Release Me If You Can

by Christina C Jones

  He dropped his mouth to her neck, trailing gentle bites, followed by soothing kisses as he made his way back up to her ear. “You are so damned sexy,” he whispered against her ear, before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. She whimpered as he dragged his thumbs over her clit, teasing and massaging as he stroked her. “So wet… nice and tight… perfect.”

  Wait… no.

  Something in his words triggered… something. A memory… a flashback… Renata squeezed her eyes shut.

  — & —

  “Nice and tight,” he groaned. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  Her vision went black as someone dragged her up from her seat. Faintly, she heard Stacy’s giggly voice asking what was going on, but soon her hearing was as muffled as her vision. Shortly after, there was nothing.

  She didn’t know how much later it was that a faint sense of consciousness returned to her. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t smell anything, but something… somebody… was touching her, and pain was emanating from between her legs. The distant memory of being carried out of the club tugged at her mind as something… someone… moved inside of her.

  She tried to open her mouth, tried to say something, but her lips wouldn’t move. She just wanted him to stop touching her.

  Don’t touch me. Please, don’t touch me.

  — & —

  “Please stop touching me!”

  Quentin’s fingers stilled, then withdrew, and he looked up, confused by Renata’s sudden demand. “I’m…sorry. What happened, did I hurt you?”

  “Get away from me!” She yelled again, her eyes frantic as she looked around her on the table for… something.

  Baffled by what was happening, Quentin stepped back, raising his hands in midair. “I’m sorry, Ren…did I do something?”

  Renata snatched her tee-shirt from the end of the table where Quentin had thrown it, yanking it over her head. “Just… get out. Get the hell away from me.”

  “Cherie… I’ll leave if that’s what you want me to do, but can you tell me what’s going on?” Not thinking, he reached forward, placing a hand on her knee, and she immediately snatched away.

  “I said don’t touch me!” she shrieked, snatching up a palette knife from the table beside her.

  “Ren, what the fuck is happening?”

  “That’s a good damned question.”

  Quentin turned to the door to see Inez standing there, weapon drawn. He glanced back at Renata, wielding that tiny little knife, looking terrified of him, and he sighed.

  This looks so bad.

  “So you already know, right?” Inez asked, not lowering her gun. “I’m coming down the hall, hear her screaming don’t touch me… I come in here and she’s half naked, with a knife… I need you to explain this shit quickly, por favor.”

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Quentin took a step toward Inez, but she raised her weapon a little higher, moving her finger to the trigger. “Uh-uh. You’re the homey, Q, but no sudden movements, and keep your ass where you are until I know what’s going on. Ren… you alright chiquita?”

  When he looked at her, she was sitting all the way on the table, knees drawn into her chest as she nodded.

  What the fuck just happened? He thought. He still had Renata’s taste in his mouth, her scent on his fingers… what the hell had changed? One second, they were sharing a moment, and the next… Inez’s crazy side had a gun pointed in his face.

  Nez kept the barrel of the gun trained on him as she stepped into the room, then moved so that she was between he and Renata.

  “Did he hurt you?” Inez asked over her shoulder.

  “No.”

  “You just want him to leave?”

  Behind Inez, Renata nodded, her voice trembling as she delivered a shaky “Yes.”

  With that, Inez gave Quentin a pointed look, then made a “shoo” gesture with her gun. “You heard her, Q. Come on.”

  Only because he was still confused did he go quietly to the door, but as soon as he was there, he faced Inez, keeping his voice low.

  “The fuck is this, Nez? Pointin’ a gun at me?”

  Inez’s face dropped from her tough girl expression as she lowered the gun, pulling the door closed behind them. “I’m sorry, Q! But you see her, don’t you? The girl is traumatized, and I’m trying to make her feel safe! What the fuck did you do?”

  “What did I do? Exactly what she asked me for! We’re having a good goddamn time, then all of a sudden, she flips on me!”

  Inez groaned. “Maybe… maybe you triggered something, Q. Remember, you know what she’s been through. You know better than any of us.”

  “So she thinks I did something to her?” Quentin stepped back, swiping a hand over the back of his head. This was all messed up.

  “No,” Inez said, leaning back against the wall. “If she thought that, she probably would have had me shoot you. I think she knows what happened, and just had a moment. I’m gonna go in here and talk to her, see if I can figure it out.”

  Quentin pushed out a breath, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Please do, cause… shit, I thought she was okay with it. She said she was okay with it. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, right?”

  Inez nodded, then tipped her head to the side with a sympathetic smile. “Q… I know that, and Ren knows too. Trust me. She probably thought she was okay with it, until it was actually… happening. I’m gonna talk to her. Chin up, chico, we know you’re a gentleman.”

  “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about her.”

  “I know. Dios mio, are you gonna let me go talk to her or not?”

  “Please, go.”

  Inez shot him another little smile before she went back in the room and closed the door, and Quentin shook his head. He still didn’t really understand how his stopping, just to check on Renata had turned into him getting kicked out of her room at gunpoint.

  Shirtless.

  At three in the morning.

  Sucking his teeth, he bypassed his room for the bathroom, taking a quick shower before he climbed into bed. Thirty minutes, then an hour passed with him tossing and turning, unable to sleep while wondering what was going on with Ren. Was she okay… was she mad at him?

  Realizing that trying to sleep was futile, he got out of bed and set up his laptop at the desk. In front of it, he spent some time working on breaking the encryption on Terry King’s private files, but he still couldn’t focus. The only thing on his mind was Renata.

  Quentin lifted an eyebrow when a chat box popped up on his screen, but smiled when he saw the username.

  [painted_pixel: hey… are you awake?

  CrawDaddy: yeah. couldn’t sleep. guessing you couldn’t either… why didn’t you just text me?

  painted_pixel: didn’t want to bother you if you were sleeping.

  …………

  ………

  painted_pixel: can we talk?]

  Quentin pushed out a heavy sigh, then scratched at his chin. Then, he shook his head, at himself, because he didn’t know why he was stalling.

  [CrawDaddy: of course.

  ……………

  ………

  painted_pixel: ……can you come over here?

  CrawDaddy: uh… yeah. Be there in a sec.]

  Quentin didn’t bother shutting down the chat, just closed the lid on his laptop, then sat back in his chair. Swiping a hand over his face, he chuckled at himself. When had he become this guy, who was willing to, just a few hours after being kicked out, go back to a woman?

  But… then again… he’d always been willing to go above and beyond for Renata, since they were kids. He’d ignored it for a long time, but when he thought back over the years of their friendship, something had shifted, very early on. Only for a short time, when they first met in that teenage hacker chat room, and Renata shut everything down had they been simple friends. It had almost always been something … different. Never sexual because they didn’t have the chance, but if he was very honest with himself… Rena
ta was the reason no other girl — and later, woman — had ever stood a chance.

  He pulled on a tee shirt and shorts over his boxers, then left his room to travel the few feet to Renata’s door. He leaned against the doorframe as he knocked, and a couple of seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Renata’s pretty face.

  Her arm was back in the sling, and she was in shorts and a tank top this time. Her braids were pulled back from her face, and her eyes… it was obvious that she’d been crying.

  If Quentin had even a little bit of indignation left over from earlier, it was quickly swept away by her subdued expression. She stepped back so he could come in, then closed the door behind him, and they stood there for moment in silence, giving Quentin the distinct impression that neither of them really knew what to say.

  Finally, Renata cleared her throat, then looked up to meet his gaze. “I… I am so sorry, about earlier. I’m completely mortified about what happened, and I think I would understand if you wanted to just pretend I wasn’t even here anymore, but…. I hope you don’t wanna do that.”

  “I don’t,” Quentin said, shaking his head. “Just wanna know… what the hell happened?”

  She dropped her eyes, and her expression shifted to one of such intense discomfort that Quentin wished he hadn’t asked. He was struck by an overwhelming need to hug her, touch her, something, but… he kept his distance.

  When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, but she gave him a weak smile. “Can we sit down?”

  Quentin nodded, taking a seat in the desk chair while she sat on the end of the bed. Not wanting to rush her, he waited patiently while she collected herself, then finally spoke.

  “Um… for a long time… since it happened, really… I… always thought that I was completely out of it while Wolfe um… did what he did to me, all those years ago. I didn’t remember any of it. And… I never talked to a professional. Or… anybody at all about it. I just… told myself I was okay. But I wasn’t. All this time, I’ve tried to date people, tried to be intimate, and it just… didn’t work. I think that some of that has had to do with my feelings for you. You… filled a void for me emotionally, so I didn’t really need anyone else there. So… I’ve never gotten… as close as you and I got… with anyone else before.”

  Eyes wide, Quentin sat forward in his chair. Had he heard that right? “Are you telling me… you’ve never…?”

  She shook her head. “The night that Taylor was conceived is the only time.”

  Guilt sucker-punched Quentin in the chest as he processed her words… realized the magnitude of what tonight could have meant for her.

  “Chérie,” he said, sliding out his seat to kneel in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. “I am so sorry.”

  Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “For what? Q… you didn’t do anything wrong. I just… something you said to me, reminded me of something he said to me that night, and it triggered a memory. A really ugly memory, and I freaked out. That’s not your fault.”

  “But I’m still sorry. Sorry that you even have to deal with something like this.”

  She shrugged. “I guess… I maybe should have expected it. But everything felt so… natural, and so right with you. Nobody has ever come close to making me feel taken care of like that. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.” She smiled, then closed her eyes as Quentin reached up, using his thumbs to wipe away the stray tears that escaped down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered when she opened her eyes, and Quentin pulled her into an embrace as she broke into sobs.

  “Stop apologizin’,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You’ve been through a lot… what kind of person would I be to hold that shit against you? I just wanna see you happy.”

  Pulling back, Renata nodded. “I’m… gonna talk to somebody. A professional somebody. Inez actually suggested it to me earlier, and… I think I need that.”

  Quentin smiled. “And I think you should do whatever you need to find peace.”

  “Thank you,” she said, returning his smile. “So… you don’t hate me?”

  With a scowl, Quentin tipped his head to the side. “Come on, now. Hate you? That’s about… as far as you can get from how I feel about you, Ren.”

  “Really?”

  Chuckling, he nodded his head. “Really.” He leaned forward, intending to kiss her on the mouth, but stopped short, drawing back. He regretted that as soon as he saw the hurt on her face. “Wait a minute, now,” he said, covering her hand with his. “Don’t get the wrong idea about that. I just… is it okay to kiss you? I don’t wanna overstep.”

  Her shoulder sagged in relief. “Oh. Oh. Yes, it’s okay for you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me, I want you to touch me. I want you to want me. Because… that’s how I feel about you. We don’t have to be awkward with each other… we like each other… like that… right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well… then… we can show that. But… before we try to take things… there again… I should…”

  Quentin nodded. “Yeah.”

  Before she could say anything else, Quentin cupped her chin and kissed her, then drew back with a grin. She smiled back, and relief flooded his chest, with the knowledge that he would be leaving her in a better mood than she’d been in when he came in.

  He stood up, intending to leave, but she reached out, grabbing his hand. “Wait,” she said, standing with him. “This… could be really awkward, with what we just established but… I don’t wanna be by myself right now. Could you… stay?”

  “Uhh…” Quentin lifted an eyebrow, then used his free hand to rub the back of his neck. When she pulled her lip between her teeth and started gnawing at it, he started chuckling. “I’m just playin’ with you, chérie. Of course I’ll stay.”

  Renata sighed, then laughed a little too as she switched off the light, then led him to the bed. They climbed in together, and Quentin couldn’t help smiling in the dark as she settled against his chest, propping her leg over his. Reaching down, Quentin gently stroked her back, and she was asleep in no time.

  At first… it felt a little strange to be sleeping with her like this, but then the overwhelming rightness of it settled in. He kissed the top of her head, then lowered his head to whisper something in her ear before closing his eyes. A few moments later, Renata stirred, lifting her head enough to press a soft kiss to his lips.

  “I love you too.”

  twelve.

  Naomi took a deep breath, then stared up at the building she was about to enter.

  You can do this, Mimi. It's a good decision.

  A healthy decision.

  The right decision.

  But that didn't make it feel any easier. She took another deep breath, then ran a hand over her hair, smoothing her bun in the rear view mirror.

  Like anybody in there cared what her hair looked like.

  Hands shaking, she climbed out of the car, telling herself to just put one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, just to keep herself distracted enough to actually make it to the front door.

  Inside, breathing got a little harder. It was decorated in plush furniture and warm tones, probably to give the people coming in a sense of home. Naomi suddenly wished she'd asked Marcus to come with her, but imagining his expression, what he might say, if she asked him to come here with her... She shook her head. Maybe Inez would have been better... But she still hadn't told her.

  One foot in front of the other. Don't have all day.

  She started moving again, and the pretty, perky woman at the front gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked, and Naomi nodded, giving her a tight smile in return as she walked past her, to the rooms in the back.

  She'd already read the available information on their website, and had already decided what she wanted. Naomi had even called ahead... this place called it a reservation.

  She closed the door behind her in the tiny room, taking several deep breaths to pull much needed air into her lungs. It was bad
enough that she was off-grid, after Marcus had insisted on protection for her, but to risk it to come here... He wasn't gonna be pleased. But Naomi had to do what felt good for her, what was best for her — just like he’d said. And even though her stomach was in knots, brain on overdrive, heart stuck somewhere around her throat...this felt good.

  Standing, she slipped out of the simple, gauzy sundress she'd worn, for ease of removal, and its ability to conceal weapons. She unstrapped a gun from one thigh, and a knife from the other, hiding them under her dress before she turned to face herself in the mirror.

  Six weeks pregnant had turned into eight far too soon. Naomi ran a hand over her flat stomach... still too early to see anything. She probably could've waited another month to do this. More time to think about it... more time to decide... but, she'd already known what she was going to do.

  From the rack across the room, she pulled out a garment and pulled it over her head, forcing her eyes to the mirror and she straightened and pulled it into the proper draping on her body. Then she turned to the side.

  Nothing.

  She arched her back, trying to poke her belly out further, with no luck. A heavy sigh, with a poked out bottom lip made a stray curl from her bun float away from her face, and that action drew her eyes back to the bench where she'd laid her dress. Without a second thought, she picked it up, rolled it into a ball, and stuck it under the maternity dress she was trying on. Turning to the side again, she let out a shuddering breath at what she saw.

  Me... With a baby bump...?

  She laughed at herself, a real, deep laugh from the soul, until her eyes began to water. A few moments later, those tears of laughter turned to tears of relief. And... release.

  She was having a baby.

  A baby.

  And... It was okay. It would be okay. The other bullshit was just that... bullshit. She could live a normal life, do the normal, crazy things that other pregnant women did... Like making an appointment at a luxury maternity shop to try on a ridiculously expensive dress she had no intention of buying.

  Or... Maybe she would buy it. Why not?