‘What is your fucking problem, Brad?’ My problem… my fucking problem. I bite my tongue. Don’t take the bait, Brad, carry on fucking walking.
‘Are you going to answer me or what?’ she sasses. Oh, she has steel balls when she’s drunk, that’s for sure. Quiet and shy are nowhere in sight. I start and stop saying something. Then I start again. Stop. Bite my tongue. She huffs as if I’m the biggest dickhead to grace the earth. I can’t stay quiet.
‘You’re too good for me, is that it? You won’t stoop that fucking low, but you’ll throw yourself at any other man willing to sink his dick inside you?’ Makes me sick to the stomach and raging fucking mad that she did it. She has the audacity to look hurt. And if she hadn’t just been sucking face with the asshole now lying face down in a puddle of his own piss, I might believe her. Of course, she doesn’t answer—just gives me that sad puppy look.
I shake my head turn and walk in the direction of the compound. I hear her heels clacking faster and then she links her arm through mine again. I don’t pull away, just ignore her, then she rests her head against my arm. Fuck me. We get to the house, and she hovers in the kitchen with me. I get her a glass and some Aspirin from the medical bag on the counter. I pass them over, and she looks at me with those big blue eyes. Fuck me. I should really just fucking leave her now and get Howard to come and mind her for the night. But I don’t want any other fucking male near her. And that is the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Fuck. She isn’t mine. Doesn’t fucking want me. Why the fuck can’t I just walk away?
I follow her to the room we’ve shared. I go straight to Harrison’s, into the bathroom and run the shower. I can’t look at her right now, let alone speak to her. That image of him with his hands up her skirt, and his tongue in her mouth fires through my brain, and I squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes it will stop. It doesn’t. I punch the mirror and feel the glass slice through my knuckles as the shards drop into the sink below it. It’s not satisfying, so I hit it again, this time it’s the tiles behind the mirror that crack. But they don’t fall. The door flies open, and I turn my head to find her in the doorway, looking wide-eyed and panicked. I move my hand from her view, but I know she’s seen it. I turn my back on her and start stripping. She can leave or stand there and watch. I don’t give a fuck. I drop my jeans. I don’t have any underwear on so she gets the full show. I step in the shower without looking back to see if she’s watching. The water runs pink from my bloody hand. It stings like fuck for a few minutes, but it soon disappears.
I need to go out and get my dick wet—stop thinking about her and just do it. Never had a problem getting hook-ups. Never had anyone say no. Until her. I wouldn’t mind, I’d never fucking use her—didn’t even cross my mind. I haven’t even tried to get past first base with her. I wouldn’t, not with her history. But then she goes and does shit like she pulled tonight, and my fucking blood boils.
I wanted to kill that fucker, and really, he was just me on any other night. Out for a random fuck—no strings. But he bet on the wrong horse. And I couldn’t stop myself. I shake my head to rid it of these thoughts—everything always goes back to her. At the end of the day, she doesn’t want me. Move the fuck on. I pull on some boxers from the bag and walk through to the bedroom to find her sitting on the bed. I walk around to the other side like she isn’t there. I face the opposite way. And act like I’m going to sleep.
‘I’m not too good for you—you’ve got it all wrong.’
I snap my eyes open, but I don’t turn to face her. I wait to see if she says anything else. She doesn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do, or say, so I say nothing, letting her think I’ve gone to sleep like an asshole. I don’t know how long I’m lying there before she speaks again.
‘I know you’re awake.’
I grunt. Letting her know she’s right without saying it. ‘You’ve got it backwards,’ I hear her mumbled voice. What the fuck does that mean? I open my mouth to say something, but I snap it shut. It doesn’t fucking matter what it means. I’m not arguing over it. She huffs out a sigh like she’s pissed or upset. I don’t know which ‘cause women are a fucking mystery to me when it comes to feelings and shit. So again, I stay quiet.
‘Are you just going to stay pissed at me? Or are you actually going to man up and talk it out?’ I scoff. That’s fucking it.
‘Man up and talk about it? Me? Fuck, Maiya, how many times have you shut me down—how many times have I made it clear what I wanted. HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES?’ I yell. It’s then I realise I’m standing facing her. Her eyes are full of tears, and they start to overflow as her lip quivers. I step back away from her. Shit. I go straight to the bathroom and slam the door behind me. I can hear her crying, and it breaks my fucking heart. But I have to protect my own. I’ve fallen fucking hard, and I don’t know what to do with all these feelings I’ve got going on. It pisses me off that I have them at all. I open the door and intend on telling her straight. But when I see her, I can’t help but go over to her. She’s a mess, and I hate seeing her this way.
‘Hey, come on, stop with the crying.’ I move her hair from the front of her face. She has her knees pulled up, her arms folded across the top, and her head resting on them. Her big blue eyes find mine, and something passes between us, I’m not sure what the fuck it is, but it’s intense. She doesn’t look away, and neither do I. Then she moves. Folding her legs beneath her, she kneels up and presses her hands to my chest. My heart stutters, and I’m frozen to the spot. Paralysed in a moment of time. Hoping. Waiting.
I close my eyes—the feeling is too much for me. I’m about to tell her I’ll be doing different duties from now on, but as I open my mouth to say it, I feel her hot breath on my lips. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter as her lips meet mine. Slowly, her lips open, and I follow suit, making sure I leave her in charge. Maiya’s tongue slips into my mouth, slowly tasting me. I almost growl at the frustration I feel at having to hold back. But I keep it in. Her hands come up around my neck, and I feel her tits flattening against my chest as she practically climbs up my body. I slide my arms around her and cup her arse as her legs come up and around my waist. I don’t want this kiss to fucking end. But I know it will. So I take what I can get. With one hand at my neck and the other gripping my braids, she deepens the kiss, becoming almost frantic. My cock is hard as steel and begging to be free, but I know I can’t go there. She doesn’t really want me. That little voice of doubt speaks in the back of my mind.
I pull back, and she groans as she opens her eyes. I sit her on the bed and cup her face in my hands. The contrast between her skin and mine is so striking. We look like yin and yang.
‘Maiya, we can’t do this,’ I tell her, making her eyes widen.
‘But, I thought… I thought that’s what you want?’
‘Oh, sweetheart. It is, it really is. But later, or tomorrow, or the next day, you’re gonna wake up and regret it.’
She frowns.
‘I don’t wanna be that guy… the regret… a means to an end. Because I like you. Fuck, I think I… I know how you feel, Maiya, and this can’t happen. I won’t let it because it’s not fair, on you or me.’
Her eyes fill with more tears, and I back up until I hit the bedroom door. I’m through it and out in the hall before she has a chance to reply. I let out a big sigh just as Howard rounds the corner near the stairs.
‘Fuck me, now I’ve seen it all.’ He looks me up and down, and I move my hands to cover my tenting boxers. I’ve got the biggest case of blue balls, and I didn’t need him rubbing it in my face.
‘Fuck off, knob-jockey,’ I tell him as I pass. He just chuckles. ‘Hey, can I borrow some clothes?’
‘You’re not putting that in my fucking clothes,’ he says gesturing to the very obvious hard-on that I’d tried and failed to cover.
‘Howard, don’t be a dick and do me a solid… please?’
He chuckles again, walking away he says, ‘You’ll just have to face the she-bitch to get your own.’
I don’t
appreciate it one fucking bit, but I grind my jaw shut and don’t say another fucking word. He doesn’t know how I feel about her, and it will stay that fucking way. I can see it now. I’ll get ripped to shit, pining after a female who doesn’t want me. No thank you.
I KNOW HE’S out there in the hall. I hear him talking. I want to open the door, but I daren’t. I’m scared. He rejected me, but he wants me. I’m so confused right now. He doesn’t understand how I feel. How can he? I wanted to use the guy in the club because I wanted to control how far the situation went. I wanted to be able to shut it down on my terms. I had no intention of ever going any further. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. But with Brad, I do want to. I want to so much—even though he is what he is—I feel him in a way I’ve never felt anyone. But I’m broken. So fucking broken. Damaged goods.
So I push him away. I don’t want to feel the need I do when I’m with him. The need to have sex. I don’t want to feel unwanted, used, so I don’t let him in. I push him away, and now I’ve made him feel used and rejected. It’s cruel really. Sick—because I feel it too. But the feeling I get when I’m aroused… makes me feel dirty—like I shouldn’t be doing it.
I was raped, over and over again. How is it possible to feel like I want that again? With Brad. How can I want that? I’m sick. It’s wrong. I should never even think of having sex ever again. How could I want to? The door opens then, and he stands in the doorway, watching me with appraising eyes. It’s then I notice that I’d actually moved from the bed and was halfway between it and the door. I straighten my back, and lift my chin, swiping at my face to clear the tears. He drops his eyes then and moves to the bag which he rummages through before bringing out some crumpled joggers and a t-shirt. I watch as he dresses, and that feeling comes crashing back. Before I can stop the words, they tumble from my mouth.
‘You don’t know how I feel. Because I do want you.’
His back straightens, but he doesn’t turn. And as if my brain has shorted, allowing my mouth to speak of its own accord, the words just keep on coming. ‘I feel you so strongly. I ache in places I shouldn’t. I yearn for you when you aren’t close, and I don’t know how or why that is because I find myself wanting to do the very thing that broke me. And I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m damaged, Brad, sick. And it’s all wrong. All of it. It makes me feel sick, that I want you like that—because of what I want you to do to me.’
He takes in a huge breath and turns around to face me. His eyes are swimming with tears, and he looks like he’s going to break in front of me. He takes a step in my direction and then another. Slowly, he pulls me into his chest, and he holds me. And I can’t take anymore. I crumple. He takes me to the floor and sits with me in his lap. Stroking my hair.
‘I… I… I’m so fucking sorry I make you feel that way, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.’ His voice breaking on the last word makes me look up. His eyes bore into mine and that all too familiar feeling comes creeping back. The ache I feel, my heart beating fast, the flutter in my stomach at his nearness. And then that shudder, followed by goosebumps. The hot, warm feeling that rolls through my body. Then bam, I feel dirty, disgusting. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold back the bile that rises up my throat. I want him so badly, but I can’t make this feeling go away. He stiffens and lifts me from his lap. He looks like his whole world just fell apart.
‘I can’t watch you battle with yourself like this. One way or another, I need to leave you alone. I was going to tell you earlier that I’m being re-assigned permanently, someone else will be with you from now on. Not sure who yet. I’ll let you know when I find out.’
I nod in answer. ‘I’ll still be on hand for blood. Zoe can still draw from me every day until we sort out a better way, going forward.’
I keep on nodding. I should say thank you for that, but the words don’t come. I’m terrified. I don’t want to be around anyone else like I have been with him. I don’t think I can go a day without him again. I start to shake. And I’m not sure which is bothering me the most: him leaving me, or having to be around another like I am Brad. I need to tell him—ask him to stay. I take a breath and try, but it gets stuck in my throat as he stands, leaving me on the floor. He wipes his hands nervously on his joggers and looks down at me.
‘I’ll let you sleep,’ he says and then the panic sets in. I scream as he turns away. It’s high-pitched and hysterical like it came from someone else. But he turns, and I see indecision in his eyes.
‘Please don’t leave me,’ I ask. It sounds like a plea for my life.
‘Sweetheart, I’m not gonna let you put yourself through this every time we get close—and if I stay, we will get close.’ He doesn’t move, stays stock-still with what feels like a huge gap between us. I rush to him and throw myself at him. If he won’t listen, I’ll show him that I need him—that I want him. Feelings be damned. He catches me in his arms, and his strong hold keeps me from collapsing at his feet. I feel so pathetic, but I can’t let him leave me. I can’t.
‘Please… just be with me. Make it stop, make it go away, please, Brad.’
He holds me tight, and I feel him shaking against me.
‘Tell me what you need?’
‘I need you to just make me forget.’
He looks pained as he looks down at me. But then his face changes, and I no longer see pain or indecision, in its place is an unwavering determination.
He moves around me and picks me up, placing me on the bed. I expect him to undress and come back to me, but he doesn’t. He climbs onto the bed next to me, turns on his side with his head propped on his elbow, and stares intently into my eyes. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. ‘I thought—’
‘Shhh, I know what you thought, but that’s not what you need.’ He smiles sympathetically.
‘But I want you to make it better, I want to be with you.’
‘And you are. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.’ He smiles and tucks the hair, which has fallen in my face, behind my ear, making me smile. Our eyes meet, and I feel that undeniable connection that always feels like we’re attached by an invisible thread that just stretches and shortens but never breaks, however far away he goes. But when we’re close like this, it’s like it pulls me in. Like my body needs his. And denying that fact hasn’t got me anywhere. My feelings for him are strong, no matter how confused my emotions are. I was once this happy-go-lucky, out for a good time girl. Now she is nowhere in sight. It seems like a lifetime ago. I felt like I’ve spent an eternity in hell. And Brad has helped me to claw my way back. I would no longer be that version of me. I have to accept that. But I didn’t need to be like this either. I want to be happy again—to feel again, and I want Brad to help me get there.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asks, and I don’t think about it. I nod without any hesitation. He smiles so hard, and then he moves in like he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He lets me kiss him. And I do. Like my life depends on it. I clash my teeth against his because I’m so desperate to feel him.
‘Whoa whoa, slow down, sweetheart,’ he chuckles, making me blush a little. I look down, away from his gaze, and he tilts my chin with his fingers to get my attention back. I see heat in his eyes, and I feel that fluttering in my stomach. He inhales deeply through his nose, and his eyes close—he looks pained.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
He opens his eyes.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. You just… I can smell your arousal.’
My eyes widen, and he chuckles.
‘Nothing to be ashamed of… Hey, eyes on me, beautiful.’
My eyes snap back to his. Beautiful? Does he really think that? He strokes his fingers up my arm and along my shoulder, up the side of my neck, and I moan because his touch is so good. His eyes close again, and he swallows like he has something stuck in his throat. I don’t touch him. I daren’t. But I enjoy the simple touch of his fingers gliding over my skin.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asks again. I nod. ‘Words, sweet
heart.’
‘Yes,’ I tell him on a breathy exhale. He nods his approval.
‘Good, now I’m gonna lie here next to you tonight. I’m not going anywhere that okay?’
I nod, a little confused. Is he going to get undressed or just literally lie how he is? I don’t ask. But just then he stands at the other side of the bed, and he strips down to his boxers. My stomach twists at the thought of what we might do, and fear grips me hard. But I swallow it down. This is Brad. He gets into the bed, and it’s then I realise that I should maybe do the same. I stand and begin to undress.
‘Sweetheart, you don’t need to get undressed.’
‘I want to,’ I tell him. He holds his hands up in surrender like I’ve told him off.
‘No arguments from me, beautiful. This goes at your pace or not at all.’
I look at him then. I mean really look at him. I see the sweetness under the all male façade. Not many see this side of Brad—he’s always jovial and fun—the joker of the group. But not with me, not today. I undress and climb under the covers. It’s a really big bed, so I scoot over a little nearer to him. He has a smirk on his face.
‘What are you smirking at?’
He grins now and shakes his head.
‘Nothing.’ He grins.
‘Tell me!’ I giggle and slap at his shoulder. He clasps his hand around my wrist so gently, and when his eyes meet mine, his pupils dilate, and my stomach flips. I must be blushing because my face is burning like the sun. Oh jeez, what do I look like? He tugs a little on my wrist, and I move closer until he lets me go and my hand falls to his shoulder. Our noses touch, as we gaze into each other’s eyes. This feels so right. We lie there for a few minutes until our lips finally meet in a slow kiss, which speaks a thousand words. He doesn’t move to take things further, and I think he really meant it when he said this goes at my pace. He is giving me all the control. I just have to have the courage to take the leap. Maybe in a little while, I will. His hands stroke my arms, shoulders and neck. It’s so soothing, so calming, my eyes close, and he continues. So nice.
Complicated Love Page 12
