Page 171 of The Sidekick

He does all the work as I drift in and out of what feels like a waking dream. Every time he touches me, I bask in the warmth of his attention. He shifts me as if I don’t weigh anything. It makes me giggle softly. He gives me a happy grin at the sound and a quick kiss. He doesn’t bother with the blankets as he settles behind me and wraps me in his arms.

I drift into sleep with a smile on my face.

I just want to talk to you and not have you run. Please.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Tera

I startle awake in confusion.

I’m face down on a chest covered in flowers. I sigh, relaxing again. Asher’s breathing is steady, his heart a soft rhythm that’s close to lulling me back to sleep. A glance at the clock on my nightstand says that it’s almost two in the morning. My leg is flung over Asher’s lap, and his erection is pressed into my thigh, bringing a shameless grin to my face.

I trace the outline of the colorless flower with my fingertips. I don’t know why, but it bothers me that it isn’t full of vibrant life like the other flowers around it.

My fingers trail over his pec, brushing a blood-red dahlia that fades to pink and then a pure white at the tips of its petals. When I get to the center, I feel a small divot in the skin there. A funny little dip hidden beneath the colors. As my fingers move, I feel another dip and another, this one with raised rough edges. All at the center of beautiful flowers that camouflage them so well you would never be able to see them, only feel them. There are so many. Not every flower has one, but enough do that I’m getting concerned.

“Are you going to ask?”

The forbidding, angry tone startles me. I had no idea he was awake. I had no idea I was doing something wrong, either. The way he asks his question says that I have. How was I supposed to know that feeling some imperfections in his skin would be a trigger for his anger?

Realization dawns, much too late. He never lets me touch him. I have to keep my hands still every time he gets intimate with me. Is it a kink or a defense?

I want to ask, to know, to help, but the words won’t come. My throat has closed over them because I suddenly feel like prey and a giant predator just growled outside of my hiding place.

I’ve had this kind of anger directed towards me before. Triggered by something just as innocent and blind with the need to help. The pattern is repeating again. Because I drift through life, blissfully unaware until it’s too late.

My hand hovers just above his skin, shaking with fear. Anger flares up inside me at the unfairness of it. Every move I make is never good enough for other people. I’m so sick of it! I’m tired of not being good enough.

Whatever this is, it’s bad, and I’ve just placed my feet firmly in it. Because I jumped. I knew better and I still did it. I haven’t even known Asher for two full days. Two days! Dr. Robinson is going to be disappointed. I don’t blame her. I’m suddenly disappointed in myself too. This one lasted forty-eight hours, if that. The last one was one hour. I guess I’m moving up in the world. At least this time I got some orgasms out of it first.

The bitter thought is so unlike the me that I cringe inside. How did I get so mean?

As quickly as it bubbled up the anger whooshes out of me to be replaced by defeat and nausea. What’s the point of this if it keeps happening to me? A numb sensation spreads through my chest, dulling all of the emotions cascading through me.

“No,” I whisper as the mask of silence covers, comforts, and shields me. I slowly withdraw my arm, settling it between his skin and mine to give myself some kind of shelter from whatever is coming next. His body is tense. He isn’t holding me to him so it’s easy to inch farther away from his anger.

“I don’t think I want to spring whatever trap I just landed in.”

I sit up sluggishly and look around for my dress. I want to be covered by something, a physical shield between my skin and whatever verbal barbs he’s about to throw out. I don’t want him to look at me anymore. Where is it? It’s a stupid white dress with stupid flowers on it. I should be able to find it. Oh yeah, it’s in the living room because I was in such a rush to set myself up for this trap. I’m not even under the sheets because he kept me warm enough to not need them.

I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

My hand grips my throat tight enough to choke but it doesn’t feel like enough. My nails dig in painfully to try and force the comfort but it doesn’t work. I scoot to the edge of the bed, wincing with a dull flash of shame at how sore I feel, and how sticky my thighs are. I feel too disgusting to look at. He’s not wearing his glasses so maybe the darkness of the room will cover me until he’s gone.

“Tera?” His voice has changed now. Cautious instead of vengeful. I’ve ruined the surprise attack.

“Please leave,” my voice comes out dull and choked over my clenched fingers. I’m suddenly exhausted with all of it. This time I’m doing the shove-away stuff before he can get to it. I’m starting to feel numb enough that the pain of watching him walk away won’t hit me until later. It’s a good time for this.

It’s deathly quiet behind me. He doesn’t move to get up. He was so willing to give me everything I needed without hesitation earlier. Now that’s gone. My stomach rolls threateningly and my hand slides from my throat to press against it uselessly. Just a little bit longer and I can break in private.

“No.”

The single firm word spurs me into action. He doesn’t want to leave? Fine. I will. He can move in for all I care. I won’t be back.

I calmly get up and go into the living room. I’ll wear the dumb dress out. I don’t want to waste time looking for something else. It’s inside out when I pick it up. I put it on anyway, the relief of not being so exposed giving me a distant kind of comfort. My purse and keys are on the table by the door in perfect preparation for a quick getaway. At least past me did something right.

“Angel, stop.” Is he getting up now? Why bother?

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