Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dela
“Thank you,” I said cheerily to Mark as he pulled into my driveway. “I appreciate it.”
My words weren’t slurred, but I was definitely in a wine-infused happy state.
A night of hanging out with my bestie had certainly helped improve my mood, that was for sure.
Ember was now far from on my mind. I didn’t have any thoughts about his t-shirt-tearing biceps or his thick, powerful chest. I definitely couldn’t picture his blue eyes or the sharp cut of his jaw.
Nor did I remember the touch of his fingers, gentle yet firm.
Or the press of his tongue, hot and wet between my legs, running across my clit, while his hands grabbed my ribcage, holding me down tight, making me feel small and powerless in his grip.
My breath was absolutely not coming quicker as I recalled the way he’d made me come.
Nor how his rock-hard cock had felt in my hands or tasted against my tongue.
My nipples definitely were not hard as I recalled how he’d first entered me, his cock pushing my walls apart, stealing my breath. The heat between my legs was simply from the seat warmer in Mark’s car. It wasn’t anything at all to do with my memories of Ember. Not at all.
“You going to make it in okay, Dela?” Mark asked, slightly concerned.
I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah. I can get inside,” I said, flinging open the car door a little harder than necessary. “Thanks, though.”
“Okay,” he said, sounding uncertain.
I waved off his help and got out of the car. I managed to stand up without too much wobbling and then started stumbling my way to the stairs that would lead up to my door. I could do this. I would do this. I didn’t need Mark’s help, or any man’s help, for that matter.
“G’night,” I said as Mark got out to close the door that I hadn’t managed to.
“Goodnight, Dela,” he said wryly.
I got up the stairs and to my door, fumbling with my keys. Once I finally managed to get it open, Mark pulled out into the street. He waited until I was inside and I’d waved at him before he drove off. Watching him go, I smiled and then gave the door a shove that should have closed it.
Only it didn’t.
A hand caught it, holding it open several inches. I squeaked as someone emerged from the shadows next to my front door, appearing in the doorway, his muscles broad enough to nearly fill it. He was big and burly.
“E-ember?” I asked nervously, figuring the frame was about right for him. “What are you doing here?”
Silence at first. The person just stood there, staring at me. I could hear his breathing. It was deep and raspy. Uneven. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
“Did you get them?” a voice asked. It was off-kilter, and each word sounded like it stretched his mouth, but I recognized the voice at least.
“Paolo?” I called, reaching for a light switch, desperate not to be in the dark just then. “What are you doing here?”
At the mention of his name, my ex came forward. Simultaneously I found the switch and turned it on, bathing the front entry in light. The sudden brightness scared Paolo, and he roared, waving a hand in sharp, jerky motions. I backed away, worried about how he was acting.
“Did you get them?” he asked again, abruptly calming, returning his focus to me.
I shivered under the intensity of his gaze. What was going on?
“Get what?” I asked, trying not to let my fear show through. That seemed like a very bad idea at the moment.
“The flowers!” he shouted. “Did you get them? They were supposed to be delivered. Did they get delivered? Did you get them? Were the flowers sent to you, they were supposed to be sent to you I paid to have them sent to you did they get sent to you?”
The words began to mash together without pause or breath. My heartbeat ticked up another level in response.
“Y-yes, I did get them,” I said, a stutter sneaking through.
Paolo’s eyes lit up with a crazed light. “Good! Good.” Then he just stood there, staring at me but somehow past me at the same time. I didn’t move, not wanting to attract his attention.
“Did you like them?” he asked abruptly, tilting his head as far as it would go to the left.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Good,” Paolo said softly, his voice almost more of a whisper. “I’m happy you like them. I wanted you to like them, so I’m happy you liked them. They were for you. I got them for you. I had to tell you, had to tell you, to tell you, that I, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh,” I said, not wanting to give him anything to speak about.
“Now that you like them, though, we can, we can, forget it. Go back to it. To how it used to, to, you know. We could be us.”
I stared in shock. Was he trying to get us back together? His sentences were near unintelligible, forcing me to piece together half of what he thought he was saying. But it certainly sounded like he was trying to win me back.
“What about your other girl?”
He shook his head so violently that I feared he might break his neck.
“Not her, not her, not her. She’s not, not her.
She was fun, but she didn’t get me like you did.
You, D-D-Dela, you get me, you know what I’m saying, you’re just like, you get me.
A lot. But you got the flowers and you liked liked liked them you got them so you and I now we we’re we’re good. Aren’t we, baby?”
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I absolutely did not want to agree with him.
There was no way I would take Paolo back.
Not after he’d cheated on me, that was for sure.
Yet, given his current condition, saying no could be dangerous for my health and well-being.
What was worse? If I said yes, he would probably want …
other things from me. Things I would not provide willingly.
“Why are you over there?” Paolo asks. “You liked the flowers. We’re g-good. Why are you not here? Come over here.”
Nervously, I tiptoed closer to him, taking as much time as possible. I wanted to drag it out. Maybe he would finally pass out or something.
“That’s better,” he said when I was just a few feet away. As soon as I got close enough, I could see how glossy his eyes were, with huge pupils. I had no idea what he was on, but clearly, he’d relapsed into a part of him that he’d sworn was gone, that he’d conquered.
Yet another lie, it appeared.
“Now,” he said, blinking, trying to keep his eyes open. “Let’s see you.”
I swallowed my bile as his eyes traveled my body. They were quite obviously not seeing me, not really, but he wanted me to strip for him anyway. It was a show of force, of being in command of me, more than anything. I doubted he could get hard, even if I were into it, which I very much was not.
“Paolo,” I said, trying my best to be sweet and sincere. “I’m not really in the mood for that. Why don’t you come in and talk to me? I want to talk to you. Just you and me, the two of us.”
Maybe if I could get him chatting for long enough, he would eventually pass out, and then I could safely call the police.
“Show me!” he snarled, advancing a step toward me.
“Paolo,” I said, trying to sound teasing and begging. “Come in. Not here. Why don’t you go into the bedroom, and I’ll meet you there? I’ll slip into something more comfortable first.”
I swallowed nervously, even hating myself for partially going along with it, but I had to find a way to get him away from the door. So that he wasn’t between it and me.
“The bedroom? You want to show me there?” he asked, blinking frequently again.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He looked past me and stumbled forward. I moved to let him pass, but like an animal, the movement attracted his attention.
“Come here,” he said, having forgotten what I said before. His hands reached for me.
I backed away, trying to keep his clammy hands off me. “Paolo, no! Stop it!”
The door was still open. If I could just slip away from him, get past, I could—
“You not going to give it to me?” he snarled, grabbing my hair and hauling me back toward him. “If you aren’t going to give it to me, then you give it to no one! You are mine or nobody’s!”
His hand wrapped around my throat and started crushing it. I gagged and gasped, my nails tearing at his skin as I tried to pry his grip free. His skin bled, but he held on, inured to the pain, uncaring of what he was doing to me.
I kicked and scratched, trying to claw out his eye while the world slowly started to go dark. Paolo just stood there without moving, like every muscle was locked in a vise. Nothing I did helped. Nothing changed.
He was going to kill me. I was going to die.
A million images raced through my mind. My life, in a series of image slides that lasted a fraction of a second. Too short to quantify. All of it leading up to that moment. Where I wanted nothing but to see a certain face one last time.
Which was why when someone who looked similar to him but not quite the same loomed up behind Paolo, I knew I was hallucinating. The lack of oxygen was getting to me. There was no way Ember could be there.
No way …