Release (18 page)

In a strange way, I feel like
I’ve just claimed him as mine.

Dane is motionless, but for
his heavy breathing, forcing the rise and fall of his chest to compress mine
firmly. Now I feel obliged to say something. Keeping a listen out for the
sounds of any potential approach, with my mouth close to his ear, I whisper,
“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t doubt me.” His low
tone within his slowing breaths is commanding, but not aggressive. “And don’t
avoid me. If you have things on your mind, tell me, don’t hide from me. Know
that I’m with you because I want to be. That’s all that matters. We, you and I,
are all that matters.”

“Okay,” I say, taken aback
by his statement and manner. “I’m sorry.” I truly am. I know for certain now
that I’ve upset him. I didn’t think that was possible.

“Please don’t look at me
with fear in your eyes again, Brooklyn. You don’t ever need to be afraid of
me.”

Swiftly, Dane alters our
position so that his hands are now under my bottom, I wrap my legs around his
waist. He moves us into the apartment and kicks the front door shut behind him.
Lowering the strap of my bag, I let it slip down from my shoulder and drop it
on the floor. He carries me through to the bathroom.

Dane’s shower is ideal for
two, and enclosed in obscured glass. Steam surrounds us, infused with the scent
of honey and almond body wash, and the hot spray shoots down behind me as Dane
lathers the front of my body. It’s blissful, so I close my eyes and enjoy the
feel of his soapy, slippery hands gliding over my skin. Although we’re silent,
this isn’t awkward. It’s perfect. He seems to have forgiven me.

Opening my eyes, I admire
him. His body covered in wet beads is so sexy. I lean forward and run my tongue
over his nipple and up his pec, licking away the water. My journey continues
over his shoulder and up the side of his neck. He shudders when I nip his
earlobe with my teeth. Rising onto my toes to bring me level, I make my way
along his jaw line, which offers the subtlest hint of stubble tonight, to his
chin and up to his bottom lip, which I suck. We kiss deep, slow. I lower my
heels to the floor. One of Dane’s hands cups the side of my neck, whilst the
other rubs soapsuds over my back and bottom.

Dane turns me to face away
from him, my back to his front and his erection against my spine. The shower
cascades down over my front, washing away the lather. My hair is gathered and
draped over my left shoulder. My exposed neck is lightly nipped and sucked.
Hands capture my breasts in a firm hold. My nipples harden when they’re grasped
between teasing thumbs and forefingers. Glorious sensations pass through me and
I lean into Dane, standing tall and strong.

I palm his firm thighs as
his touch travels down and stops between my legs. With his foot, Dane ushers my
feet farther apart and his fingers slip into my folds, caressing. I clasp his
wet shaft with my right hand and stroke. Dane turns my head to the side, his
tongue seeking mine. Kissing, dual stroking, completely absorbed in each other,
the only sound is the heavy spray of the shower. Nothing else and no one else
exists right now. It’s only us.

He speaks against my lips.
“Don’t stay away from me so long again.” Though his words sounded insistent,
there’s no denying the undertone of it being a plea. It was subtle, but clear.

“I won’t.” I can’t.

I’m not sure if he’s referring
to last night alone, or the past three, but, even though it’s perfectly normal
for a couple to spend nights apart, I hated them.

“I want you with me every
day. Let me take care of you.” Another request, I know I have a choice.

I know what I want.

It’s also obvious to me,
reading into the way he said it, that this is something Dane needs.

I need it too, so I nod in
agreement.

“Tell me yes.” His eyes
demand my verbal answer as well as his words.

“Yes.”

He presses his lips to mine,
it’s as though we’ve sealed the deal.

I resume my strokes along
the length of his shaft, upping the tempo. Reaching between us, Dane halts my
movement. “Not like that. I wanna come inside you.”   

Facing the wall with my
hands braced wide against the tiles, Dane pulls my hips back and slowly enters
me from behind. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter through the sound of the spray now
striking us from the side. One hand gripping my hip and the other moving to my
shoulder, I’m held in place as he takes me with long, delayed thrusts. The
feeling is both delicious and agonizing, spreading within me and up along my
spine. My light moans are both from pleasure and a desire for more, I’m not
sure if I want to thank him for this or beg for more.

As though commanding my climax,
he speeds up, becoming fierce. From inside out the sensations build, my deep
muscles tightening. I go over with a crash of painfully sweet waves. Seconds
after, Dane comes and mingled with his groan is my name.

My
name.

When did it get so dark? The only light source is from
the moon, piercing the kitchen window and seeping into the hallway I’m standing
in. The man in front of me is nothing more than a large, dark silhouette.

He’s blocking my way out.

The front door’s behind him.
I can’t get to it.

The two steps I take back
leads me to the wall, my back presses against it.

I need to get to the door. I
wish he wasn’t so much bigger than me.

I know I won’t get past him.

Why won’t he let me go?
Hasn’t he hurt me enough?

He inhales deeply.

And charges at me.

I scream.

A woman’s scream pulls me from my sleep. In confusion,
for a moment, I think I’m in a nightmare. I open my eyes to darkness and the
sound of rapid, shallow breathing. Beside me on the bed, I can see Brooklyn’s
seated outline. I reach for the side light and turn it on.

Brooklyn’s hands are
covering her face, muffling her chaotic breaths. I sit up and curl my arm
around her. She turns into me, clinging to me, panicked, like she’s scared. Her
naked body pressed to mine, her cheek to my sternum, I can feel her skin, moist
with perspiration.

Stroking her hair, I move
the damp strands from her face. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Her nails pierce
my back with the desperation of her hold, and I can feel the thundering of her
heart against me. “Take it easy. Breathe, baby, just breathe.” I feel like I’ve
taken a giant leap back in time, to a time when I used to have to calm Saffron
after her nightmares.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Shhh, it’s all right.”

We’re silent for a few
moments, and Brooklyn’s respiration starts to calm, her hold easing slightly.

“Do you wanna tell me about
it, baby?”

Slowly, her head moves from
side-to-side. “I just couldn’t breathe. It felt too real. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry
for, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry for waking you.”
Her voice plays muted against my skin as she turns her face, nestling it
against my chest. She breathes in deep … smelling me.

“This is all real, Brooklyn.
It’s all real.”

She goes quiet, calmer, but
her face is still pressed to my chest. Moments pass. Keeping her in my hold, I
lay back.

With the blinds still closed and the side light on,
Brooklyn and I haven’t moved, we haven’t slept and we haven’t said a word. Now
she starts to reposition herself. I straighten out my arm, and she moves her
head from my chest to lay it on my bicep.

Her gaze slowly starts to
trace my face. Her green irises look troubled and dull.

There are so many things I
want to say to her, starting with an apology for scaring her when she first got
here. I feel like a jerk. I’m not sure what’s worse; the look in her eyes now,
or the way she looked at me last night. I wasn’t prepared for the way I felt
when those elevator doors opened and I saw her standing there. A rush of
everything I do feel, and things I don’t want to feel, took me over in one
powerful hit. It was already simmering beneath the surface, like a volcano
preparing to erupt. 

I really wish she hadn’t
avoided me the way she did.

As I open my mouth to speak,
Brooklyn’s words come out first. “Why didn’t you speak to Clarissa? If I didn’t
see her watching you I’d have thought you were strangers, but you obviously
have some sort of history.”

Not something I wanted to
discuss; there are other things I’m more interested in, starting with, “I want
to know how you feel first.”

“I’m fine.”

“You didn’t go back to
sleep.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I was waiting for you to.
How do you really feel?”

“Guilty that you have to be
at work in about two hours and your sleep was interrupted because of me.
Otherwise I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to feel
guilty about anything. I’m sorry I scared you when you first got here. I’d
never put my hands on you in any way that doesn’t make you feel safe or good,
not ever.”

She licks her lips. “I was
just surprised to see you standing there and at first I wasn’t sure if you …”

“If I what?”

“If you were angry with me.
You weren’t,” she sighs, “I soon realized that. I know I don’t need to fear you
physically, Dane.” Her direct eye contact suggests she means that, which is
good and
true
, but I didn’t miss her reference to the
physical
aspect.

The fucked up thing is I
can’t guarantee that I won’t hurt her emotionally. I don’t intend to, and I’ll
do my best to avoid it, but I can’t make any promises.

Her brows rise. “Clarissa?”

“The last time Clarissa
spoke to me, she said, “You’re an asshole, douche bag, asswipe. Don’t ever talk
to me again.” I might’ve found her description of me funny, if she wasn’t hurt
when she said it. I never wanted that, but I made things very clear from my
side.”

“So she got serious about
you, and you didn’t feel the same?”

I don’t know how honest to
be. After her reaction to just seeing Clarissa, I don’t think Brooklyn will
want, or like, the answer. I’ve got this horrible vision of playing things down
and then Brooklyn running into Clarissa and them talking. Maybe my imagination
is full of shit, but I don’t like the idea of that happening. 

“Hesitation,” she whispers
with light teasing in her tone. It eases her expression, making it less
troubled. I smile because of that.

 “I don’t think you’ll
want all the details, so we’ll go with this. We were hooking up for a few
months and then she wanted more. She was persistent, and I figured why not? We
went for the whole exclusive thing, but our feelings weren’t the same. I did
care, but I didn’t love her. She was pissed with me for “not really giving
things a chance”. I did, but I knew it wasn’t going to get any deeper on my
side.”

Brooklyn nods as though she
understands, but doesn’t comment. If she was having doubts about me already,
then what I just said isn’t likely to improve her confidence in us.

“This is not the same,
Brooklyn. Don’t doubt me too easily.”

She frowns. “I never said I
was.”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“So she was more than a shag
and now you don’t talk at all?”

“Yeah.” What more can I say?
I don’t make a habit of acting like a woman I’ve been involved with doesn’t
exist – not in their presence – even ones I might’ve only fucked.

“How long was she your
actual girlfriend for?”

“Three and a half months.”

“How many girlfriends have
you had?”

“Four.”

“Did you love any of them?”

“The second one, Nadine, yes
I did.”

“How long were you with
her?”

“Three years, it was back
when I lived in Hillsborough.” This conversation needs to stop right here.
“What did you dream about?”

Turning onto her back,
Brooklyn gazes up at the ceiling. “I can’t remember.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re calling me a liar?”

“I guess I am.”

“Think what you like,” she
says with a harder tone. “I don’t remember, I just couldn’t breathe all of a
sudden.”

Fuck, I’m being an asshole.
I do believe it’s a lie, but I’m mostly going for a subject change. “You look
tired, why don’t you stay here and sleep?” With a schedule like hers, full of
classes, clients, and performances, she can’t be having shitty nights like
that.

“I’ll go home and sleep. Are
you going to the gym?”

“I guess. I’ll see you after
I finish work, right?”

After too many seconds of
watching Brooklyn bite her bottom lip, I repeat myself.

“I might stay home.” She
pulls the comforter up until it’s tucked under her chin.

I turn onto my side, my arm
remaining under her. “You don’t want to see me?”

Quickly, she shakes her head
and finally looks at me again. We’re almost nose-to-nose now. “No, it’s not
that. I just think maybe I should stay at my place tonight.”

“I want you here with me,
Brooklyn. I meant what I said in the shower last night.”

Silently, she holds my gaze.

I shouldn’t have gone where
I did with her, making requests like that, and I shouldn’t be pushing her now,
but I did and I am. I’m not in the frame of mind to go back on my words.

We continue to stare at each
other as I wait for some kind of response.

“You’d get sick of the sight
of me if you saw me every day,” she says.

A part of me wishes that
were true.

“Not a chance. I want to see
your smile and hear you laugh every day. I meant what I said.”

She’s thinking. No doubt
conflicted.

“Is this because of your
dream?” I know she remembers; she looks too troubled not to recall anything.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, it happens to us all at some point.” Some
way more than others.

“I told you, I don’t
remember. No bullshit.”

I don’t buy that, but I
won’t push it. Not if she’s more likely to stay at her own place tonight. “I’ll
see you after work.”

“Okay,” she says, after
hesitating. “I think I might stay here and sleep.”

Never thought I’d see the
day that I’d leave a woman alone in my apartment.