Show Me How (It's Kind Of Personal Book 2) (8 page)

“You’ve been thirty-five minutes from the house. For twelve years?” If I wasn’t in such a state of disbelief, I could have formulated a better response.

“Betty offered me a room if I’d clean for her.” She swallows and walks to the bathroom to fill a cup with water. When she’s done, her long legs fold as she kneels on a chair. “I’ve been here this whole time.”

Chapter 7

Mary

“So close. You’ve been so close. This whole time?” Brandon stutters, and though I didn’t think it was possible, more guilt stacks in my chest. The man who is always cool, calm, and collected is stammering over his words.

“Yes.”

“What have you done for money?”

I swallow and sit on my bed. “Am I talking to you, Brandon, or the cop, Brandon?”

“Me, Brandon. Always, Mary. It’s always just me.”

He sits across from me, long legs crossed. And I smile for a second at how uncomfortable he looks. “Sorry my accommodations aren’t more comfortable.”

“I’d sit on glass to talk to you. Stop stalling.”

My head bobs, and I oblige. “After I left you that note, I ran. No destination in mind. I just knew I had to leave. I ended up here and went to check into a room for the night. Betty took pity on me and we got to talking.” I tell him everything. Cleaning the other places for cash, paying Betty to buy me a car, running to feel like I’m not a prisoner, wearing a disguise out shopping.

“You’re unbelievable.” Instead of anger or sarcasm, his voice is full of awe. He shakes his head and crawls toward me. Instinctively, I lean away. The back of my head hits the headboard and he pushes forward to rest his forehead on mine.

“You’re serious?” I was expecting him to continue to be mad at me. I wouldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, I’d be so pissed at him for leaving me . . . even if he did think it was to protect me.

“Honestly, you’re amazing. Strong.” The cool tips of his fingers trace down my scar. “Smart.” The other hand taps my temple. “Beautiful.” He trails both of his hands to meet on my face, and with a feather light touch, he runs his fingers down my cheeks. “Sexy.”

In a flash, he pulls me down so I’m on my back and his body is on top of mine. Every hard inch. The days, nights, years I thought about this were nothing compared to the feeling of him pressed against me.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you than I was. But good goddamn . . .” He trails off and lowers his head to ravage my neck.

He sucks, kisses, and licks the sensitive skin, and I raise my hips to get some friction on the place that’s burning for him. We both groan when I rub against his erection, and he slams his mouth to mine. Our tongues fight to get deeper, to get more. It’s rough, urgent, and desperate—over a decade in the making. He rocks into me, and I pull my head away to catch my breath.

His eyes are blazing, and it seems surreal that he’s actually here. I expected him to hate me, not want me. My attitude and anger toward him are nothing but a disguise to hide the fact that I’m so fucking lonely without him. I did what I thought was best, at the time.

The hands that so gently pointed out how beautiful I was are now gripping my hips with bruising force. He moves them under my shirt and when they reach the lace of my bra, he freezes and looks at my eyes, asking if this is okay.

“Touch me,” I whisper.

I raise my arms so he can remove my shirt and bra. Then he traces my nipples with his fingers, then his tongue.

“So fuckin’ hot.” He pants.

I grab his head as it goes lower down my belly to the top of my black yoga pants. When he dips his fingers inside the elastic, he stops again to look at me. I nod, but he shakes his head.

“Tell me.”

I sigh and answer. “Yes.”

Using both hands, he lowers the material of my pants and underwear then takes them off. He traces my legs from ankle to knee with his lips then scoots back down to do the same to the other leg. Once he arrives at the apex of my thighs, his hot breath on the small, trimmed triangle of hair is enough to set me off.

“Please, Brandon,” I beg. I want this so bad. I’ve never had this before. Never trusted anyone enough to go down on me. Never wanted to look down and see another man’s head between my legs.

His thumbs part my lower lips and he places a long, soft, wet kiss to my clit. My hips shoot off the bed, but he uses an arm to press me back onto the mattress. The index finger of the other hand pushes inside of me, and I grip the sheets even harder. The sensations are extraordinary and new, but somehow familiar with him.

“God, Mary. You’re so . . . damn.”

He continues fucking me with his finger and gently licking my clit until I feel the explosion about to happen. It’s different from the ones I’ve given myself, so much better, and so much
more
than anything anyone else has ever given me. My thighs begin to shake and the heat low in my belly is now an inferno.

“I’m so close. Holy . . .”

He takes the arm off my stomach and leans up. Using two fingers now, he pumps them in and out at a furious pace.

“Let me see you, Mary. I wanna see you fall apart.” He leans over me and licks my lips with his tongue, my taste assaulting my senses. “Taste like candy, babe. So fuckin’ sweet. So perfect.”

I want to come so bad, but I also want this to last forever. I hold on as long as I can. His fingers still work me, and when he says, “Come, Mary,” I do, in fact, explode. Every cell in my body joins in and the pressure between my legs bursts in a kind of pleasure I didn’t know was possible.

He slows his fingers and gently pulls them out, then sucks my juices off. He lies next to me and I wrap myself around his body. My legs tangle with his and an arm drapes across his muscular chest.

When I can finally breathe normally again, I walk my fingers to the bulge in his pants. I grip it outside his jeans, and he hisses and grabs my wrist to bring my hand back.

“No. Not this time.”

“But—”

“I’ve wanted to do that to you since I saw my first porno.”

I laugh. “And how old were you?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Thirteen, maybe?”

“I would have let you. I mean not at thirteen, but later.”

He turns to his side and traces my eyebrows. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever try?” I’ve wanted to ask him this for so long. He had to have known how I felt; it radiated from me that I was in love with him.

He scrubs his hands over his face and turns over onto his back. “I didn’t want to ruin us. Our friendship. I knew you had bad shit going on at home. You needed me as a friend; you needed my family . . . I couldn’t risk not being able to be there for you ‘cause I wanted to get in your pants. You were, fuck, still are, worth more to me than anything else in my life, Mary. I was too scared I’d lose you somehow. Plus, my dad would have killed me.”

Tears well my eyes, but I blink them back before he can see. “You could never lose me.” The second the words leave my mouth, I gasp at the look he shoots my way. Eyes squinted, jaw tight . . . mad.

“No?” He stands and places his hands on his hips and stares at me. Just stares. I don’t like being under his scrutiny like this. “What the fuck do you think happened? I did lose you! You fucking left!”

I scramble off the bed and grab my clothes then run the couple of steps to the bathroom before slamming the door. I get dressed as fast as I can and splash some cold water on my face. He’s right. I know it. He has every right to be pissed. I expected it. I don’t know what to do right now. I’m so confused. He should go because we both need to think.

I open the door, and he rises from the bed and pulls me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay.” I pat his back and step away from him. “I think you should go, though.”

“What?”

“Just for a day or two. This is hard for both of us, and I need some time to think. You do, too. Plus, I need to work. But I promise. I fucking promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales loudly and nods his head. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Then he gives me a hard kiss and walks out.

I stand there for a few minutes staring at the door he just walked out of so easily. It’s what I wanted though, but now I worry that he’ll never come back. That he’ll leave me. That would be karma if I ever saw it.

“Ugh!” I roughly re-tie my hair in a ponytail and my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten today. I open the fridge and pull out the brown paper bag Brandon brought. When I open it and see Chinese, I smile like an idiot. My favorite.

* * *

It takes me the rest of the day to finish cleaning. Normally when I work, it takes my mind off my past. But today it won’t leave me no matter how hard I try.

I take an extra hot shower and collapse on the bed in my sleeping shorts, a tank top, and fuzzy slippers. My fingers rub the comforter where Brandon was lying earlier. His woodsy smell lingers and a blush spreads over my cheeks when I remember what happened earlier.

The right decision was for him to leave. There’s so much history and too many feelings to count. We definitely need time. I’m just about to doze off when there is a knock on my door.

Crap.

I forgot to bring Betty her books. I grab the bag from the drawer, and like an idiot open the door without looking through the peephole.

“Hey, Slim.”

“Joe.”

He leans in to kiss my cheek, and I don’t move.

“What?” He walks in and plops on my bed, arms behind his head. “Not happy to see me?”

Joe is my . . . fuck buddy. He’s a trucker who stops through every three to four weeks. I met him one night about four years ago when I was at Betty’s place. Her home connects to the office. Joe’s father was a regular here, and Betty had known Joe since he was a baby. I was having a beer with her, and he knocked on her door.

Betty swore up and down that he was a good guy. She trusted him. And since I trusted her, I let him walk me back to my room. He didn’t even touch me that first night. The next time he was in town, he passed me when I was on my way back from doing laundry. It really was one of those ‘it just happened’ things.

Before Joe, I’d only had sex with two other men. And I was twenty-four when I lost my virginity. Both other men were staying at the motel and alcohol definitely played a factor. I had only let my guard down a few times and regretted it every time.

Joe’s the only one who has been in my room, and he really is a nice guy. He’s never here for more than a night, and what little time we spend together is always fun.

The stark contrast between Brandon and Joe lying on my bed is insane. Joe’s a few inches shorter and has a slightly rounded belly. His hair is dark blond and his eyes are green. He has a few more wrinkles around his eyes than I would expect for a thirty-four-year-old man, but I assume it’s from squinting in the sun while driving.

I shut the door and put the books away.

“Joe, I . . .”

He must sense the tension in my voice because he sits up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is really wrong, but I can’t.” I clear my throat and stand up straighter. “We can’t do this anymore.”

His brows furrow together and he stands directly in front of me. “Why not?”

“There’s a guy.”

“Oh. I see.” He sits down and pats the bed next to me.

I sit as far away as I can, not out of fear, but because it feels awkward almost, and offer a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I understand. I don’t expect you not to have a relationship because of me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll miss seeing you. And I don’t just mean the sex. I have fun with you.”

“Me, too.”

“You have my number if you ever change your mind or if things with this guy don’t work out.”

“I do.” Lord help me, I want it to work out with Brandon. It’s been my dream for more than half my life, but we haven’t exactly addressed the elephant in the room . . . Steve.

“Wanna order a pizza and get a movie?”

I look at Joe. Really look at him. There is nothing but kindness on his face and a genuine smile on his lips. He’s been good to me. One of the only other people aside from Betty who I’ve really talked to. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I kicked him out. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

I shrug. “Sure. You order and I’ll pick out a movie.”

I flip through the channels, quickly passing the free porn, and find an action movie on one of the movie channels.

“Pizza will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Cool. Is this good?” I point to the itty-bitty television screen.

“Yeah. It’s great.”

We watch the movie for about fifteen minutes. “You want wine or beer?”

“Beer’s good. Thanks.”

“Be back in a few.”

While he’s gone across the street to the gas station/restaurant, I use the bathroom and get out paper plates and napkins.

When he returns, we eat pizza, drink beer, and watch crappy movies. It’s fun, and I do like Joe. But it makes me realize even more how deeply in love with Brandon I am.

Chapter 8

Brandon

After I leave Mary, I drive to my parents’ house. I feel like an ass for yelling at her, but when she said I could never lose her, I lost it. I’ve felt for years that I had lost her. Scaring her away by being a prick isn’t going to help. She needs to know that I’m here for her. I’m not giving her a choice.

Part of me understands why she thinks she needed to do what she did. I wish she had talked to me, explained the threat she felt she was under. My family and I could have reassured her. We would have promised to keep her safe.

But the past is the past. We can’t change it. So the only thing I can do is push on and hope she wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her. And God, do I want to be with her. More so now than ever. When I tasted her for the first time, every feeling for her multiplied. They intensified and seeped into my veins. There’s no way, absolutely no fucking way, I can lose her again.

With a quick knock, I open the door to my parents’ house and holler to announce my presence.

“In the den!” my dad shouts.

“Hi, Brandon. Go sit by your father and I’ll bring you a snack!” Mom yells from the kitchen.