Strength

by Daws, Amy

  My jaw drops and Gareth’s eyes turn a menacing shade of brown. I’ve done this little song and dance for Gareth several times before, and most blokes are keen to sit back and enjoy the show of a pro footballer getting his butt chewed from a relationship gone array. Gareth and I have become quite good at our performances. He even lets me slap him across the face if we get going really well. This has satisfied years of oppression that I suffered for being the only Harris in our household who could never break out of a headlock.

  “She ain’t no jersey chaser,” the heavy one says. “I think she’s a proper tart. How much for a rub and tug, blondie?”

  The man lays his sweaty palm right on my arse, and Gareth’s eyes turn to flames as he lunges across the table. But before Gareth’s hands connect with his throat, the man’s body is wrenched backward and out of the throng of people.

  Shouting begins all around me, and I shove past the gawking crowd to see what’s happening. My eyes turn wide when I realise it’s Hayden who has the man in a painful-looking headlock. It reminds me of the full nelson wrestling hold they do in America. The man’s lip is bleeding and one eye is partially closed from a fresh punch. His obese belly is hanging out from beneath his jumper as he struggles to breathe against his arms that Hayden has gripped up under his ears.

  “Fucking apologise to her,” Hayden roars, his face beet red with a fury I’ve never seen in him before. His arms bulge angrily beneath his shirt as he holds his restraint firmly.

  The other men make a move for Hayden. In a blink, Gareth twists one guy’s arm behind his back, causing the man to drop on the ground, writhing in pain. Tanner and Camden shove a couple others away from Hayden and stand as a protective barrier between them.

  “She’s a fucking jersey chasing cow! What the fuck are you on about, mate?” the man grumbles, causing Hayden to crank his hold on him. The guy cries out with a high-pitch squeal that would be comical in any other setting.

  “Fucking apologise!” Hayden roars again, a vein popping out angrily on his forehead.

  “All right! I’m fucking sorry! I’m sorry!” the man screams. Hayden releases him and gives him a swift kick in the arse, toppling him into the feet of his mates.

  Just then, Booker shows up, joined by the bar owner with a menacing-looking bat. “Don’t try a thing, or I’ll call the cops on the lot of ya.”

  Everyone freezes but Hayden, who moves toward me and places a hard hand on my back. He quickly walks me to the door. I glance back and see the bar owner pointing the bat at the football fans with a look that says not to fucking try a thing.

  “Hayden,” I say as we step outside into the night.

  He avoids eye contact with me as he nervously looks up and down the street. As if some divine intervention has been bestowed upon us, a large fifteen-passenger taxi van is parked on the corner letting out another group of football-looking fans. Why the hell are these guys all coming out of the woodwork tonight? Is it fantasy draft night or something? Regardless, we have a getaway vehicle now.

  Hayden grabs my hand and pulls me down the sidewalk just as my brothers barrel out of the pub. “This way,” he shouts over his shoulder to them.

  We get to the open door of the van. The driver looks like he’s about to argue, but Hayden says, “Two hundred quid for a quick lift.”

  “Five hundred,” Gareth says, hopping in past us without pause.

  The driver’s eyes grow wide as the rest of my brothers barrel in after him.

  Hayden holds my hand to help me up, but I pause at the step. “Are you okay?” I ask, touching his face.

  He yanks away from me and snaps with an acerbic tone, “Fine, get in. We need to leave.”

  Hayden folds in behind me. “We should drop you guys first. I don’t want them seeing where Vi lives if they get it up their arses to follow.” He turns to look behind us but seems satisfied enough to turn and face ahead again.

  “Smart thinking,” Camden says, then leans forward to give directions to the driver.

  “Vi, I’m so sorry,” Gareth starts, punching the back of his seat angrily. “I never would have had you do that if I thought those wankers were that belligerent.”

  I shake my head and start to reply.

  “She shouldn’t have done it to begin with. Belligerent or not.” Hayden’s voice is cold and threatening.

  “Look—” Gareth starts, leaning forward to get in Hayden’s face, but Booker’s voice stops him in his tracks.

  “He’s fucking right, Gareth.” I turn around to see Booker staring angrily out the window from the far back row. “That’s the last time you have Vi get you out of a fan jam. Get a fucking bodyguard. It’s not like you can’t afford one.”

  The van grows eerily quiet as our baby brother’s chastisement descends over us.

  “It’s not all Gareth’s fault. I’m a big girl. I chose to do it,” I say, coming to his defence.

  “Well, you chose wrong,” Hayden growls. “Had I known what you were doing—”

  “I still would have done it! You’re not my boss, Hayden,” I snap.

  “Vi,” Camden warns.

  “What? It’s true. I’m not going to let you all manhandle me into what you think is best for me. This is horse shit. I’m a fucking adult. I’m tired of you all interfering.”

  “Vi!” Tanner snaps out of nowhere. “I’m bloody grateful Hayden was there tonight. That scene was rubbish and scary as fuck! I for one am glad you have him. Just stop with the independent woman, feminist shit and say thank you to your bloke for defending you the way he did. It could have been so much worse.”

  Tanner’s outburst stuns me. He rarely gets ruffled feathers and holy shit are his feathers ever ruffled right now.

  “I am thankful you were there, Hayden,” I whisper to him. He still hasn’t looked at me. I want him to understand, though, that I don’t have to be taken care of all the time or scolded like a child. My independence is important to me. But he looks like he’s warring over something bigger than the pub skirmish. I want to push the issue, but I need him to come back to me first. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. He still won’t look at me and the lower part of his jaw shifts as if he’s in pain. I grab his hand and twine my fingers with his. His shoulders drop, and he finally turns his glossy eyes to me. “I’m really sorry.”

  The anxiety and fear-stricken look on Hayden’s face makes me feel ill. I rub the backs of my fingers down his cheek, and he exhales a breath he’s been holding for miles. He leans into me and rubs his nose on my temple, sucking in a shaky breath. The touch feels important, like he’s telling himself that it’s okay for him to care about me.

  After a few moments of driving in silence as we all stew about how bad that could have been, Tanner lightens the mood.

  “Think you might have lost some fans tonight, bro.”

  We all burst out laughing, and I glance over and see the corners of Hayden’s mouth turn up. Eventually, we pull up to our dad’s Chigwell house. My brothers each give Hayden a matey pat on the back before exiting the vehicle. Gareth stops and makes it a point to shake Hayden’s hand. They exchange a silent, heavy look and then we depart, back to Brick Lane.

  SEEING THAT DISGUSTING SPECIMEN OF a man put his hand on Vi made everything inside my body snap. My mind, my temper, my muscles, my sanity.

  My heart.

  The word “mine” screamed in my head as I bulldozed through the crowd and wrenched him away from her. The scene was so much worse than the one with Ethan at Club Shay. I actually feared for Vi’s safety tonight. A fear that ripped through me like a pain that I’ve never felt before.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  This is all happening too fast. Too quick. Too much. She’s just so open, and trusting, and giving. She’s got no idea about the deeply rooted fear that lives inside of me every time I’m with her. We make our way up to her flat in a heavy silence. A silence that I’m not even sure how to fill at this point.

  I’m fucking falling for Vi. And it terrifies me so m
uch because she somehow turns me into a loose cannon. I lose all my control and all my sense. The immense possessiveness I have inside me regarding her safety and well-being is terrifying.

  “Do you want to talk about tonight?” she quietly asks, squatting down in the dark kitchen to pat Bruce affectionately as he laps at the fresh water she’s just poured for him.

  I sigh heavily and ruffle my hair. “To be frank, I just want to take you to bed and bury myself inside of you until I can’t think anymore.” I don’t tell her that being inside her is the only time I feel like I truly have her.

  She rises to her feet, watching me with a sombre expression. Then she bends over and peels her dress up over her head. Her hair cascades around her shoulders as she stands before me in nothing but a black strapless bra, a black thong, and her black heels.

  Desire throttles me as she drops the dress on the floor. In four strides, I’m on her. Kissing her harshly and painfully. Roughly, I toss her up on top of the counter, and she flinches at the cold granite against her bare arse. I grab her jaw gruffly, squeezing tightly as I cut my narrowed eyes to hers in warning.

  Her head tilts back as her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. I place my finger in her mouth to jerk her face back down. She responds with a firm bite into my flesh and then soothes the connection with a deep suck on my digit from root to tip. I pull it out and punish her harder with my tongue, thrusting it deep into her mouth so that she only feels my presence in her, snuffing out any sensation of her own returned kiss.

  When I break away from her, arousal floods into the pools of her eyes. She wants it. She feeds off of it. My aggressive passion. She bites her lip and grips my shirt, ripping it open with one harsh yank. The sound of buttons hitting the counter and floor don’t slow her from tearing off my shirt. She kisses my peck and rubs my bulge through my denim pants, releasing a sexy as fuck moan as I thrust my cock into her greedy hand.

  Unable to wait another second, I cup her arse and lift her up so she wraps her legs around my waist. They grip me tightly as I walk us into her bedroom, shutting the French doors on Bruce’s crestfallen face.

  I toss her sexy fucking body down on the bed and lie on top of her. “What do you want, Bunny?” I ask, my voice husky. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” I’ll give you anything, I think to myself.

  Her long lashes lift and her blue eyes twinkle, piercing me with something I didn’t expect. “Make love to me,” she says.

  My heart seizes in my chest and I huff out a nervous breath.

  Her face falls as she stammers, “I didn’t mean—”

  I cut her off, kissing the doubt right off her mouth. I swallow it whole and bury it deep inside of me to live with the self-doubt that is commonplace in my own soul. I frantically tear off the few pieces of fabric separating our skin-to-skin contact and work toward kissing every bare inch of her luscious body. Finally, our mouths reconnect as I rest my back against her grand headboard and she straddles me. My bare cock pulses with need against her slickened folds.

  Assurances that condoms are no longer necessary happened the last time we were intimate, so I’m rock-hard with anticipation of feeling her bare on me for the first time. She places my tip at her entrance and quirks a sexy brow as she slowly slides down on top of me. I groan loudly at the incredibly intimate wetness gripping my shaft. My fingers bite into her lush thighs as I breathe deeply to maintain some control of myself.

  Fuuuuuck. She feels so fucking good. So fucking right. So fucking everything.

  I bring her mouth down to mine, desperate to connect our bodies even further as she gyrates against me. Her tight nipples brush against my chest and I cup the heaviness of one breast in my hand. Needing to taste her everywhere, I break our kiss to pay homage to her perfect, pink bud. I suck hard and tap my teeth down lightly. She cries my name out with a throaty moan.

  Hugging her tightly as she sits astride me, I swallow hard at the glorious intimacy of this encounter. The closeness I feel having her like this.

  Suddenly, my leather cuff catches in her hair, and I quickly detach it to bring my hands forward to continue their exploration of her body. She stops my action by gripping both of my wrists in her hands. Her small hands clasp around the worn brown leather.

  My eyes find hers in confusion and she gives me a look that scares me. “No, Vi,” I say in a warning tone. I attempt to pull my wrists free, but she isn’t easily deterred.

  “Please, Hayden.” She says my name so reverently that I close my eyes, begging for my will to be strong. I want to give this woman everything, but only what I have in me to give. She has me. She has all of me, yet she still asks for more.

  Sudden tears burn in my eyes. I open them to find her watching me with a soft, warm expression. She leans in and kisses both of my cheeks comfortingly.

  “Please, Vi,” I beg, my voice quaking with fear. “I don’t think I can.”

  Her face remains calm, serene, loving. “I’m here, Hayden,” she says. “You can.”

  Her blonde hair fans a wall beside us as she looks down and takes one of my wrists in both of her hands. With my palm facing up, she releases one snap of the leather cuff. A sharp intake of breath on my part has her eyes looking up at me. She nods slowly before releasing the second snap, then the third, all the while maintaining eye contact with me. My hand tremors as she opens the cuff to reveal the bumpy ridge of the scar along my wrist. I look away ashamed, traumatised, and completely fucking sickened.

  Two wet lips touch the scar, and I hiss in horror as my eyes find hers. She leans back again and takes my other wrist in her hands, popping the buttons on that one and repeating the same soft kiss.

  I shake my head and sniff. “They’re hideous.”

  “They’re mine,” she says, kissing them softly again and holding them to her bare chest over her heart.

  My eyes look to hers in a pleading surrender. I’ve given her so much. So much she still can’t even possibly understand. But the intimacy of this is overwhelming. I can barely look at the scars myself and this woman…This woman worships them.

  She strokes my hands over her chest and adds, “Your scars make you My Hayden.” She inhales a shaky breath and utters three soft words that I’d never imagine hearing from a woman seeing me this way. “I love you.”

  Sadness lifts from my soul at her proclamation and the absolute devotion swimming in her eyes. She loves me? How? How can she possibly love me after everything I’ve told her? What kills me-—what completely guts me—is the attachment and love she displays for every part of me. All of my flaws. All of my darkness.

  She looks at me as if my scars allow her to love me even more.

  My voice is gone. Unwilling or unable to reply and return her feelings. Probably both. A knot creeps up my throat because I’m not even sure I have that emotion in me to reciprocate in the way she needs me to. It died inside me a long time ago, and I have nothing more to give her. And fuck! She deserves it. Vi deserves more. So much more.

  Instead of watching her loving eyes turn to pain from my silence, I yank her to me, slamming my lips to hers in a hard, all-consuming kiss. It’s all I can give her right now.

  My touch. My passion. Even my pain.

  As I hug her body to mine, the silky skin of her back feels foreign as it brushes against my bare wrists.

  Scars against flesh.

  Hearts against souls.

  And it’s in that one moment that 11:11 ticks by and I physically choose to live in this moment and not wish for another.

  If only it didn’t make me feel so wrecked.

  I GLANCE OUTSIDE MY PATIO door to see Hayden leaning over the railing. His head hanging, his posture sagging. I turn to the clock.

  11:11.

  I watch him carefully and can tell he’s doing his ritual. As much as I wish it didn’t, it feels like a personal strike to my heart. Last night was so tender, so meaningful, so completely intimate.

  And then it wasn’t.

  He held me afterward and asked
me if I would be his date for Theo and Leslie’s wedding next weekend. I even laughed when he begged me to wear a red dress. He continued to whisper the most beautiful things in my ear as I drifted off to sleep, but never the three words I wanted to hear most from him.

  God, how could I be so stupid? I held him over a barrel last night, asking to see his scars. Then I had to ruin everything by saying I love him. I thought once he opened his cuffs to me, things would change. No more barriers. No more shields. No more rituals. But there he stands, outside my flat, wishing away his past and his current life.

  My stomach drops. My only hope is that what I have planned for today will be a turning point for him. If it is, I hope he’ll come home with me for family dinner tomorrow night.

  “You ready?” I ask as he strides back inside. I paint a happy smile on my face.

  It feels forced until his hard grey gaze lifts to mine and his eyes warm with affection. God, his smile. It makes me want to forget everything that happened last night and take him to the movies.

  “Still not telling me where we’re going?” he asks, sliding his feet into his shoes. What is it that’s so sexy about a man walking around barefoot in your flat?

  “It’s a surprise,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.

  The cab drops us off in front of a familiar building in Notting Hill, and Hayden cuts me a skeptical look. “Is Benji pissed again?”

  I chuckle. “Nope.”

  “Are we here because he wants to re-ignite our love connection?” he asks with a smug tone. “He was a pretty good kisser.”

  I giggle and slide my hand into his. “Nope. Just have to trust me!”

  We check in with the doorman and head up to the second floor toward Benji’s aunt’s flat. I smirk thinking about how cross Hayden was the night he helped me get Benji home after the gala. So much has changed in so little time.

  I knock on the door, and Agitha Abernathy opens it, looking a bit more put together than the last time we saw her. She’s a short, round woman with ample breasts concealed beneath a pink sweater set with cream trousers. Her hair is permed and sculpted to the shape of her head, looking as if an entire can of hairspray has set it to be so.