by Fiona Cole
He’d shifted to lean forward like me and unable to stop myself, I glanced down and quickly jerked my eyes away from the hard length extending down his thigh.
Still holding his hand, I squirmed again.
I needed to get out of this room before I made a fool of myself by rubbing against the leather until I came.
Licking my dry lips, I put on my most calm tone, which wasn’t much.
“I’ll take that drink now.”
“My office or the bar?”
Being alone with him right now sounded like the best worst idea ever. I didn’t think I could be held responsible for my actions. “The bar will work.”
“Okay.”
He flipped the switch and held the door open for me. I walked out on unsteady legs and tried to gather myself now that we were out of the room.
“I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. I’ll meet you out there.”
“Perfect.”
It was exactly what I needed. Time alone to recollect my composure so I could hopefully form coherent sentences that didn’t start with let’s do it again, and ended with, please never leave my side.
I forced myself to sip the tequila when all I wanted to do was toss it back and order another. I swirled the amber liquid around the glass, watching the large ice ball roll along the edges. Again, and again, until I could finally breathe easier.
“Okay?” Daniel asked, coming up behind me.
“Yeah. Totally. Why?”
Super smooth, Hanna.
Daniel thanked the bartender for his drink and took his time sipping from his glass before facing me. “I know last time it was a lot, and I just wanted to check in.”
His skin looked flushed, and I thought back to the erection I’d noticed tenting his pants. Had he felt what I had? Was that what it was always supposed to feel like? I hoped so.
“I’m good. Thank you for doing this.”
“It was my pleasure.”
I laughed a little at his word choice and couldn’t stop the sarcastic retort if I’d tried. “Was it, though?”
He shook his head and laughed. “You’re funny.”
I laughed with him, and it was nice to be able to let my sarcasm free without overthinking each word out of my mouth.
But that ease faded quickly. We each faced forward and sipped from our glasses, neither of us speaking. When the silence grew uncomfortable, pressing down on my skin, I finally spoke up.
“This is weird. Isn’t it?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.” When I only shrugged, he shifted to face me. “Hanna, I own a club where people have sex in the corners so others can watch. I’m not one to judge what someone enjoys.”
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath through my nose.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly.
The air left on a puff of laughter. “Yeah. I mean…yeah.”
“That’s good. That’s a first step.”
“I just…” I shrugged again, unsure of how to explain it without making everything weirder. But then I reminded myself that Daniel didn’t judge. He never made me feel like I needed to justify my feelings or hold back my words. Why start now? “I just feel like a ball of energy. Like a live-wire, and I don’t really know what to do with myself.”
“What do you usually do when you feel hyped up?”
“Read. Go to a barre class. But sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. I still feel too high-strung afterward.”
“Do you still go to therapy?” he asked softly after another bout of silence.
The words poked at my irritation, and I ground my jaw to hold back my snappy retort that I didn’t need another worry-wort hovering over me. Despite my effort, the words still slipped out with an edge. “No. I don’t need it. This is all I have left to conquer. I’m not some wilting flower who can’t sleep at night. I’ve conquered all my demons, but this one.”
I kept my eyes on the bar, not wanting him to read the lie that I wasn’t really one-hundred-percent okay.
“Of course not. Even I can see how strong you are, and I’m not around you as much as everyone else.”
His easy response popped the bubble of irritation that had swelled inside me. “I’m sorry. Everyone always gets on my case, and it’s a knee-jerk reaction, I guess. Erik means well. Hell, he gets me a new can of mace every Christmas just in case I ever run out. Even though I’ve never had a reason to use it.”
His laugh perked me back up, bringing back my sense of humor.
“I should probably beef up so I can fend anyone off with my own two hands.” I hold up my arms and flex my small biceps.
“I don’t know, you look pretty intimidating right now. I think I actually see some muscle there…if I squint.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I said, laughing, shoving his shoulder.
When we’d both settled, he asked, “Another drink?”
“Probably not. It’s getting late. I should get home.”
“Let me walk you out.”
I ordered another Uber and tried to think of how to say goodbye the entire walk to the front. Did I hug him? Wave? Shake his hand? High-five? What was the protocol after watching sex together?
“Message me if you want to do this again sometime.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Ummm…” I stuttered, standing at the open back door. “Thanks for everything,” I said, waving like he wasn’t less than five feet from me. “I’ll see if this guy wants to do math on the way home. He looks like a good deriver. Because derive means to solve problems and sounds like driver.”
His lips twitched, but he was kind enough not to smile at my awkwardness. “I like it.”
“Night, Daniel.”
I didn’t wait for his response before diving into the backseat and avoiding opening my mouth again until I got home. I mentally kicked myself for the lame joke as I got ready for bed. But by the time I laid under the covers, my mind strayed to other parts of the night.
I remembered the man’s tongue slipping through the woman’s legs. I remembered her moans of pleasure. I remembered how I literally sat on the edge of my seat, desperate for him to make love to her.
I remembered Daniel by my side, breathing just as hard as I was.
I remembered the ache that had flooded my core.
Maybe…maybe I could get that feeling back.
Slipping my hand under the covers, I squeezed my eyes closed and imagined being in the room again. I remembered Daniel’s bold presence grounding me to the moment. I remembered the moans and touches and how I’d wanted them for myself.
My fingers slipped over my clit, and I jerked at the brief contact, my breath growing faster.
I remembered his cock standing tall before he climbed between her legs. I remembered the desperation I felt for them to do it—just fucking do it.
Swiping to my opening, I collected moisture I’d never been able to get before and slid back up to my bundle of nerves. My chest rose and fell, the tension spreading through my thighs down to my toes. Spreading my legs wider, I pushed my heels in the mattress and pushed up into my hand.
So close. So close.
I’d never been able to orgasm before, and I just wanted this. After tonight, I wanted it so bad I could taste it.
I remembered Daniel’s hard length against his thigh. I remembered his hand in mine when the man finally pushed inside the woman. I remembered her moans bleeding together with mine.
Fuck, your pussy is tight. Dry as fuck, but so fucking tight.
My eyes flew open, and I jerked my hand from between my legs, snapping them closed.
Bile rose up my throat, and I sat up, clutching my chest, trying to hold my thundering heartbeat under control. My lungs worked overtime, and I squeezed my eyes shut, but all visions of the club were gone, replaced with dirty rooms and disgusting men.
Snapping my eyes back open, I scanned the room, counting
five red items.
Book, lipstick, picture, dress, and pillow.
Slowly, everything calmed down, and I could take a deep breath until another type of tension crept into my muscles.
My jaw clenched, and I gripped my sheets, swallowing back the scream building in my chest. So fucking stupid. It was all so fucking stupid.
Punching the comforter over and over, I released the anger trying to swallow me. I released enough until I could take the rest and shove it down. Back into the box for another time to face it.
Never sounded pretty good.
8
Daniel
“You did what?” Jackson almost screeched at a pitch I didn’t know a man his size could reach.
“Could you repeat that?” Kent asked with a stupid half-smile. He looked like a man on the verge of saying I told you so, but he had nothing to gloat over.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I explained, rolling my eyes away from Kent.
Jackson leaned both palms on the wood bar top and narrowed his eyes at me across the counter like some interrogator. “You took Hanna, Erik’s little sister, into a room at Voyeur and watched live porn, and you’re trying to tell me it ‘wasn’t a big deal.’”
I took a swig of my beer and returned his shrewd look. Jackson was like family to me. He began working at Voyeur when he was in college—one of my best performers. Eventually, with his ridiculous accounting skills, he became a partner of sorts and owned a third of the bar, Voy. He liked to talk a big game, but I knew how to make him back off with my stare. I’d been giving it to him for years. Apparently, his shock prevented him being affected, and he continued looking at me, unblinking.
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?”
“I mean…” I hesitated, picking the label of the beer off with my thumbnail. Shit, this was going to sound bad. “We held hands.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped, and he stumbled back like I’d hit him, blinking over and over.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Kent’s smirk grow into a full-blown smile.
“Stop smiling before I punch you in your face.”
Kent tsked. “Someone’s testy. Probably all the built-up tension. Did you at least fuck someone after?”
Stretching my neck, I cleared my throat before answering. Regret over thinking I could talk about this without ridicule washed over me. “No. We had another drink at the bar and talked for a while.”
“Talked?” Jackson muttered. “What the fuck.”
Kent slapped the bar and barked a loud laugh, drawing eyes our way. “Did you at least go home and jack off to thoughts of her?”
No, because I hadn’t even made it home. I’d run to the restroom before meeting her at the bar and came in less than five minutes like some kid with his first boner. I’d refused to think of her as I stroked myself roughly. That wasn’t the relationship we were forming. But no matter how hard I tried, a vague petite brunette with full breasts and lips formed behind my closed lids.
“Jesus Christ, Kent. She’s a trauma survivor. Not some girl I plan to fuck.”
He leaned his elbow on the bar, resting his chin on his palm, giving me his full attention, waiting to catch me in a lie. “Why not?”
“Because she needs a friend, not a hookup.”
“It looks like she’s trying to prepare for a hookup. So, why not you? Do a little contact therapy.”
I scoffed, turning back to finish my beer, but his words had merit. She was trying to get comfortable with touch, and she was already comfortable with me, so why not try with me. I’d heard people use contact therapy when facing their fears. I wasn’t sure if anyone used it for sexual abuse, but I made sure to pocket it away to look up later. For now, Kent needed to realize I wasn’t trying to get with Hanna in any way outside of helping her.
“Because I’m not that guy. She feels comfortable around me. All the other guys in her life are acquaintances, her brother, or Ian, who’s like her brother.” I pointed at my chest, fully facing him now. “I can be the man who helps her. I can be the friend she needs.”
Kent’s smile slipped for the first time since we started talking, and he sat up. “I’m seeing a bit of the old Daniel coming out. The one that wanted to save all the girls.”
His light tone did nothing but poke at old memories.
“Daniel, she’s pulling you down. We’re in our sophomore year. You going to keep sacrificing the best years of our lives?”
“She’s just having a rough week. She’s not always like this.”
Kent pursed his lips, doubt etched on every inch of his face.
“You’ve known her for a few months, I’ve known her for years,” I defended. “She’s my girlfriend and friends help each other. They don’t back off when it’s hard.”
“I know that, but lately, she seems more hard than not. Maybe she should talk to someone about it.”
“She talks to me. I’m all she needs.”
I reached across the bar for the bourbon and a glass, downing the drink before pouring another. “I’m just trying to help her out.”
The loud, laughing patrons enjoying their dinner were nothing compared to all the silent words between Kent and me. I couldn’t look at him, knowing what I’d see on his face. Instead, I opted to study the amber liquid filling my glass.
“She’s not Sabrina, D,” Kent finally said softly.
“I know that,” I snapped, jerking my angry gaze his way. I hated when he brought her up. I hated what hearing her name brought up.
“Who’s Sabrina?” Jackson asked.
“Fuck,” I muttered. I didn’t want to talk about this.
“She was Daniel’s girlfriend in high school and college. Only girl he ever cared about, even if she was pretty crazy-pants.”
I slapped the bar, growling, “Don’t say that.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, and regret clouded his eyes. “Either way, she didn’t make it out of college, and Daniel blames himself.” He exhaled the explanation like it hadn’t defined my future.
“I don’t blame myself.”
“Okay,” he said, his tone condescending.
“Fuck you.”
“Uh, let’s stop there,” Jackson cut in.
He knew Kent and I could go at it like any brothers could, and probably didn’t want a brawl in his bar. I didn’t want one either.
Kent took a deep breath and sat back. “Seriously, I don’t want you to get so entwined in someone else’s problems again.”
“Kent, you know I don’t do serious.” Running my hand through my hair, I faced him, letting him see my sincerity. “I’m just being a nice guy with some free time. Why not spend it with a beautiful girl who’s pretty funny, too?”
Kent studied me, and I let him see it all. He dug through all my hiding spaces and tried to pull any truth out with only a look.
“I still can’t believe you watched porn and only held hands,” Jackson muttered, breaking the tension.
Kent’s perpetual smirk returned. “Yeah, D’s a super freak like that. Really gets off on hand-holding.”
“Fuck you,” I said again, this time with no heat.
“I would, but your niece wouldn’t approve.”
My jaw clamped shut, and I glared, doing my best to burn him alive. There were rules to him dating Olivia, my niece, and one of those was not talking about it at all.
“Jeez, it’s like Grumpier Old Men in here. Do a shot and talk about bowling like the old nerds you are,” Jackson joked, making fun of our love of bowling. “Or hand holding if that’s what you’re into.”
I leaped up, trying to take a swipe at him, but he lunged back, laughing.
Laughing I could handle. Prodding into a past I wanted to forget, I’d pass on that every time.
9
Hanna
Daniel: How do you feel about self-defense?
Hanna: Like I’d rather run and scream.
Standing outside the building Daniel asked me to meet him at, I read over o
ur last few text messages. His question had come out of the blue. It’d been almost a week since I’d heard from him, and in that time, I’d managed to run through every scenario of doom and awkwardness. Out of everything my mind conjured, very few ended with a rational explanation.
So, when his name popped up on my screen just as I was climbing in bed, I’d almost fumbled the phone in my rush to type back. After agreeing to meet him, I’d laid in bed and broke down, the relief flooding every inch of me, that he’d contacted me. Sofia would’ve laughed if she could’ve seen me. When we were kids, I was the rebel—the impulsive one, rarely thinking things through.
But life changed me, and after everything that happened, I did my best to never move too fast into anything. I never shrugged off an emotion without analyzing every facet, wondering if it was a feeling that would lead me to irrational action. I prevented old habits by creating new ones.
Unfortunately, these new habits had me awake at two in the morning, wondering how deep my feelings for Daniel went.
Eventually, after turning it every way I could, I understood the feelings I had for him were friendship—at least that was what I was allowing them to be. Maybe a little bit of an obsessive attachment, but what was I supposed to feel when my body and mind allowed me to get close to so few people. Being with Daniel felt like being with an old friend. The closest thing I had to compare it to was how I felt with Ian, but that didn’t make sense because even when I thought the way my heart beat for Ian was love, my body never heated for him the way it does for Daniel.
But that was fine. No big deal. As Alex had so eloquently pointed out, Daniel was hot—really hot. But it didn’t matter because lots of guys were hot, few had the ability to put me at ease. Even fewer who wanted to help me.
So, curling onto my side last night, I placed Daniel in the friend box. Maybe a clear friend box, so I could continue to appreciate how hot he was.
Even with him firmly placed in a friend box, which included trust, I questioned what I was doing outside of an old building that’d been converted to a gym. I scanned the area residing on the edge of downtown. Despite the run-down look, the location was one of the richest areas in Cincinnati.
