“I like you in my bed. We should do this more often,” I say, angling my head against his bare chest so I’m looking up into his face. Our second time together was better than the first. I can’t say I’ve ever orgasmed three times before having sex.

He flips me like I weigh nothing, hovering over me. “That’s supposed to be my line.” My heart flutters that he wants this too. “You sure you can handle all this more than every other week?” He waggles his eyebrows and presses his groin against me.

I pretend to be thinking hard. “Hmm. It is a lot to take in.” Of course, I meant his ego, but as soon as the words escape my mouth, his lips curl to a confident grin. I’m certain I inflated his ego to a level fit for a god.

“Thanks,” he beams. “I take pride in it.” I bite my lip, fighting back my laugh. He wasn’t hard before, but he is now. With a little grind of his hips, my body is already heating up.

“I wasn’t referring to—”

He lies on top of me, bringing his lips to mine to stop me from talking. “Shh,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I know it’s a lot to take in…” He slides into me and I arch my back, moaning, at the tingling sensation of him inside me again. “But I fit perfectly into that tight pussy of yours.” Wrapping my legs around his hips, I hold on while he moves in and out of me in a slow sensual ride. The heat from our bodies is almost too much to bear, beads of sweat pool between our connected chests. We’re so close, we move as a unit made for each other. He stares into my eyes, reaching into the depths of my soul, claiming it as his. There isn’t any resistance. It’s his to take.

The bite of the air conditioner provides relief against our over heated bodies. Half an hour later, we’re back in the same position we started from except the pounding of our heartbeats echo in the room. His finger drags across my back in a figure eight, my body relaxes and my limbs grow heavy. “I agree we should do this more often,” he murmurs, his voice deep from fatigue. It seems he finally ran out of energy.

Within seconds, his breathing is a slow steady rhythm, his hand resting on my back and I drift off to sleep right beside him.

“Stay with me!”

I'm jolted out of sleep, disoriented. It doesn’t take long to figure out what woke me. “Keep talking, just keep talking to me,” Kase demands, thrashing and kicking his feet, the sheets flailing around. More murmurs I can’t understand slip from his lips before he screams.

I lay my hand on his shoulder. “Kase, wake up. You’re okay.” Keeping my voice soft and comforting, I repeat the words once more, adding more pressure on my hold as his screams get louder.

His next actions happen so fast, I’m uncertain how we got in this position.

Growls drown out my screams, fingers tighten around my throat and I claw at his arms to stop. “Kase,” I try to scream over and over. His eyes are dark, filled with anger. I am the enemy. The panicked rasp in my voice doesn’t even sound like me. I do the only thing I can think to stop the pain. Slam my knee up as hard as I can. It connects to his groin area, and the release is instant.

I scoot off the bed as fast as I can, falling to the floor on my ass. My feet shuffle on their own, scooting me as far away from him as I can. Hitting my back against the wall, I don’t take my eyes off Kase. My nightmares come alive. It’s not the same. This isn’t the same. I repeat those words.

Are you sure? It feels the same, my subconscious replies.

Kase rocks on the bed in a fetal position, holding his groin, muttering curse words. “What the actual fuck?” He growls and looks around the room. With my chest heaving and my hands on my neck, I keep quiet. When his eyes find mine, he freezes for a couple of beats before jumping off the bed and rushing over.

Bringing my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them, my body tenses, readying for another hit even though mentally, I know he won’t hurt me again. He’s awake. He’s not like him.

“Ellie, what happened?” He panics, kneeling at my feet. He reaches for me and I involuntarily flinch. Tears burn my eyes, I shake my head. “Tell me what I did.” His voice breaks but I can’t look at him. The click of the lamp has me opening my eyes. Our eyes meet again and his travel to my neck. “Did I…” He stops, rocking back on his feet when his knees weaken and he drops to the floor. His hands grip his hair in a frenzy. “No. Tell me I didn’t do that,” he roars.

“You were having a nightmare,” I whisper.

“I’m…” The terror in his face shatters something inside me. The shield I’m hiding behind disappears, my fears melt away. This isn’t his fault. I should have known better than to touch him. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his tone full of regret.

I push forward, my knees dig into the carpet, and I crawl over to his hunched body. “You didn’t know what you were doing.” It’s my turn to hesitate to touch him, but when he can’t face me, I crawl into his lap. His arms stay limp at his sides. The intense need to be close to him is overwhelming considering he was choking me mere minutes ago.

I know firsthand what nightmares can do, how hard it is to refocus your energy. He needs to get out of his head. “Look at me,” I softly demand. He lifts his head and the blue of his eyes is cloaked in black. Panic, remorse, and anger reflect back at me. “It. Wasn’t. You.” I say each word slow so he hears each one. The rise and fall of his chest is the only movement between us. He blinks every few seconds and I wonder if he’s trying to communicate with me. As if he’s stuck inside his body and can't get out. He needs a push, a shift in the current.

I straddle him, waiting for a response. My therapist wouldn’t agree with me right now. She’d tell me I’m searching for emotional intimacy triggered by an adrenaline induced situation, an escape from the real problem. The real problem? I would ask her. He choked you, she would respond flatly, trying to hide the judgement in her voice. But it’s there. Don’t go back down that road. You’re better than that. I yank my shirt off despite her whispers. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m trying to prove her wrong.

He’s not like him.

He’s not my past.

He’s my future.

I can’t stop. I’ve never needed a man more than now. A simple touch of my lips to his, brings life to his body. In a frenzy of moans and whimpers from his wandering hands, my hips grind down against his hardened cock and his hands wrap in my hair, yanking it back. We gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment, his dark with need, mine blazing with acceptance. My rapid heartbeat and heaving chest filled with urgency hurts from the craving.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commands through clenched teeth. His voice is flat, listless, but I don’t care. I’ll do anything to help him cope with this burden right now.

I submit, turning around, knees and hands on the rough carpet. The sound of a foil packet being ripped open readies me for what is about to happen. Without a word, he snags my panties with his finger, pushing them aside and slams his dick into my wetness. Our grunts and groans fill the room. The slap of our bodies and the tight grip his hands have on my hips spur me on to keep up with his demanding stride. I push back, needing to feel him all the way inside me. I’m not sure if I’m punishing myself for making him hurt me, or offering him all of me as a sacrifice to forget his nightmare. Either way, it’s a dangerous position to be in. It’s a battlefield of cries from our release and then silence.

He remains silent when he walks into the bathroom to get rid the condom and I wonder what happens next. I wish he would say something. Anything. I crawl into my bed and wait, but the emotional night gets the best of me. My eyes turn heavy and the last thing I remember is him standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at me.

When I wake, the only thing next to me are cold sheets and fear that I might have lost the best thing that ever happened to me.