Pulled Within (26 page)

“I came home from lunch, and I heard you screaming,” he said.
He sat on the bed and rubbed my stomach over the blanket. His
fingers were spread out, each of his nails cut short. There was nothing rough about his skin, I reminded myself.

Breathe.

His hands had already been on my body. They had filled me.
They had loved me.

Breathe.

They were gentle. Harmless. They were even a little pretty.

Breathe.

“You have tears,” he said. “I want to wipe them away, but…”

He knew he couldn’t touch me there.

I used the back of my hand to dry them, then I pulled the blanket up past my nose, hiding everything but my eyes.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked.

It wasn’t a dream. It was a fucking nightmare, and there was no way I was going to tell him about it. Not until I absolutely had to.

And at that moment, I didn’t.

“It must have been something really scary,” I said, my voice
muffled from behind the blanket. “But I don’t remember.”

The silver of his eyes had changed to a sky blue that matched his shirt. “I never remember my dreams either…unless they involve you.”

I remembered all of mine. At least the ones that included Gerald. They weren’t scenarios that my mind had created. They were moments that had actually taken place. Memories of a past that I would do anything to forget.

“You haven’t slept this late in a while. Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

My eyes glanced to the nightstand, but I wasn’t able to see my phone. “What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

I’d slept for nine straight hours. I hadn’t done that in months.

“Just tired, I guess.”

“It’s because of your schedule. You’re working all those hours,
not taking any breaks, then driving over an hour home. Your body is going to shut down if you keep this up.” His hand moved down to
my thigh and started to massage the muscle. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

I had been much more tired lately, especially since I’d started working at the casino. I’d gotten more used to the odd hours, but I knew I wasn’t getting enough sleep. It was so hard to close my eyes
and relax
when the room was filled with light—even when the blinds were
closed.
I also hadn’t been eating enough. I didn’t think I’d gotten any
thinner, but I hadn’t gained any weight, either.

Thirteen days
.

“I worry about you.”

I stuck my hand out of the blanket and rested it on his cheek,
rubbing
my thumb over his lips. His beard was growing out, and the
messiness
of his facial hair with his dark, edgy style was such a sexy
combination. “I know.”

“Take the job I’m offering you, Rae. It’s been over a week since we talked about it, and you still haven’t said anything. Your
concerns are valid, but I promise what you fear isn’t going to happen.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve worked for my boyfriend before. It didn’t work out
—
it was a disaster, actually.”

“Yes,” he kissed my thumb, “I do understand. I’m not some
asshole
who would ask you to quit a good job, then leave you unemployed
in a few months. Give me a little credit here.”

I’d thought about working for him while I had been driving home early this morning. What it would feel like to have a normal
job with
regular hours. It wasn’t the kind of work that I really wanted to be
doing
at a spa, but it was for a company that built them. Without any
schooling,
I probably couldn’t get much closer than that and get paid the
amount he was offering.

“I have to give them at least two weeks’ notice,” I said.

He smiled and leaned down, his lips drifting onto mine. His
body
followed, hovering directly over me. I used his fabric softener, but it smelled different on him, mixed with his cologne and the scent of his
skin. I wanted to eat both smells constantly.

“Even your sleep tastes delicious,” he said, his mouth finally pulling away.

I’d showered before I had gotten into his bed, but after nine
hours
of sleep, a flood of tears, and even a little screaming, I couldn’t
imagine that I tasted very good.

I ran my hands over his chest, down his abs and slipped them under the waist of his jeans. I met the elastic of his boxer briefs and
started to move even lower. “How much time do I have?”

He gave me a quick peck. “Not nearly enough…not for what I
want to do to you.”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“Mmm.” His lips ran over my neck before he moved off me and stood next to the bed. Though he no longer touched me, I was still
covered in goose bumps. “You know the second one of your fingers comes near me, it will become about you. But time isn’t going to be
an issue anymore, is it?”

I shook my head.

“I promise you won’t regret your decision.” I hoped he was right. “I’ll see you in the morning, baby.” He kissed me one more
time before he left the room.

I heard the front door close and got out of bed, heading for the guest room. There was only one thing I’d hidden in there. I couldn’t even call it hiding
—
I’d stuck the box in the last drawer of the dresser and covered it with a sweatshirt. If he looked, he’d find it easily.

I took it out of the drawer, grabbed my purse and sat on the floor. With my legs crossed under me, I removed the envelope from my bag. I’d already written
Darren Ryan
on the front cover, and Mom’s address.

I love you.

—
Rae

Those were the only words I had written on his birthday card. The only words I ever wrote to him. The things I needed to say
couldn’t be written down; they had to be said out loud, screamed and sobbed in order for him to truly understand how sorry I really was.

I held the card up to my lips and kissed his name.

I’m so fucking sorry
,
Darren.

Then I opened the top of the box. Inside were four other
envelopes,
one for each of the birthdays I had missed. I placed the one for his
nineteenth on top of the pile and shut the lid.

I hadn’t missed his birthdays.

Not even close.

But I hadn’t mailed the cards…because he wasn’t there. Not at Mom’s, not in Bar Harbor. Not even in the rain.

Darren wasn’t anywhere anymore.

He was dead. He had been for the last five years.

“I HATE THAT
I have to wait an hour to have you.”

Hart’s voice was deep and filled with longing, and it intensified
the tingling in my lower stomach. I was leaning against my car in the parking lot of the casino; he was standing in front of me. His hands had crawled underneath my jacket, his fingers drawing lines around
my navel.

I’d given the manager my two-week notice a few days before. The waitlist to work there had become so lengthy, he only needed
me to
stay long enough to train a new waitress. Tonight was my last shift, and Hart had come up to play poker. I knew he was really just there to see me.

“Sixty minutes, then we’ll be at the house. I know you can make
it.” I didn’t really mean that. I was having just as hard of a time
waiting
so long to touch him. His lips alone hadn’t given me enough
satisfaction, even as I wiped my gloss off them now.

I wanted more.

I’d been wet practically from the moment he’d arrived at the casino. It was from the way he’d looked at me, the way his fingers had grazed my skin throughout the night, how his hand had found
its way under
the front of my skirt. Knowing that my smell and my wetness were
all over him while he had played was such a turn on.

He opened my car door, and I climbed inside. “One hour—not a minute more.” He said it through gritted teeth, his eyes hungrily devouring my body. Frustrated sighs came out of him as he
restrained himself from touching me.

I wasn’t sure if he was going to close the door and let me drive off, or if he was going to rip my clothes off and take me in the front seat. I made the decision for him, shutting the door and watching as
he turned slowly and walked across the lot. As soon as I saw his
headlights flip on, I drove onto the main road.

We weren’t even out of Bangor before my phone rang.

“I’m only a few feet in front of you and…” I glanced at the gas
gauge, “I have a full tank of gas, so don’t worry…”

“I want you to take your left leg and push it against the door. Make sure it’s locked.” The intensity in his voice was almost
startling. He was demanding without being intimidating.

I pressed the lock, lifted my leg, and pushed it against the door. I couldn’t imagine why he wanted me to do that. “Done.”

“Now take your fingers and gently touch the inside of your right
thigh. Just the inside, don’t go any farther.” A smile spread over my lips as I realized where this was going and what he was actually
asking me
to do. “I know what you’re wearing, which means I know how far you can spread your legs, and what that fabric is going to feel like
when you rub your fingers over it.”

I was in leggings; spreading my thighs wouldn’t be a problem. And
he was right: the softness of the fabric was going to feel amazing
against my skin…
too
amazing while I was driving.

I glanced in my rearview mirror as my left hand moved off the steering wheel. The thought of him giving me orders from the
vehicle
behind me in total darkness, where I couldn’t see his face or know
what he was doing with his hands, was so sexy.

“I’ll know if you touched yourself from your breathing. So just your thighs, Rae, and do it slowly.”

My fingers moved down my jacket. I ran them over the hem of
the pants, stopping before they came too close to the throbbing spot.

“That’s it.” His voice had deepened and become raspy. “It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

My right hand squeezed the steering wheel as if it were trying to slip away. “I want more.” Heat blasted through the vents of my
freezing car.
I switched it to air conditioning and loosened my scarf and the top
buttons of my jacket. I wasn’t cold anymore.

“Now brush your fingers over your pussy—don’t linger there, just touch it. Gently. If you want permission to slide under the fabric, I need to hear how much you want it.”

The guy I had dated before Saint was the biggest freak I’d ever
been with. Before him, I hadn’t ever explored the darker side of sex. He was into wax, matches, lighters…he had a thing for heat and how it could add to our pleasure. That, I could handle. But I reached my
limit when he asked me to try snowballing. It was then that I immediately
left him. I couldn’t heal someone who didn’t want to get better even
if
his wounds were attractive. I was all for trying new shit; having him
squirt
his man juice into my mouth and then for me to dump it into his
wasn’t erotic. It was fucking gross.

Fortunately, Hart was nothing like him. His commands were
forceful
and naughty, and seductive. He wasn’t doing things just to
experiment
or shock me. And it wasn’t only his words that were persuasive; it
was just as much my desire to please him, knowing how good that would make me feel, that he would reward me in orgasms that truly made my body buck to his commands.

“
Ahhhh…
” I moaned.

“I can just imagine how wet you’re getting. Now I want to hear it. But first, I need you to slow the car down.” I took my foot off the gas and let it coast. “Good. Now push your pants all the way down to your ankles.”

I had to arch my back and thrust my butt off the seat to slide the leggings down to my knees. I sat back down and used the heel of my boot to bring them to my ankles. “Okay, they’re there.”

“Are your panties wet?”

I didn’t even have to touch them to know. The wetness had
seeped through the fabric. “Yes. Sopping.”

“I want you to keep them on, but move them to the side so your
fingertips have plenty of room to explore.”

The material wasn’t really meant for coverage; they were really made for looks, so it was easy to push the flimsy piece aside. “Done.”

“Now touch yourself, Rae. Just the outside. I don’t want
anything inside you yet.”

Holding them aside with the edge of my hand, I pushed my head back against the seat and sucked in my breath as my skin landed on the
sensitive spot. There was so much heat, so much wetness. A flood
shuddered from within me. “I wish this was your hand instead of
mine.”

“Soon, baby,” he said. “Do you know how hot it is to see the silhouette of your body through the back of your car, knowing
you’re touching yourself exactly the way I want you to?”

“It feels…” I was rubbing just the outside, the tops of my lips,
teasing
the center. “…so good.” There was nothing in front of me to look at except the road and trees and an occasional sign that told me how many more miles until Bar Harbor. And the red lights from the
dashboard that reflected on the top of my hand.

“Now I want you to put your cell on speaker mode and rest it on the seat between your legs.”