Something dark and terrible crosses his face, his skin losing its previously healthy pallor. “Were you forced?”
“Nothing like that,” I rush to assure him. “I did it because it was expected. I wasn’t emotionally ready for it. I didn’t. . .”
I trail off, needing to take a breath, hating the thought of Namik’s hands on me. I close my eyes and bring both palms up to rub the disgust off my face. He hadn’t wanted to wait to know each other better before getting physical. In my weak state of mind, I’d given in, hoping it would get better with time. It hadn’t.
Namik’s wants and needs always took priority and, as time passed, I learned to be quiet to keep the peace. I’d tolerated our time in the bedroom to avoid the emotional blackmail or the arguments that would follow when I didn’t put out. Desperate to make sense of how I felt, I convinced myself I don’t get aroused like others do. I assumed I was the problem. Namik certainly made it seem that way.
Finding another man attractive became easier once I stopped living within the confines he’d set. It was like I’d gotten my sight back.
However, no one else has come close to how Cal makes me feel. If he thinks I’m broken after my confession, I’m not sure I’ll get over it.
When I open my eyes again, Callum’s head is lowered, his focus on his tightly clenched fists. His breathing is audible to my ears as he mutters a low curse under his breath, agitatedly raking a hand through his hair. My heart drops when he turns away for a second,but when his eyes catch mine, there is no disgust in them. Only worry.
Wordlessly, he opens his arms, waiting for me to make my choice. One step is all I take when he decisively draws me into him, engulfing me in his embrace. He holds me like he’ll protect me from everything. Even from my memories.
There, standing with my face pressed into his chest and the scent of his cologne anchoring me, the carefully constructed dam around my pain cracks. The fear of the unknown, the ache of failure, and the shame of falling short of who I should’ve been flows through my blood and leaks out of my eyes. For longer than I care to admit, I lean into Cal for support, his quiet murmur and the brush of his stubble along my hairline oddly comforting. When I finally draw back, my face is wet. I wipe it off quickly, ashamed.
“S-sorry,” I sniff, at a loss for words.
“Don’t be. We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Alia.”
“But I came here after you. It was meant to be this grand gesture to show you I’m ready.” Annoyance pulses through me for letting the revenant of Namik’s actions ruin what should bemymoment to shine.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
“But. . .”
“No,” Cal says firmly. I can’t look away from him and even if I were to try; I don’t think he’d let me. Emerald eyes peer into me with an intensity that makes me feel naked. Like he can see my soul through every tormented layer which makes me who I am today.
“There are no conditions to this,” he assures me. “If you don’t want to have sex. . .”
“But I do!” I interrupt quickly, blood rushing to my face when I realize how desperate I sound. I’m at my wit’s end and I have nothing left to lose. “I do want to have sex. With you. I’m just not sure I’m any good at it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he thinks this through. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
“What if you don’t like it?” I worry.
“It’s not about me. Tell me whatyouwant.”
“It always hurt,” I admit softly. “Logically, I know it doesn’t have to. But my body seized because that’s what I’ve come to expect. I need you to show me I’m wrong. Can we please go. . . slow?”
The look that flashes in his eyes—like he’s in pain—is gone before I can point it out.
“What else?” he asks.
“I. . . um. I’m clear,” I gulp, forcing myself to lay it out. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I wasn’t.” It was a small mercy that the STI Namik passed to me was curable.
“We get tested periodically through the season. I’m clear too, Tots. I promise I won’t put you at risk.”
The last time I was naked, Namik was drunk. He’d finished, turned away, and slept without a word. I only remember lying there, feeling used and unwanted afterward.
“Lights.” I point to the table lamp near us. “Could we turn it down please?”
Cal’s jaw twitches and I can tell he isn’t pleased. But I’m nervous and a dim room will afford me some semblance of security.
He taps the remote, and it only takes a couple seconds for my eyes to acclimate to the change. I can still make out the side of his face closest to the window. Outside, millions of city lights flicker and beg for attention. But none of the glitz of Vegas holds any of the attraction the man in front of me does. He brings me closer, helping me straddle him as he sits down at the edge of the bed.
I stroke one hand along his forearm, watching the tips of my fingers trace the veins that pop against creamy skin, traversing the curvature of his well-formed biceps. I wish he’d say something,dosomething. I don’t know how to recover the mood we’d first entered the room in.