(For His Pleasure 14) With His Belief (12 page)

“Like Hunter?”

She groaned. “Let’s not go there. Please.”

He smiled. “Fair enough.” Then his eyes grew intense. “I’m so sorry for what you went through. No kid should have to deal with that. It makes me angry.”

“Me too, if I dwell on it.”

“But I still don’t understand how it fits in with my question.”

Scarlett had torn the label off her beer bottle and pulled it to bits while talking.

She put the beer down on the table and looked at him. “Your question was about why I enjoy being punished. Doesn’t my upbringing explain it?”

“I don’t know. Does it?” he asked.

“It’s familiar,” she said. “And somehow—I can’t tell you why—it makes me feel powerful. I like to fight against something, and sometimes…I guess I like to lose, too.”

“Or maybe when you’re being punished, you don’t feel invisible anymore,”

Bryson said softly.

His words hit her like a blow to the chest. At the same time, her eyes welled up.

She smiled. “That might be the most insightful thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she told him.

Bryson stared at her, his eyes registering a new hunger. “And then again, maybe I’m used to getting what I want. Maybe I’m just another one of those jerks who took advantage of a beautiful person.”

She smiled kindly and caressed his cheek. “It’s not taking advantage if I asked you for it. Maybe it’s my therapy.”

“So now I’m your therapist?”

“After this, it sure feels that way.”

“Then I suppose I should make a formal diagnosis,” he said. He shifted his weight towards her.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot, you need to tell me what’s wrong with me,” she said.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Nothing.” His hand came up and cupped the side of her face. He looked at her and she’d never seen such compassionate, kind eyes. She’d never seen love like that, never. Only in her dreams, perhaps. She could hardly breathe as she tried to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You, Scarlett, are amazing. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’m so grateful to know you.” His voice caught a little near the end. “And I promise I won’t let you down. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Again?” she asked, confused.

He looked quickly away. “Just remember what I told you.” He looked back at her. “Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt yourself.”

She smiled. “Okay. I mean, yes, doctor.”

And then his lips were on hers once more, and she responded with everything she had. She was exhausted, mentally and physically and emotionally, from telling him things that nobody else in the world knew about her.

“You’ll never be invisible to me,” he said, when he took his lips from hers. His eyes searched hers.

She moaned. “I need to feel you. I need to feel real.”

“You are real, you’re realer than anything else in this world.” His breath on her lips, as he pushed her down on the couch, his body pressing on top of her. They were kissing, by turns softly and then fiercely, as if they couldn’t get enough of one another.

Scarlett realized now why she felt so different when Bryson touched her and kissed her and entered her. It was different because somehow she truly felt seen by him, like she was no longer invisible.

It was as if his touch was the thing that brought her flesh from transparency to reality, from gray to color. And the entire world seemed to come into focus.

She needed to touch him, to make him feel the way he made her feel.

His hands roamed over her body, pulling up her t-shirt and caressing her tender, sensitive breasts. And then his lips were sucking her nipples, and she was crying.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“God, yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He went back, and his lips were on fire against her skin, and she cried out over and over again.

They stripped one another’s clothes off until they were stark naked, skin on skin, nothing between them. There was truly nothing between them now, she thought, as his eyes stayed focused on hers.

He entered her with little foreplay, but it didn’t matter, because she was already soaking wet and needing him badly.

He stroked her slowly, slowly, his chest against hers, his lips practically touching hers.

His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer as he pushed deeply inside of her, spreading her until there was nowhere else to go. She cried out.

She climaxed quickly, and then she thought it was over and she climaxed again.

Bryson closed his eyes. “I can barely take it,” he said. “You feel too good,” he gasped.

“It’s okay, you can finish.”

“Okay,” he said, groaning with even more pleasure as he continued slowly stroking in and out of her.

His body was rhythmic and precise, and he continued to look into her eyes.

Finally, as if he could take it no more, he closed his eyes and exhaled quickly—she felt him stop inside of her, and release everything.

***

Later, they were lying in bed together, nestled like a couple of pups, limbs tangled, voices low, whispering and laughing and everything was just loose and flowing and perfectly right.

At one point, he turned and she once again saw the tattoo on his back, the black butterfly. “Now that I’ve told you my crazy past,” she said, and traced it lightly with her hand. “Maybe you can tell me about this?”

His entire body stiffened and she instantly knew she’d made a mistake.

She was flustered. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s not a big deal…”

Bryson relaxed and took her hand, kissing it. “I do want to tell you. I think it’s a story for another time, though. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded, smiling.

They lay back together again, murmuring and kissing, and then both started to drift after some time.

Or maybe only she was drifting to sleep.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “Sort of.”

He looked at her, his hand reached out and caressed her hair. “Scarlett, I think I’m starting to—“

Suddenly, the tinkling ringtone of Bryson’s cell phone blared at them from his jeans sitting below them on the floor.

Scarlett had to laugh at the timing. She was almost certain he was about to say,
I
think I’m starting to fall in love with you
, but she’d never know now. The phone blared its ring again.

Bryson hung his head. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You can get it,” she told him. “I understand.”

Feeling him withdraw was one of the loneliest things she could have imagined at that moment, and the next thing she knew, he was sitting up with his phone to his ear.

“Are you okay?” he asked tersely into it.

He listened for a time.

Scarlett curled up and watched him as he listened for a while.

Bryson sighed. “Look, now’s not really a good time.” He sighed again and shook his head. “No, because…it’s late and I’ve got some personal things to attend to. I’m sorry, I can’t meet with you.”

Scarlett sat up, fully awake now.

He got off the phone and shook his head. “I never should have answered that.

What the hell was I thinking?”

“Who was it?”

He looked at her. “Eliza Johnston, having some meltdown yet again about god only knows what.”

“And she wanted to see you?” Scarlett asked. It was so late at night, it hardly made sense.

“Yeah, apparently. It’s like her and Dale tag-team me. One day he makes my life hell, the next it’s her.”

“He already made your life hell earlier today.”

“Technically that was yesterday,” Bryson corrected her. “Anyway, I need to get some sleep.”

Scarlett felt anxious. “Was she angry that you said no to meeting her?”

He started to slide back into bed. “Of course she was angry. You know how she is.”

“Then you should go.”

“What?” He looked at her like she was insane. “I’m not going to leave you in the middle of the night to meet with her.”

His complete aversion to Eliza warmed Scarlett’s heart. She felt a surge of love and confidence. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I trust you. Just go and deal with her and smooth things over.”

“You’re serious?” His eyes searched to see if this was a test.

“I am.”

He sat up again. “Well, if you really think it’s okay—“

“Just…don’t fall for her.”

“Fall for Eliza Johnston? She’s got the emotional maturity of a toddler.”

“But she’s got the body of a goddess.”

“She’s nothing compared to you,” Bryson said, and moved in to kiss her for a long moment.

And then he was getting up, getting dressed, calling Eliza and telling her that he’d meet her after all. Scarlett followed him as he made his way to the door.

Finally, they stood together and kissed one last time. Bryson touched her cheek again and his eyes were soft. “You’re the best,” he said.

“I know.” She grinned.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” he told her. “Wish me luck.”

As he left, she called out to him. “Good luck!”

Then, he was gone and the doubts came rushing in. Who in their right mind would send their man off to be with Eliza Johnston?

Am I trying to ruin my own life?

No, Scarlett reminded herself.
If you love someone, set them free. If they’re
really meant to be yours, they’ll come back to you.

***

Maybe it was just exhaustion.

Scarlett had figured she’d be up all night, picturing Bryson and Eliza together, imagining all kinds of awful scenarios, waiting for a phone call or a text from him. But strangely, she’d actually gone to sleep and slept deeply through the night.

That’s why, as she got up and showered, than dressed that morning, a fresh burst of butterflies attacked her insides. There had been no late night or early morning texts or calls from Bryson.

It occurred to her that maybe she should call or text him first. So she did, but he didn’t answer, and she thought he might still be asleep. So she decided to go to him instead. In the time it took her to get to his apartment, he would probably be waking up anyhow.

She felt absurdly happy on the cab ride to Bryson’s apartment.

There’s something special there and I’m not going to let my own fears and
insecurities ruin that.

Scarlett felt reinvigorated, knowing that what had happened between them last night had been real. She was confident enough to go to him, and she was proud of that.

She got out of the cab and walked into Bryson’s building, greeting the concierge with enthusiasm. “Hi,” she said. “Could you ring Bryson Taylor and tell him that Scarlett Evers is downstairs?”

“Certainly,” the concierge said, and then he picked up his phone and made the call.

He held it to his ear a long while. Finally, he placed the phone back in its receiver. “I’m sorry, but nobody’s answering at the moment.”

She’d been through this song and dance before. “Okay,” she said, slowly feeling more and more nervous and frustrated. She went and sat down in a chair near the door and checked her cell.

Just then, the front desk phone rang and the attendant picked up. Whatever was said, he appeared apologetic. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there, ma’am.” And with that, he bolted from his desk and down the hall to god only knew where.

Scarlett sat there for a moment, and then decided—to hell with it—she’d just go up and knock to be sure. Getting out of her seat, she moved quickly and pushed the call button for the elevator. Eventually, after what felt like forever, it arrived and she got in.

When it stopped at Bryson’s floor, she had the first sense of true foreboding. She was struck by the urge to cut and run, but pushed herself forward, urging herself not to be silly and scared for no good reason.

Her stomach churned and she clenched her teeth anxiously, as she approached his door.

She knocked three times, loudly and in succession. Then she waited.

Her feet were tapping and her hands were jittery. She fixed her hair, trying to smile and recapture the upbeat feeling she’d had not so long ago.

He’s just asleep or he’s gone for coffee, she theorized. Or maybe he’s got earplugs in or something.

But then the door was being unlocked from the inside and it swung open just enough for her to see a woman’s face peering out at her. “Can I help you?” the woman said.

Scarlett was struck dumb. She soon realized that she was looking at Eliza Johnston in the morning, without her makeup and hair having been done.

“Scarlett, what are you doing here?” Eliza asked.

“I…I was supposed to meet Bryson…” she muttered.

“He didn’t mention it,” Eliza said, turning from the door. She was wearing one of Bryson’s shirts, and nothing else from the looks of it. “Bryson?” Eliza called out.

Scarlett simply turned and left, not even bothering to wait for what else was to come. Her mind was practically blank. She was in shock.

By the time she’d gotten in the elevator and reached the first floor, her shock was beginning to wear off, like Novocain that had been covering up severe tooth pain. It was starting to hurt, and hurt badly.

“Ma’am, where are you coming from? I told you, he wasn’t answering,” the concierge said, back at his desk now. “You can’t just go to a tenant’s apartment without being rang in.”

She ignored the concierge, her feet somehow still carrying her forward despite herself. “It’s okay, I’m leaving anyway,” she said weakly, as she opened the door and headed out of the building.

And that’s when she heard Bryson calling her name. “Scarlett!”

She didn’t respond, just kept walking.

“Wait a minute. Hey!” Bryson was running to her from behind. “Please, don’t get the wrong idea. Nothing happened at all. She just needed me—“

“She needed you?” Scarlett said, still walking. “Needed you for what?”

He walked by her side, trying to make eye contact. “I know this doesn’t sound or look good. I know this seems bad to you. But it’s not, okay? She’s just kind of confused right now and I had an obligation to try and help her. I couldn’t send her home.”

Scarlett sped up her pace. “She’s an adult with plenty of options. She could fly to Egypt. She could stay at the Ritz. She could do anything, Bryson.”