Rain
Before she has the chance to talk again, I leave the room. She has no idea what kind of man I am. The things I’ve done. It wasn’t easy leaving that life behind me. The men I worked with were my friends and all I had left. But I couldn’t live like that anymore. So when I found a way out, I took it. It doesn’t change what I have already done. In the years leading up to now, I’ve managed to make peace with myself. That ended when Charlie showed up. Now I’m angrier than ever. Charlie deserves so much more than the man I am. But when my fingertips touch her smooth skin, I can’t stop. All I want is to touch her. Hold her. Have her. This is my punishment and I hate myself for it. She needs a savior, not a killer. The best thing I can do for both of us is try to fix her car and send her on her way. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I watch the last drop of water from my hair run down my face.
“Rain. Open the door.”
I’m taken aback by the power in her voice. The strength that I know is living inside of her, showing clearly. The second I push down the handle and the door unlocks, she pushes in. Her hands fly around my head, pulling down, sealing her lips over mine.
“We shouldn’t. I’m not—”
“Please shut up,” she says. She moves her body into mine, then pushes her tongue between my lips.
Bending, I pick her up by the ass, and her legs wrap around me. The ability to stop vanished when her wet breasts pressed against my chest. With her in my arms, I quickly take her up to the loft and set her on her feet right next to my bed. Looking into her angelic eyes, I back up and try again to get a grip.
“Why do you think you’ll break me?” she asks.
“I’m not good for you. You need—”
“I’ve had my fill of someone else telling me what I need. You know what I need? I need to feel happiness. Escape. Pleasure. I need the feeling of someone’s hand dragging across my skin because I want it there. I need you—”
Unable to take any more of her pleads, I take a step closer. The room silences, and her hurt face angles to the ground. Tilting her head up with my finger reveals what I knew. A tear runs out of her right eye. The pad of my thumb swipes it away. My arm snakes around her back, pulling her further into me.
“No more crying,” I whisper. Slowly lowering my head, I press my lips into hers. Soft tingles rise from her fingertips brushing up my arms. My hand moves from the small of her back over her perfect little ass. Once my fingers touch the hem of her long nightshirt, I begin to pull it up. Instead of the reluctance that I thought might arise in Charlie, she moves slightly away from my body and raises her hands.
My shirt gets tossed next and lands on top of Charlie’s in the corner of the room. As tongues collide, our hands continue to work at removing the material that separates us. Pushing against her, I walk us back to the bed. Her eyes lock on mine as I lay her down. Leaning onto my elbow next to her, my tongue glides over her jawline and down her neck. The way her body angles into mine as her back arches sends electricity straight through me. My hips begin to move against her, but then I hesitate. I know I should stop.
“Rain?”
“Right here, Angel.”
“Please,” she begs.
The desperate plea dissolves any restraint I may have had. I open the drawer on the small nightstand and rip open the new box of condoms I hid there earlier. I press a quick kiss to her lips while I slide one on before moving my tongue lower. My hand cups her breast as I pinch her nipple between my thumb and finger. She writhes as my tongue circles the bud before sealing my lips around it. Unable to wait any longer, gently I press my tip into her wet opening. The slick warmth is intoxicating. Before sinking myself deeper inside of her, I look to her for confirmation she really wants this. Her glazed eyes burn into mine. Her hands brush over her torso, to her breasts, then up to my chest. Then, before I can make a move, she thrusts her hips up, burying me. She hisses in at the intrusion, but pulls at me for more.
“I haven’t done this in a long time,” I admit. Between the time and the sheer perfection of her body, I know this may be over quick.
Her nails dig into the back of my shoulders as our bodies move together. With every thrust, her grip on me tightens. Those perfect legs wrap around my waist. Her soft heels dig into my back, pulling me further into her. The hitch of her breath turns to light whimpers, then to breathy moans before she shatters below me, her inner thighs quivering. The sweet sounds coming from her echoing against the walls, and feeling the convulsions inside of her undo me. I groan with my release as I stay planted inside somewhere I never want to leave.
Honestly, I thought as soon as this happened, she would regret it. But as her body relaxes, her breathing slows and she puts her hand against my cheek. Each corner of her mouth turns up, and it melts me. Right fucking here, buried in her, I’m done for. I can’t say this has ever happened to me. It’s never felt like this. And I’m not sure what the hell to do.
Charlie’s head rests on my shoulder. Her hand warm on my chest. My arm wraps around her back with my fingers resting on the bones of her hip. I can actually feel her heart beating against my side. I was perfectly fine living my life of solitude. I would have never known what this feels like had she not stumbled into my life. But now that she’s here, how am I ever going to let her go?
As her breath evens out and her muscles relax, I slip out from under her and sit on the edge of the bed. Luther raises his head from his blanket on the floor that he never sleeps on. I walk to him, scratch his head, and immediately spot the journal tucked into Charlie’s open bag. Looking back at Charlie, I see that she is sleeping soundly. There’s no justifying reading the damn thing. I’m not going read it. I’m not going read it. I repeat it in my head two more times. Then the leather binding opens, and I turn to a page.
We had Austen’s brother’s wedding tonight. Austen has been acting really strange the past month. He usually apologizes to me when I tell him he’s being an asshole. But tonight was different. He didn’t care that he was hurting my feelings. He didn’t care that he made me so angry. While everyone else was dancing, Austen was leaning against the bar talking with one of his friends. I walked over and asked if he would dance with me. Instead of putting down his glass, grabbing my hand, and twirling me onto the floor like I had hoped, he laughed at me. Then he told me to “get lost”. I returned to the table in the corner of the room, heartbroken. I don’t know what has gotten into him. His mean comments and demanding demeanor are becoming more frequent, and so are our fights. I don’t understand. All I wanted was a fucking dance.
Movement from the bed startles me, and I drop the book to the floor. Charlie turns to her other side but continues to sleep. The book lies open to a page that’s impossible to ignore. The first three words are darker than the rest, as if she had gone over each letter multiple times.
I HATE HIM. It’s unimaginable how a person can go from the love of your life to your worst enemy in a matter of what seems like moments. The words that spit from his mouth made me sick. Tonight was much of the same. He came home from work irate and he took it out on me. Apparently, it makes him feel like more of a man to tear me down. With every push, shove, or smack, he spat out vile words with my grandmother’s name attached. “You are a stupid bitch, Charlotte.” “You are scum, Charlotte.” “No one wants to deal with your bullshit. Even your parents quit talking to you because you are worthless. No one loves you, Charlotte. I’m all you have.” “You look fat in those ugly shorts, Charlotte.” I would give anything for him not to say her name anymore. It doesn’t matter that the glass coffee table shattered under my leg after he pushed me onto it. It doesn’t even matter that he punched me in the shoulder. I can cover the cuts all over my upper thigh. At least he didn’t leave any marks on my face this time. I’m supposed to go to the grocery store tomorrow.
The taste of blood enters into my mouth as my teeth destroy the inside of my cheek. I place her journal down on the top of the dresser and pace the room. Charlie’s bare leg comes into view. I walk to it and look at the top of her thigh to see multiple tiny white scars. My short fingernails dig into the palms of my twitching hands. I know I should stop before I drive to Portland right now, find him, and smile with every slice of his flesh. A nice, slow, torturous death. Incapable of stopping, my hands grip the sides of the journal as I turn the page again.
Another day, more bullshit. As always, the day after is filled with apologies and his disgusting touch. I’m not sure which is worse. The abuse or the sex. Is there really a difference? Then he goes to work and sends gifts to the house. This morning, I received flowers, chocolates, and a gift certificate to the shop in town where he likes me to buy my clothes. For a long time, this used to work for me. I made excuses for him, saying he was just under so much stress with school and work. I believed his apologetic words despite what I saw in his eyes. Now I know it’s just all bullshit. So after going to the grocery store, I went to get a new shirt since my favorite one was ruined from Austen throwing his glass of red wine on me. Sara was there as usual. I’ve gotten secretly close to Sara over the last few months. She’s been onto the fact that Austen is a piece of shit. But today, she found out how bad it’s become. I was trying on a shirt and she accidentally walked into the dressing room. I won’t soon forget the sound of her sharp inhale. I didn’t have to say a word. The bruises on my back told their own story. After a long crying session and spilling my guts out, Sara came up with a plan. She gave me a wad of money from the register of her shop and her phone number. So tomorrow, I’m leaving.
Gritting my teeth and breathing heavily, I turn the page.
Well. Here I sit. In Austen’s piece of shit house. Bleeding. I left. He found me and he made it clear: I’m to never run again. He has no idea that is now my only mission in life. I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life like this. Thankfully, he didn’t find the money or my secret credit card. So next chance I get, I’m running, and I won’t stop until I’m either as far away as I can get from Austen or dead. Until then, I stay strong. I can do this . . . I can do this.
There isn’t anything I want more than to return to the bed next to her, pull her into my side, and hold her for days. Make her feel safe. Tell her to stay. But I don’t. Instead, I pull my clothes on and head into the garage to burn off this overwhelming hurricane that’s circling inside of me. I would give anything to be the one to protect her. But he’s not the only one she needs protection from.