Page 113 of Beneath Her Skin

A flicker of something flashes across Darren’s face, his already dark cheeks warming even darker.

“Of course. You two have a great night,” he says, quickly dismissing himself from the table.

I throw Miles an incredulous look. “What the fuck was that all about?” Anxiety blooms in my stomach as I recount the other recent interaction with the man I barely knew, who claimed to know me so well.

Miles relaxes, giving me a megawatt smile. The controlling demeanor completely vanishes from his mood. He takes my hand back in his, massaging my palm with ease. I melt into his touch, a soft moan escaping me from the soothing contact. He knows exactly what to do to calm me down when I’m feeling anxious.

“Nothing to worry about, my love. Now, where were we?”

7

Unbearable heat suffocates me beneath the bed sheets. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears as my nervous system jumps into overdrive. Eyes snap open as I’m awoken from what could only have been the strangest nightmare ever.

Taking a deep breath, I try to regulate my erratic breathing. I can’t stop my body from overreacting. Sweat clings to my skin. A black pit sits in the center of my stomach. My muscles are sore and achy, like I was fighting for my life in that horrid dream. My throat is raw, as if I’ve been screaming, but Miles is sleeping soundly beside me. It must have just been a dream.

I need to get up. To move this nervous energy around and put it to good use.

But first, I have to untangle myself from both the sheets and Miles’ unconscious body wrapped around me. Once both of my legs are free from Miles’ embrace, I kick everything off as quickly as possible.

It isn’t until I’m standing on the cool hardwood floor that I can exhale a small sigh of relief. The cooling sensation grounds me to reality. My body slowly comes down from whatever fuguestate it was in while my conscious mind processes what my unconscious couldn’t.

I pad my way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, searching my mind for snippets of what I can remember from the nightmare. The memories are foggy. Every time I think I can narrow in on a detail, it floats away into the abyss of my unconsciousness. Damn human brains and them not remembering what it hallucinates while we sleep.

I remember odd smells. Something old, like leather and tobacco, mixed with the stench of sweat and bodily fluids.

I remember a touch. The ghost of someone’s hand still lingering on my inner thigh, but that could just be Miles as he slept.

I remember feelings. Feeling unsafe. Trapped. Like I was not in control.

But that’s where the remembering stops. Every time I try to push my mind further into that space where dreams and nightmares live, the tether to that place snaps. I’m fully awake now and there’s no accessing that realm, no matter how hard I try.

The last few times this nightmare arose, I remember being tied down, unable to do anything as Miles watched me from the corner. He didn’t speak or move to help me when strange figures came in to attack me. But I could never make out their faces or break free from this cyclical dream.

“Thanks for nothing, brain,” I whisper into the early morning.

Letting out a huff, I gather our favorite cups from the cabinet and begin crafting Miles’ coffee—black coffee with a splash of vanilla sweet cream and a protein bar on the side—followed by my own—two shots of espresso over ice, filled to the top with protein coconut milk. Fats, proteins, and carbs—everything a person needs to start their day. Also, coffee is basicallybean flavored water. A hydrating drink and the breakfast of champions, if I do say so myself.

The soft echo of tiny feet on hardwood tap up behind me. Turning around, Princess is seated like the beautiful angel she is, ready and waiting for breakfast. Which she’ll get, as soon as she does her business outside.

“Come on, you little goober. Potty first, then breakfast.”

I walk over to the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard and jar it just enough she can squeeze out. In a bolt, she’s through the door and running through the morning dew. I watch her circle the perimeter a few times, checking to ensure her space is clear from any evil cats or wandering squirrels. Once Princess has deemed the yard suitable for her nobleness, she bypasses the grass and squats directly on the concrete patio nearest to the door.

“You are such a brat!” I whisper-shout at her through the slit in the doorway.

Strong arms wrap around me, the scent of bergamot and leather enveloping me wholly.

“You would know best, now, wouldn’t you?” Miles purrs into my ear. He nips at my earlobe and I melt into his touch. Any anxiety from when I first awoke slowly slips away. My emotional support person is here to help.

I turn in his arms to face him, my nose buried deep into his broad chest as I inhale his scent. It reminds me of when we first started dating. Every night, when he would walk me to my door, we’d embrace just like this. Inhaling each other’s scent and cherishing every second together. Memorizing the way our hearts beat in unison. A slow, melodic lullaby that would satiate my need for him until our next date night. It was during those first initial months that I realized how much I longed for Miles. My little rebellious heart didn’t want adventure. The thing I yearned for was stability and affection.

Taking a few more breaths, I muster the courage to share my nightmare from last night.

“Can I tell you something and you promise not to judge?” I mumble into his shirt.

His body rumbles with laughter as he places a kiss atop my head. “What could possibly be so bad that I would judge you?”

I lean back to look at him. His face is alight with amusement until he notices the seriousness in my own. His smile quickly flat lines into a serious grimace.

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