Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (16 page)

A soft giggle sounded from her. “That’s a relief.”

My body stilled at the sound. It was sugar, honey, dripping with sweetness all over me. I wanted to bathe in it, to feel something that good if only for a few seconds. I wasn’t sure I’d ever made a girl giggle before. Scream from an orgasm, sure, but giggle? I’d even made them laugh, but laughing wasn’t the same thing. Laughing came from the belly. A giggle came from the heart.

I reached up and scratched my neck. I didn’t have time to think too hard about heart shaped giggles. My body weight was torture. I dragged myself to the couch and settled down gratefully, closing my eyes as I tried to think about anything else other than the ache. The couch depressed as she settled down as well.

Close by, I noticed unhappily. I cracked my eyes to find hers watching me. They roamed over my beard and clothes, my garbage.

“I know I look like shit. You don’t have to stare.”

She brought her legs on the couch so that her knee pressed into my left thigh. “You don’t either.”

“Then what do I look like?” Something about her touching me made me uneasy. She wasn’t falling apart right now. The last time we touched I hadn’t had another option. I moved my leg over.

“I was just wondering if you’d been alone all this time.”

“You worried about me?” I couldn’t help finding that aggravating. Before she could open her mouth, I raised my hand. “Don’t bother. I don’t need you to worry about me.”

Her mouth opened slightly at my outburst and then she closed it, removing her stare from my face. “Fine, Dylan. I won’t worry about you. I’ve been worrying about everyone else for so long anyways. And no one’s worrying about me now.” Her bottom lip trembled. She bit down to stop it.

For the most part, I rarely apologized. I meant most of the shit I said, so why take it back? It wasn’t as if my subsequent answer would be any less pleasing. However, Hillary wasn’t like everyone else, and I could still remember the look in her eyes when she came out of Bach’s room.

“Yes,” I finally answered. “I have been alone.”

She ducked her head between her legs. “I’m sorry I came here. I wanted to get away from my mom and Bach, and this is the only place I could think of. Did you know my dad, Dylan?”

Why was my place the first place she thought of? Or maybe it wasn’t first. Maybe it was last and the other options weren’t options anymore. “I grew up next door, so yeah, I knew him. Why?”

“I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth.” She turned around and eyed me with determination and something else, something that looked like painful resolve.

“Okay …”

“Did my dad beat Bach?”

“Tyler?” I laughed humorlessly, because that was a flagrant understatement. Tyler used to terrify me. “Tyler beat the shit out of him.”

She closed her eyes in misery. “So then it’s true?”

“What’s true?”

“That the man I’ve missed my entire life was a monster?”

“Hillary.” May as well get it out. “Tyler Bachmen made monsters cringe.”

She fell on her back and then curled up on her side on the couch, accepting my words.

I rarely missed my father. He wasn’t as bad as Tyler, but that wasn’t saying much. Mitch Meyer made it hard to even envision love. But I contemplated the possibility of not having him, of wanting him, and then finding out that all of the time I spent wanting him there was nothing to want to begin with. I wondered if Hillary’s mom kept her in the dark on purpose, if her mom knew that there was a fragile line between wanting someone who was the worst thing for you and yearning for someone you didn’t know was bad.

All of a sudden her feet curled up against my leg. “I didn’t know. Mom never talked about him. I had no idea I was the daughter of a drug dealing, drug addict abuser. I was his bastard child he didn’t want.” Her voice drifted from sadness to acceptance. “Did you know she used to sleep with him until I was like four? That isn’t a small mistake, Dylan. That’s doing the wrong thing over and over again. And she rode me so hard. She made sure I did everything like a perfect little princess.” Outrage curled around the acceptance, turning her words dark. “I did everything she asked of me always. I’m even going to school for a career I can’t stand for her. And all this time she knew the truth.”

I assumed I was a pin cushion she could take her shit out on, so I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to keep going, forbidding my hand from doing what it wanted. Her feet looked soft and little, tucked against me like she needed the contact.
I wouldn’t touch them
.

“I used to watch kids with their dads and wonder what it would feel like to have one too. I love my Mom, but she’s not … I don’t know … I had her. I wasn’t missing her. She was an addict too. Can you believe that? A woman who stressed that I do not, under any circumstances, touch an illegal substance, was addicted to meth!” She sat up and growled at the air. “I can’t believe her!”

This was a serious situation. I understood that, even respected it. But she was the most unthreatening little thing I’d ever met. Her rage was amusing. I struggled to keep my lips down. She was all flushed cheeks and blond hair, this adorable compact woman raging away on my couch while I listened.

“And Bach,” she hissed. “He’s so aggravating. He keeps pushing me away. I finally have a part of my dad, and he won’t even let me have it for his insane reasons. And Piper,” she continued. “She’s a coward. She doesn’t want to face what happened, so she’s trying to threaten me. She said everyone at school doesn’t believe me. That I asked for it.” Her anger dissipated into sadness. “The bad part is I think she’s right. I did what I wasn’t supposed to do, and that’s what I got.”

I was lost watching her, genuinely entertained for the first time in weeks. But I had to stop her. That was the most bullshit thing I’d ever heard. “You went to a party with your friends, Hillary. It isn’t that big of a deal. How could you have asked for that?”

“I wore those clothes.”

“So you wore a short skirt. I’m sure half the women there were dressed the same way.” I’d been to Jona’s parties before. Skirts were mundane in that house.

“Exactly. I’m not like them.”

She didn’t have to tell me that.

“I went upstairs with him,” she continued, giving me reasons to blame herself. “I drank the beer. I let him get me into that room. I just wanted to go home, Dylan.” She looked at me, her eyes shining. “I went upstairs because I thought Jona was up there and he’d help me. I didn’t want that. I mean I’m a freaking virgin. Why would I want to go upstairs with a guy? With Zane.” The more she talked, the worse she got. Her tone heightened and her body shrunk in on itself. “I can’t stop thinking about him. He won’t leave me alone.”

I should have expected her response. But I wasn’t used to her yet. One second she was next to me crying and the next she was on my lap with her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

I groaned in surprise and then sat there, immobile as she let loose on me. She’d managed to straddle my left leg, and her chest was pressed so tightly to mine I could feel the swell of her breasts against my chest. It was the closest a woman had been to me in too long, and my dick loved it. Her hair was in my face, feeling silky and smelling of peaches. It smelled so good I found myself inhaling it before I realized what I was doing. Her body fit perfectly against me, too perfectly. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

Perfection didn’t exist in my world.

Eventually, I brought my arms around her and rubbed her back, trying to comfort her while trying not to impale her with my hard on.

I had to admit it felt good to have her in my arms. Her warmth alerted me to the fact that I was cold. Her scent was sweet and good. I wanted to run my nose along her throat and inhale her with every single breath.

So I leaned my head away because the last thing I needed was to inhale all her good. The bad in me would rebel.

It took her a while to cry herself out. Her tears moistened my neck, and her body was so tightly pressed to mine I could feel her curves. Once her tears dried up, she did not move. If anything she got more comfortable, resting her head on my shoulder so that each breath kissed my jaw.

I’d never been a self-conscious guy. Women had wanted me from the moment I hit puberty. But they weren’t like Hillary. I had the upper hand with them. I picked them, and they let me in. Hillary and I hadn’t made a choice. I smelled like ass and pits; I looked like shit, and for the first time in my life, I was worried about how a girl saw me. I wasn’t an option she would choose.

“Hill?”

She snuggled closer. “Five more minutes.”

I let my hands rest on her waist. “Two.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Four and a half?”

I shook my head. “Fine. Don’t I stink?”

She hesitated. “I wouldn’t say you stunk. That would be mean.”

For the first time in months, I smiled. “I stink. It’s hard to shower,” I admitted.

“Want help?” her sweet voice implored.

She released me and sat back, her ass digging into my knee. She looked so innocent on my lap, her eyes earnest, her cheeks red from crying, and her lips opened. I stared at them more closely, having not noticed how full and soft her bottom lip looked. Her top lip was full as well, ending in a soft pucker, the same pink as her cheeks. I imagined kissing them and pulling her top lip between my teeth. How sweet her breath would be. My damn dick hardened to the point of pain. It was a strange feeling to be so horny and embarrassed at the same time. Hillary didn’t want me. She was hurting. Her mom was on her shit list, and Bach was pushing her away. She was here because it was her last option. The last thing she needed was some horny broken soldier sucking her face off.

“You want to help me shower? You do know I have to be naked, right?”

She smiled politely. “Yes, Dylan. I’m well aware of the showering process.”

Even her confidence was naive. She didn’t understand. She just said she was a virgin. “Are you going to wash my naked body, Hillary? I can’t stand for long periods of time. The nurses in the hospital had to wash me.” A salacious grin spread across my face. “Are you aware of the process now?”

She thought about it and then looked down. “If I do help you it’s only because you need help.”

I frowned at her response. She sounded like she was warning me. I grabbed her chin and lifted her head so I could see her eyes. “Are you afraid you’re asking for it again?” My displeasure was in the open. I wasn’t surprised when she flinched from my tone. She tried to avert her eyes, but I held her face still, forcing her in place. “Do you think I’m trying to manipulate you into that bathroom so I can hurt you?”

“No,” she insisted. “No. I don’t think that.”

“Then what do you think? Because that’s what it sounded like to me.”

“I wanted you to know that I wanted to help you. Only help you.”

“Don’t do that again, Hillary. I’m not some fucking creep who hurts women. I don’t have to manipulate them to sleep with me either. Look, I understand you’re afraid, you’re distrustful, good, I like that because then it keeps you safe, but you’re not going to put those fears on me. Don’t do it again. Now get off me.”

I released her and sat back, waiting for her to scramble off my lap. I wasn’t a good guy. It was fairly obvious. But to have her look at me like I would hurt her, push her over the edge after I’d witnessed her fall, hit me hard.

“I’m sorry.” Her soft tone caressed me. “Of course, I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Go home, Hillary. You shouldn’t even be here.” I tried to shake my anger off, but instead of leaving it intensified.

She grabbed hold of my arm and held it against her. I could feel her eyes on me, begging me to look at her. Somehow I knew if I did she’d have me. I didn’t want to be had. “I don’t want to go home. I feel safe here.” And then, as if she knew what she was doing, “Look at me?”

I stared straight.

“Please?” she begged, holding my arm tighter. “You make me feel safe. I didn’t think you’d hurt me. I thought you’d want something from me I wasn’t ready to give.”

As if that was better. “How’d you come to that conclusion? Why would I want to sleep with you?”

“I know. Of course you wouldn’t. I’ve met Whitney. I know what kind of girl you like.”

There was this strange churning in my stomach. It was making it hard to breathe and even harder to think. Why were we talking about this? “What kind of women do I like?”

“Sexy women who want what you want.”

If my dick got any harder, it was going to explode. I finally looked at her. She was so close her warm breath caressed my lips. I could smell something sweet like cinnamon or clove with each exhalation. “And what do I want?”
I wanted that taste all over my tongue
.

“Sex,” she whispered, her breathing deepening.

“So you know everything about me? You know what kind of women I like, what I want from them, and that you’re not on my list? What if you’re wrong, Hillary?”
What if I wanted your mouth right now?

Her eyes shot to my lips, and hers parted, making room for her breaths. “Wrong about what?”

I pulled back at the last minute. This wasn’t part of the rules. I wasn’t sure there were solid rules, but it felt like there were. Leave the angel alone. She’d fallen enough and didn’t need me adding to it. Even if her wide, innocent eyes and parted lips called to a part of me that wanted to lean in and taste them. The idea of kissing her intrigued me like nothing had in a long time. I could only imagine what she’d taste like. The warm wetness of her tongue, the sounds she’d probably make. One thing was for sure. Hillary had never been kissed the way I did it. I broke the connection before I did anything stupid.

“Nothing.” I needed to get laid. Maybe some ass would make it easier. “All I need help with is getting in the tub and then getting out. I can handle the rest. You’re a virgin, and I’m not. You’re good, and I’m bad. You only want to help and despite my overall panty-dropping capabilities, I guess I could use it. Those are the rules. They good for you?”

She stared at me, probably wondering where to start. “Panty-dropping?”