“I guess I’m just doing what I always do,” I confess. “Everything is just going so smooth. You’re being so kind to me. I guess I’m just preparing myself for the bad shit that’s inevitably going to happen. I mean seriously, you really can’t be perfect, can you?”
He leans over in the seat and looks me in the eye, I mean really stares. He doesn’t blink or look or away and it makes me kind of uncomfortable.
“I’m not perfect,” he says. “Can’t you see it?”
I stare as hard as I can, trying to see what he wants me to see, but all I can do is get lost in those dark brown orbs.
“My eye. It’s not real. It’s a fake.”
“Really? You would never guess just looking at it.”
“That’s what happens when your parents are rich. You don’t have to say that to be kind, though, Mia. You can tell me what you really think.”
“I really think you are insane if you think your eyeball makes you any less desirable.”
He shifts over in his seat a little bit, pulling up the leg of his pants. “What about this?” he asks.
I bite my lip as he exposes the twisted flesh of his calf. I don’t know why, but my first instinct is to touch it. He pulls away for a moment, but then leans into me, letting me put my hands on him.
“You still haven’t recovered from that night,” I whisper, looking up at the sadness on his face. I’m overwhelmed with the memory of that night, how afraid he looked when those men attacked him.
“I’m as recovered as I’m going to get. It’s not like my eyeball is going to grow back, and my leg is as functional as it can be. You’d probably throw up if you saw my foot, though.”
“I would never!” I say. “And I mean you haven’t… recovered… like it’s still with you all the time. You didn’t want to be with any of the women at the club because someone might see your leg. You never even took off your pants all the way when we made love.”
“I never got any closure, Mia. Something really bad happened and everything I had going for me just disappeared overnight, and I had no control over it. Having you here is making it better. If you want to run away now that you’ve seen me, I completely understand.”
I want to shake him and tell him he’s out of his mind, but something inside me tells me I need to just hug him and love him. He’s never been this open and vulnerable with me before, and in this moment I love him more than I ever have. “If you think you can get rid of me that easily, you’re wrong, babe. I don’t care what you look like or how many parts you think you’re missing. I’m not going anywhere.”
I smooth the fabric of his pants down his leg and rest my head on his shoulder as we sit there watching the sun go down over the pile of traffic on the expressway. He squeezes my hand and doesn’t let it go.
“Did your dad ever find who attacked you? I tried to find out information, but it obviously was never on the news. I know your family tends to handle things internally.”
“My parents told me everything was taken care of by the time I got out of the hospital. That whole year was really hazy, though. Any time I tried to bring it up, my dad changed the subject. I guess he didn’t want me to feel guilty or worried. Whatever happened that night he took to the grave with him.”
“You didn’t accept that, did you?”
He shrugs. “I think the traffic is cleared up enough, what do you say?”
I grab the handcuffs off the back seat of the car floor and twirl them around on my finger.
I’m not done with this conversation, but I don’t want to push him, especially with his mother in the hospital. I can’t help but think maybe I am enough closure for right now. We’ll work through it together. We will heal together.
“Be careful what you wish for, misiu,” he says, shaking his head. I smile ear to ear as he puts the car in drive. I’m not even mad when he drives right past the burger place. Food is the last thing on my mind at this point.
19
Mia:
The ride home is silent and tense, the sexual tension in the air thick.
His hand clasps the bare flesh of my thigh the whole way there, inching up ever so slowly, but never close enough to give me any release. I try to focus on the road ahead. I try to count cars, try to read license plates, but it’s hopeless.
I’m hopeless.
I love when he’s charged up like this. I like pushing his buttons just hard enough to plant a seed in his head and then back off and retreat, daring him to chase me down and do what he wants with me.
I love teasing and the “punishment” I receive as a result of my actions.
Reaping what I sow.
He throws the car into park right in front of the mansion and walks around to open my door. Before I can get out, he tosses me over his shoulder like a caveman, his hand pressed firmly into my ass with a possessive grip. He grabs the handcuffs and heads for the door, and even though all the blood is rushing to my head, I can’t stop smiling.
We get upstairs to the bedroom and he sets me on the floor, his gaze burning into my flesh. He’s circling his prey, and his breath is heavy. His erection pokes through his pants, and I want nothing more than to drop down on my knees
