Chapter 18
It’s been a long day emotionally and physically and I’ve been lying awake for ages, even though Denham has drifted off to sleep. He sleeps like your typical man—two seconds and he’s out for the count.
I find myself chuckling about the stories Tara thought would be funny to tell me.
Denham, of course, did not find it amusing and pretty much walked her out the door when she started to tell me about the time Denham let her play dress up with him, makeup and all.
She never got to finish the story, but I would really like to spend some more time to find out what happened and get to know her a little better.
She made sure we exchanged numbers so maybe I’ll grab lunch with her sometime.
The situation with the open door also runs through my mind.
Would we have been careless enough to leave it unlocked?
Quite possibly. It seems that the rest of the world falls away when we’re together and all that matters is each other.
What we feel in that particular moment consumes every part of my being, Denham’s too if I am to believe what he tells me.
And I do believe him. It’s crazy given the amount of time we have known each other.
No matter which way I puzzle and try to analyze things, I always come back to the same conclusion.
Whatever happens, I’m powerless to the draw, to him and to how he makes me feel.
I’m not sure how long I can accept this explanation for the intensity we have, or how long I will just let it happen before my cynical mind tries to find a hidden meaning or agenda, I just have to savor every minute of goodness and forget about the rest.
I study Denham’s profile in the moonlight.
Until I slept here, with him, I had always shut out the light, shut out the rest of the world in an attempt to block out reality and pretend, for whatever small amount of time I was allowed, that my dream world was real because, for the most part, it was better than the cold light of reality.
But now, as everything else around me is changing, so is this.
I’m grateful for the subtle light. I don’t feel the need to shut out the rest of the world as I’m content where I am.
The light touches Denham’s face on all his handsome edges; it highlights his sharp cheekbones and I instinctively trace them with the very tip of my finger, gently so as not to wake him and disturb the very peaceful sleep that he has found.
His stubble prickles my finger and I stroke his face along his jaw until I reach his lips, his smooth, soft, full lips that I so badly want to kiss, but I don’t as it would be selfish to wake him no matter how much he would protest to that thought.
I could sit and watch him sleeping peacefully all night, but my eyes feel heavy and I figure I’ll have many more nights to watch him sleep.
Instead of running from that thought, I embrace it.
When my mind finally stops racing so fast, and I’m content to just let myself be in a happy place, I lose myself to sleep.
Sleep is less than kind to me though, and I’m plagued with dreams and scenarios that have me clutching at the sheets and wondering if I am in my own personal Hell or an imaginary world.
Whichever it is, it’s not somewhere I would willingly venture.
My back hits the rough concrete wall and the breath leaves my body with a whoosh.
His fingers grip tightly around my throat, so tight that I try and gasp for air but with each breath his fingers grip tighter and my lungs get smaller.
He’s yelling so loudly that the sound hurts my ears and the words blur together as the blood flow slows around my body.
“You stupid bitch! Look at what you made me do! You’re a slut, nothing but a fucking slut!
” He spits putrid, stale saliva at me as he throws the vile tirade in my direction.
The only part of my body that is functioning properly is my vision, so I see it all.
It’s all happening in slow motion, drawing out the agony, making the fear last long enough so that he knows I won’t forget it.
I see the rage … the pure evil in his black eyes.
“You’re gonna learn the hard way. How many times do I have to do this, eh? Do you like being punished, Arianna baby?” Every one of his loaded words stabs me, and my vision narrows as realization hits me that he is going too far.
He’s going to cross the line.
I’m being hurtled toward a black tunnel that’s closing in fast as his fingers pinch tighter with every second that passes. I try to call out one last time, and every last ounce of strength I have in my body is used in this last ditch attempt to make him stop.
But it’s too late.
The darkness takes me …
“It’s okay, Arianna …”
The voice doesn’t belong to the face in my nightmares. It doesn’t match.
But I’m in too deep. It won’t stop.
I throw my head from side to side and push him away as hard as I can. I can’t do it again. I can’t.
I’m sweating, hurting, terrified.
No longer able to detach and block it out, I feel every hateful word, every threat, every nerve ending that’s protesting against the pain.
His hands tighten around the tops of my arms, pushing me into the mattress and rendering me unable to move.
Then he kisses me. Hard and insistent at first, and my instinct is to pull away, but I can’t. He’s too firm.
What’s happening?
He tastes familiar. Then his lips are gentle and coaxing, encouraging me to respond and willing me back to him. I gasp, realizing where I am and who I’m with.
Denham releases my arms, breaking our kiss and pulling me onto his lap, holding me tight with his arms and shielding me from everything until I start to shiver.
“Shit,” Denham curses under his breath. He shifts us to the edge of the bed, repositioning me so he can carry me in his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me effortlessly to the bathroom, flicking on the shower without putting me down, and stepping in with me still in his arms.
I turn my head into his shoulder, shielding my face from the water as he just stands there, letting the warmth work through me. The shivers eventually subside and I pull my head out of the crook of Denham’s shoulder.
“Are you okay, Stunner?”
I nod, and wriggle my legs to indicate that I can stand. I’m sure the muscles in his arms are burning after holding on to me for so long.
He reluctantly puts me down but doesn’t let me go. He takes off my soaked tank and panties and tosses them into the corner, then his boxers join them.
I’m stripped bare, and after that vivid nightmare I’m feeling vulnerable. I’m desperate to shake off the indecision, the doubt that fights with me in my head about what I want and what I can actually have.
I want to be able to move on.
I want to be able to love freely and not worry that it’ll all be snatched away from me cruelly.
I want to be free from the burden of looking over my shoulder.
I want to stop running.
I’m tired.
The thoughts have a choke hold on me and I struggle to breathe.
“I know … I know,” his soft, gravely voice soothes. He strokes my wet hair and holds me tight.
My words weren’t just running through my head. I was whispering them out loud. “It’s not fair,” I cry. “I want to let go of it all, but it’s holding on so tight and I can’t …”
“Shh, just breathe, Arianna. You’re safe with me …
just breathe.” He continues to stroke my hair until my breathing starts to regulate and I start to feel self-conscious that I’ve just had another breakdown with him.
I’m trying so hard to keep it all together and show him that I’m not damaged or broken, but deep down I know that I am.
I can’t hide it; it’s part of who I am and if that sends him running for the hills it will break my heart.
But I can’t pretend to be strong anymore.
His front is pressed to my back, so I reach for the hand wrapped around my waist and curl my fingers with his.
My other arm reaches up and pulls his head into my shoulder.
His lips press against the sensitive spot where my neck curves, and his stubble brushes my soft skin.
“Make me forget,” I whisper. “Please, make me yours.”
He kisses a path up my neck and stops when he reaches my ear. His tongue darts out, licking my lobe and sucking it in between his teeth.
“I won’t let you be anyone else’s, Stunner,” he growls, taking my hands in his and pressing them against the cold tiles.
The entire front of my body is exposed and the cold air reaches me, hardening my nipples and heightening my senses.
His body is still pressed to my back, his erection resting between my ass cheeks, his hard chest pressing against my shoulder blades and his mouth on my neck.
“You were mine the moment our eyes locked. You know it. I know it,” he states between kisses. I know he’s right. His golden eyes hit me and have had me addicted ever since.
He’s kryptonite to my intentions.
The exception to all my self-imposed rules.
The one to have stolen my heart and the man who I willingly give my body.
My hands slide up the tiled wall, stretching my body and allowing Denham to push harder against me. His hips rock gently, his length sliding between my legs and eliciting a groan from deep in his chest.
I’m desperate for more friction.
I’m needy for him to be inside me.
I want him to claim me, make me his, tell me he’s mine.
He presses against my entrance, holding still, teasing me. I try to push my hips back into him, but he stays at just the right distance to continue to tease me.
“Please …” I whimper.
“What do you want, Ari? Tell me …”
“I want you … only you … inside me … please …”
“You’re mine, Arianna, understand?”
“Yes …”
“Mine to touch, mine to protect, mine to love …” He enters me on his last word, sealing it into my mind, associating the word that terrifies me so much with a feeling so exhilarating.