Corrupt Desires

by Jennifer Bene

  Phee’s nausea doubled at the mere thought of facing Bryant, of him finding out what had happened, what she’d let happen because she’d wanted to help. Still, she really wanted to hear his voice again. Even if he was yelling at her.

  All she wanted was for him to wrap his arms around her and block out the world.

  21

  Two Weeks Later

  The television was blaring the evening news, another update on the improvements starting in the southern districts. An obvious feel good piece where they were interviewing a seven-year-old little girl about how excited she was to have her apartment building fixed up. Phee turned in her seat to watch for a moment. The girl was surrounded by a halo in the fog due to all the camera lights, and it made her look almost ethereal. A sprite with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair. The reporter had chosen well with that kid — who could be angry that this little girl would now live in a building that wasn’t about to fall down?

  No one with a heart.

  Phee turned back to the table and pushed her spoon into her yogurt, moving the granola around but unable to take another bite. When she pushed it away, she heard Bryant approaching and bit her lip. “Baby, you have to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she answered, and he sighed.

  Slipping into the chair closest to hers, he grabbed her hand, holding it in his as he squeezed hard for a moment and then relaxed. But that was the only relaxed part of him. Shoulders tense, his jaw tight, brows furrowed as he stared down at her wrist where the last of the pale yellowish bruises were finally starting to fade. “Want some whiskey?” he asked.

  Her lips twitched, inching towards a smile before she met his turquoise eyes where there were layers of pain and guilt keeping them from shining. The shadow that kept them dim was the same specter that existed between them. A gulf that neither of them had been able to bridge, even with his arms around her in the night. Nodding, she tried to force the smile. “Yeah, whiskey sounds good.”

  “Okay, baby.” Bryant trailed his fingers over her palm as he stood and walked into the kitchen.

  A hundred possible sentences hummed behind her lips, a hundred possible ways to start the conversation that would fix this, but nothing escaped.

  Useless.

  When he came back to the table he had two glasses with a round ball of ice in each, and a bottle of very good whiskey. Smiling for real, she tilted her head a little to read the label. “My grandfather would have loved you just for having that bottle in the house,” she whispered.

  Bryant paused for a moment before he sat down, and then he cleared his throat as he poured two hefty glasses. “It would have been good to meet him.”

  “Yeah…” Phee didn’t know what else to say, or she had too many ideas on what to say. It felt like they were stuck in limbo. The world was moving around them, getting better, like they’d always dreamed. Like their parents had wanted, but… they were standing still. Frozen. Unable to move forward with everyone else.

  Peeking at him through her hair, she saw him staring into his drink, that now familiar tension still etched into every line of his body. He was different, had been different since her mistake had fucked up everything, and it made her feel strange.

  She wanted her Bryant back, the one who craved her as much as she did him.

  Taking in a little liquid courage, she almost put the glass back down, but lifted it again for a larger drink. Reveling in the burn as it trailed down her throat and burst to life in her stomach. With the fire of the whiskey on next exhale, she reached over and laced her fingers with his, squeezing. “Bryant?”

  He looked up at her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “What is it, baby?”

  “I want to go to bed,” she answered, tongue stiff and awkward in her mouth.

  “Sure, it’s a little early but we can always watch a—”

  “No,” she interrupted him, shaking her head. “No, I want you and me in bed together. I want you.”

  The flinch passed over his face before he could hide it, and it was like someone had pulled the rug, the floor, and all forty-three stories out from under her in one swift movement. “Phee…”

  Stomach twisting, she swallowed down the urge to cry, burying it with another generous draught of whiskey. “Please? At least kiss me.”

  “Of course,” he answered, pushing out of the chair to lean down and brush his lips against hers, but when he tried to pull back she ripped her hand from his to cup the sides of his face. Desperately, she pressed her mouth harder to his, barely tasting his lip with her tongue before he pulled back completely. “Phee, what are—”

  She stood, ignoring the sting in her eyes as she reached for the waist of his pants and he side-stepped her. That was it, the tears broke free and anger came on their heels. “Why won’t you TOUCH me?” she shouted, watching as Bryant pressed himself against the wall, jaw clenched tight. “Bryant!”

  “I…” For one moment he looked at her, really looked at her, and she saw a flash of something more in his gaze before he tore it away. Cursing under his breath, he walked into the living area. “Don’t do this, Phee. Can’t we just watch a movie and—”

  “What? Cuddle?” Choking on a bitter laugh, she at least got a reaction out of him when he faced her again. “I don’t want to just lay in bed with you. I want you, I want you back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Bryant answered, voice full of reassurance, and absolutely zero sexual interest. When he took a step towards her, she walked past him into the open space beside the couches.

  “But where ARE you, Bryant? Because you’re not here. Not my Bryant. This… this version of you isn’t my brazen ocean god, my warrior, my fucking king of fire!”

  “I am right here!” he raised his voice, hand tapping his chest. “I haven’t gone anywhere!” It was a shout, a real shout, emotion flaring before he took a step backwards and it disappeared behind the calm, serene mask he wore all the time. But she was done playing this everything-is-fine game with him. It was going to break her if she didn’t end it.

  “No. You’re not.” Waving a hand in his direction, she fought for the words, pushing through the ache in her chest. “This isn’t you. This is the politician, this is the man you show everyone else, but not me, Bryant. You’ve never been like this with me.”

  “Baby, I love you.”

  “Then why won’t you actually touch me? Why won’t you let me touch you? Why do you keep stopping me when I try!” A quiet hiccup came with the next sob, and it felt like her heart was breaking, only made worse by the pain and sadness in his face. “Do you not want me anymore?”

  Let’s see if he wants you back when we’re done with you.

  The bastard’s words buzzed in her head, and she felt sick for a moment as she turned away from Bryant, because he was silent. Frozen on the sea blue rug she’d bought because it had reminded her of the day they’d met.

  A scream ripped out of her and the anger felt good. It felt so much better than the numbness, the polite conversation, the fucking quiet. Letting it build in her chest, burning, she screamed again, only stopping when she felt Bryant’s hand on her arm, but she knocked it away. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want me because of everything. Because of…”

  When she turned to face him, she saw the shine in his eyes, something cracking through the barrier he’d built between them. “That isn’t it at all, Phee.”

  “THEN TELL ME!” she screamed. “Tell me why you won’t fuck me, Bryant! Because if it’s because of what happened then you just need to tell me so I can fucking leave instead of waiting for—”

  “I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!” he shouted over her, flinching as he turned away, pacing, a hand shoved into his hair to grab a fistful. “God… Phee.”

  She heard a sniff as he faced the TV, stomping over to the remote to flip it off, he hurled the remote at the couch, letting out another shout before he wiped a hand down his face and faced her.

  “Fuck, I don’t know…”

&n
bsp; “Don’t know what?” she asked, still riding her anger, voice too loud, but it was the only emotion he’d shown since his brief, stress-filled lecture in the hospital room and she wasn’t going to let it go. “Bryant, you would never hurt me. What are you—”

  “I don’t know what — fuck — I don’t know what they did to you!” He cursed, turning to kick the coffee table out of his way as both of his hands found their way into his hair, pacing as he ranted. “It’s only been two fucking weeks, Phee! I don’t know… I don’t know what… how…”

  Watching him, her heart hurt, an ache deep under her ribs that made her lungs tight. “You never asked,” she said, filling the silence as he trailed off, and then he looked up at her, pain twisting his face before he shook his head.

  “I don’t have the right to— That, that is…” He took a shuddering breath before he dropped his hands to his sides. “How on earth could I ask you that?”

  “You could have stayed with me in the room when I had to tell the fucking cops, Bryant! They didn’t have any problem asking the questions!” Tears choked her again, and she regretted the words the minute she said them because he looked like he’d been gutted.

  “I—” Swallowing, he looked around the room, at everything but her for a moment and then he stared at the carpet. Swiping under his nose before he spoke again in a rough voice. “I wanted to be there. I tried to get them to let me go back, but they wouldn’t.”

  “Who?”

  “The doctors, Phee. They were asking me about…” His breath shuddered. “They had to ask me about the marks on you, because they couldn’t tell what they had done, or what I had done. I hadn’t even fucking remembered what we’d done until they had me locked in another room and started questioning me.”

  “Bryant…” she started to talk but he raised a hand in the air and she was the one frozen. Wanting to move closer, wanting to apologize, because that had been her fault for not clarifying, for not explaining better to the doctor examining her.

  “I hated myself in that moment. I wasn’t even sure you wanted me in the room with you.” Groaning, he rubbed at his face. “They couldn’t tell the difference, Phee. Between me and those assholes.”

  “But that’s ridiculous!”

  “It isn’t!” he shouted, and when he met her eyes, she saw the shine of tears in his and her heart broke.

  “Bryant, you are nothing like them.”

  “You don’t know that—” He turned away from her and she closed the distance between them in a few steps, grabbing his arm, and when he refused to face her she just moved in front.

  Reaching up to hold his face so he couldn’t look away she tried to swallow her own tears as she shook her head. “You are nothing like them.”

  “Phee.” He tried to pull away from her touch, but she dug her nails into the back of his neck to hold him there.

  “Would you ever force yourself on me?” she asked, deadly quiet.

  Disgust and a flash of pain crossed his face as he jerked back. “No! Phee—”

  “If I had ever used my safe word, would you have ignored it?”

  “Of course not, but—” His jaw clenched when she tugged him closer.

  “Would you ever actually hit me? Put my life in jeopardy?”

  “STOP!” Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her hands away and stepped back from her. “All of this is because of me, Phee. Every horrible fucking thing that’s happened to you in the last two years is my fault. Because I was so selfish that I went after you even though I had no fucking right to.”

  “What?” she asked, confused, her anger humming again. “So now you wish you’d never asked me out? Is that it?”

  “No.” He laughed bitterly, walking to the table to pick up his almost full glass of whiskey and take a long swallow. “No. A good man would wish that, but I’m too fucking selfish for that. I didn’t care that I was pulling you close to my darkness, to all the dangerous shit in my life. When you mouthed off in the café… you fucking stunned me. No one talked to me like that. With my uncle I was the heir to all his power, with the resistance I was their precious double-agent. Hell, other than Easton everyone walked on eggshells around me.”

  “Baby,” she whispered, but he just took another swallow of the whiskey and exhaled slow.

  “But then you didn’t give a fuck. Not about me, or my uncle, you talked to me like I was anyone else in the world, and it was like someone turned a light on. Like you were this beacon of what being normal might feel like, and I wanted more of it. More of you and your fucking mouth, and then I realized how beautiful you were, and all I could imagine was what it would be like to kiss you. If touching you would give me some of that light, and so I went for it. Selfish and stupid, and I ruined your fucking life.”

  “That is not true!” Moving towards him, she blocked him when he tried to walk past her. “I love you, Bryant!”

  “Loving you just makes what I did worse, Phee. I took all your light, and all I gave you back was suffering. I have put your life in jeopardy. Over and over, just by keeping you close to me.” Tilting up the whiskey, he finished the glass and slammed it down on the table. “I’m not a good man, Phee. A good man would have been strong enough to walk away from you.”

  “What makes you think I would have let you walk away from me?” Reaching forward, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt before he could reach for more whiskey, yanking him closer. “I went with you to your uncle’s because I refused to let you leave me behind. I have sat through an insane number of incredibly boring meetings just so I could spend time with you, and we both know that it was my own fucking fault that those assholes got their hands on me.”

  “What happened to you was not your fault, Phee. Don’t.” His jaw clenched as he shook his head, eyes once again vibrant turquoise gemstones as he moved closer and stared down at her. “Don’t ever try to blame yourself for that.”

  “It was a stupid—”

  His hand was in her hair, gripping just enough to stun her into silence. “Yes, it was incredibly stupid for you and Easton to try and bait the remnants of the fucking COF, but what those bastards did was their choice.”

  “Good point,” she replied, trying to focus on the conversation as Bryant’s body heat bled through her thin top. “Then it can’t possibly be your fault either.”

  “Dammit, Phee,” he growled, fist tightening in her hair until little sparks spread across her scalp. Then, with one sharp tug, she gasped and he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. It was like standing too close to a bonfire just as the logs collapsed and it flared. Something between them gave way, and then there was only fire. Heat, as Bryant lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Soft moans escaping between fevered kisses as he walked them to their bedroom.

  He tasted like whiskey and him. A taste she could never quite describe, but it was unmistakable. Perfect.

  Propping one knee on the bed, he laid her down gently on her pillow, finally breaking the kiss. She smiled up at him, watching as his pupils won the war against the brilliant gemstone of his iris. Reaching up to brush his cheek, she stroked a thumb just below his eye. “Hi, Bryant.”

  “Hey, baby.” He leaned into her hand before turning to kiss her palm. “I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I won’t let you,” she answered, pushing up on an elbow to steal another kiss. A real kiss, the kind that made her toes curl and her skin hum with the promise of things to come. He pressed her back to the pillow, nipping her lip before he sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. “Yeah, definitely not letting you go,” she mumbled, tracing his abs.

  Bryant rolled his eyes, scoffing as he snagged her hand and nipped the pad of her middle finger. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing down across her palm, to her wrist where he pressed his lips to the largest of the lingering bruises. “More than I can say.”

  “I love you, too. Come here.” Tilting her chin up, she waited for him to kiss her again so that she could pull him on top of her, but he stopped h
er. “Bryant—”

  “Patience, okay? We’re going to take this slow.” Running his hand across her stomach he pulled her shirt up, and she helped him tug it over her head. “And you’re going to tell me if anything hurts, or if you want to stop, understand?”

  The edge of command in his voice was something she’d missed, and so she just smiled and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “So beautiful,” he mumbled, tracing her skin in looping patterns, inching higher until he was circling a nipple, and then he pinched lightly just as he leaned down to capture the other in his mouth. Warm, wet tugging that had her arching.

  “Yes, please,” she begged and he continued to tease the bud between his lips as he cupped her other breast, alternating between brushing and pinching the opposite nipple. It seemed like forever before he inched back to her lips, their tongues tangling in a kiss that had her hungry for more. Grabbing the hand on her breast she nudged him lower, and he froze as he brushed the top of her pajama pants.

  “You okay?” The love and concern in his gaze almost brought the tears back, and so she bit down on her lip and nodded. “Promise?”

  “I promise. Please don’t tease me right now?” There was definitely a pout on her face, and it made him grin. That cocky, tilted grin that he’d flashed in the café when he’d won their first battle of wills.

  “I have no plans to tease you, Phee, but you’re going to have to stay vocal for me.” Hooking his fingers into her pajama pants, she lifted her ass from the bed so he could tug them down, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Being vocal has never really been an issue for me, has it?”

  “My God you’re going to earn a spanking with that mouth.” He was laughing too, but when he caught the excited look on her face he sighed. “Absolutely not. We’ll work our way back up to that stuff, right now you’ll just have to watch your mouth for my sanity’s sake.”

  “I guess I’ll take pity on you.” A quick glance of turquoise eyes from where he pulled her pants free had her grinning. “Sir,” she added.