Page 31 of The Burdens We Share
As soon as the word claws its way up my throat, there’s silence. I just hear heavy breathing on the other side of the door. He doesn’t try to break it down. I look down at his feet, frozen in place and I panic over what he’s going to do next.
A moment passes of pure silence, aside from my sobs, before he turns and shuffles out of the bathroom. I hear the lock unclick and the door slam shut. Is he gone? Is he done or is he gonna come back?
I stay where I am, sobbing and shaking like a mess until the door barges open again and another scream escapes me. He’s back. He’s back and he’s going to finish what he started. My vision is blurred from the tears pouring down my cheeks and my entire body feels weak from all the shaking of my limbs. Two feet appear once again outside the stall door and I cry out, “Please! No!”
“Ivory! Open the door, it’s me,” Dallas. It’s Dallas. I take a closer look at the shoes of the person in front of the stall and sure enough, it’s a pair of designer dress shoes. It really isDallas.
On shaking, trembling legs, I reach for the lock and undo it, swinging the door open as more sobs escape me. I look up at Dallas who looks breathless and panicked, an expression I’ve never once seen on his face. He’s always so controlled, so calculated. He never shows emotions. But right now he is and he’s looking at me likehe’sthe one that’s afraid.
I’m so relieved to see his face, to see him, that I don’t think before I throw myself into his chest and sob, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as my tears soak into his shirt. One of his arms immediately holds me against him tightly as if he’s worried I may vanish before his eyes, and the other just holds the back of my head to his chest.
“What happened?” His voice is dark, dangerous in a way that tells me he’s fuming with rage on the inside.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to speak around sobs, “I-” I cough, “He ca- cam- came in here,” I manage to get the words out.
He squeezes me tighter. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, “No.”
He releases me only to grab my face and force my eyes to meet his. He looks at me with a burning intensity I’ve never seen from him before. He just assesses every inch of my face before he growls, “I should never have let you walk away alone.”
My lashes are blurred by tears and I try to steady my breathing, “This isn’t on you. I was the one being stubborn about going alone.” I’m still gripping his lapels like some kind of life raft in the middle of a sea storm.
A fresh tear rolls down my cheek and he brushes it away with his thumb before he shakes his head, “Do not blame yourself for this.”
I whisper, “I thought he was gonna kill me. I thought I was gonna die.”
His face leans down, closer to mine. Our lips are only inches apart as he says so confidently, “I wouldneverallow that. Never,” he emphasizes.
I don’t move. I don’t even blink. The way he speaks to me can’t be the way he speaks to other clients. Dallas has said multiple times that he would never let anything happen to me. Before, I believed that was the way he spoke to all of his clients. But there’s no way he looks at his other clients the way that he’s looking at me right now. Am I reading into things too much? Too caught up in the relief of him coming to my rescue? I don’t know if I am, but what I do know is that I almost just died and Dallas just saved my life.
His eyes burn so much brighter, the hazel almost looking a fiery green. I’ve never been close enough to see his emotions in his eyes. In fact, I’ve never seenanyemotions in his eyes. He tries so hard to hide them, to keep himself guarded. But right now, I can read him like an open book. He’s anxious, and worried too. But most of all, I see lust in his eyes.
I’m about to open my mouth to say something, but I forget what it is almost immediately because Dallas seems to lose some kind of internal battle he’s fighting and his head drops down, his mouth crashing down on mine. I’m caught so off guard that I don’t at first return his kiss. He’s about to pull away, most likely because of my stiffness, but when I gain sight of what’s actually happening, I wrap my arm around his neck and place my other hand against his chest, returning the kiss.
He growls into my mouth and kisses me hungrily as if he were on death row and I was his final meal. I kiss him back with just as much desperation, just as much need. I feel his tongue glide along my lower lip, seeking entry inside and I part my lips for him, allowing his tongue to find mine.
Dallas pulls me closer to him, my chest against his chest and I stumble. He pushes me against the middle of the stall to keepme upright as he explores my mouth. His fingers are wrapped in my hair and I completely lose myself in him. It’s almost too much. His taste, his presence, his scent,him. But I realize I need this. I need Dallas right now more than I’ve ever needed him. I don’t know if I’m feeling this way because he just saved my life or if it’s because I actually had a subconscious desire to kiss him. Regardless of the reason why, I know after this kiss, I’ll want to kiss him again.
I feel woozy, breathless and I know it’s most likely from the stress I just endured and also from his kiss. I’ve been kissed many times in my life, but none of them are paralleled to this. This kiss is making me feel like I just learned what a real, true kiss is. It’s full of lust, but something else that smells a lot like passion. Or is that just Dallas’ cologne?
I feel my legs about to give out beneath me and Dallas withdraws his mouth from mine. I pant, gasping for air and he seems to be catching his breath as well. Why did he break the kiss? Was it not good for him? All I know is that it was more than just good for me and I already want more. Dallas Carter has just ruined kissing for me because I know if I ever kiss anyone else again, this kiss will be the only one on my mind.Hewill be the only one on my mind.
His eyes meet mine and that hardened exterior is back up. It’s like Dallas just managed to rebuild the wall around his emotions brick by brick in only a few seconds.Don’t hide from me. I want to say, but I don’t. I have no words to summon to my lips. I’m too taken aback and shocked by the fact that I just kissed Dallas Carter.
Dallas’ grip on my waist tightens for a second before he loosens it completely and releases me. He doesn’t say another word to me as he backs up, putting distance between us. Why is he putting distance between us?
He lowers his gaze to the ground and I can’t make out theexpression on his face, the emotion behind it. All I know is that it feels like there is a sea between us and I’m not sure why. Does he regret kissing me? My cheeks flame red. I’m sure he regrets it and only did it because it was a spur-of-the-moment thing and he was just happy I didn’t die. And I look like the lovesick little fool who just kissed him back like that.Fuck, Ivory! Why do you have to be so stupid?I scold myself.
His head turns to the side and when his eyes catch on something, he stops breathing. He stops moving, his entire body rigid as if he just turned to stone. I turn my head to see what he’s looking at and suck in a small gasp. On the counter, right next to the sink, is a pink rose and a white envelope. “No,” I whisper so quietly I’m not even sure the words really came out of my mouth.
Dallas rushes forward until he’s at the sink. He grabs the envelope and aggressively tears it open. I watch as he reads the card inside and stands frozen for a minute. Another minute seems to pass of pure silence and terror rises up inside of me. What does it say? Why isn’t he moving or speaking? “Dallas?” I worry, my voice shaky with fear.
Almost immediately, Dallas roars and draws his fist back before he crashes it right into the mirror above the sink. I gasp and my body flinches at the sudden noise. Glass mirror shards scatter all around him, settling in the sink, on the floor, everywhere.
I hesitate while he leans forward, gripping the edge of the counter. Beads of blood appear under his palms and I realize he must have glass stuck inside. “Dallas!” I panic.
He doesn’t move, nor does he acknowledge me. On shaking legs, I push off the stall median and rush over to him, my boots making cracking sounds over mirror shards. I stop a foot away from him so as not to disturb the distance he insisted on putting between us after our kiss, and reach for the note with shakinghands. He doesn’t stop me, nor does he move. He’s standing so still I’m not even sure he’s breathing. I read the note, panic welling up in my chest.
