Damaged 2 (13 page)

"She's
paid," Sean says in a clipped voice.

"It's
more than that, blind boy. Open your eyes." How can he not see it?

Sean
turns in his seat and looks at me. "You want Avery to come with us?"

I
shrug and look at Peter. "It's not like I invited you. Oh, and shotgun. I'm not
sitting next to the turkey."

Sean
gapes at me. I feel his eyes on the side of my face. "What?" I don't offer
clarification, although I feel bad for the turkey.

Sean
looks over at his brother. Peter's beyond amused, wearing a huge grin that
makes his eyes sparkle. "Oh, she's serious. She has a pet vulture that she
seems to have named 'the turkey.' That isn't a very good name, Sidney. And, I'd
like to add shotgun. That bastard will peck your eyes out if you drift off."

CHAPTER
19

Peter
and I are in the elevator. We left Sean sitting at the table alone. That man
worries me. I wonder if that's what's at the bottom of the cliff for Peter.
When Peter first told me about Sean, he said his brother was messed up. I
tighten my grip on his hand and lean into him. "Were you like that?"

"What,
like Sean?" I nod. Knots tie up my stomach. I'm a little bit afraid of what
Peter will say. We exit the elevator on our floor and walk down the hall. Peter
shakes his head. "No, at least I don't think so. Sean's not the kind of guy who
wears his heart on his sleeve."

"That's
an understatement. Damn, and I thought you were a head case." I realize what
I've said after I say it and smile weird since I can't gather the words and
swallow them back down.

Peter
stops me before we get to the room. He grabs me by the waist and places a hand
on either side of my head so that I lean my back against the wall. I look down
at my dress, wondering if I really am wearing something that was made for old
ladies. Broomstick skirts are for grannies with cankles. I don't remember why I
bought this dress.

A
smirk lights up Peter's face. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, saying,
"You thought I was a head case? Me? You realize you're in this relationship,
too, right?"

"Yeah,
but me and you are equally nuts, where Sean is meganuts." I glance up at Peter.
"He's a little freaky. Why did you want him to come?"

"Because
he's a little freaky and I need his help. Dean won't mess with you after this.
No one will." Peter kisses my forehead and takes my hand. We walk to the room
in silence. I don't know what he intends to do about Dean. There's nothing to
be done.

"Peter,
what are you going to do?" I don't like the tone of his voice, but at the same
time I love it. I hate that Dean did what he did and nothing happened to him. He
turned my own damn family against me. I lost everything because of him.

When
Peter doesn't say anything, I grab his shoulder and turn him around. Those
vivid blue eyes look back at me. "Are you going to hurt him?"

"I'm
going to make sure he doesn't hurt you anymore. Don't worry, Sidney. Go home,
talk to your mother, and see if you can make peace with your family. That's
what we came to do. Let me handle Sean and Dean."

"What
about Sam?"

"What
about him?"

"You
sound like you're planning to do something." My gaze shifts between his eyes,
looking for the truth. "Don't hurt Sam."

"Sam
should have protected you."

"Sam's
an asshole, I know that, but—"

Peter
kisses the top of my head. "Calm down. I won't hurt him if he doesn't hurt you.
If he stands there and does nothing again while Dean beats the shit out of you,
then he'll have a problem."

"Sam
wasn't there."

"Then
there's nothing to worry about."

I
nod slowly. Having someone looking out for me is different. I don't know what
to do with the feelings that are rising up inside of me. Half of me says that I
should be able to take care of myself, but the other part knows I need help. I
morph into the timid girl I was when Dean hurt me the other night. She
resurfaces no matter how far I've come. Sometimes I think my mind is going to
snap, that I'll bear more grief and pain than I can tolerate. I hope to God
that I never get pushed that far. It's extremely obvious that Sean was pushed
past his breaking point. The idea of living in a broken mind, unable to mend,
frightens me. I don't want that life.

Peter
opens the door and we go into the room. It's small but posh. The bed looks like
it is made out of fluffy white sheep.
Screw you, little lambs!
I can't
wait to jump on it and all its cloudy goodness. The headboard is lined with
fluffy white pillows. They look so soft and perfect.

Peter
strips off his suit jacket and walks over to sit on the bed. I know his pattern
by now. He'll undress and take a shower. Butterflies swirl in my stomach like a
vortex. I place my hand on Peter's arm and stop him. "Wait a second." Peter
looks back at me.

"What
is it?"

"I…"
I suck at this. I'm mental. I love you. Go with I love you.
"I suck at
this." Oh my God, my brain isn't listening to me. I look down, and when I
glance up again, Peter has a curious expression on his face, no doubt brought
about by my sudden timidity.

"I
liked the way you held your own with Sean." I nod. I don't want to talk about
Sean. I want to talk about Peter. I want to do something with Peter before I
lose my nerve, but I don't know where to start. It's like he can sense it.
Peter is all soft smiles and kind words. He tilts my chin up so I meet his
gaze. "What are you thinking in that beautiful head of yours?"

"I
want to try something with you, but I don't know how far I can go." I feel
weird saying it. There's a rebellion going on in my mind, and it's been growing
stronger each day. The more time I spend with Peter, the more I want to be with
him, but it's not so simple. I expect to shut down when I try to press forward.
The first time I tried to be with Peter was the furthest I'd gotten with
anyone, and even then, I anticipated a major freak-out. Getting touched like
that is like stroking his scar. There's no way to forget what happened to me. I
just hope that one day I can push past it, that it will no longer dictate my
life. I want this with Peter, but I don't know what it'll do to me. That
thought alone is enough to make me chicken out, but I already threw the words
out there. So I finish by asking, "Is that okay?"

"You
don't ever have to ask me that, all right? We go and stop when and where you
want. I won't push you at all, so you have to take the initiative here." He
gives me that boyish smile I love so much.

I
look away. Take the initiative? I can't do that. "I don't know how."

Peter
reaches for me and then lifts my hands to his lips, kissing my fingertips.
"Then tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen."

My
heart flutters at his kisses, at his words. Maybe I can do this. I repeat the
things Avery mentioned at the bar, the things that I could do that weren't
sex—the things that would make me feel secure enough to be with Peter if I
wanted to continue.

Peter's
gaze darkens as I say the things one by one. "I can do that. That sounds
perfect actually."

"It's
not just teasing you to the point that you're going to hire a hooker?"

He
laughs. "No, nothing could make me leave you. And being with you like that
sounds perfect. I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm a little gun-shy. I
completely freaked out that first night we were having coffee and couldn't hide
it. That's not gone. The emotions…it feels like betrayal, like cheating even
though I know it's not. Slower is good for me, I promise."

I
believe him. Every word he says pulls me closer and closer. Peter leans in and
lightly brushes his lips against mine. "Wait right here. I'll be right back." I
nod. My heart is pounding and I feel frantic, like I need to run. I shake out
my arms and kick my legs, but it doesn't help so I crank it up a notch. Kicking
my leg out hard behind me, I hold it and shake. The nervous energy is spent, so
I do it again with the other leg. I turn around so I don't kick the dresser or
punch the mirror and work my arms, too. I try to be quick, but apparently I take
too long.

Peter
sees me. "Are you doing the hokey pokey?" He's leaning in the bathroom doorway
with his arms folded over his chest like he's been standing there the whole
time. How come I never catch him doing anything dorky?

Feeling
silly, I reply, "Maybe."

He
grins and crosses the room. Water is running in the bathroom. Peter turns the
lamps off so that only a streak of white light from the bath illuminates the
room. Then he walks toward me slowly, outlined perfectly, and stops when we are
toe to toe. Cupping my face, Peter pulls me into a kiss. It builds slowly,
becoming deeper and stronger. When he backs away we're both breathless. Peter
looks down at my black dress, then his eyes flick up to mine. He reaches for my
hands and places them on his chest, leading me to the buttons.

Excitement
shoots through me in a burst. I try not to smile, but I can't help it and the
corners of my lips tip up. I remove his tie first and then start on the
buttons. I slip them through the tiny holes one by one and push his shirtfront
open. There's a white undershirt in the way. I glance down at his slacks, at
the belt, and swallow hard. I reach for him, pulling on the belt and unfastening
it. I don't think about the anxiety shooting through my veins or the way it's
twisting my stomach into a pretzel. I've seen him naked before. This isn't new,
but last time he stripped himself. Things change when I'm the one tugging his
clothing off. Swallowing the apprehension, I unbutton his pants. I tug his
shirt free and toss it on the floor. Next, I slide my hands up over his skin
and lift the undershirt over his head.

Peter
is breathing hard, watching me. My hands trail over his chest, feeling the firm
muscles beneath. I lean in slowly, trying not to think about what's next or how
far I'll go, and press my lips to his chest. Avery told me not to think ahead,
because it'll only freak me out. She's right about that. Moments of confidence
pass as I do whatever I feel like doing. Peter sucks in a gasp of air as he
threads his fingers through my hair when I slide my hands over his washboard
stomach. When I pull away, I don't have the nerve to look at him, though I can
feel his eyes on me.

The
rise and fall of his chest is hypnotic. My eyes remain locked in place, as I
inhale slowly. Peter's scent fills my head. It's become a familiar scent. It
reminds me of smiles, sweat, and dancing. I splay my hands just above his heart
and lean in close. Nothing distracts me. There are no distant thoughts lurking
at the back of my mind. I feel safe. I know he won't hurt me. I know I can stop
this right now and Peter will still love me.

Tension
runs through his body, but it's not just desire. It's more than that. Part of
Peter is holding back because he's also fearful, but for different reasons. It
kills me to hear the pain in his voice when he talks about Gina. She changed
him from a reckless boy into the unmarred version of the man standing in front
of me. Sometimes a life can do that, change a person. I wonder what changes I'm
bringing about in him and hope that they're good.

Peter's
chest feels warm beneath my hands. His eyes on my face—I can feel them there
caressing me—but I haven't looked up. When I do glance his way, all the air is
knocked out of my lungs. Peter's gaze is deep and dark with traces of remorse.
Last time we did anything like this, it didn't go anywhere. I slept next to
him, and we literally went to sleep. Before that, he pushed me away. But now, I
don't think he will. I think he wants more.

Remembering
to breathe, I suck in a trembling breath and tuck a strand of hair behind my
ear. "Is this what it's supposed to be like?"

His
voice is deep and rich. "That depends. How do you feel?"

"Nervous,
excited, happy…"

Peter
smiles and nods. "When you find the right person, yeah—this is what it feels
like." He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before taking my hand
and placing it over his heart. It's beating fast and hard. "Do you feel that?
We haven't even done anything yet and that's how I react to you."

I
watch him for a moment, wondering if he's all right. A lazy smile lines Peter's
lips, and his dark hair is hanging in his eyes. Lifting my hand, I touch the
silky strands and push them back. Twin pools of pure azure are studying my
face, learning the curves of my cheeks, and reading the shape of my lips. Peter
stretches and lets out a nervous sigh as he runs his hands through his hair.

I
react without thinking. I can tell Peter is emotionally scarred. It's not
something I can change, but it feels like we both need this. If we can get past
this part, we'll be better for it. Taking Peter's hands in mine, I pull him
closer to the bathroom where the water is still running. The tub is going to
overflow soon. My hands find his waist. I lean into him and slip my palms over
the small of his back, while hooking my thumbs over the edge of his slacks. I
slip them down and set them aside, then do the same for his socks after
stripping each foot. Peter is wearing blue boxers that are the same color as
his eyes. It makes me grin. I wonder if he did that on purpose.

When
I finish, Peter is standing there wearing next to nothing and I'm still fully
clothed. Peter agreed to let me do it this way—we both thought it would be
better if I'm the one in control. I reach up behind me and feel the dress's
zipper tab between my fingers. I pull it down slowly and let the clothing fall
open in front. Peter's eyes watch the fabric slip away, revealing a black bra
beneath. I shimmy the dress past my hips and let it fall to the floor. I bend
over and slip off my stockings. I doubt that was suggestive, but when I stand
up Peter's expression says it was beyond sexy. His eyes greedily drink me in,
but he doesn't come forward and touch me, not yet.