by Khan, Jen
He sits back on his haunches and undoes his belt. He unzips his pants. I hold my breath. Sweat beads up on my forehead as he sets his massive erection free. The terror that starts to build up inside of me is indescribable.
I can’t breathe.
Shit.
What is happening to me? I inhale a sharp breath, close my eyes, and try to will it away. It is coming on strong and I can’t stop it. My chest is tightening and my mind and heart are racing. Jesus!
“Stop,” I choke out. “Please. Stop.”
“Emma—“
I tremble, cover my face, and start sobbing. Ugly sobbing. The kind of sobbing that takes over your entire body and doesn’t let go until it’s all out.
Braden lays down beside me, wrapping one arm around me and bringing me half up onto his body, my head on his chest, his other hand trailing up and down my arm, which is draped across his abs.
This beautiful, sweet, wonderful man is trying to soothe me through this mini mental breakdown happening in bed while we are naked and in the throes of what could have been the most amazing and passionate night of lovemaking on record.
Shit.
“Baby, it’s okay,” Braden whispers into my ear.
“I do trust you!” I wail and bury my face in his chest. “I don’t know what happened. Shit, Braden, I swear to you that I trust you.”
“Shhhh. Em, I know. Listen. You need time. I’ll give you time.”
His hand continues its caress up and down my back. This goes on for several minutes. My heart rate slows as the ugly sobs make way to quiet cries that lead to silent tears. The whole time, Braden holds me close, making promises that he would take care of me. That everything is going to be all right. That we are in this together and he would protect me from anyone or anything that threatened to hurt me again.
He is perfect.
When I am all tapped out of tears, I lift my head from his chest and look into his eyes, searching for signs that he regrets those promises. The eyes looking back into mine are still the same warm, caring, sweet, and now determined eyes.
I bury my face back into his chest and breathe deep, heavy breaths. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just…can’t yet,” I say, my head rolling side to side on his chest.
He combs his finger through my hair and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Don’t apologize. Please don’t ever apologize.”
Is it always going to be like this? Will I ever be able to be intimate, or am I so screwed up now that I will never be able to trust or allow Braden to get close to me again?
I close my eyes and see Jose and his black, soulless eyes looking back.
Damn him for doing this to me. Damn him for taking this moment from me. Damn him for taking from me what was never his to take.
Braden rolls and I am once again on my back, looking up at him. His fingers are curled into my hair, his eyes staring down at me with a sexy, sweet, warm look. He places a gentle, sweet, tender kiss to lips.
He rises, crawls off the bed, and moves to my dresser. He opens the second drawer, pulls out one of my tees, retrieves his off the floor, and puts it back on. Then he orders, “Sit up, baby,” which I do. He pulls the shirt over my head, saying, “arms.” I push my arms through and he tugs my hair out, running his fingers through the length of it.
He crawls back into bed and brings the covers back with him.
That’s when I see it. There is a new tattoo. Well, it wasn’t there when we were together before. It is a beautiful red rose—my favorite flower—that has a lot of definition. The artist was amazing. Below it is script in cursive with black ink that says, “A love lost but never forgotten.”
I lean into him. His arm curls around my waist, the other trailing up and down the skin of my back under my tee. My fingers trace the script. My eyes slide up to him and I see that he is watching me. His expression is blank.
“When did you get this one?” I ask.
“Right after you left me,” he answers in a whisper.
“Oh,” I breathe. “It’s beautiful.”
My eyes slide back to Braden’s chest, wishing like all hell that the bed would swallow me up. He tells me to turn around, so I do.
“Let’s get some rest,” he announces, pulling the covers over us and tucking my back into his front. He brushes the hair off my neck and kisses my shoulder. “Did I ever tell you how adorable you are?”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Did I ever tell you how much I like it when you’re sweet to me?”
He pulls me even deeper into him, hitching my leg with his. We settle into the bed and the pillows.
“Get used to it,” he whispers in my ear.
I lie there engulfed in his warm body in the dark, realizing that this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I just wish I hadn’t ruined everything with whatever the hell that little scene was.
Braden’s breathing becomes heavy just like it always does when he falls asleep.
I kiss his forearm, which is wrapped around my chest, and close my eyes. I follow him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Braden
Braden walks into Holt's, spotting his father behind the bar talking to a couple of the regulars. Tristan is crouched down at the other end with a clipboard and pen, taking inventory, and Jake is taking a pull off a beer, sitting on a stool, his eyes on one of the flat screens.
“Pop,” Braden says, greeting his father with a chin raise. He hops onto a stool next to Jake and gives him a slap on the back and a shoulder squeeze.
Jake’s eyes land on his and he grins. “How’s it goin’, bro?”
“I’m all right. You?”
“Hangin’ in there, man. Work’s been crazy,” Jake responds.
Braden knows that it is more than work. He also knows that his little brother has been hanging out a lot at the Crazy Horse Saloon over in Spartanburg—a lot. He never knew his brother was so into strippers, but apparently so. To each his own.
Braden’s father moves to him, throwing down a bar nap and asking, “What’ll in be, son?”
“Beer, Pop.”
Jim nods, pulls a bottle out of the cooler, pops the lid, and sets it in front of him.
He nabs the bottle and takes a swig. Nice and cold. Just the way he likes it.
“Things are good?” Pop asks while cleaning a glass off with his bar rag.
“Working it all out,” Braden answers.
Pop goes on. “How’s Emma?”
Braden sighs and his eyes slice to the flat screen above. “I’m still working on that too,” Braden retorts and his father smiles.
“Everyone around here is happy to see you two working shit out, son, including me,” Pop remarks.
“Yeah, can’t say I was shocked that the two of you found your way back to each other,” Jake butted in.
“Yeah, bro. Emma’s always been the one we could see you settling down for,” Tristan says, also butting in.
“Son, this is good, and from what I’ve seen of her, she feels the same way about you,” Pop informs him.
Braden is silent for a moment before he asks quietly, “Then why won’t she see me?” He takes another pull of his beer as his father and brothers stare at him. He hasn't seen Emma in days. Ever since their date and her meltdown in bed. When he finds that fucker who did this to her he's going to kill him.
“She won’t see you?” Pop asks, pulling his eyebrows in.
“No, Pop. I was making progress. Her damn walls are steel and those barriers she throws up are like a barbed-wire fence.”
“Don’t give up on her, Braden. She might be hard to get to right now, but when you do, son”—Pop shook his head—“it’s the sweetest, most beautiful reward. The love of a good woman is not something easily won. Nor is it something to take for granted. I know all about that far too well.”
Braden watches his father, not knowing what he is referring to. His old man treated his Mother like gold. He worshipped the ground she walked on an
d showed it every single day.
“I took her out the other night. I thought I finally broke through. She told me about that piece of shit who raped her comin’ to her job and catchin’ her out in the parking lot, spewing shit about getting ahold of me or Olivia. That’s why she broke things off with me. He tagged her behind the neck and threatened us to get the money that was owed him by Joe.”
Pop slams the glass he was holding on the bar, curling both hands around the lip of the bar and leaning in. “Joe is the cause of all this?” he practically roars.
“What the fuck, man?” Jake adds.
“You fuckin’ with me right now?” Tristan asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Joe is the cause for all of the shit in Em’s life,” Braden answers.
“Mother fucker,” Pop clips.
Braden curls his fingers around the neck of his beer. “Mother fucker,” he agrees and drains the remains.
His father looks fit to be tied. If Joe were to walk in the door of this bar right now, Braden wouldn’t put it past him to jump the bar and pound him to a bloody mess.
“Where is Joe?” Jake asks, and Pop jumps.
“Don’t know.” Braden shrugs. “He left Em a note after I blew that six grand on him. Said he was leaving town for a while and didn’t know when he’d be back.”
“That bastard left his daughter to deal with his mess,” Pop spat, closing his eyes. “Who the hell does that? Leaving your own child to pay for your sins? I’ll kill him if I see him again.”
“Wait in line, Pop. The line is out of the bar and around Main Street. It’s full of people who want to take a slug at Joe Chase,” Tristan announces.
“Yeah, well… They better stand behind me because I’m gettin’ to him first,” Pop mutters while using his rag to wipe down the already spotless bar in front of them.
“Shit,” Jake mumbles.
“So let’s get back to why Emma won’t talk to you. What happened the other night?” Pop inquires.
“I took her to Kyoto for dinner because she loves that place. We had a great time. We talked, we ate, she drank Sangria, we danced before we went back to her place. Things got a little…heated, and she freaked,” Braden answers, slicing his eyes from Jake to Tristan and then back to his old man. “I told her I understood. I do. We went to sleep. Next day, she answered my calls, but that’s it. She has an excuse for not seeing me. Her hand is back out in front of her and she’s pushing me away all over again.”
“Son, did you think that maybe she’s embarrassed?”
Braden flinches and his eyebrows draw together. “What would she have to be embarrassed about?”
“Fuck, Braden, she was raped a few months ago. She’s scared to death of intimacy, but she tried with you because she trusts you. She loves you. But, son, you aren’t thinkin’ with your head right now. She has a lot of demons. One of them being that loser father of hers, another being that son of a bitch rotting in a cell awaiting trial for violating her.”
Braden knows his father is right. She is embarrassed about what happened between them and she’s hiding out until the sting wears off.
Fuck.
“Son, she knows you love her. She needs a little time. You need to handle her with care.”
Holly’s words come right back to him. “Yeah, you’re not the only one who believes that.”
They stare at each other from across the bar and Pop asks, “You want her back?”
“Yeah, Pop. You know Em. That goes without saying.”
“Emma knows you want her and she wants you too, but you scare the shit out of her right now.”
Braden’s gut tightens and the muscles in his neck get taut. “I’d never do anything to hurt her.”
“She’s not scared that you would hurt her, son.”
“I don’t get it, Pop,” Braden whispers.
“Every man in Emma’s life has been shit. They’ve mistreated her, hurt her, manipulated her, stolen from her, and one man damn near beat the life out of her. She’s conditioned this way. It’s up to you to show her that you won’t ever be one of those men. You walked away from her when she needed someone the most—“
Braden stands from the stool, gripping the bar. “I had no choice!” he yells.
“Chill, Braden,” Jake warns.
Pop goes on. “I get that, but it still happened.”
“What was I supposed to do? She wouldn’t see me. She wouldn’t return my calls.”
“I know. And when she came here for you before the rape, she came looking for your protection. She still believed that you were all that for her. You wouldn’t even listen to her.”
Braden’s muscle in his jaw jumps.
Fuck him, his Pop is right. He turned her away without so much as letting her have a word. If he would’ve just let her speak, he would’ve known the deal and maybe saved her from a lifetime of looking over her shoulder every time she walked into her apartment.
Screw that. He isn’t going to let her live that way. He already promised her in the hospital that he wasn’t going to let her push him away again and he has every intention on keeping his word. He is going to protect her like he should have months ago, whether she likes it or not.
Pop leans over the bar, gripping Braden by the back of the neck, pulling him in, and whispering, “Grab on tight and never let go, son. Once you knock down all those walls of hers, it’s going to be worth every second of the fight.”
“Yeah, Pop.” Braden nods and his father lets him go.
*****
Braden gets in his car. He’s turning the key in the ignition when his phone rings.
He pulls out his phone, seeing, ‘Les Calling.’
He smiles down at it and swipes the screen. “Yo!”
“Hey, brother! We’ll be in Charlotte for a gig this weekend. Was thinkin’ we’d come to Holts and have a few beers with you.”
“Yeah, come on down. Y’all perform a few of your hits and it’s free drinks on me for the night.”
“We’ll do even better that that if you’ll get up and sing with us.”
Braden smiles. “I can do that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emma
It is Thursday night and I just got home from another workout with Tristan.
Since our first self-defense class, I’ve been back three times. He offers a kickboxing class that really does kick my ass.
I am still in my workout gear—a yellow camisole over white sports bra and black stretchy, clingy Capri pants. It’s the beginning of November and I wasn’t cold in this outfit—that’s how kickass the workout that Tristan offers is.
I am sitting on a barstool, rummaging through our mail, trying to decide if dinner or a shower is in order. I am sweaty, so I am seriously considering that shower.
I go to the fridge and get a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and draining it dry.
It’s been six days since my date with Braden. I can’t help but worry about how he’s handling how I reacted the other night in my bed. I was so humiliated that, for the past six days, I’ve avoided him like the plague.
He had to work a double shift on Tuesday because Holts was short staffed. Scheduling conflict. Yesterday I dodged him by telling him I wasn’t feeling well. I lied, told him I didn’t want to get him sick, so it was best for him to stay away.
He told me he would bring me lunch today. I lied again. Told him I was meeting with Holly on her lunch break since we haven’t spent much time together now that I am back to work. Since I felt bad about lying to him, I made it real by surprising her with lunch. Sandwiches from Main Street Deli around the corner from her office.
I know he was scheduled to work tonight and I needed the break. My head was so screwed up after we woke that morning. All day, thoughts ran through my head about how Braden may be handling what happened. Did I finally scare him away with that little episode? Never mind the fact that he’s been trying to see me every day since.
I really am a nut.
Obv
iously I don’t want my head to be all screwy, but lately I haven’t been able to help it. Things in me have changed.
Good things and bad things. The good is that I am starting to live my life again. My friendship with Olivia has been mended, and I have to admit that it’s great having her back in my life. We also work really well together.
Holly and Olivia are around a lot. The two of them have become good friends as well, which is a big bonus. I like having them both around.
The bad is that I am having nightmares, which are keeping me from a good night’s sleep, which is making me feel like a zombie. The only good night’s sleep I’ve had in months was the other night in Braden’s arms, and that scares the shit out of me.
I am about to get up and head for the shower when there is a knock at the door. My eyebrows pull together as I stare at the door. I look over to my purse before pulling my phone out and checking it. No messages or missed calls saying anyone was stopping by.
I step down from the stool, put my phone on the counter, and move to the door. I see that the deadbolt is locked, something I made a conscience effort to do immediately after entering the apartment.
I peer through the peephole, which gives me a view of the hallway and a view of his profile. His eyes are focusing on the wall next to the front door.
I unlock the door and open it to see Braden in his sexy-as-hell dark jeans, his sexy-as-hell long-sleeved chocolate-colored tee, his sexy-as-hell boots, and his sexy-as-hell black Under Armour baseball cap pulled down just to give a hint of his sexy-as-hell dark brown eyes.
He is carrying a six-pack of beer, a bottle of chardonnay, and a bag from El Chili Rojo.
“Dinner,” he smiles, pushing past me into the apartment.
I turn and watch him as he sets the food and the beer on the coffee table. He walks in the kitchen, digs around in the drawers, finds the corkscrew, and opens some cabinets, locating a wine glass and bringing everything to the coffee table.
He sits on the couch, pops the cork, pours a glass of wine, twists the cap off of a beer, and rummages through the El Chili Rojo bag.
I shut the door, lock the deadbolt, and watch him as he unloads the contents from the bag.
