that. So yeah, you’re staying."
"You’re bossy," she complains, dropping her forehead to my chest.
"Yeah, we covered that too."
She turns her attention back to Dave, who is still smiling. "I’m going to stay with Slate."
"All right, babe. I’ll see you in the morning." He waves over his shoulder as he closes the door behind him.
I pull her in for an all-too-brief kiss. "Go get in bed. I’ll
meet you there."
"I’ll wait," she answers while chewing on her bottom lip.
I walk to the kitchen and retrieve a notepad and pen. As I head back toward her, I rake my eyes over the sheet she has pulled tight around her body. The tips of her nipples are barely showing through the thin, cotton material. Riley’s body is amazing, and I have a sudden and desperate need to touch her.
"I want to be inside you again." I brush the back of my thumb over her breast as I stop in front of her. Her eyes instantly heat, telling me that I’m not alone in that desire. "I rushed it the first time. I think we need to give it another shot." I wink, and she finally gives me a smile that I recognize as the strong woman I see in flashes between the fears. And it’s simply amazing. "But first, we need to talk." And just like that, her smile completely disappears. "Oh stop. It’s nothing bad. It will help, I swear."
"I don’t want to talk."
"Okay, then write." I hand her the pad and pen and guide her toward the bedroom.
Once inside I shut and lock the door behind us, I look in her direction to make sure she saw it. She responds with an embarrassed grin.
"I never would have left that door open if I knew it scared you. I remember now that, a few months ago, you mentioned something about keeping it shut, but I honestly didn’t remember until Dave told me. I actually purposely left the front door open in case you woke up. I was just outside and I thought it would be better if I could hear you. I’m sorry." She shakes her head and dismisses my apology, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened. "Tell me what you’re scared of, Riley."
Her eyes widen with anxiety as she backs away. "Please don’t do this."
"No, just listen. I told you I wouldn’t ask, and I won’t. I don’t need to know why you’re scared of it. I just need to know what you’re afraid of so something like tonight doesn’t happen again."
"I’ve never made a list. A lot of stuff is just situational," she answers nervously.
"Okay, well just give me the definites." I shrug and lean back against the pillows.
She lets out a groan but curls under my arm and spends the next five minutes writing.
"Uh, I think that’s it. But you promised you wouldn’t ask why."
"I already told you that. You have to start trusting me." I snatch the list from her hands and intently study it. I am actually surprised at how short it is and how much I already know off it.
"Riley, this is bad. Really fucking bad," I say seriously while dragging her onto my lap. She immediately shies away from me and swallows hard. "There are some things you should know about me. Things that could change everything." I kiss her mouth reassuringly as my cock grows between us. I graze her lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth before leaning back and holding her gaze "I have a pet bird and an obsession with cottage cheese."
She slaps my chest and rolls her eyes. "No, you don’t, jerk."
"No, but you were the smartass who put them on the list."
"Those are legit fears of mine. Cottage cheese is all clumpy. I mean, why is it so freaking chunky? And don’t even get me started on birds. They are all flappy and they could fly at you at any moment." I bust out laughing, but she remains silent. "Can I ask you a serious question?"
"Yes, I like cottage cheese," I answer matter-of-factly but then smile and signal for her to ask away.
"Why don’t you like to be touched?"
"Wow. You really did do your research on me." I roll her to the side and prop myself up on an elbow, facing her.
"I read it in a few articles. Then I watched some of your old fights online and noticed you always flinch when fans touch you." She leans forward, giving me a reassuring kiss of her own.
I take full advantage of her mouth for a moment. I’m willing to take whatever comfort she is offering—even if I don’t need it.
"I wish I had some grand story to tell you, but the truth is, I just don’t like it. I’m a really quiet guy. I like my privacy and personal space. When I was growing up, my mom was very loving but not very affectionate. I guess I just got used to it. What is it with everyone needing to touch people? All that hugging and touching. A wave and a friendly smile work just as well."
"You let me touch you." She wraps her arms around me, dragging her nails up my back in the way she knows I love.
"That’s because I wanted to touch you. I’m not some hermit who can’t stand the human touch. It just makes my skin crawl when people I don’t know feel the need to grab me or hug me. I’m a person, not an animal who needs to be petted."
"I like to pet you." She throws a sheet-covered leg over my hip.
"Show me." I reach around and grab her ass, grinding my cock into her core. "And get rid of that damn sheet," I growl as she rolls over on top of me. I quickly flip off the light.
I glide my hand over her breast. I would rather slide it between her legs and into her pussy, but I saw the list. I fully intend to shred that paper soon, but for now, I won’t push her.
"One of these days, beautiful, you’re going to trust me."
"I do trust you." She leans forward, pressing her breasts against me.
"No, I mean really trust me. And when you do, I am going to fuck you with the lights on and door open while touching every inch of you." Her whole body stiffens on top of me. "But despite my initial reaction, I’ll wait for you to be ready." She gives me a weak smile that I can barely make out in the darkness. "Now, tell me. Are you wet?"
"I would be if you got naked again."
I quickly peel off my clothes and roll on another condom from the nightstand. Riley watches my every move, licking her lips.
"Show me you’re wet. Give me another taste."
She takes my mouth in a rough kiss. Her tongue slides over mine, and I can feel her hand brush over my cock as it moves between her legs. A second later, her fingers are snaking between our tongues. I groan, sucking her fingers all the way into my mouth just as she slides down onto my cock.
Riley slowly rides me until she finds her own rhythm. Her pace quickens, and I grab her ass to slow her, but she throws her head back, lost in the feeling. It’s fucking beautiful to watch this woman, who is normally so closed off, unravel around me. I pull her forward to take her mouth. Gripping her hips, I thrust hard, taking complete control of the situation even though she’s on top. It doesn’t take long before she begins to tremble through her orgasm.
"Slate," she moans, dropping to my chest.
"Fuck, beautiful." I thrust into her one last time before finding my own release.
We lie down, sated, trying to catch our breaths for a moment, but Riley suddenly sits up with a bashful smile.
"I love that you called me beautiful when you came."
"Well, it’s fitting, and you told me not to call you Riley." I reach up to tuck a hair behind her ear.
"I also really like when you take control from the bottom like that." She pauses to look away.
"That’s good to hear too, because one of these days, I want to kneel between your legs and watch you take control of my cock while you fuck me from the bottom."
"Jesus, Slate," she sighs. "You know, for a quiet guy, you have a deliciously filthy mouth." She begins to giggle, and I can’t help but laugh along with her.
Just to watch her subtle transformation from only hours ago is amazing. No tears this time, and that hits me deep. I’m fucked—literally and figuratively.
Three weeks later…
"Hey, beautiful," Slate says, walking in the door.
He never knocks, but he always shouts my name from outside the door. At first, I thought he was crazy, but then he produced that silly list clearly documenting my fears.
"Hi," I respond, looking up at him through my brown contacts.
He gives me a deep, lingering kiss and scoops me up off my feet, causing me to immediately wrap my legs around his waist.
"How was your day?" he asks, kissing my neck.
"Terrible."
"Pretty in Pink," Dave answers fr
om behind us. He’s wearing the same smirk he does every time he sees Slate and me together.
The day after Slate made things clear that we were building a relationship, Dave called off the move. I told him that I didn’t want to leave, and he spent the next thirty-six hours shouting at people over the phone. I didn’t ask and he didn’t elaborate, but if possible, I fell in love with him even more because he fought to give me more time with Slate.
I still haven’t showed Slate my scars, but he doesn’t push me. We have this amazing balance of him letting me squeak by with no questions answered and me asking him everything about his life. I’ve never broached the topic of his mom though. I’m not that brave yet. I also don’t want him to pour his heart out about his past and have to look directly into his eyes and lie about my own.
Since the first night, one thing remains consistent—Slate sleeps with me every night. Whether we are at his place or mine, he’s always there when I close my eyes. And I always sleep, a magical feat of its own. Before I met Slate, sleep was a bit of an issue for me. I was an insomniac to say the least. Stress has a funny way of screwing with you. I’ve never been a huge sleeper, but the five to six hours I get a night in his arms is more than I ever would have thought possible. Noises in the night still terrify me, but now it's because I’m worried someone will take him from me. I lost myself, but I don’t think I could survive losing Slate. However, every day that we are together, I put his life at risk.
"Riley, you going to explain the movies?" Dave says, snatching a piece of bacon off the plate.
"Stop eating the bacon or you’re going to end up with just an LT sandwich for dinner!" I shout, and Slate slides me down his body, placing my feet back on the ground. I look up at his golden eyes and smile, squeezing him one last time before heading back to the frying pan. "So Dave and I rate our days based on ‘80s movies. The worse the day, the worse the movie."
"Wait. Shouldn’t it be the worse the day, the better the movie?" Slate asks, stealing his own piece of bacon.
I give him an evil glare that does nothing to intimidate him as he pops it in his mouth. "Um, no. I don’t want to watch a good movie and let my attitude ruin it. I want to watch a piece of shit that I can scream and cuss at for being…well, a pile of shit. I want to complain about the actors and make fun of the director and basically just flip them all off," I finish and look up at Slate, who is standing beside me with a disgusted look on his face.
