Embrace The Suck (A Stepbrother Special Forces Novel)

by Kenzie, Sophia

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie

  It was weird to be back. Everything looked comfortably familiar, and yet, at the same time, completely alien. I had spent so long overseas, so long trapped without distraction in that world, that North Carolina seemed… well, too quiet.

  An officer from the debriefing dropped Hannah and I off at our apartment. She told me that Amanda had been living with her since I left, but that she had decided, now that I was home, she would move back in with her Aunt and Uncle. I didn’t even offer out of simple kindness for her to stay. I didn’t want to be around anyone but Hannah right now.

  And even her… the way she looked at me like I might be broken… the way I looked at her knowing that my father had put her life on the line in order to save mine… we wouldn’t be able to get over these things quickly.

  I insisted on carrying her bag.

  “Charlie, you don’t have to do that. You’re still recuperating from…”

  I stopped her, my tone unrelenting. “Don’t treat me like a victim, Hannah. I’m fine.”

  And so I carried her bag up the stairs to our apartment. I’m sure I outwardly winced- fuck, everything hurt- but if she saw it, she didn’t tell me. She was sure to let me find my way back to normal.

  I appreciated that.

  “Are you hungry?” Hannah called to me from the kitchen as I placed the bags in our bedroom.

  I was… but not for food.

  I took a breath and closed my eyes. Something was wrong with me. Being back… trying to reinstate myself into normalcy… I felt… wrong. But, there was a time I remembered loving her so much that I was going to explode. She was the one thought that kept me going all those long, long months. Why then, was it so hard to find a way to connect to her?

  I stepped out of the bedroom, strolled slowly down the hallway, and peeked my head into the kitchen. She was reaching for something on the top shelf… a box of pasta… and cursing that she was just an inch too short to grab it. She didn’t know I was watching her. She was simply precious.

  I laughed aloud.

  “Oh!” She turned around, startled by my presence.

  The woman before me was beautiful. She had changed from the last time I had seen her; that was for sure. She held herself differently, she spoke differently, and her reactions were… womanly. When we had met, she was a girl. I knew I could control her. I knew that she was mine for the taking.

  But now, I was oddly frightened by her.

  I reached out my hand. “We’ll eat later.”

  Hannah smiled as she slid her fingers in mine and followed me back to the bedroom. She didn’t say a single word as I set her in the middle of the room and silently stared at her body before me. I took my time stripping her clothes off her body. I wanted to memorize her. I wanted to take in every inch of her skin. I wanted to remember every scar and discover every freckle.

  There were three buttons on her pale pink shirt. I popped open each slowly, feeling the anticipation growing within me. With each reveal, I could see more and more of her chest as it rose and fell with her increased breath. My hands traveled to her hips, tickling the skin on the sides of her waist, her ribs, and her chest as I pulled her shirt up and over her lifted arms. I let my fingertips rest on her cleavage before lowering my lips and kissing the outline of her breasts. I dropped to my knees, hugging my arms around her hips and pulling my head into her bare belly. She returned the embrace, clutching her arms around my neck. My lips moved to her belly button and then south to the top of her pants.

  I pulled them quickly down, impishly loving her startled scream from my attack. I pushed my nose into her pelvis, smelling the smell of her I had missed so much. The slow approach was helpful. The slight reminders of her and me in this space, just the two of us, eased me into comfort. I could do this. I could become one with her again. Delicately and with careful precision, I pulled her panties down to her ankles and tasted her with my tongue. She opened her legs, allowing me to taste more of her… deeper into her.

  Still twirling my tongue to her delight, I reached up her back and released the clasps of her bra. My tongue, my lips, traveled up, nipping at her skin until I reached her plump, erect nipples. I took each in my mouth, sucking harder and harder until she screamed.

  I threw her onto the bed and unbuckled my belt, releasing my erection.

  Hannah’s hands found the bottom of my shirt, but I stopped her by grabbing her wrists and forcing them above her head. I didn’t want her to see my naked body. The scars were too new, too brutal. I needed to be inside of her, and the sight of my brokenness would take her out of it.

  Without addressing her quiet concern, I slowly pushed into her, my body instantly remembering the feeling of her love. She called out my name- Charlie- as she cried with pleasured moans.

  “Charlie.” She cried.

  “Charlie.” She yelled.

  “Charlie.” She screamed.

  She screamed.

  And then I could hear more screams. It took me back. I was back in the prison. I was being whipped and beaten. I tried not to scream, but I couldn’t stop my reaction. The pain was too savage.

  I had to be in the moment. I couldn’t keep going back there in my mind. I couldn’t.

  So I pushed harder and faster into Hannah, wishing the visions away. I wanted to stay in the then. I wanted to stay with her.

  I had to stay with her.

  Harder. Faster.

  She screamed louder.

  She screamed my name.

  The visions were clearer.

  Harder.

  “Charlie!”

  Faster.

  “Charlie. Please.”

  Harder still.

  Faster still.

  “No. Charlie.”

  Harder.

  One. More. Push.

  I violently emptied my seed into her, collapsing my weight onto her naked body.

  I stayed there until I came down from the high, not wanting to let go of the feeling of her warmth surrounding me.

  But then I realized what I had done; who I had released my barbarity on.

  Hannah was crying.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah

  “Hannah… baby… are you okay?” Charlie pulled himself out of me and rolled to his side.

  I didn’t know what had just happened. Everything was okay. It was sexy and fun and just like it had always been. But then his eyes glazed over and he… he…

  He was so strong.

  I wiped the tears from my eyes and rolled over, finding my clothes and pulling them on without looking at him.

  “Hannah, please talk to me.” He grabbed my arm, and I couldn’t help but yell out. I was scared.

  His face dropped, and we both froze.

  I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how he hurt me, but none of it seemed important. Wasn’t it better that he was home and safe? We didn’t need to talk now. I quickly convinced myself that I should have just been able to take it and not made a big scene. It had been awhile since we had done that - made love - or whatever you wanted to call that. We just need to work out a few kinks, right?

  After all, he didn’t want to hurt me. And what if I was now jaded from being the victim, the captive, that I was allowing myself to think this was a bigger deal than it was? Maybe I was blowing this whole thing way out of proportion. Maybe he did nothing wrong.

  “It’s fine.” I raised my hands, hoping he wouldn’t come closer to me.

  “It’s not.” He stood. “It’s not fine. I hurt you.” His breathing became labored and his jaw clenched. “I fucking hurt you.”

  “It’s okay.” I attempted to promise, still stepping back toward the doorway. “It’s just been awhile for both of us. We’ll figure it out.”

  But apparently he was finished talking. Instead, he stormed past me, through the entranceway, down the hall, and out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  I guess we weren’t going to figure it out just ye
t.

  I let him come home on his own time, in his own way. He didn’t need chasing; he needed to come to terms with what happened that night himself. As did I.

  But I spent the most of the night alone, staring at the wall, wishing I was stronger. It was a few hours before he returned, and the smell of alcohol on his breath came with him.

  I didn’t scold, I didn’t shake my head; I just smiled.

  “Welcome back.”

  We tried to talk. He tried to apologize. I tried to understand. But the fact of the matter was that we hadn’t seen each other for eighteen months. We hadn’t even said one word to each other in that time. Sure, you always hear that people don’t change, but the truth is that they can... and they do.

  Don’t get me wrong: I still loved him and I truly believed that he loved me. But we had spent so much time holding in our secrets from those around us that we forgot how to share. I thought everything would go back to normal when he came home. I thought I’d finally feel complete again, as though my other half had returned to me.

  And there were points I did feel that way. At times during the day, he would smile at me, or make a joke, or hold my hand… and for a brief moment, I knew that we’d be able to get through whatever torment we had both experienced.

  I started having nightmares. They were fuzzy at first, just flashes of memories when I woke up, but they soon got worse. Two nights in a row I woke up sweating in the middle of the night.

  The third night, though, I woke up screaming.

  “Hannah. Hannah.” I felt his hands on me. I pushed him off and scurried to the edge of the bed. “Hannah, you’re okay.” He found his way to my side and pulled me into a hug.

  It took a second, but his embrace brought me back to reality. When he was sure I was calm, he flipped the light switch on, asking if I was okay and if I wanted to talk about what had just happened.

  “I don’t remember the dream.” I half lied. Truth being, I knew exactly where I was and what I was doing in the dream. It was the precise moment when I shot the first guard.

  “Okay… that’s okay.” I knew he didn’t believe me, but I appreciated his resignation. “Well, is there anything you want to talk about?”

  I looked into his eyes: the eyes of the man I had fallen in love with. When the fuck did life become so real?

  “Make love to me?” I both begged and demanded.

  “Hannah.” He shook his head, darting his stare away from mine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  We hadn’t tried since the night we returned to the apartment. Anything other than an awkward hug or peck on the cheek seemed to be off limits.

  “I don’t fucking care.” I warned. “We need to figure this out.”

  Without waiting for his approval, I reached over and pulled his shirt up.

  “Stop!” He yelled, grasping at my hands before I had any success.

  “Why?” I matched his tone. “Why can’t I see you naked? I saw you…” my voice cracked. “I saw you hanging there, Charlie. In that place. Fuck, I can still see you when I close my eyes.” I took a strong intake of air. “I know what happened to you. So let me see you today. Let me see you this way. Because right now, my imagination isn’t helping the healing.”

  But he just shook his head, not giving my request a second thought. “No.”

  “So you expect this to work, Charlie?” I gave it to him straight. “You expect us to survive a relationship where we not only keep things from each other and don’t have sex, but you won’t even let me see you without a shirt on? Do you think I’m running away? Do you think you’ll scare me? I waited for you. I looked for you. And I fucking found you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  We stared at each other for a long while before his lips lightly cracked just barely into a smile. I think after all this time, he had forgotten about my stubbornness. I didn’t have a problem reminding him.

  “Okay.” He nodded, giving in. “You can see me. But…” his eyes pinched shut with fear. “Don’t… don’t freak out.”

  He stood in front of me, completely exposed, as he peeled off his clothes, one piece at a time. I might have freaked out. Had I not had an idea of what to expect, I very well could have thrown up. Little by little, he let me see him. His feet were burned, his legs branded, his stomach and chest were riddled with scars from slashes of different knives, and his back was an array of whip lashes.

  I didn’t breath the entire time he stood in front of me. It was awful. I couldn’t believe what those people had done to my Charlie. I remembered seeing him when the wounds were still fresh, but I wasn’t wholly focused. I couldn’t see the extent of his injury.

  I didn’t know this would be the outcome.

  I must have looked as though I was about to throw up; certainly felt that way. Charlie lowered his eyes. “Are you…”

  I put my hand up, begging for him not to complete his sentence. “I love you. I will always love you. And I am so sorry this happened to you.”

  I stood up slowly, and carefully made my way to his side. For the next however long it took, I learned the look of his new body, kissing each and every scar. I touched his skin lightly, feeling his form, committing to memory each new bump and scrape. He still had some bruising on his ribs and some bandages across the deeper wounds on his back, but I was careful not to hurt him.

  I would never hurt him.

  I brought his face back to mine and kissed his soft lips, finally connecting to him in a way I had forgotten was possible. I took his hand and guided his fingers along the shape of my body, assuring him it was okay to feel. I could sense the passion he still felt for me in both his touch and the taste of his tongue in my mouth. I wanted to jump on him. I wanted to be thrown up against the wall. But I knew we had to take it slow. He wasn’t ready to take me like he used to do, and I had to be okay with that fact for as long as it would take.

  I pulled him over to the bed, lowering my body down and bringing him with me.

  “Hannah…” he warned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I smiled up at him, completely trusting him. “Then don’t.”

  He hesitated for the slightest moment, but then began removing my clothes. He was slow and careful, focused on not pushing himself past his breaking point. There would come a time, a point down the road when we’d be able to go back to the crazy, rough and wild sex we had once had, but that time was not now, and I wasn’t about to complain. We were different now, and that was okay.

  He was touching me. His hands were on my whole body, and he would soon find his way inside. I felt calm and at peace. I felt love.

  We breathed as one as he pressed his hips into mine. He took it slow, his eyes locked on my eyes the entire time. It was a different way of making love, but oh so real. We were connected and working through our issues together, the way we should have done from the very beginning. There was hope because there was love.

  When we were both finished, we stayed there, in the moment, still locked in on each other’s gaze.

  “I love you Charlie Madison.” I whispered before we fell asleep.

  “I couldn’t survive without you, Hannah Birk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlie

  After that night, I thought we had fixed things. I thought we would find our way back.

  It turns out that one night of love making doesn’t put the broken pieces back together again.

  “What do you want to do for lunch?” Hannah came up behind me at the computer and began rubbing my shoulders. Had she not prefaced her touch with her familiar voice, I could have very well spun around and dropped her to the ground.

  Everything seemed to have me on edge lately. The sound of cars passing by had me paranoid that someone was following us, the sound of voices through the thin apartment walls had me convinced that our place was bugged, and the touch of anyone- even people’s shoulders grazing mine in the busy grocery store- set my body to survival mode. I thought everyone was out to get me.

  A
nd what could have been worse: I thought everyone was out to get Hannah.

  “Leftovers?” I suggested, although I knew exactly what her answer would be.

  “Charlie, we can’t just keep eating the same thing every day because you don’t want to leave the apartment. Can we at least order in?” She was fighting an uphill battle, and she knew it.

  “Absolutely not.” I went back to the computer.

  “Charlie.” She whined my name again. “The delivery man is not going to be an assassin out to kill me.”

  I knew she was most definitely right, the likelihood of an assassin dressed up as a pizza delivery guy and showing up at our apartment seemed rather slim, but I didn’t want to take my chances. If anything happened to her… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  Hannah’s nightmares continued. And with each two a.m. night terror, she withdrew deeper and deeper into her struggling mind.