by KD Robichaux
I slide the remote from her hand resting on the couch near her stomach and turn the TV off, throwing the living room into darkness. I stand carefully not to wake her and look around, trying to decide whether to cover her with the throw blanket on the other end of the couch so she can sleep here undisturbed, or if I should try to carry her to bed.
I know I chose wrong the moment my arms slide beneath her and lift her against me as I stand. Her body stiffens the second she awakens, and when she opens her eyes to complete darkness, she begins to struggle, finding her voice as it rises in volume from startled whimper to screams of terror. My grip tightens on her so I don’t drop her, and while she fights me like an untranquilized wildcat being put into a crate, I use my long stride to reach the staircase, which alights as soon as I set off the motion sensors. I glance at the top of the stairs to see Scout skid to a stop on the landing.
“It’s okay, boy. I’ve got her,” I tell him, and he sits right where he is, standing guard to make sure I’m not lying, it seems.
“Shhh, goddess, it’s okay. It’s okay,” I try to break through her panic as her nails rip at the skin of my arms. “Astrid, it’s me. It’s Doc.” But she’s in too deep, her eyes squeezed closed with her terror as she yells for me to let her go. I know what to do. I know exactly what to do in order to calm someone from a panic attack. I’m a fucking world-renowned psychologist. But my heart is breaking at the fear twisting Astrid’s face, her beautiful, angelic face that fills my every dream. And all I want to do is make that look go away. I never want her to look at me like this, like she’s terrified of me, of what I might do to her. It kills my soul.
So I do the only thing I can in this moment, with her flailing, stiffening, and wriggling her body as she tries with all her might to make me drop her so she can run.
In one fluid movement—because she’s tiny, so fucking tiny compared to me—her ass meets one of the stairs at the same time my knees do a couple below her, and I twist her around to face me. My body goes between her legs, and I take hold of her wrists as she tries to hit me with the backside of her little fists. I pull them toward me, trapping each one of her arms between my sides and my biceps.
And then I just hug her.
My cheek comes down to rest on top of her blonde head, and I just hug her tight, whispering to her over and over. “It’s me, goddess. It’s just me. Astrid, it’s just me, baby. It’s Doc. It’s Neil, sweet girl.” Until I realize I’m rocking her, continuing to remind her who I am, that I’m not who her nightmare made her think I was. And her wails of terror slowly calm, slowly quiet, until she’s sobbing. Sobbing against my chest until I feel her tears soak through my T-shirt and drip down between my pecs. Her fists at my back relax until her fingers are clutching me to her. “It’s me, sweet goddess,” I assure her one last time, and I feel her finally nod against me. But she doesn’t let me go.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, rocking back and forth in the middle of the night on my staircase, her wrapped around me, our bodies entwined like lovers with my hips between her legs. I don’t know how long, and I don’t care. I would stay like this for-fucking-ever to get to feel this close to her. I just hate that it happened this way, to pull her from a nightmare, because she woke up in the dark and someone had her.
And then her soft, pitiful voice comes, and I close my eyes at the sound of it, wishing it was for a different reason—the same words, just a different meaning. “Please… take me to bed, Neil.”
I hold her for just a moment more, not knowing when I’ll ever get the opportunity to be this close with her again, not knowing if I’ll ever get to be wrapped in her arms as she’s pressed tight against me, where I can feel the heat of her core through her tiny pajama shorts.
I nod, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her hair. And then I wrap one arm around the small of her back and reach out to the banister to balance as I stand, and her legs instinctively lock behind me.
Fuck. There’s no way. There is no way she doesn’t feel my steel rod of a cock pressed up against her. Not when her breasts are smashed against my front and I have her pussy just… right… there. Not when I have her scent in my nose, inhaling her into my lungs with every intake of breath, intoxicating me, getting me high on this woman I’m completely and unequivocally consumed with. One second, one series of movements, and I could lower my pajama bottoms just enough to set my cock free and move her little shorts to the side, and I’d be inside her. Inside that wet heat I feel rubbing against me with each stride I take up the rest of the stairs, past my dog, and toward her room right next to mine as he follows behind me.
I take her to her bed, the front of my legs pressing against the side of her mattress, and I know she knows where we are, yet she doesn’t let me go. She stays tightly wound around my body, the sweetest torture, her head nuzzling into the side of my neck where she’s breathing me in. Deep breaths in and slow exhales out. Her air slides down the neckline of my tee, a gentle caress that sets my skin ablaze.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stand one more second of this, even though I’d give my life to stay just like this. Because if I keep holding her, feeling her breathe me in like I’m her oxygen, I’m going to give in to my every desire. I’m going to move the waistband holding back my cock. I’m going to tug her shorts to the side. I’m going to take her sweet, hot little cunt that I fantasize about day in and day out.
And she’s not ready. She’s not ready for that. For me. For us.
So I bend at the waist and lay her down on the bed, my eyes squeezing shut and my teeth clenching until they feel like they’ll shatter. And still, she doesn’t let go.
I balance on my forearms so I don’t squash her tiny form, even though that tiny body of hers tightens around me, crushing me to her like she’s never going to let me go.
And that’s when I feel it. The lightest press of her lips against my throat, the tiniest flick of a lighter that sets my entire existence on fire. And I shudder, my whole body convulsing like it was a Taser she stuck to me and not just those plush, perfect lips.
Fuck, I growl inside my head, or do I say it aloud? I don’t know. I don’t know anything except the way Astrid feels beneath me.
But as much as I want to latch on to that miniscule unspoken invitation and follow it back to the woman who sent it, I know, know it would ruin every fucking thing I’ve worked so hard to heal inside her. Just when she’s finally opening up. Just when she’s finally asked me to spend time with her. Just when she’s finally not fucking hiding from me.
So, I pray for strength as I reach behind my neck and unwind the death grip she has on me there, kissing the inside of her wrist where her other hand had such a tight lock on it that it left marks. She shudders, and her pussy moves against me, and I have to fight back my own unmanly whimper. I reach behind my lower back and unlock her ankles, and I can’t help giving myself just this one feel of her. Just one. Just the one slow glide of my roughened palm up the outside of her long, smooth leg from her ankle, up her calf, and down her thigh until I reach those tiny pink pajama shorts, where I grip her hip in my big hand. And she shivers.
“I want—” she whispers, but I cut her off. Because if I hear the words, hear her admit it. Hear her ask for it. Beg for it. I won’t be able to say no. I won’t be able to deny her, because I’d never be able to deny her anything.
“Not like this, goddess,” I say low, my voice gravelly as I grasp on to the final thin tendrils of my control. “Not when five minutes ago you were terrified of my touch.” I nuzzle my face into her neck, smelling her intoxicating scent. “I’d give anything to have you, but not like this.” I make sure she knows how much I want her, desire her, so she doesn’t feel rejected. Never, ever rejected.
And then I kiss the underside of her jaw, and with the last bit of strength I have left inside me, I push myself up off her and pull her covers around her, tucking her in.
I look at Scout in the doorway and pat the top of her covers. He
follows my wordless order and takes a running leap, settling himself next to her.
“Sweet dreams this time, Ms. Quill,” I tell her, making it sound like an order as I look down at her. She blinks up at me, searching my face, and then she gives me a little nod, throwing her arm over Scout, closing her eyes, and burrowing farther into her pillows.
Chapter 4
Astrid
First thing this morning, I called the gym and asked if they had availability in any of their barre classes for two people to do a trial today. The girl on the phone was super perky and nice, instantly making me more excited to actually get out of the house and try something new and physical, and she signed us up for the 11:00 a.m. class.
When I went downstairs to tell Neil, I found him downing a bottle of water in the kitchen, his chest bare, droplets of sweat running down his torso and being absorbed into the waistband of his black running shorts, having clearly just gotten back from a run. It took everything in me not to either drool or swallow my tongue—he made such a delicious image. Somehow, I managed to let him know about the class, and I could tell he wanted to approach me, to wrap me in his arms and tell me he was so proud of me for getting us set up and for even wanting to go. And half of me wanted that so very badly.
I have never, never in my life felt something so life-altering than being wrapped up in Neil’s arms. His wasn’t just an embrace or a hug. What I feel when he holds me can only be described as a full-on soul connection. I feel it from the very top of my head to the tips of my toes and everywhere in between, including deep down in my gut, my heart, my very essence—truly alive for the first time. And when he lets me go, it’s like pulling the plug, removing the damn battery pack, and disconnecting the freaking backup generator all at once.
And I know he wants me. God, do I know. He uses every single breath he takes to prove that I am the only woman on this earth who he desires, cares for, and dare I say feels even more than that.
But I’m too fucked up. I’m damaged goods. I have entirely too much baggage to haul around that I’d be bringing into a relationship with Neil, with anyone. They say you shouldn’t bring your past relationships into the new ones you start, but how can I not? Brandon ruined me for all others. He ruined me, period, to a point there’s no coming back from what he did to me. And I refuse to drag Neil down with me, no matter how badly I want to grab onto him to try to stay afloat.
A couple of hours later, Neil is opening the glass door at the front of the gym, and I’m shocked when the girl at the front desk greets, “Morning, Doc! This is an odd time for you, isn’t it?” She glances at her Fitbit.
My eyes lift to his, my brow furrowed. “This is your gym?”
His gaze twinkles down at me. “Oh, did I forget to point that out? I was just letting fate do her thing.” He winks, and then he turns to the receptionist. “My guest Astrid and I are here for the barre class,” he tells her, holding out his phone for her to scan. When I glance at it, it’s a barcode, the words Membership Card bold at the top.
She snorts then covers her lips. “Doc. You’re going to do a barre class?”
He narrows his shockingly bright blue eyes, which would be intimidating as hell if his lips weren’t in a playful smile. “What? Are you saying guys shouldn’t do barre? That it’s too girly and easy? How sexist of you, Johnna.”
I lift an eyebrow at that, because he has another think coming if he thinks this is going to be easy. She takes the words right out of my mouth when she shakes her head. “Oh hell no. I’m just wondering how you’re going to be able to make your big ass do the things these women can do. I’d bet you don’t make it halfway through.”
“What’s the wager?” Neil prompts, sticking his phone in his pocket and crossing his massive arms over his white tee-covered chest.
She cocks her hip and crosses her own arms. “Copay of my next session,” she bets, lifting her chin. And I realize she must be one of his patients. I look at her more closely, my head tilting to the side, wondering what this pretty, curvy, and bubbly girl could possibly have wrong with her. She makes my figure seem downright boyish. And then I recognize I’m being an idiot. He’s a psychologist, a doctor of the mind, and her scars most likely wouldn’t show on the outside. Anyone looking at me wouldn’t be able to tell what a shitshow I am unless they look too closely into my eyes. But they’d have to really care in order to look past all the pretty makeup and fake smiles. And most people don’t.
“Deal,” he says, sticking out his hand, and she grasps and shakes it with a smirk.
I feel the creeping tendrils of jealousy make their way down my neck, this woman touching Neil so casually. Until I see her face take on a little evil look when she tells him dramatically, “You’re going dooown. My wife teaches that class.”
“Ah, shit. Goddess, you didn’t tell me Destinee is the instructor,” he grumbles at me.
I stare at him blankly. “And how would I know who the hell Destinee is, Neil? You didn’t even tell me this was your gym.”
“Oooo, feisty. I like her. Welcome to Time of Your Life Athletics. I’m Johnna.” She holds out her hand to me, and I shake it with a smile.
“Were you the one I spoke to on the phone earlier?” I ask.
“Yes, it was. I’m the only one on desk duty on Saturdays,” she explains.
I smile. “I was actually telling Neil on the way here that you did a really good job on the phone making this place seem like it was super fun. So good job.”
She gives a wicked little cackle. “That’s just to get you in here. We’ll see how fun you think it is when Destinee is through with you.”
I keep the smile on my face, and I think I manage a super fake-sounding laugh, but I can’t ignore the fear that skitters down my spine. I know. I know she’s just being playful, talking about how my workout is going to be hard and rigorous. But this is my first time out of the house to do anything physical. This’ll be my first time around a large group of people I don’t know in… God, years, nearly a decade. Brandon had done a thorough job of isolating me from my family and friends since I was eighteen, and since my escape, the only large group of people I’ve been around is the Club Alias/Imperium Security crew, which my sister married into and brought me along with her as her permanent plus-one.
“Hey,” Johnna says, squeezing my hand to snap me out of it. She’s looking at me closely, closer than those “most people” I was thinking about earlier who don’t take the time to look past the façade, and I swallow. She sees me. Really sees me. And it’s both comforting and nerve-wracking. “You’re going to do great. Des isn’t an asshole to newcomers, just her regulars who like her to not go easy on them. Just do what you can, okay?” she encourages, and I instantly relax. There’s something about this girl, from the very first moment I spoke to her on the phone, that just… made me feel good.
Or maybe I’m just so starved for friendship that I’m trying desperately to grasp on to the first stranger I’ve talked to for more than two seconds. I let go of her hand, rolling my eyes at myself.
“Just do me a favor and kick this big guy’s ass,” she says, nudging her head toward Neil, who places his hand on my lower back.
“I’ll do my best,” I reply, waving as he leads me away.
We climb a gigantic staircase that has me huffing and puffing by the time we reach the top, and Neil looks down at me, shaking his head when I pull to a stop to catch my breath. “You’re going on my membership, STAT.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“You live in my household, so it’ll be less than half the cost than if you were to get your own. I was being understanding and giving you time, and I let you take this first step yourself, finding something you wanted to do outside the house, but now I’m putting my foot down. When you can’t climb one flight of stairs without looking like you’re going into cardiac arrest, it’s time for an intervention.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
He waits for a moment longer, and then I nod to le
t him know I’m okay and stand up straight, walking beside him toward the rooms marked Group Exercise.
“If you don’t like this class, there are plenty of others. An entire schedule full for you to try. And if none of those work, you can train with me. I do cardio and alternating muscle groups daily on both machines and free weights. But we have got to get you some exercise, goddess. And not just for your physical health. You’re doing nothing to release endorphins just staying at the house all day long. Endorphins trigger a positive feeling, reduces stress, wards off anxiety and depression, boosts your self-esteem, and helps you… sleep better.” He adds the last part low, clearly thinking about last night, and I feel my face flush—and not from the cardio I just got climbing those damn stairs.
The memory of me wrapped around him, my center pushed up against him, feeling how hard and big he was beneath the layers of clothes….
I clear my throat. “Um… yeah. Okay. Sounds good.” I nod, giving in just to fill the silence. And I find I actually agree with him. At least it would give me something to do besides clean an already immaculate house and hold full-on conversations with a dog who I swear actually understands what I’m saying.
When I see we’ve gotten here a little early and the room is still dark inside through the glass doors, I look around and see a bench nearby, so I take a seat, Neil sitting down next to me. For some reason, I find myself wanting… no needing to open up to him. It all comes out like word vomit, and as embarrassing as it is, it’s also cathartic.
“Brandon didn’t let me exercise. He made me stop dancing, and then when he saw I didn’t gain any weight from stopping, he told me I had no reason to go to a gym or run around the neighborhood or anything. I lost all my muscle I’d spent my entire childhood and teenage years building while dancing, but I didn’t ‘get fat’ as he said. The one time he came home and saw I was doing a yoga video, he flew into a rage, wondering who I was trying to look sexy for, and he… um. He…. Let’s just say he re-marked his property.” I push my hair behind my ear, not meeting Neil’s eyes but feeling the tremble of barely contained wrath beneath his skin, where his knee presses to mine on the bench. “That was the last time I did any type of exercise besides just like… dancing around the house while I’m cleaning.” I shake my head, a little self-deprecating laugh escaping from my lips.
