Page 22 of Sanction

He opens it, laying out some wipes, bandages, and ointment. He’s a lot taller than me, so he lowers down on the toilet seat to get a better look. He motions for me to step closer, so I do, bringing my legs between his thighs.

I reach for the hem of my shorts and hiss as I peel them up so he can reach all of my wounds.

His fingertips lightly grip my thigh as he cleans my road rash with the alcohol wipe. I squeeze my eyes shut as it burns my skin. My eyes are still closed when I feel a cool air fan over my thigh. I crack open my eyes to see him blowing on my skin to ease my pain. When his eyes flicker up to mine my stomach drops.

“Better?” He asks quietly.

I nod as he begins opening a bandage.

“So, why were you with that piece of shit anyway?” He asks.

I shrug. I really don’t even have an answer.

“You deserve better,” he says softly as he uses a Q-tip to smooth the ointment on my skin.

“So do you,” I whisper back.

He reaches for a bandage and lines it up before lightly pressing it against me. This always seems to happen when we are alone. The air always changes and the magnetic pull that never seems to go away, intensifies. Which is why he avoids being alone with me. Most of the time. He could have easily sent me to my room. But he didn’t. He needs these stolen moments as much as I do.

He gives one more gentle press, but instead of removing his hand from my thigh, the other hand reaches up to lay on my other leg, and he twists me to face him. His head bows, landing just below my sternum. One hand reaches up to intertwine with mine and I use my free hand to run my fingers through his hair. I watch his shoulders move with each breath. It’s like I can see the weight of his feelings, the feelings he believes he shouldn’t have. I tug his blonde locks, tilting his head, so he’s looking up at me. “Thank you.” I whisper.

His hand squeezes mine and I can see the turmoil in his eyes. I can see the inner battle raging behind those perfect blue irises. My forehead leans down to rest on his.

“I’ve always got you,” he says through a heavy breath.

Our noses touch and my lips trail down his cheek. His arms pull me closer as his eyes close. My fingers gently wrap around the back of his neck and I brush my lips over his.

“I can’t,” he murmurs.

“Why?” I press my body into his and he lets out a quiet groan.

“Fuck...” he rasps.

His mouth says one thing, but his body language always says another.

He closes the distance. His lips melted into mine and my body was immediately set on fire. His lips have to be one of my most favorite things in the whole world. I know this won’t last long. So, I savor it. In the next five seconds reality will hit him and he will pull away. Like always.

And it hits. He jerks away and positions me away from him with a stout extension of his arms.

I stare at him. This isn’t our first rodeo. His breathing is rapid and I glance down to see the bulge in his jeans. I don’t want to be a bitch. I know he came to get me tonight, but I know what happens next. He can’t fuck me, so he goes to find someone he can. It kills a piece of me every time, but I can’t seem to give up those few seconds of him I get to steal every now and then.

“Thanks for the checkup, Dom. You better go find your whore to take care of that.” I point to his hard cock and walk out the door.

What’s the definition of insanity? Because I must be insane.

Chapter 14

Daniella

Dani 19 years old

Travis 28 years old

It’s been seven months since the last time Travis kissed me. I hate him. At least that’s what I tell myself. It makes it easier to be in the same vicinity as him. I treat him like I always have in front of my brother and my mom, but other than that I try to stay away. I only address him as Dom, and I chose to focus on graduating high school. Which I finally did. Thank God. That place was a shit show.

What’s sad is Travis can deny it all he wants to, but I see it. I see the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I see the way he tenses when I call him Dom instead of Travis. I don’t understand why he won’t give in. Why does he feel it's so wrong? I’m nineteen now. I’m an adult and so is he. How can it be wrong when the only time my world feels right is when I’m with him?

I sigh and shove his T-shirt back in my drawer. I haven’t worn it since he brought it back, but I take it out every now and then. When I need to feel close to him.

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