SCREAM AND BE FREE
Juliet was humiliated. She was upset and she was humiliated. She shouldn't have reacted to Chris's presence the way she did. She just hated that man so much. She didn't like him when Beth was dating him, anyway. To find out that he'd been cheating on her the entire time made Juliet violent. Beth was the sweetest, most caring, most loyal person she ever met and she deserved nothing but the very best. Beth never did anything to anyone and she certainly didn't deserve to be treated the way Chris had treated her.
The party was a horrible idea on so many levels. Just when she thought everything would be okay, when she was just starting to feel comfortable with the idea, he showed up. Blue Eyes. Prince Charming. Paradise On Legs.
Comfort. Safety.
His presence put her at ease and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way her heart palpitated, she didn't like the way she felt uncontrollably drawn to him. She didn't like the way she wanted to surrender, the way she wanted to throw herself into his arms...it was all lies. All of it. Lies. There was no such thing as a relationship. There was no such thing as love or romance or trust. Men didn't operate that way. And Chris had certainly reminded her of that tonight. Women were a stupid bunch. A stupid, stupid bunch, always falling for a gorgeous smile and empty promises. It was no wonder that men didn't take women seriously. They were so god damned gullible.
But not Juliet. Not now, not ever. Juliet got what she wanted out of men, not the other way around. She didn't allow them to steal her emotions. She didn't allow them to take her power or her will or her dignity. Juliet was strong...independent...powerful.
Which was exactly why she sat on the edge of her bed and hid her face in her hands.
She ventured to guess she'd been in her bedroom for close to an hour now. Long enough to change into her night clothes. The short, pink, silk chemise and matching longer robe felt comforting against her skin. She tried to ignore the fact that it was much too quiet on the other side of her bedroom wall. Instead, she chose to stand at her vanity in the low lamp light and run her fingers thought her long hair, picking up her hairbrush to work out a section that had tangled itself up.
As she gently scraped through her hair, she tried as hard as she could to distract herself from reflecting on the disastrous party and, inarguably, him. As she desperately tried to mentally plan the upcoming work week, she hadn't realized the presence in her bedroom before she heard the soft click of the door when it closed. Looking up from the brush she had carefully laid down on her vanity, she caught the reflection in the mirror before her and the blood drained from her face, fear running rampant through her veins. Prince Charming stood in her bedroom, at the other side of the bed next to the door, his hands shoved in his pockets, his crystal blue eyes boring into hers amidst the dim light through the mirror--calculating, intense...strong.
Her jaw dropped momentarily, her heart pounding in her chest. She was trapped. She couldn't run. She had nowhere to go. She had no other choice but to confront him.
"Why are you here?" She asked quietly, straightening her spine and removing her earrings, laying them carefully, one by one, on the vanity.
"You invited me," he replied quietly. His voice weakened her at the knees. Smooth. Rich. Warm. Comforting. She found herself swooning at the mere sound of it.
"To the party," she corrected. "Not my private quarters."
"But you were going to," he tested.
His assumption caught her off guard as she stared at him through the mirror. She straightened her spine and she lifted her chin in defiance--and then she felt his eyes again and something in her...couldn't lie to him. Suddenly, she forgot how to. "No," she said, her eyes falling on the vanity surface in defeat "I wasn't."
He blinked at her for a second before he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Wow. Um...yeah, talk about mixed signals..."
"You should go back to the party," she advised. She wanted to beg him to go back. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle the way she wanted him. She didn't want to want him the way she did. It wasn't natural.
"The, uh, the party's over," he confessed.
Finally, she turned around to face his flesh, unable to ignore this revelation. To her dismay, he was a thousand times more beautiful in person. "Over? When?"
"Not too long now. I stayed to help Beth clean up."
Juliet's eyes widened. "You...stayed? To help?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
She melted. She melted right into the floor and she loved the way it felt. She loved it and it terrified her and she had no idea what to do with herself in the moment. So, she did what she knew to do best. "I, um, I appreciate that. I'll just, um, I'll see you to the door."
Gathering all the courage it took to approach him, she tucked her dark waves nervously behind her ear, crossing the room toward him and nearly making her escape past him before he stopped her, his hand on her arm, sending species after species of chills running rampant through her body. "Please," he whispered, his hot breath caressing the skin on her face. "Don't send me away so fast."
She couldn't look at him. Her eyes darted to the floor and all around the room, everywhere but his face. It was as if something in her body shut down and she lost all knowledge of any basic motor skills. "I, um, I don't...I don't understand..."
"I spent the entire night watching you try to seduce my brother. It was brutal. It was brutal the way your eyes saw right into my soul, right over his shoulder, as you put your hands all over him. It made me sick, but what terrifies me the most is that in the end, I didn't care--because I could see you. And I know you didn't mean it."
"I didn't mean...you?
"You didn't mean him."
"I...um...I don't...what do you want from me?"
His hand drifted from her arm, down to her hand, delicately taking it in his own. "I came to say goodnight. And--I just want you to know my name."
She didn't. She didn't want to know his name. She didn't to acknowledge his existence. She didn't want to throw herself at him and kiss his soft lips and look into is eyes and tell him how much she wanted him and how long she'd been waiting for him. She didn't want to give herself to him, she didn't want to surrender--not after she'd worked so hard for so many years...
She took a deep breath and swallowed her feelings. "I, um--I already know your name."
His hand tightened securely around hers, a smile widening across his face with a glint of amusement in his eye. "Yeah?"
"Yes," she cleared her throat. "So I'll just--the door is this way--"
"It would mean a lot to me to hear you say it."
Fear trembled her body. Fear and shame. She had lied. She'd spent all night working very hard to avoid learning his name. "I--um..."
"My name is Eric," he said softly, ignoring her dishonesty and leaning his face close--too close--to her ear. "I've waited all night--and much longer--just to tell you that."
His scent was intoxicating. He didn't wear cologne. He smelled of nothing more than the faint scent of aftershave and whatever he had washed his laundry in. He was fresh. He was clean. He was pure. Pure wasn't something Juliet was familiar with.
"Um. Um, well...Eric. It's, um, it's very nice to have met you. And, um, nice of you to stay and help Beth with the cleanup, I'm sure she appreciates that, as do I."
"She did, yes."
Juliet's breath caught in her throat. "Did?"
"Yes. She went home. Half an hour ago."
And...back to reality.
Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand away from him, taking a step back and looking at him incredulously. "So you've been in my home, doing who knows what, and--and Beth just left? She just up and left a stranger in my home with me alone in it?!"
"Um..." She saw the discomfort in his eyes all of a sudden, wanting to feel remorse for it, but fuming at Beth at the same time. "Well, I, uh...I'd hoped to not really be a stranger after tonight, I--I mean I didn't go through anything or snoop around, I just, you know, threw away some trash and cleaned up some dishes..."
"You were in my cabinets?!"
"I had to put them away..."
"This isn't happening," she began to mutter to herself. "This isn't--I told Beth this wasn't a good idea, I told her--"
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought I was helping."
"Well. Um." She swallowed hard, finding it difficult to keep herself in check. "You, um, you did help, I just, um--I just--I don't even know you. And I hate having people in my house, nobody's ever been here but Beth before and I just--I just don't--"
"You could know me," he offered. "If you wanted to. I could--we could--we could, you know, talk and stuff..."
Juliet's nostrils flared and she scoffed uncontrollably. " 'And stuff,' " she sneered. "I should have known. Always a stipulation. Of course there is, why didn't I see it? You're standing in the middle of my god damned bedroom."
"Only because you're in here. I mean, if you were in the living room or--or the bathroom, I'd probably be in there, too. It's merely coincidence, not intent."
"So you make it a habit to just barge into people's personal space? Or did you just come in here because you thought I was easy?"
The heartbreak on his face made her feel terribly guilty for her choice in words. Then, to her surprise, his entire demeanor changed. "It's no secret that you have a reputation."
"Fine," she demanded, removing her robe and tossing it forcefully to the floor. "You want to go ahead and get this over with, then?"
He raised an eyebrow at her and placed a hand on his hip. "First of all, I didn't come in here to sleep with you--I bet that's a shocker for you. But not because you don't turn me on because believe me, it's astounding, the effort it's taking to stand still right now. But, honestly, if that's the way you're going to be about it, I'm better off cutting my losses and walking right out that door. Not that I'm really losing anything, because you've been trying to throw me out for the past five minutes anyway even though, for the thousandth time, I'm not trying to sleep with you."
Juliet was stunned. She opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again, shifting her weight and crossing her arms over her much-too-short silk chemise nightgown. "That's preposterous. I've never met a man that didn't want to sleep with me."
"You still haven't. I never said I didn't want to. It's just not the only thing on my mind."
"Then why are you here?"
"Is it too much to ask to want to ask you what your favorite color is? Or your favorite food, or, uh...about your penchant for nineties pop groups that I find irresistibly adorable?"
"Oh, I get it," she spat. "You're gay."
He looked at her in confused thought. Then he shook his head and rubbed his brow. "No, I'm not--I meant--I meant you. I find your musical tastes adorable."
She looked around, uncomfortably, wanting desperately to lead him out the front door and lock it behind him. However, she also wanted to lock him away in her bedroom and never let him go. "This is crazy--"
"Is it?"
"Yes. Because what if--you know, hypothetically..." She hugged herself tighter in uncomfortable defeat. "What if I wanted to sleep with you?"
He smiled again, a smile that melted her soul. "Well, this just took an unexpected turn."
"Well, I--I mean, I'm not going to lie. Let's be completely honest, here, I find you...um..."
Holy shit. Why couldn't she say it? She never had a problem verbally appreciating a man for his physical attributes. Calm, cool confidence was what she did best. Why the hell couldn't she form words all of a sudden?
He continued to smile, amused. "Look at that, we already have something in common. I find you 'um,' too."
God damn it, he was cute. Much too cute. And he was making her want to smile.
Shielding her chest with her arm, she carefully bent down and retrieved her robe from the floor, feeling embarrassed for the way she'd discarded it. Opening it up to prepare to put it back on, he said to her, "You know, it's--you don't have to go to the trouble. I can, um, I know where the door is. I just, um--thank you for the party. It was interesting."
"Oh," she said, not wanting to acknowledge the crushing of her heart. She held the robe against her body as he approached her, but only because she was blocking his way to her bedroom door. He stopped in front of her and her intent was to step out of his way, but it felt as if she had lead weights on her feet. Was it because she couldn't move--or because she didn't want to? The only thing she knew she was sure of, no matter how much it pained her, was that she didn't want him to leave. She looked up at him, into his eyes, his body so close to hers that she could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. Her heart pounded and her hands started to sweat. "Eric," she whispered, already falling for the way it felt to say his name. "I'm sorry, I--I'm not used to this, I don't know what to do right now."
"You do whatever you want," he replied gently. "It's your apartment. I apologize for my intrusion. It was rude of me."
"It wasn't--um--"
"I can't get to the door, Juliet."
Her breathing quickened. It felt like a panic attack-- like the multiple ones he had caused her. The ones he--except that it was...it was the most delicious form of panic she had ever felt. It borderlined desperation and need with a mix of want and desire and--and she wanted him but she didn't want to objectify him. It was a completely alien feeling to her and she didn't quite know what to do with it.
Her eyes darted around the room and down at her own feet. "I can't move," she breathed. Finally, she looked up at him, her jaw dropping in helplessness. "I can't--I can't move."
"You feel it, don't you?" He whispered as he took her hand once more. "You're trembling. You feel it the same way I do."
"I don't know what to do..."
"Kiss me."
And then her heart sank. She looked at his lips and her heart sank. "I don't kiss."
He furrowed his brow and turned his head to study her. "You don't kiss?"
She shook her head. "I don't kiss. Kissing is...it's too much, it's...it's unnecessary. Kissing...kissing means things...it's intrusive."
"Juliet," he whispered, stepping even closer to her. "When's the last time you kissed someone?"
She closed her eyes and took in a breath through her nose. She didn't want to remember. She didn't ever want to remember. She swallowed hard and looked at the floor. "A long...um, a long time."
"Then you're due for a kiss."
"No," she choked out. "No, kissing is...it's intimate..."
"It's no more intimate than what's going on in my chest right now," he replied. "I don't want to pressure you, but..." Then he cracked a smile at her, that boyish gleam in his intense blue eyes. "...you don't know what you're missing. I'm a pretty good kisser."
He made her smile again. She couldn't help the shy grin that crossed her lips. "Yeah? How often do you kiss yourself?"
"Well...I mean, not very often, but on the rare occasion that I do, I rate myself eleven on a scale of one to ten."
Her smile widened, completely amused by him. She'd never felt this much joy with a man before. No man had ever made her smile with so much comfort and ease before. "You're adorable," she couldn't help from replying.
"You have no idea."
And then she gave in. She couldn't deny herself of him anymore and, in one swift motion, she let go of everything she believed in--everything she was against, everything that plagued her, everything that was ever wrong with men--and she slid her arms around his neck and met his lips with hers. The power that was emitted from the simple meeting of their skin was enough to cause a whimper to escape Juliet's throat as he wrapped his arms tight around her body and pressed her against him. She didn't know what felt better, kissing his lips or being swallowed up in his arms in the safety of his body.
She couldn't get enough. As he parted her lips with his tongue, she became completely addicted to the drug that was his mouth. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, letting her fingers trail up his neck and into his short, blonde hair. His hair was soft and light and she couldn't keep her hands out of it. Combing her nails gently over his scalp, his groan spilled into her mouth and she found herself aroused almost instantly. She never knew a kiss could do this to a person--they'd never done this to her before. Her last kiss--well, she didn't want to think about that. All she knew was that this kiss was so far beyond her last one that she really couldn't make an adequate comparison. No words would ever describe the way it made her feel.
Finally, in need of air, and to collect herself, she broke their kiss and pulled her head away, only for him to follow and press his forehead against hers. "Wow," she breathed, her fingers nimbly fiddling with the buttons on his black shirt. "You were right, you are a good kisser."
"You're better," he murmured.
"Don't try to flatter me."
"It's definitely the best goodnight kiss I've ever had, I'll be honest."
At that, she looked up into his eyes. She was in so deep now that whatever she thought she wanted--or thought she didn't want--didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was this man. Nothing more. "I'm not ready to say goodnight."
In response, he nudged her nose with his, his hot breath tingling the skin on her face. "I have nowhere to be. I'm all yours."
She slid her hands up the sides of his neck, sweeping her thumbs over his earlobes. She'd never wanted a man the way she wanted Eric. Not even...not even way back then. She'd never known a feeling like this existed. It was so good, it made her want to cry. "Tell me your favorite color," she whispered as she gazed into his eyes. "Tell me everything--"
"Brown," he interrupted her without a thought. "Brown. Always brown, forever brown--"
"Nobody's favorite color is brown--"
"Do you wear colored contacts?"
"No."
"My favorite color is brown. What else do you want?"
Her jaw dropped with a gasp. Where had he come from?
Gripping his collar, she crashed her lips hard into his, this time feeling the overwhelming desperation taking over her body. She couldn't get close enough to him. She couldn't kiss him deep enough, she couldn't inhale enough of him--she wanted more, she wanted everything. She never knew how much she'd starved herself until that moment.
As he kissed her, he shifted his body downward far enough to grip her ass tightly with both of his hands and pull her into him, sliding an arm around her and lifting her up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his lips trailed her chin and her neck as she eagerly unbuttoned his shirt. Anxiously, she tore it back from his shoulders and he pulled his arms out of it, one at a time, as she drank in his physique, not making an effort to hide her amazement. He wasn't the largest, most ripped man she'd ever been with, but he was so beautiful, it brought a tear to her eye. His chest was sculpted, his arms strong and warm, his skin just a shade below tan and smooth as silk. The light, nearly invisible, hair that peppered his chest was as blonde and fine as the hair on his head and his stomach didn't quite boast a six pack but there was enough there and he was solid as a rock.
All she wanted to do was gaze at him and touch him. Her hands gently explored his skin, in awe, and he stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to take as much of him as she wanted. "I want you," she whispered.
"You had me the first moment I ever laid eyes on you. Every moment since then has been agony."
"Why me?" She asked, taking her eyes off his skin long enough to meet his eyes.
"Because you fascinate me."
This answer satisfied her for the time being and she kissed him again, curling her arms around his shoulders and grazing his back with her nails. Bringing them back around, she caressed his arms and looked into his eyes. "Take me to bed," she whispered.
He smiled in response, nudging her nose again and she couldn't resist the urge to place her lips against his perfect teeth. She didn't know if people actually did that or not, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to kiss every single inch of his perfect body, she wanted to show him how much she appreciated him.
His response to her was two steps toward the direction of the bed before he faltered, nearly dropping her, both of their eyes wide with surprise. Unable to control herself, she threw her head back in laughter as his face turned several shades of red and, leg by leg, she lowered her feet to the floor, surprised by how her knees quivered beneath her. "Well," he said, sheepishly. "That was, uh, that was supposed to be a lot more graceful than it was."
"It's okay," she smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him to a place that had once been completely forbidden to the male species. "I won't let you fall."
"I think it's too late for that."
She chose to ignore his double entendre and, instead, lowered herself onto her bed, one knee after the other, trying to keep herself from turning into a complete slut right in front of him. She wanted him so bad she couldn't stand it, but she didn't want it to be over as fast as it started, either. Keeping her legs together and tucking them underneath her body, she smiled as he sat on the edge of her bed and kicked off his shoes. "Lose the socks, too," she commanded. "There's nothing worse than a naked man in nothing but socks."
"Yeah? Well if you wanna get technical, a naked man in socks isn't actually naked..."
She raised an eyebrow, feeling that old, natural sense of control coming back to her and she welcomed it with open arms. "Okay, then. I want you technically naked. That includes the socks."
"I like how you assume I was just going to keep them on," he smirked.
"I just want to make sure all the bases are covered."
He snickered. "You won't be worrying about any socks with all the grand slams you're about to get out of me."
She laughed again. She couldn't help herself.. "I'm so sorry," she gasped. "That was just so...bad."
"Yeah, but you loved it," he winked at her.
It felt so good to laugh. She teased him, but he was such a good sport about it and she loved the way she couldn't offend him.
She bit her lip and she smiled as he turned his body and came toward her on the bed. Sitting up on her knees, she rose to meet him, grateful to be in full view of his torso, completely turned on by the way his pants nearly hung loosely off his hips. Snaking her arms around him, she gripped both of her hands full of his tight ass, pleasantly surprised that he had a little something going on back there. She grinned up at him as she kneaded her fingers into him and slid her hands into his back pockets. "This is fun."
He grinned at her and shook his head. "I do declare, Miss Scarlett, but you act like you've never been with a man before."
"Oooh," she narrowed her eyes at him and looked longingly at his lips again. "I just noticed you have a bit of an accent. Not a native New Yorker, I take it?"
"You caught me," he groaned, sliding his hands up her thighs and around her back, pulling her close against him. "That's good, pure bred, southern Louisiana heat you got in your hands back there."
"A southerner? Oh, Rhett," she drawled, a hand flying to her chest. "I do declare..."
He chuckled through his teeth, gripping her hips and grinding himself into her. "God damn, you're sexy. I almost don't even want to finish this."
Her eyes fell and her tone was serious for a moment. "Well...I admit, this is probably the, um...longest amount of time I've ever spent with a man before...well...I mean, I'm sure you read the charming editorial written in my honor..."
"That guy's a bastard."
"He wasn't terribly off the mark about me..."
"The way you conducted your relationships in the past are none of my business. My business is right here, right now."
"You know, we're doing an awful lot of talking and not a lot of fucking. That's not my norm."
"I did say I wanted to talk..."
"And stuff," she finished, her grin mischievous.
"Right," he nodded with a smile, nudging her nose with his again, an act that Juliet decided she loved more than life itself. "And stuff."
She surrendered to him as he kissed her, feeling her body coming closer and closer to the bed. She ignored it, her attention focused on the bliss that was his bare skin against hers, his arms wrapped around her, his tongue massaging hers with a rhythm so erotic, it should have been a crime punishable by death.
She was on her back beneath him before she realized the path they had taken. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his neck, focusing on his lips and the intoxicating scent of his skin. Her breath caught in her throat when he nudged her legs apart with his knees and she broke a sweat when he lowered his body slowly on top of hers. She looked up at his face, searching it frantically. He was beautiful. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful and his eyes were so kind and gentle. His arms, they were--she glanced beside her at his arm as his elbow rested on the bed by her head and his lips trailed to her neck. She tried to turn her head to face him, but his head stopped her as he kissed her skin. She looked back at his arm beside her, her heart rate rapidly increasing. She couldn't lower her arm comfortably because of the location of his elbow, which forced her own wrist to lay above her head. This was getting too familiar.
His other hand slid down her body as his lips trailed gently to her collarbone, and then, without warning, he took her by the thigh and he spread her leg wider out beside her. Resting his other elbow by her head now, he lifted his head to kiss her, leaving her other arm with nowhere to go than above her head with the other one.
And then her worst nightmare happened.
She blinked her eyes and he wasn't there anymore. His eyes weren't blue, his hair wasn't blonde, his smile wasn't kind. She wasn't comfortable anymore. The anxiety rose like wildfire inside her and she blinked feverishly to keep it away, but it was no use. The flashes in her mind were violent and relentless and she couldn't breathe. "No," she choked out, shaking her head at him. "Get off me. Stop."
Eric looked at her, in confusion. "Do what?"
"I said no," she said louder, struggling to move out from underneath him. "Get off me."
He did as she said, but he wasn't moving fast enough. When she was finally able to move her limbs around, she sat up and pushed him violently off of her, sending him toppling on his side onto the bed beside her. "Juliet--"
"I said stop," she said breathlessly as she got herself out of the bed and raced for the bathroom. "I said stop."
*************
Hurriedly, she slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it, bracing her body against it and swallowing the hard lump in her throat as she looked up at the ceiling. She couldn't stop the tears, though, the memories assaulting her with brutal force. She sobbed as quietly as she could, ashamed and angry at herself. She should have never allowed that to happen. She should have never surrendered to him, she should have never submitted. She never submitted to a man. Men were bad, men were poison. Submitting meant weakness and vulnerability. Laying on your back under a man gave him control, it gave him power. No man would ever control her or have power over her. She could never allow that to happen, not ever again.
She calculated that she'd been in the bathroom for at least half an hour as she collected and calmed herself from the panic attack that had come on so suddenly. Once recovered, she was mortified and heartbroken all over again. That should have never happened. Eric was--well she didn't know him yet, but at the same time, she felt like she'd known him forever. He felt good. He felt like warmth and comfort and safety. Somehow she knew he'd never hurt her, but yet...
She knew he would be gone when she opened the bathroom door. No man would stick around after something like that and she couldn't blame him for it. She walked to the counter and she looked at herself in the mirror, wiping the excess makeup that ran from her eyes, and she dabbed a cool cloth around them to prepare herself for the empty room she would walk back into. She spied her knit sweater that she must have left in there earlier in the day and she wrapped it around her body for comfort.
Sniffing her tears away one last time, she turned off the light and gently opened the bathroom door, tucking her hair behind her ear and walking out the door with the intent to pull a pair of socks from her sock drawer. However, when she glanced up at the bed, she stopped in her tracks and looked on in shock.
There was Eric, still topless, sitting up in her bed with the comforter wrapped around his waist. He was busying himself by smoothing out the linens and fluffing the pillows and she saw that his jeans had been discarded on the floor next to her bed. Her jaw dropped, speechless. "You're still here," she whispered in awe. "What are you doing?"
"Counting," he replied simply.
She cleared her throat, struggling with the reality of her situation. "Um, counting?"
"Yes. Counting." He counted his fingers silently, one-by-one, then held up three of them. "Three. Three is now the number of times you have run away from me in terror and, once and for all, I am going to find out what I keep doing to you to make you run away from me like that."
She was frozen in place, overcome with regret and disbelief. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but the fact that he'd stayed--and made himself at home--was so incredibly alien and touching that she had no idea what to do with herself in the moment. "I--um..."
He turned the corner of the comforter down beside him and patted the bed. "I know it probably seems silly to be invited into your own bed, but I figure we've done enough 'and stuff' for the night. Now I think maybe we should just talk."
Her throat felt like sandpaper as she tightened her sweater around her body. "Talk?"
"You said you didn't kiss, either, but you saw what happened with that. I'm assuming this is the part where you say you don't talk, either, so consider this a preemptive strike." He patted the bed again. "I have all night."
There was something about him. Something she couldn't put her finger on. Something that made her want to curl up in his arms and get lost in his heartbeat. And, apparently, she was being afforded the opportunity to do just that.
She walked carefully over the hardwood floor, cautiously and nervously, and she gently sat herself on the bed next to him. Without a word, he pulled the comforter from under her and tucked it around her waist to match his. "There," he said with a smile. "How's that?"
He cared about her. That's what it was. That's what she was feeling. It was so strange, to be cared about by a man. She was surprised she knew the feeling at all. How could he, though? He'd only just met her. He knew virtually nothing about her, and yet...
"Eric," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. "Would it be...weird...if, um...if I asked you to hold me? I just...I haven't been held in so long, and--"
"Come here," he said, sitting back against the headboard and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
She curled her legs up and he tucked his hand under her knees and laid them over his lap. Pulling her tight against his body, he swept her hair off of her shoulder and squeezed her arm through her sweater. "Is this okay?" He asked her.
"It's wonderful," she sniffed with emotion. "You just--you just have no idea."
"Tell me," he whispered.
She sat there in silence. It occurred to her that she'd literally never spoken a word about anything. Not a single word, not a hint, not an allusion, anything. Beth didn't even know where she came from. Juliet hadn't completely lied to Beth...completely...but she certainly didn't know Juliet the way she thought she did. Juliet's heart broke at the thought. Beth didn't deserve that.
She took a deep breath and she found her finger trailing along the skin below Eric's chest. Why she suddenly felt completely compelled to pour her heart out to him, she didn't know. But even she knew that finally getting it all out had to help release the demons inside her, at least a little. She wasn't sure Eric was the right platform for it, but she didn't feel like she could keep it from him. Knowing it was a mistake, knowing she should keep her mouth shut, she spoke anyway. "How old are you?" She asked.
His stomach jerked underneath her as he scoffed a laugh. "Um...is that relevant?"
"Please don't tell me you're jailbait or something."
He chuckled lightly. "Do I look like jailbait?"
"You never know nowadays," she muttered.
He sighed and tightened his grip around her arm. "I'm the same age as Travis. I'm twenty-seven."
Juliet blinked in confusion. "Same age as..."
"We're twins. Sad, but true."
She couldn't help but look up at him. "Twins? Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. You'd never know it, though, unless he were to cut his hair or I were to grow mine out--either of which will never happen."
"I barely figured out you were brothers..."
"He told you?"
"It wasn't terribly difficult. I think, um, I think Beth wanted to hook us up...you and I...she has such a terrible poker face..."
"And, look there, we have minds of our own. Who knew?"
Juliet lightly giggled at his joke before she sighed. "Wow. Twenty-seven. That's quite an age difference..."
"Age is nothing but a number."
"Depends on who you ask."
"How old do you feel?"
"By day? Thirty-three. By night...sixty-three."
"And right now?"
She slid her arm around his waist and buried her cheek against his bare skin. "Just three," she whispered. He held her tighter and he pressed his lips against her head so tenderly that it caused a tear to fall down her cheek. "To be honest, um, three is probably the last time I ever felt like...I don't know, like someone cared about me. I--I know we just met and...and it's never a good idea to, you know, spill your guts like this when you first meet someone, but--I just feel like I want to tell you everything but I don't want you to be weird with me about it."
"You can tell me anything. Tell me anything you want, talk until your heart's content."
Juliet took a breath and turned her head, pressing her lips into his skin. She let herself linger for a moment before she mustered up the courage to speak, the tears already welling up in her eyes before she said her first word. "I'm originally from Kentucky. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a toddler. My grandmother wasn't healthy enough to care for me, so I was put into foster care and that's where I stayed."
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in sudden shock. It was like she had stunned herself into silence. She'd never said those words out loud before. She'd spent her entire life suppressing everything she could possibly suppress. Out of sight, out of mind, was her motto, and she lived it to the fullest.
Her silence caused Eric to adjust himself underneath her, straightening his body up and pulling her tighter against him. He dropped his head and he kissed her forehead silently. He never spoke a word, but his actions spoke volumes.
Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she continued. "Nobody adopted me. The, um, the older I got, the less of a chance I got at it. Parents only wanted babies--the good parents, that is. Most of the foster homes I was put in only took foster kids for the paychecks. Some didn't even care if I lived or died. I've, um, I've been hungry. I've been cold. I've been beaten." She sucked in a breath and quickly wiped a tear that escaped from her eye, clearing her throat. "But I don't feel sorry for myself. Everything I went through has ultimately made me stronger."
"Juliet--" he breathed. "That's not--it's--"
"Art was my only escape. My favorite things to draw were houses. I always found myself drawing my ideal home--warm, comfortable, inviting...safe. Everything I never knew..."
"When you said nobody had ever been at your place before, you--you weren't exaggerating..."
"You're the first man who's ever even set foot inside my bedroom."
"I'm--I would have thought--"
"I know. I, um...I know."
"Juliet, I want you to know, I'm not--I didn't want to come here and intrude on you. This is still your home, you're still safe--"
"I know," she whispered.
"You don't have to continue if you don't want to."
"Are you saying that because you can't handle it? Because that's not all of it--"
"No," he said. "No, I was just looking out for you. I just want you to be comfortable talking to me."
"I am. If--if I wasn't, I wouldn't be telling you any of this." Taking a deep breath, she bit her lip, ashamed of what was coming next. "When I was a teenager--a young teenager--I lost my innocence. I was, um, barely fourteen. I gave it up to one of the foster fathers in exchange for beer. It was voluntary. It was--I was so far gone by that point, I didn't care what happened to me. They started giving me drugs on top of the alcohol, and...and I kept..." She stopped as the tears welled up in her eyes again. "I'm so ashamed of myself," she whispered. "I should never have--there was one--I never stayed in a home for long, but there was one and he would--he would let his friends come over and...and take their liberties. The mother was at work, the other kids were at school...and I would stay home and toss pills down my throat and make it with middle-aged men. And I allowed it to happen, I never said no, because as long as they were...you know, with me, I was getting drugs--and as long as I was getting drugs, I hardly remembered it was happening. Oh my god," she gasped, the tears starting to pour down her cheeks. "I never knew how fucked up I was until just now. I was--how could I let them do that to me?"
"That is trafficking," Eric said firmly, his voice wavering. "What they did to you was illegal on so many levels, Juliet, so many levels--not to mention sickening and barbaric--and none of it was your fault. None of it."
Juliet sat up and she wiped her nose and her eyes, adjusting her sweater around her waist. "You know what? I appreciate you listening, but--I don't think we should be doing this. This is--you don't need to hear this, it's too much and we just met--"
"Then don't talk about it if you don't want to. I'm not going anywhere, regardless. But just know, if you've never talked about it before, then continuing to not talk about it is not going to help you--"
"I don't need help. I survived and I'm fine. Look at me."
He looked her over and he nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said gently. "Except that hiding isn't survival. It doesn't mean you've overcome it. It means that all you did was run."
She snorted a breath through her nose and she glared at him. "I didn't invite you into my bed for a therapy session, I invited you so I could fuck you."
His face turned red and his glared matched hers. "I know you're not angry with me right now, but at yourself. So I'm gonna let that one slide."
"I'm not angry at myself--"
"You are. You're angry because you've let this rule your entire life. You don't know love, you don't know happiness, and all you know how to do is treat men like they're trash because that's how you've been treated, because you're choosing to run and not deal with your issues. You're a smart woman, Juliet. You know this."
His words stunned her and she stared down at the bed between them. He was right and she knew it. The man had no idea what she was dealing with and, yet, he was wise beyond his years. He'd spent the night so far reading her like a book and, for that, she let him speak to her the way he did. He wasn't demeaning, he wasn't accusatory, he wasn't pointing fingers or laying blame--he was telling the truth.
"I met Steve when I was sixteen," she whispered, adjusting her legs and sitting Indian-style, pulling the comforter into her lap. "He paid attention to me. He showed me affection--real affection. I was so desperate for a brand new reality that I clung to him like...some...pathetic lifeline. He was older than me--twenty-two--and the more time I spent with him, the less I took the drugs. He cared about me and that feeling replaced the drugs, like...anyway, when I was seventeen, I married him. Lied about my age to do it. He worked all day on this construction site or the other. I sat at home and kept up our tiny house, made sure his dinner was warm and his beer was open when he walked in the door. For the first time in my life, I felt happiness."
Absentmindedly, she turned Eric's hand over and began walking her fingers over his palm and mindlessly concentrating on his fingers, unable to look at him. She took another breath and cleared her throat. "On my eighteenth birthday, I found out I couldn't have children. My, um, ovaries don't produce the eggs. Anyway, our marriage--"
"So, wait. You can--you can never have children? Ever?"
She shook her head. "It would be a very, very involved process if I ever decided to, but I'm too old now, so--it is what it is. Anyway, our marriage changed after that. Things started to feel different. Steve drank more...stayed out later. To pass the time, I drew my houses and I started to help my friends decorate theirs." Pausing, she rubbed her forehead and she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just--I'm so tired..."
"Come here," he murmured, taking her in his arms again. "If you fall asleep, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Making herself comfortable as he lowered them into the bed, she lay on her back against his chest and laced her fingers into his as his arm wrapped around her chest. "One night he came home early and I was sitting there, looking at paint swatches and wallpaper samples for my friend's nursery who was due in several weeks. That was...that was the first time he hit me. He threw all of my work around the room and he hit me and he screamed at me. He called me a worthless little whore. 'You can't even produce a kid for me, why the fuck are you worried about someone else's little bastard?' Then he accused me of cheating on him and then he--he--" She couldn't get it out. She hiccupped the tears that rose in her throat and she couldn't get the words out.
"You're safe with me, Juliet. I promise you you're safe."
Her eyes widened at the ceiling, filling with burning salt water, and she covered her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe she was going to say it out loud and it was near impossible. The shock and the memories hit her harder than they ever had before and she was so ashamed she couldn't breathe. "My husband raped me," she squeaked out, nearly inaudibly. "He honestly, truly...raped me. To the full definition of the word. He didn't care what was going on--if I was bleeding or sick or in pain--he just raped me. He abused me and he raped me--he would pin me down on my back and hold my wrists above my head. I couldn't move--I could never move--" She gasped her tears as they exploded from her chest, and she balled up her fists so hard now her body shook. "He used to love me--I thought he loved me, and then--and then he used to pin me on my back and he hurt me--and while I was crying and praying for death, he was demanding that I talk dirty to him--and sometimes he would--he would beat me while he raped me, it was--" Her mouth hung open as she struggled for breath. She didn't want to remember. She never wanted to remember.
"Where is he now?"
"I never knew any better. Even as he hurt me, it was still better than I'd been treated before. I took it because he would always point out that if it weren't for him, I'd be laying in a gutter somewhere. That I should appreciate having a roof over my head--and I did. So I didn't leave because it was the best I'd ever known...I stayed and I enabled him...I let him hurt me..."
"Where is he now?"
"But he can't hurt me anymore," she said through her teeth. "God damn him, he can't hurt me anymore. I'm not pathetic anymore, I'm not dependent, I'm not worthless. I'm self-taught, self-made, and independent. I live by my own rules, I'm strong, and I will never be forced to submit to another man for as long as I live. Now...they submit to me."
"Juliet. Where is he?"
"In hell, where he belongs," she muttered angrily. "In hell, and I should have killed him myself."
"He's dead?"
"Yes. He fell off a piece of equipment on the job. Broke his neck in the fall, it was instant. And even then he got off too easy. When they called me to identify the body and I saw him all cold and dead, I broke down. I was written off as a distraught wife, but the truth was, they were tears of joy. I was no longer in pain. I was free. I didn't have to suffer anymore. So I cleaned the bank account of what little bit was there and I abandoned the house. I didn't care about any of it. Nothing at all. I took the first bus out of town and ended up here. I slept on the hardwood floor of a cheap, rundown, empty apartment. I got a job as a waitress when the life insurance money started to run out and that's where I met Beth, who had just gotten her degree in architecture. She was the first person who ever recognized that I had any talent at all. I was about to be evicted from my apartment, so she packed me up and moved me in with her. She helped me with the business, introduced me to some people--and now here I am. She'll never know it, but she saved my life."
"Remind me to thank her."
Juliet lay there in silence for a minute or two, trying desperately to enjoy being in Eric's arms. But the truth was, she was mortified. The more she thought about what just happened, the worse she felt. She sat up and she turned around and looked down at him as he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Why?"
"I shouldn't have--there is so much baggage there--too much--I shouldn't have thrown all of that on you like that, real people don't--"
"We're real people, here. You and I. It is what it is, this is what people do. They lay here together and they talk and they help each other and they--they're just real. Juliet, you've been through a hell that is unimaginable--I've personally never wanted to murder so many people at one time in my life. And you've got work to do to get through it, but--but do you realize how remarkable of a woman you turned out to be?"
She shook her head and she smiled. "You don't even know me--"
"I do know you. I can't explain it, but I feel like I've known you my entire life. Did you--did you know we go to the same gym? We climb the same wall?"
"How--?"
"Ted's the only belayer I'll let within a ten-foot radius of me."
"Me, too..."
"I peeked at his schedule sheet last weekend. Saw your name on there..."
"I love climbing," she admitted.
Taking her hand, he lifted it and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Maybe you and I should climb together sometime."
She narrowed her eyes at him in disgust. "I don't share Ted."
He returned her glower. "Neither do I."
She sighed, mockingly. "I knew it. We're doomed already."
"No," he smiled. "We're just beginning."
"I would let you be my belayer," she admitted.
He widened his eyes and he smiled. "Really? You've never even seen me climb. I could be a klutz, I could space out, you might fall--"
"I might fall. But spaced out or not, you'd still be there to break it and that would be okay."
With that, Eric sat up and reached a hand around Juliet's neck, pulling her face into his and kissing her so tender and deep, the familiar chills came back to her body and she welcomed them with renewed delight. She found herself wanting him again, now even more badly than she did before. She wanted to live in his arms, make love to his body, and lose herself completely in his touch.
Breaking the kiss, she slid her hands up his neck and swept her thumbs over his cheeks, looking deep into his warm, gentle blue eyes. "We've talked," she smiled. "Maybe a little too much. Will you please let me do 'and stuff' to you?"
A smile spread deviously across his face as he glanced downward. "Baby, 'and stuff' is already going on down there."
"Oh, thank God," she grinned with relief as she peeled her sweater off of her shoulders.
She swung her leg over him, straddling him and treating her mouth to the addiction that was his. He wasn't kidding about what was going on under the covers. She reached down and pulled the comforter out from between their bodies and his dick immediately brushed between her legs upon the unveiling. Arousal coursing through her veins at the taste she'd gotten, she positioned herself immediately so that she was grinding against him.
Sliding his hands up her thighs, he gripped the bottom of her tiny nightgown and peeled it off over her head, licking his lips as he ran his hand over her chest. "Shit," he whispered. He took her breasts in his hands, unusually pleased that he enjoyed one of the first purchases she'd made with her paycheck from her business, and she grinded herself into his dick as swept his thumbs repeatedly over her hardened nipples.
Finally, his hands drifted to her hips and he started to grind into her from underneath, the looks of pleasure that plagued his face exciting her more and more. Before long, she couldn't take it anymore, and she reached between her legs and positioned him, lowering herself on him, staring intently into his eyes as she got her bearings and found her rhythm.
The way he filled her came as a shock and she wished she'd have gotten a look at him beforehand. She could only imagine, though, because she was not expecting the size that he was and her jaw dropped open in shocked pleasure as her hips rolled into him, feeling so good, she almost didn't even need to work so hard.
"Oh my god," she whispered as she rested her hands on his legs behind her, sitting back, and rolling her hips slowly on him. It didn't take long before her body trembled with pleasure. "Oh my god..."
As she let her head fall back, his hands explored her body and his heavy breathing and light groaning causing her to come closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, Juliet," he whispered. "Fuck, yeah..."
Lifting her head, she pulled him closer to her as she changed her rhythm and rode him harder. Gripping his head and neck with her hands, she collapsed her forehead against his, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw hurt, but she didn't care because she had never fucked a man that felt this good in her entire life.
"Let me fuck you," he whispered.
"This feels so good," she breathed.
"I know. But I'm pretty sure I promised you a grand slam."
"Oh my god," she laughed, helpless, slowing her grinding and collapsing her closed hand onto his shoulder. "Don't ruin the moment with your talking."
Wrapping his arms around her waist, in one swift movement, he laid her on her back. This time, though, she allowed it. She was comfortable with him. She was safe. And she wanted him in ways she never knew she could want a man.
Letting her arms rest above her head, she spread her legs and arched her back to prepare for him. This was new and it was exciting. She hadn't had sex in this position in--well since then. And if the way she felt straddling him was any indication of what it might feel like on her back, she was ready.
As he positioned himself between her legs, he ran his hand gently over her body and then he glanced upward. She could tell he tried to hide his expression, but he couldn't get it past her. "Juliet, no," he whispered gently. He reached up and took one of her hands and placed it around his neck. "Touch me. Don't ever stop touching me."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. "You're so beautiful," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Take me," she whispered. "Please take me away from here."
She sounded desperate and she knew it, but she didn't care. She felt him slowly slide his dick inside her and she arched her back automatically in response, lifting her chin toward the ceiling. "Oh my god," she whispered.
Juliet closed her eyes as Eric's hips rolled into her, his dick hitting her in the right spot every single time. He was slow and he was deliberate and it was starting to feel like a tease. She opened her eyes to look at him and his eyes were watching her. She lifted her head to kiss him, unable to resist those luscious, enticing lips of his, and he tugged gently on her bottom lip as he began to just slightly pick up speed.
It was enough for her. She tucked her arms under his and reached downward, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him into her. He moaned as his intensity picked up and she spread her legs wider underneath him. Feeling herself losing control very quickly, she reached back up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body down against hers, rolling her hips back into him as a response, the rhythm they made together turning into magic and the room started to spin.
"Oh my god," she whispered, a helpless tear escaping her eye at the overwhelming sense of emotion and passion that took her over. "That feels so good, Eric. Please don't stop."
He lifted his body off of her just enough so that his hips could roll harder and faster into her and she gasped for breath, gripping his arms beside her, and running her nails up and down them. She tried to keep from coming so fast. She tried as hard as she could.
He hooked his wrist around her thigh and lowered himself closer to her, breathing in her ear as he fucked her, sending the chills straight between her legs. She bit her lip and moaned through her lips and in that moment, he kissed her ear and he whispered, "It's okay. Scream and be free, Juliet. Scream and be free."
The fact that he'd just quoted her favorite song, not once, but twice, sent her over the edge. There was no way he could know what her favorite song was and that was enough to tell her that they had connected on a level too deep for words. Her orgasm came easily, it came strong, and it came more intense than anything she'd ever felt. If her condo hadn't been so big, she knew that the neighbors likely would have heard her for how loudly she let herself go. But it felt so good. The release made her body tremble with pleasure and relief and it was so satisfying, it almost felt like therapy.
He had finished seconds later and when he'd calmed himself, he lowered himself back on top of her and his kiss caused her to weep. "I'm sorry," she said through her tears. "It wasn't bad, I promise. It was just so good, I can't help myself."
"Well," he smiled sheepishly. "My goal in life is to definitely not make women cry after sex..."
"Oh, but it's good," she whispered reassuringly, caressing his face with her hands. "It's so good."
"That was probably the best I've ever had," he smiled.
"That was the best I've ever had," she replied, her smile through her tears matching his. She couldn't control the giggle that came with it. "I've never felt anything like that before." And then her stomach rumbled--loudly.
Eric raised his eyebrows and smiled in pleasant surprise. "Oh?" He asked, his fingers trailing down her body and stopping at her stomach. "What's that, you say?"
"I'm hungry," she admitted. "I didn't eat much at the party."
"That's not what I heard," he grinned.
"What you're hearing is a dead man if this going where I think it's going."
"Then I'll die a happy man."
"I'm serious." She bit her lip and she grinned. "Tell me there are leftovers."
"This...this whole night just got a lot less romantic..."
"Sweetheart, it got less romantic the moment you came. You know how this works. Right now I'm going to raid my refrigerator. You can...you can either stay and raid with me or you can go home."
His expression softened and he studied her eyes for a moment. "You'd let me stay?"
"Do you want to stay?"
"I'll stay until you kick me out."
She grinned, feeling the most freeing delight she'd ever felt. This kind of happiness was new. She didn't ever want it to go away. For now, however...
"Good. Now get off me," she giggled as she pushed him away. She fished for her sweater and wrapped it around her, and then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the first pair of socks she found--which happened to be his.
"Hey," he caught her. "What's the big idea?"
"My feet are cold."
"What about mine?"
"You're a big boy, you can handle it."
"Is that--is that what all that sock talk was about? Did you just con me out of my fucking socks?"
"Oh, you'll get them back, just keep your pants on." Then she turned and looked him over, raising an eyebrow. "Or not..."
"Well. That's fine, then," he said, crawling out of the bed alongside her. "Hope you don't have neighbors in the next building. 'Cause they're about to get an eyeful."
"Are you seriously going to walk around my apartment, naked?"
He looked her dead in her eyes. "You stole my socks. I've earned it."
She bit her lip and she giggled as she trotted briskly to the kitchen. Minutes later, they brought leftover party favors to bed and sat next to each other, each one ignoring the time on the clock that read after two in the morning. They laughed, they talked, Eric shared entertaining stories involving elementary school and twin-swapping on the teachers. They discussed serious matters like the Humane Society and the foster care system in New York. Eric told her about his accounting degree and she shared her disdain for math. They told jokes, they kissed, and they whispered sweet nothings to each other. Their talking was endless, the only thing ending their conversation was the way they fell asleep, wrapped up and entangled in each other.
It was the happiest, most blissful night Juliet had ever had. It was heavy and it was emotional, eventful and therapeutic. It was also fun, erotic, and comfortable. She'd never met a man like Eric before she dared flirt with the idea that she wasn't interested in another one. Even more daring was the fact that she wanted to see him again after tonight.
Especially since waking up next to him was another thrill she couldn't wait to experience.
Juliet was humiliated. She was upset and she was humiliated. She shouldn't have reacted to Chris's presence the way she did. She just hated that man so much. She didn't like him when Beth was dating him, anyway. To find out that he'd been cheating on her the entire time made Juliet violent. Beth was the sweetest, most caring, most loyal person she ever met and she deserved nothing but the very best. Beth never did anything to anyone and she certainly didn't deserve to be treated the way Chris had treated her.
The party was a horrible idea on so many levels. Just when she thought everything would be okay, when she was just starting to feel comfortable with the idea, he showed up. Blue Eyes. Prince Charming. Paradise On Legs.
Comfort. Safety.
His presence put her at ease and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way her heart palpitated, she didn't like the way she felt uncontrollably drawn to him. She didn't like the way she wanted to surrender, the way she wanted to throw herself into his arms...it was all lies. All of it. Lies. There was no such thing as a relationship. There was no such thing as love or romance or trust. Men didn't operate that way. And Chris had certainly reminded her of that tonight. Women were a stupid bunch. A stupid, stupid bunch, always falling for a gorgeous smile and empty promises. It was no wonder that men didn't take women seriously. They were so god damned gullible.
But not Juliet. Not now, not ever. Juliet got what she wanted out of men, not the other way around. She didn't allow them to steal her emotions. She didn't allow them to take her power or her will or her dignity. Juliet was strong...independent...powerful.
Which was exactly why she sat on the edge of her bed and hid her face in her hands.
She ventured to guess she'd been in her bedroom for close to an hour now. Long enough to change into her night clothes. The short, pink, silk chemise and matching longer robe felt comforting against her skin. She tried to ignore the fact that it was much too quiet on the other side of her bedroom wall. Instead, she chose to stand at her vanity in the low lamp light and run her fingers thought her long hair, picking up her hairbrush to work out a section that had tangled itself up.
As she gently scraped through her hair, she tried as hard as she could to distract herself from reflecting on the disastrous party and, inarguably, him. As she desperately tried to mentally plan the upcoming work week, she hadn't realized the presence in her bedroom before she heard the soft click of the door when it closed. Looking up from the brush she had carefully laid down on her vanity, she caught the reflection in the mirror before her and the blood drained from her face, fear running rampant through her veins. Prince Charming stood in her bedroom, at the other side of the bed next to the door, his hands shoved in his pockets, his crystal blue eyes boring into hers amidst the dim light through the mirror--calculating, intense...strong.
Her jaw dropped momentarily, her heart pounding in her chest. She was trapped. She couldn't run. She had nowhere to go. She had no other choice but to confront him.
"Why are you here?" She asked quietly, straightening her spine and removing her earrings, laying them carefully, one by one, on the vanity.
"You invited me," he replied quietly. His voice weakened her at the knees. Smooth. Rich. Warm. Comforting. She found herself swooning at the mere sound of it.
"To the party," she corrected. "Not my private quarters."
"But you were going to," he tested.
His assumption caught her off guard as she stared at him through the mirror. She straightened her spine and she lifted her chin in defiance--and then she felt his eyes again and something in her...couldn't lie to him. Suddenly, she forgot how to. "No," she said, her eyes falling on the vanity surface in defeat "I wasn't."
He blinked at her for a second before he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Wow. Um...yeah, talk about mixed signals..."
"You should go back to the party," she advised. She wanted to beg him to go back. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle the way she wanted him. She didn't want to want him the way she did. It wasn't natural.
"The, uh, the party's over," he confessed.
Finally, she turned around to face his flesh, unable to ignore this revelation. To her dismay, he was a thousand times more beautiful in person. "Over? When?"
"Not too long now. I stayed to help Beth clean up."
Juliet's eyes widened. "You...stayed? To help?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
She melted. She melted right into the floor and she loved the way it felt. She loved it and it terrified her and she had no idea what to do with herself in the moment. So, she did what she knew to do best. "I, um, I appreciate that. I'll just, um, I'll see you to the door."
Gathering all the courage it took to approach him, she tucked her dark waves nervously behind her ear, crossing the room toward him and nearly making her escape past him before he stopped her, his hand on her arm, sending species after species of chills running rampant through her body. "Please," he whispered, his hot breath caressing the skin on her face. "Don't send me away so fast."
She couldn't look at him. Her eyes darted to the floor and all around the room, everywhere but his face. It was as if something in her body shut down and she lost all knowledge of any basic motor skills. "I, um, I don't...I don't understand..."
"I spent the entire night watching you try to seduce my brother. It was brutal. It was brutal the way your eyes saw right into my soul, right over his shoulder, as you put your hands all over him. It made me sick, but what terrifies me the most is that in the end, I didn't care--because I could see you. And I know you didn't mean it."
"I didn't mean...you?
"You didn't mean him."
"I...um...I don't...what do you want from me?"
His hand drifted from her arm, down to her hand, delicately taking it in his own. "I came to say goodnight. And--I just want you to know my name."
She didn't. She didn't want to know his name. She didn't to acknowledge his existence. She didn't want to throw herself at him and kiss his soft lips and look into is eyes and tell him how much she wanted him and how long she'd been waiting for him. She didn't want to give herself to him, she didn't want to surrender--not after she'd worked so hard for so many years...
She took a deep breath and swallowed her feelings. "I, um--I already know your name."
His hand tightened securely around hers, a smile widening across his face with a glint of amusement in his eye. "Yeah?"
"Yes," she cleared her throat. "So I'll just--the door is this way--"
"It would mean a lot to me to hear you say it."
Fear trembled her body. Fear and shame. She had lied. She'd spent all night working very hard to avoid learning his name. "I--um..."
"My name is Eric," he said softly, ignoring her dishonesty and leaning his face close--too close--to her ear. "I've waited all night--and much longer--just to tell you that."
His scent was intoxicating. He didn't wear cologne. He smelled of nothing more than the faint scent of aftershave and whatever he had washed his laundry in. He was fresh. He was clean. He was pure. Pure wasn't something Juliet was familiar with.
"Um. Um, well...Eric. It's, um, it's very nice to have met you. And, um, nice of you to stay and help Beth with the cleanup, I'm sure she appreciates that, as do I."
"She did, yes."
Juliet's breath caught in her throat. "Did?"
"Yes. She went home. Half an hour ago."
And...back to reality.
Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand away from him, taking a step back and looking at him incredulously. "So you've been in my home, doing who knows what, and--and Beth just left? She just up and left a stranger in my home with me alone in it?!"
"Um..." She saw the discomfort in his eyes all of a sudden, wanting to feel remorse for it, but fuming at Beth at the same time. "Well, I, uh...I'd hoped to not really be a stranger after tonight, I--I mean I didn't go through anything or snoop around, I just, you know, threw away some trash and cleaned up some dishes..."
"You were in my cabinets?!"
"I had to put them away..."
"This isn't happening," she began to mutter to herself. "This isn't--I told Beth this wasn't a good idea, I told her--"
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought I was helping."
"Well. Um." She swallowed hard, finding it difficult to keep herself in check. "You, um, you did help, I just, um--I just--I don't even know you. And I hate having people in my house, nobody's ever been here but Beth before and I just--I just don't--"
"You could know me," he offered. "If you wanted to. I could--we could--we could, you know, talk and stuff..."
Juliet's nostrils flared and she scoffed uncontrollably. " 'And stuff,' " she sneered. "I should have known. Always a stipulation. Of course there is, why didn't I see it? You're standing in the middle of my god damned bedroom."
"Only because you're in here. I mean, if you were in the living room or--or the bathroom, I'd probably be in there, too. It's merely coincidence, not intent."
"So you make it a habit to just barge into people's personal space? Or did you just come in here because you thought I was easy?"
The heartbreak on his face made her feel terribly guilty for her choice in words. Then, to her surprise, his entire demeanor changed. "It's no secret that you have a reputation."
"Fine," she demanded, removing her robe and tossing it forcefully to the floor. "You want to go ahead and get this over with, then?"
He raised an eyebrow at her and placed a hand on his hip. "First of all, I didn't come in here to sleep with you--I bet that's a shocker for you. But not because you don't turn me on because believe me, it's astounding, the effort it's taking to stand still right now. But, honestly, if that's the way you're going to be about it, I'm better off cutting my losses and walking right out that door. Not that I'm really losing anything, because you've been trying to throw me out for the past five minutes anyway even though, for the thousandth time, I'm not trying to sleep with you."
Juliet was stunned. She opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again, shifting her weight and crossing her arms over her much-too-short silk chemise nightgown. "That's preposterous. I've never met a man that didn't want to sleep with me."
"You still haven't. I never said I didn't want to. It's just not the only thing on my mind."
"Then why are you here?"
"Is it too much to ask to want to ask you what your favorite color is? Or your favorite food, or, uh...about your penchant for nineties pop groups that I find irresistibly adorable?"
"Oh, I get it," she spat. "You're gay."
He looked at her in confused thought. Then he shook his head and rubbed his brow. "No, I'm not--I meant--I meant you. I find your musical tastes adorable."
She looked around, uncomfortably, wanting desperately to lead him out the front door and lock it behind him. However, she also wanted to lock him away in her bedroom and never let him go. "This is crazy--"
"Is it?"
"Yes. Because what if--you know, hypothetically..." She hugged herself tighter in uncomfortable defeat. "What if I wanted to sleep with you?"
He smiled again, a smile that melted her soul. "Well, this just took an unexpected turn."
"Well, I--I mean, I'm not going to lie. Let's be completely honest, here, I find you...um..."
Holy shit. Why couldn't she say it? She never had a problem verbally appreciating a man for his physical attributes. Calm, cool confidence was what she did best. Why the hell couldn't she form words all of a sudden?
He continued to smile, amused. "Look at that, we already have something in common. I find you 'um,' too."
God damn it, he was cute. Much too cute. And he was making her want to smile.
Shielding her chest with her arm, she carefully bent down and retrieved her robe from the floor, feeling embarrassed for the way she'd discarded it. Opening it up to prepare to put it back on, he said to her, "You know, it's--you don't have to go to the trouble. I can, um, I know where the door is. I just, um--thank you for the party. It was interesting."
"Oh," she said, not wanting to acknowledge the crushing of her heart. She held the robe against her body as he approached her, but only because she was blocking his way to her bedroom door. He stopped in front of her and her intent was to step out of his way, but it felt as if she had lead weights on her feet. Was it because she couldn't move--or because she didn't want to? The only thing she knew she was sure of, no matter how much it pained her, was that she didn't want him to leave. She looked up at him, into his eyes, his body so close to hers that she could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. Her heart pounded and her hands started to sweat. "Eric," she whispered, already falling for the way it felt to say his name. "I'm sorry, I--I'm not used to this, I don't know what to do right now."
"You do whatever you want," he replied gently. "It's your apartment. I apologize for my intrusion. It was rude of me."
"It wasn't--um--"
"I can't get to the door, Juliet."
Her breathing quickened. It felt like a panic attack-- like the multiple ones he had caused her. The ones he--except that it was...it was the most delicious form of panic she had ever felt. It borderlined desperation and need with a mix of want and desire and--and she wanted him but she didn't want to objectify him. It was a completely alien feeling to her and she didn't quite know what to do with it.
Her eyes darted around the room and down at her own feet. "I can't move," she breathed. Finally, she looked up at him, her jaw dropping in helplessness. "I can't--I can't move."
"You feel it, don't you?" He whispered as he took her hand once more. "You're trembling. You feel it the same way I do."
"I don't know what to do..."
"Kiss me."
And then her heart sank. She looked at his lips and her heart sank. "I don't kiss."
He furrowed his brow and turned his head to study her. "You don't kiss?"
She shook her head. "I don't kiss. Kissing is...it's too much, it's...it's unnecessary. Kissing...kissing means things...it's intrusive."
"Juliet," he whispered, stepping even closer to her. "When's the last time you kissed someone?"
She closed her eyes and took in a breath through her nose. She didn't want to remember. She didn't ever want to remember. She swallowed hard and looked at the floor. "A long...um, a long time."
"Then you're due for a kiss."
"No," she choked out. "No, kissing is...it's intimate..."
"It's no more intimate than what's going on in my chest right now," he replied. "I don't want to pressure you, but..." Then he cracked a smile at her, that boyish gleam in his intense blue eyes. "...you don't know what you're missing. I'm a pretty good kisser."
He made her smile again. She couldn't help the shy grin that crossed her lips. "Yeah? How often do you kiss yourself?"
"Well...I mean, not very often, but on the rare occasion that I do, I rate myself eleven on a scale of one to ten."
Her smile widened, completely amused by him. She'd never felt this much joy with a man before. No man had ever made her smile with so much comfort and ease before. "You're adorable," she couldn't help from replying.
"You have no idea."
And then she gave in. She couldn't deny herself of him anymore and, in one swift motion, she let go of everything she believed in--everything she was against, everything that plagued her, everything that was ever wrong with men--and she slid her arms around his neck and met his lips with hers. The power that was emitted from the simple meeting of their skin was enough to cause a whimper to escape Juliet's throat as he wrapped his arms tight around her body and pressed her against him. She didn't know what felt better, kissing his lips or being swallowed up in his arms in the safety of his body.
She couldn't get enough. As he parted her lips with his tongue, she became completely addicted to the drug that was his mouth. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, letting her fingers trail up his neck and into his short, blonde hair. His hair was soft and light and she couldn't keep her hands out of it. Combing her nails gently over his scalp, his groan spilled into her mouth and she found herself aroused almost instantly. She never knew a kiss could do this to a person--they'd never done this to her before. Her last kiss--well, she didn't want to think about that. All she knew was that this kiss was so far beyond her last one that she really couldn't make an adequate comparison. No words would ever describe the way it made her feel.
Finally, in need of air, and to collect herself, she broke their kiss and pulled her head away, only for him to follow and press his forehead against hers. "Wow," she breathed, her fingers nimbly fiddling with the buttons on his black shirt. "You were right, you are a good kisser."
"You're better," he murmured.
"Don't try to flatter me."
"It's definitely the best goodnight kiss I've ever had, I'll be honest."
At that, she looked up into his eyes. She was in so deep now that whatever she thought she wanted--or thought she didn't want--didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was this man. Nothing more. "I'm not ready to say goodnight."
In response, he nudged her nose with his, his hot breath tingling the skin on her face. "I have nowhere to be. I'm all yours."
She slid her hands up the sides of his neck, sweeping her thumbs over his earlobes. She'd never wanted a man the way she wanted Eric. Not even...not even way back then. She'd never known a feeling like this existed. It was so good, it made her want to cry. "Tell me your favorite color," she whispered as she gazed into his eyes. "Tell me everything--"
"Brown," he interrupted her without a thought. "Brown. Always brown, forever brown--"
"Nobody's favorite color is brown--"
"Do you wear colored contacts?"
"No."
"My favorite color is brown. What else do you want?"
Her jaw dropped with a gasp. Where had he come from?
Gripping his collar, she crashed her lips hard into his, this time feeling the overwhelming desperation taking over her body. She couldn't get close enough to him. She couldn't kiss him deep enough, she couldn't inhale enough of him--she wanted more, she wanted everything. She never knew how much she'd starved herself until that moment.
As he kissed her, he shifted his body downward far enough to grip her ass tightly with both of his hands and pull her into him, sliding an arm around her and lifting her up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his lips trailed her chin and her neck as she eagerly unbuttoned his shirt. Anxiously, she tore it back from his shoulders and he pulled his arms out of it, one at a time, as she drank in his physique, not making an effort to hide her amazement. He wasn't the largest, most ripped man she'd ever been with, but he was so beautiful, it brought a tear to her eye. His chest was sculpted, his arms strong and warm, his skin just a shade below tan and smooth as silk. The light, nearly invisible, hair that peppered his chest was as blonde and fine as the hair on his head and his stomach didn't quite boast a six pack but there was enough there and he was solid as a rock.
All she wanted to do was gaze at him and touch him. Her hands gently explored his skin, in awe, and he stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to take as much of him as she wanted. "I want you," she whispered.
"You had me the first moment I ever laid eyes on you. Every moment since then has been agony."
"Why me?" She asked, taking her eyes off his skin long enough to meet his eyes.
"Because you fascinate me."
This answer satisfied her for the time being and she kissed him again, curling her arms around his shoulders and grazing his back with her nails. Bringing them back around, she caressed his arms and looked into his eyes. "Take me to bed," she whispered.
He smiled in response, nudging her nose again and she couldn't resist the urge to place her lips against his perfect teeth. She didn't know if people actually did that or not, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to kiss every single inch of his perfect body, she wanted to show him how much she appreciated him.
His response to her was two steps toward the direction of the bed before he faltered, nearly dropping her, both of their eyes wide with surprise. Unable to control herself, she threw her head back in laughter as his face turned several shades of red and, leg by leg, she lowered her feet to the floor, surprised by how her knees quivered beneath her. "Well," he said, sheepishly. "That was, uh, that was supposed to be a lot more graceful than it was."
"It's okay," she smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him to a place that had once been completely forbidden to the male species. "I won't let you fall."
"I think it's too late for that."
She chose to ignore his double entendre and, instead, lowered herself onto her bed, one knee after the other, trying to keep herself from turning into a complete slut right in front of him. She wanted him so bad she couldn't stand it, but she didn't want it to be over as fast as it started, either. Keeping her legs together and tucking them underneath her body, she smiled as he sat on the edge of her bed and kicked off his shoes. "Lose the socks, too," she commanded. "There's nothing worse than a naked man in nothing but socks."
"Yeah? Well if you wanna get technical, a naked man in socks isn't actually naked..."
She raised an eyebrow, feeling that old, natural sense of control coming back to her and she welcomed it with open arms. "Okay, then. I want you technically naked. That includes the socks."
"I like how you assume I was just going to keep them on," he smirked.
"I just want to make sure all the bases are covered."
He snickered. "You won't be worrying about any socks with all the grand slams you're about to get out of me."
She laughed again. She couldn't help herself.. "I'm so sorry," she gasped. "That was just so...bad."
"Yeah, but you loved it," he winked at her.
It felt so good to laugh. She teased him, but he was such a good sport about it and she loved the way she couldn't offend him.
She bit her lip and she smiled as he turned his body and came toward her on the bed. Sitting up on her knees, she rose to meet him, grateful to be in full view of his torso, completely turned on by the way his pants nearly hung loosely off his hips. Snaking her arms around him, she gripped both of her hands full of his tight ass, pleasantly surprised that he had a little something going on back there. She grinned up at him as she kneaded her fingers into him and slid her hands into his back pockets. "This is fun."
He grinned at her and shook his head. "I do declare, Miss Scarlett, but you act like you've never been with a man before."
"Oooh," she narrowed her eyes at him and looked longingly at his lips again. "I just noticed you have a bit of an accent. Not a native New Yorker, I take it?"
"You caught me," he groaned, sliding his hands up her thighs and around her back, pulling her close against him. "That's good, pure bred, southern Louisiana heat you got in your hands back there."
"A southerner? Oh, Rhett," she drawled, a hand flying to her chest. "I do declare..."
He chuckled through his teeth, gripping her hips and grinding himself into her. "God damn, you're sexy. I almost don't even want to finish this."
Her eyes fell and her tone was serious for a moment. "Well...I admit, this is probably the, um...longest amount of time I've ever spent with a man before...well...I mean, I'm sure you read the charming editorial written in my honor..."
"That guy's a bastard."
"He wasn't terribly off the mark about me..."
"The way you conducted your relationships in the past are none of my business. My business is right here, right now."
"You know, we're doing an awful lot of talking and not a lot of fucking. That's not my norm."
"I did say I wanted to talk..."
"And stuff," she finished, her grin mischievous.
"Right," he nodded with a smile, nudging her nose with his again, an act that Juliet decided she loved more than life itself. "And stuff."
She surrendered to him as he kissed her, feeling her body coming closer and closer to the bed. She ignored it, her attention focused on the bliss that was his bare skin against hers, his arms wrapped around her, his tongue massaging hers with a rhythm so erotic, it should have been a crime punishable by death.
She was on her back beneath him before she realized the path they had taken. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his neck, focusing on his lips and the intoxicating scent of his skin. Her breath caught in her throat when he nudged her legs apart with his knees and she broke a sweat when he lowered his body slowly on top of hers. She looked up at his face, searching it frantically. He was beautiful. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful and his eyes were so kind and gentle. His arms, they were--she glanced beside her at his arm as his elbow rested on the bed by her head and his lips trailed to her neck. She tried to turn her head to face him, but his head stopped her as he kissed her skin. She looked back at his arm beside her, her heart rate rapidly increasing. She couldn't lower her arm comfortably because of the location of his elbow, which forced her own wrist to lay above her head. This was getting too familiar.
His other hand slid down her body as his lips trailed gently to her collarbone, and then, without warning, he took her by the thigh and he spread her leg wider out beside her. Resting his other elbow by her head now, he lifted his head to kiss her, leaving her other arm with nowhere to go than above her head with the other one.
And then her worst nightmare happened.
She blinked her eyes and he wasn't there anymore. His eyes weren't blue, his hair wasn't blonde, his smile wasn't kind. She wasn't comfortable anymore. The anxiety rose like wildfire inside her and she blinked feverishly to keep it away, but it was no use. The flashes in her mind were violent and relentless and she couldn't breathe. "No," she choked out, shaking her head at him. "Get off me. Stop."
Eric looked at her, in confusion. "Do what?"
"I said no," she said louder, struggling to move out from underneath him. "Get off me."
He did as she said, but he wasn't moving fast enough. When she was finally able to move her limbs around, she sat up and pushed him violently off of her, sending him toppling on his side onto the bed beside her. "Juliet--"
"I said stop," she said breathlessly as she got herself out of the bed and raced for the bathroom. "I said stop."
*************
Hurriedly, she slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it, bracing her body against it and swallowing the hard lump in her throat as she looked up at the ceiling. She couldn't stop the tears, though, the memories assaulting her with brutal force. She sobbed as quietly as she could, ashamed and angry at herself. She should have never allowed that to happen. She should have never surrendered to him, she should have never submitted. She never submitted to a man. Men were bad, men were poison. Submitting meant weakness and vulnerability. Laying on your back under a man gave him control, it gave him power. No man would ever control her or have power over her. She could never allow that to happen, not ever again.
She calculated that she'd been in the bathroom for at least half an hour as she collected and calmed herself from the panic attack that had come on so suddenly. Once recovered, she was mortified and heartbroken all over again. That should have never happened. Eric was--well she didn't know him yet, but at the same time, she felt like she'd known him forever. He felt good. He felt like warmth and comfort and safety. Somehow she knew he'd never hurt her, but yet...
She knew he would be gone when she opened the bathroom door. No man would stick around after something like that and she couldn't blame him for it. She walked to the counter and she looked at herself in the mirror, wiping the excess makeup that ran from her eyes, and she dabbed a cool cloth around them to prepare herself for the empty room she would walk back into. She spied her knit sweater that she must have left in there earlier in the day and she wrapped it around her body for comfort.
Sniffing her tears away one last time, she turned off the light and gently opened the bathroom door, tucking her hair behind her ear and walking out the door with the intent to pull a pair of socks from her sock drawer. However, when she glanced up at the bed, she stopped in her tracks and looked on in shock.
There was Eric, still topless, sitting up in her bed with the comforter wrapped around his waist. He was busying himself by smoothing out the linens and fluffing the pillows and she saw that his jeans had been discarded on the floor next to her bed. Her jaw dropped, speechless. "You're still here," she whispered in awe. "What are you doing?"
"Counting," he replied simply.
She cleared her throat, struggling with the reality of her situation. "Um, counting?"
"Yes. Counting." He counted his fingers silently, one-by-one, then held up three of them. "Three. Three is now the number of times you have run away from me in terror and, once and for all, I am going to find out what I keep doing to you to make you run away from me like that."
She was frozen in place, overcome with regret and disbelief. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but the fact that he'd stayed--and made himself at home--was so incredibly alien and touching that she had no idea what to do with herself in the moment. "I--um..."
He turned the corner of the comforter down beside him and patted the bed. "I know it probably seems silly to be invited into your own bed, but I figure we've done enough 'and stuff' for the night. Now I think maybe we should just talk."
Her throat felt like sandpaper as she tightened her sweater around her body. "Talk?"
"You said you didn't kiss, either, but you saw what happened with that. I'm assuming this is the part where you say you don't talk, either, so consider this a preemptive strike." He patted the bed again. "I have all night."
There was something about him. Something she couldn't put her finger on. Something that made her want to curl up in his arms and get lost in his heartbeat. And, apparently, she was being afforded the opportunity to do just that.
She walked carefully over the hardwood floor, cautiously and nervously, and she gently sat herself on the bed next to him. Without a word, he pulled the comforter from under her and tucked it around her waist to match his. "There," he said with a smile. "How's that?"
He cared about her. That's what it was. That's what she was feeling. It was so strange, to be cared about by a man. She was surprised she knew the feeling at all. How could he, though? He'd only just met her. He knew virtually nothing about her, and yet...
"Eric," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. "Would it be...weird...if, um...if I asked you to hold me? I just...I haven't been held in so long, and--"
"Come here," he said, sitting back against the headboard and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
She curled her legs up and he tucked his hand under her knees and laid them over his lap. Pulling her tight against his body, he swept her hair off of her shoulder and squeezed her arm through her sweater. "Is this okay?" He asked her.
"It's wonderful," she sniffed with emotion. "You just--you just have no idea."
"Tell me," he whispered.
She sat there in silence. It occurred to her that she'd literally never spoken a word about anything. Not a single word, not a hint, not an allusion, anything. Beth didn't even know where she came from. Juliet hadn't completely lied to Beth...completely...but she certainly didn't know Juliet the way she thought she did. Juliet's heart broke at the thought. Beth didn't deserve that.
She took a deep breath and she found her finger trailing along the skin below Eric's chest. Why she suddenly felt completely compelled to pour her heart out to him, she didn't know. But even she knew that finally getting it all out had to help release the demons inside her, at least a little. She wasn't sure Eric was the right platform for it, but she didn't feel like she could keep it from him. Knowing it was a mistake, knowing she should keep her mouth shut, she spoke anyway. "How old are you?" She asked.
His stomach jerked underneath her as he scoffed a laugh. "Um...is that relevant?"
"Please don't tell me you're jailbait or something."
He chuckled lightly. "Do I look like jailbait?"
"You never know nowadays," she muttered.
He sighed and tightened his grip around her arm. "I'm the same age as Travis. I'm twenty-seven."
Juliet blinked in confusion. "Same age as..."
"We're twins. Sad, but true."
She couldn't help but look up at him. "Twins? Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. You'd never know it, though, unless he were to cut his hair or I were to grow mine out--either of which will never happen."
"I barely figured out you were brothers..."
"He told you?"
"It wasn't terribly difficult. I think, um, I think Beth wanted to hook us up...you and I...she has such a terrible poker face..."
"And, look there, we have minds of our own. Who knew?"
Juliet lightly giggled at his joke before she sighed. "Wow. Twenty-seven. That's quite an age difference..."
"Age is nothing but a number."
"Depends on who you ask."
"How old do you feel?"
"By day? Thirty-three. By night...sixty-three."
"And right now?"
She slid her arm around his waist and buried her cheek against his bare skin. "Just three," she whispered. He held her tighter and he pressed his lips against her head so tenderly that it caused a tear to fall down her cheek. "To be honest, um, three is probably the last time I ever felt like...I don't know, like someone cared about me. I--I know we just met and...and it's never a good idea to, you know, spill your guts like this when you first meet someone, but--I just feel like I want to tell you everything but I don't want you to be weird with me about it."
"You can tell me anything. Tell me anything you want, talk until your heart's content."
Juliet took a breath and turned her head, pressing her lips into his skin. She let herself linger for a moment before she mustered up the courage to speak, the tears already welling up in her eyes before she said her first word. "I'm originally from Kentucky. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a toddler. My grandmother wasn't healthy enough to care for me, so I was put into foster care and that's where I stayed."
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in sudden shock. It was like she had stunned herself into silence. She'd never said those words out loud before. She'd spent her entire life suppressing everything she could possibly suppress. Out of sight, out of mind, was her motto, and she lived it to the fullest.
Her silence caused Eric to adjust himself underneath her, straightening his body up and pulling her tighter against him. He dropped his head and he kissed her forehead silently. He never spoke a word, but his actions spoke volumes.
Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she continued. "Nobody adopted me. The, um, the older I got, the less of a chance I got at it. Parents only wanted babies--the good parents, that is. Most of the foster homes I was put in only took foster kids for the paychecks. Some didn't even care if I lived or died. I've, um, I've been hungry. I've been cold. I've been beaten." She sucked in a breath and quickly wiped a tear that escaped from her eye, clearing her throat. "But I don't feel sorry for myself. Everything I went through has ultimately made me stronger."
"Juliet--" he breathed. "That's not--it's--"
"Art was my only escape. My favorite things to draw were houses. I always found myself drawing my ideal home--warm, comfortable, inviting...safe. Everything I never knew..."
"When you said nobody had ever been at your place before, you--you weren't exaggerating..."
"You're the first man who's ever even set foot inside my bedroom."
"I'm--I would have thought--"
"I know. I, um...I know."
"Juliet, I want you to know, I'm not--I didn't want to come here and intrude on you. This is still your home, you're still safe--"
"I know," she whispered.
"You don't have to continue if you don't want to."
"Are you saying that because you can't handle it? Because that's not all of it--"
"No," he said. "No, I was just looking out for you. I just want you to be comfortable talking to me."
"I am. If--if I wasn't, I wouldn't be telling you any of this." Taking a deep breath, she bit her lip, ashamed of what was coming next. "When I was a teenager--a young teenager--I lost my innocence. I was, um, barely fourteen. I gave it up to one of the foster fathers in exchange for beer. It was voluntary. It was--I was so far gone by that point, I didn't care what happened to me. They started giving me drugs on top of the alcohol, and...and I kept..." She stopped as the tears welled up in her eyes again. "I'm so ashamed of myself," she whispered. "I should never have--there was one--I never stayed in a home for long, but there was one and he would--he would let his friends come over and...and take their liberties. The mother was at work, the other kids were at school...and I would stay home and toss pills down my throat and make it with middle-aged men. And I allowed it to happen, I never said no, because as long as they were...you know, with me, I was getting drugs--and as long as I was getting drugs, I hardly remembered it was happening. Oh my god," she gasped, the tears starting to pour down her cheeks. "I never knew how fucked up I was until just now. I was--how could I let them do that to me?"
"That is trafficking," Eric said firmly, his voice wavering. "What they did to you was illegal on so many levels, Juliet, so many levels--not to mention sickening and barbaric--and none of it was your fault. None of it."
Juliet sat up and she wiped her nose and her eyes, adjusting her sweater around her waist. "You know what? I appreciate you listening, but--I don't think we should be doing this. This is--you don't need to hear this, it's too much and we just met--"
"Then don't talk about it if you don't want to. I'm not going anywhere, regardless. But just know, if you've never talked about it before, then continuing to not talk about it is not going to help you--"
"I don't need help. I survived and I'm fine. Look at me."
He looked her over and he nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said gently. "Except that hiding isn't survival. It doesn't mean you've overcome it. It means that all you did was run."
She snorted a breath through her nose and she glared at him. "I didn't invite you into my bed for a therapy session, I invited you so I could fuck you."
His face turned red and his glared matched hers. "I know you're not angry with me right now, but at yourself. So I'm gonna let that one slide."
"I'm not angry at myself--"
"You are. You're angry because you've let this rule your entire life. You don't know love, you don't know happiness, and all you know how to do is treat men like they're trash because that's how you've been treated, because you're choosing to run and not deal with your issues. You're a smart woman, Juliet. You know this."
His words stunned her and she stared down at the bed between them. He was right and she knew it. The man had no idea what she was dealing with and, yet, he was wise beyond his years. He'd spent the night so far reading her like a book and, for that, she let him speak to her the way he did. He wasn't demeaning, he wasn't accusatory, he wasn't pointing fingers or laying blame--he was telling the truth.
"I met Steve when I was sixteen," she whispered, adjusting her legs and sitting Indian-style, pulling the comforter into her lap. "He paid attention to me. He showed me affection--real affection. I was so desperate for a brand new reality that I clung to him like...some...pathetic lifeline. He was older than me--twenty-two--and the more time I spent with him, the less I took the drugs. He cared about me and that feeling replaced the drugs, like...anyway, when I was seventeen, I married him. Lied about my age to do it. He worked all day on this construction site or the other. I sat at home and kept up our tiny house, made sure his dinner was warm and his beer was open when he walked in the door. For the first time in my life, I felt happiness."
Absentmindedly, she turned Eric's hand over and began walking her fingers over his palm and mindlessly concentrating on his fingers, unable to look at him. She took another breath and cleared her throat. "On my eighteenth birthday, I found out I couldn't have children. My, um, ovaries don't produce the eggs. Anyway, our marriage--"
"So, wait. You can--you can never have children? Ever?"
She shook her head. "It would be a very, very involved process if I ever decided to, but I'm too old now, so--it is what it is. Anyway, our marriage changed after that. Things started to feel different. Steve drank more...stayed out later. To pass the time, I drew my houses and I started to help my friends decorate theirs." Pausing, she rubbed her forehead and she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just--I'm so tired..."
"Come here," he murmured, taking her in his arms again. "If you fall asleep, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Making herself comfortable as he lowered them into the bed, she lay on her back against his chest and laced her fingers into his as his arm wrapped around her chest. "One night he came home early and I was sitting there, looking at paint swatches and wallpaper samples for my friend's nursery who was due in several weeks. That was...that was the first time he hit me. He threw all of my work around the room and he hit me and he screamed at me. He called me a worthless little whore. 'You can't even produce a kid for me, why the fuck are you worried about someone else's little bastard?' Then he accused me of cheating on him and then he--he--" She couldn't get it out. She hiccupped the tears that rose in her throat and she couldn't get the words out.
"You're safe with me, Juliet. I promise you you're safe."
Her eyes widened at the ceiling, filling with burning salt water, and she covered her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe she was going to say it out loud and it was near impossible. The shock and the memories hit her harder than they ever had before and she was so ashamed she couldn't breathe. "My husband raped me," she squeaked out, nearly inaudibly. "He honestly, truly...raped me. To the full definition of the word. He didn't care what was going on--if I was bleeding or sick or in pain--he just raped me. He abused me and he raped me--he would pin me down on my back and hold my wrists above my head. I couldn't move--I could never move--" She gasped her tears as they exploded from her chest, and she balled up her fists so hard now her body shook. "He used to love me--I thought he loved me, and then--and then he used to pin me on my back and he hurt me--and while I was crying and praying for death, he was demanding that I talk dirty to him--and sometimes he would--he would beat me while he raped me, it was--" Her mouth hung open as she struggled for breath. She didn't want to remember. She never wanted to remember.
"Where is he now?"
"I never knew any better. Even as he hurt me, it was still better than I'd been treated before. I took it because he would always point out that if it weren't for him, I'd be laying in a gutter somewhere. That I should appreciate having a roof over my head--and I did. So I didn't leave because it was the best I'd ever known...I stayed and I enabled him...I let him hurt me..."
"Where is he now?"
"But he can't hurt me anymore," she said through her teeth. "God damn him, he can't hurt me anymore. I'm not pathetic anymore, I'm not dependent, I'm not worthless. I'm self-taught, self-made, and independent. I live by my own rules, I'm strong, and I will never be forced to submit to another man for as long as I live. Now...they submit to me."
"Juliet. Where is he?"
"In hell, where he belongs," she muttered angrily. "In hell, and I should have killed him myself."
"He's dead?"
"Yes. He fell off a piece of equipment on the job. Broke his neck in the fall, it was instant. And even then he got off too easy. When they called me to identify the body and I saw him all cold and dead, I broke down. I was written off as a distraught wife, but the truth was, they were tears of joy. I was no longer in pain. I was free. I didn't have to suffer anymore. So I cleaned the bank account of what little bit was there and I abandoned the house. I didn't care about any of it. Nothing at all. I took the first bus out of town and ended up here. I slept on the hardwood floor of a cheap, rundown, empty apartment. I got a job as a waitress when the life insurance money started to run out and that's where I met Beth, who had just gotten her degree in architecture. She was the first person who ever recognized that I had any talent at all. I was about to be evicted from my apartment, so she packed me up and moved me in with her. She helped me with the business, introduced me to some people--and now here I am. She'll never know it, but she saved my life."
"Remind me to thank her."
Juliet lay there in silence for a minute or two, trying desperately to enjoy being in Eric's arms. But the truth was, she was mortified. The more she thought about what just happened, the worse she felt. She sat up and she turned around and looked down at him as he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Why?"
"I shouldn't have--there is so much baggage there--too much--I shouldn't have thrown all of that on you like that, real people don't--"
"We're real people, here. You and I. It is what it is, this is what people do. They lay here together and they talk and they help each other and they--they're just real. Juliet, you've been through a hell that is unimaginable--I've personally never wanted to murder so many people at one time in my life. And you've got work to do to get through it, but--but do you realize how remarkable of a woman you turned out to be?"
She shook her head and she smiled. "You don't even know me--"
"I do know you. I can't explain it, but I feel like I've known you my entire life. Did you--did you know we go to the same gym? We climb the same wall?"
"How--?"
"Ted's the only belayer I'll let within a ten-foot radius of me."
"Me, too..."
"I peeked at his schedule sheet last weekend. Saw your name on there..."
"I love climbing," she admitted.
Taking her hand, he lifted it and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Maybe you and I should climb together sometime."
She narrowed her eyes at him in disgust. "I don't share Ted."
He returned her glower. "Neither do I."
She sighed, mockingly. "I knew it. We're doomed already."
"No," he smiled. "We're just beginning."
"I would let you be my belayer," she admitted.
He widened his eyes and he smiled. "Really? You've never even seen me climb. I could be a klutz, I could space out, you might fall--"
"I might fall. But spaced out or not, you'd still be there to break it and that would be okay."
With that, Eric sat up and reached a hand around Juliet's neck, pulling her face into his and kissing her so tender and deep, the familiar chills came back to her body and she welcomed them with renewed delight. She found herself wanting him again, now even more badly than she did before. She wanted to live in his arms, make love to his body, and lose herself completely in his touch.
Breaking the kiss, she slid her hands up his neck and swept her thumbs over his cheeks, looking deep into his warm, gentle blue eyes. "We've talked," she smiled. "Maybe a little too much. Will you please let me do 'and stuff' to you?"
A smile spread deviously across his face as he glanced downward. "Baby, 'and stuff' is already going on down there."
"Oh, thank God," she grinned with relief as she peeled her sweater off of her shoulders.
She swung her leg over him, straddling him and treating her mouth to the addiction that was his. He wasn't kidding about what was going on under the covers. She reached down and pulled the comforter out from between their bodies and his dick immediately brushed between her legs upon the unveiling. Arousal coursing through her veins at the taste she'd gotten, she positioned herself immediately so that she was grinding against him.
Sliding his hands up her thighs, he gripped the bottom of her tiny nightgown and peeled it off over her head, licking his lips as he ran his hand over her chest. "Shit," he whispered. He took her breasts in his hands, unusually pleased that he enjoyed one of the first purchases she'd made with her paycheck from her business, and she grinded herself into his dick as swept his thumbs repeatedly over her hardened nipples.
Finally, his hands drifted to her hips and he started to grind into her from underneath, the looks of pleasure that plagued his face exciting her more and more. Before long, she couldn't take it anymore, and she reached between her legs and positioned him, lowering herself on him, staring intently into his eyes as she got her bearings and found her rhythm.
The way he filled her came as a shock and she wished she'd have gotten a look at him beforehand. She could only imagine, though, because she was not expecting the size that he was and her jaw dropped open in shocked pleasure as her hips rolled into him, feeling so good, she almost didn't even need to work so hard.
"Oh my god," she whispered as she rested her hands on his legs behind her, sitting back, and rolling her hips slowly on him. It didn't take long before her body trembled with pleasure. "Oh my god..."
As she let her head fall back, his hands explored her body and his heavy breathing and light groaning causing her to come closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, Juliet," he whispered. "Fuck, yeah..."
Lifting her head, she pulled him closer to her as she changed her rhythm and rode him harder. Gripping his head and neck with her hands, she collapsed her forehead against his, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw hurt, but she didn't care because she had never fucked a man that felt this good in her entire life.
"Let me fuck you," he whispered.
"This feels so good," she breathed.
"I know. But I'm pretty sure I promised you a grand slam."
"Oh my god," she laughed, helpless, slowing her grinding and collapsing her closed hand onto his shoulder. "Don't ruin the moment with your talking."
Wrapping his arms around her waist, in one swift movement, he laid her on her back. This time, though, she allowed it. She was comfortable with him. She was safe. And she wanted him in ways she never knew she could want a man.
Letting her arms rest above her head, she spread her legs and arched her back to prepare for him. This was new and it was exciting. She hadn't had sex in this position in--well since then. And if the way she felt straddling him was any indication of what it might feel like on her back, she was ready.
As he positioned himself between her legs, he ran his hand gently over her body and then he glanced upward. She could tell he tried to hide his expression, but he couldn't get it past her. "Juliet, no," he whispered gently. He reached up and took one of her hands and placed it around his neck. "Touch me. Don't ever stop touching me."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. "You're so beautiful," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Take me," she whispered. "Please take me away from here."
She sounded desperate and she knew it, but she didn't care. She felt him slowly slide his dick inside her and she arched her back automatically in response, lifting her chin toward the ceiling. "Oh my god," she whispered.
Juliet closed her eyes as Eric's hips rolled into her, his dick hitting her in the right spot every single time. He was slow and he was deliberate and it was starting to feel like a tease. She opened her eyes to look at him and his eyes were watching her. She lifted her head to kiss him, unable to resist those luscious, enticing lips of his, and he tugged gently on her bottom lip as he began to just slightly pick up speed.
It was enough for her. She tucked her arms under his and reached downward, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him into her. He moaned as his intensity picked up and she spread her legs wider underneath him. Feeling herself losing control very quickly, she reached back up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body down against hers, rolling her hips back into him as a response, the rhythm they made together turning into magic and the room started to spin.
"Oh my god," she whispered, a helpless tear escaping her eye at the overwhelming sense of emotion and passion that took her over. "That feels so good, Eric. Please don't stop."
He lifted his body off of her just enough so that his hips could roll harder and faster into her and she gasped for breath, gripping his arms beside her, and running her nails up and down them. She tried to keep from coming so fast. She tried as hard as she could.
He hooked his wrist around her thigh and lowered himself closer to her, breathing in her ear as he fucked her, sending the chills straight between her legs. She bit her lip and moaned through her lips and in that moment, he kissed her ear and he whispered, "It's okay. Scream and be free, Juliet. Scream and be free."
The fact that he'd just quoted her favorite song, not once, but twice, sent her over the edge. There was no way he could know what her favorite song was and that was enough to tell her that they had connected on a level too deep for words. Her orgasm came easily, it came strong, and it came more intense than anything she'd ever felt. If her condo hadn't been so big, she knew that the neighbors likely would have heard her for how loudly she let herself go. But it felt so good. The release made her body tremble with pleasure and relief and it was so satisfying, it almost felt like therapy.
He had finished seconds later and when he'd calmed himself, he lowered himself back on top of her and his kiss caused her to weep. "I'm sorry," she said through her tears. "It wasn't bad, I promise. It was just so good, I can't help myself."
"Well," he smiled sheepishly. "My goal in life is to definitely not make women cry after sex..."
"Oh, but it's good," she whispered reassuringly, caressing his face with her hands. "It's so good."
"That was probably the best I've ever had," he smiled.
"That was the best I've ever had," she replied, her smile through her tears matching his. She couldn't control the giggle that came with it. "I've never felt anything like that before." And then her stomach rumbled--loudly.
Eric raised his eyebrows and smiled in pleasant surprise. "Oh?" He asked, his fingers trailing down her body and stopping at her stomach. "What's that, you say?"
"I'm hungry," she admitted. "I didn't eat much at the party."
"That's not what I heard," he grinned.
"What you're hearing is a dead man if this going where I think it's going."
"Then I'll die a happy man."
"I'm serious." She bit her lip and she grinned. "Tell me there are leftovers."
"This...this whole night just got a lot less romantic..."
"Sweetheart, it got less romantic the moment you came. You know how this works. Right now I'm going to raid my refrigerator. You can...you can either stay and raid with me or you can go home."
His expression softened and he studied her eyes for a moment. "You'd let me stay?"
"Do you want to stay?"
"I'll stay until you kick me out."
She grinned, feeling the most freeing delight she'd ever felt. This kind of happiness was new. She didn't ever want it to go away. For now, however...
"Good. Now get off me," she giggled as she pushed him away. She fished for her sweater and wrapped it around her, and then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the first pair of socks she found--which happened to be his.
"Hey," he caught her. "What's the big idea?"
"My feet are cold."
"What about mine?"
"You're a big boy, you can handle it."
"Is that--is that what all that sock talk was about? Did you just con me out of my fucking socks?"
"Oh, you'll get them back, just keep your pants on." Then she turned and looked him over, raising an eyebrow. "Or not..."
"Well. That's fine, then," he said, crawling out of the bed alongside her. "Hope you don't have neighbors in the next building. 'Cause they're about to get an eyeful."
"Are you seriously going to walk around my apartment, naked?"
He looked her dead in her eyes. "You stole my socks. I've earned it."
She bit her lip and she giggled as she trotted briskly to the kitchen. Minutes later, they brought leftover party favors to bed and sat next to each other, each one ignoring the time on the clock that read after two in the morning. They laughed, they talked, Eric shared entertaining stories involving elementary school and twin-swapping on the teachers. They discussed serious matters like the Humane Society and the foster care system in New York. Eric told her about his accounting degree and she shared her disdain for math. They told jokes, they kissed, and they whispered sweet nothings to each other. Their talking was endless, the only thing ending their conversation was the way they fell asleep, wrapped up and entangled in each other.
It was the happiest, most blissful night Juliet had ever had. It was heavy and it was emotional, eventful and therapeutic. It was also fun, erotic, and comfortable. She'd never met a man like Eric before she dared flirt with the idea that she wasn't interested in another one. Even more daring was the fact that she wanted to see him again after tonight.
Especially since waking up next to him was another thrill she couldn't wait to experience.