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              Despite my irritation, I man up. I lift my head from my arms and look directly at her. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m about to lose everything because I don’t know how to admit I am wrong. I let out an exasperated sigh, “Bree, I am sorry for accusing you of cheating on me with Eric. I’m sorry that I blurted out information about my past that could hurt your feelings. I fucking hate that I fought with Eric. Bree, I threw a fucking chair at him.”

Bree draws back a bit more and her eyes are wide. I just want to touch her and make it all go away. My hand extends to her face and I caress her cheek. She lets me. “I told you, I would not hurt you,” I assure her. “So, the reason why I got smashed…I…umm…fuck…I don’t know why this is so hard for me…okay…the shit your ex is putting you through is fucking with my head. It’s like I’m re-living the same nightmare over again. I’m so fucking afraid I’m going find you dead or really hurt and I won’t be able to save you like I wasn’t able to save my sister. Instead of talking to you and letting you in on what I was feeling, I decided to get stupid with a bunch of drunks. And, Bree, I am so, so sorry.”

This time, she reaches for my face. Gently, she touches each bruise and scratch. Her fingers linger as she strokes my bottom lip and stops where my lip ring rests. I don’t want her to stop touching me. A single tear runs down her face. I hate myself. I’m the one who made her cry.

              Finally, she breaks the silence that is fucking suffocating me. “It’s my turn to tell you how I feel. I’m not telling you because I want to hurt you. I’m telling you because it can’t stay in here,” she points to her heart. “If it stays inside of here, it will poison the love I have for you. Last night felt worse than any beating I took from Nick.”

              I wince from her words. Yeah, it’s that hard to hear. She takes my hand and continues, “Emotional pain is way worse than physical. It requires you to feel uncomfortable before anything starts getting better. With physical pain, you slap a bandage on and let it heal. You cut me last night with your words. I watched you take a swing at your friend who has been babysitting me so you can get work done. I had to hear about how you and Eric tag teamed girls. The worst part is…is that you weren’t here to hold me last night. That’s all I could think of. You weren’t here.”

              I curl in to her body and lay my head in the groove of her neck. God, she smells so sweet, like lilac and vanilla. She is crying in to my shoulder. I’m a dick. A loser. I don’t deserve her. “I’m sorry, baby.”

              She sniffles, “Please don’t hurt me like that again.”

              Everything in my body wants to tell her that I won’t hurt her. But, I mutter out the most truthful statement I can, “I will try not to hurt you, baby. I love you.” Bree takes my face in to her hands and kisses my bruised lips. It hurts. The pain is a good hurt. Every ache and sensitive spot is healed by her touch.

              She lets me push her back on to her bed and creep in between her thighs. I let my tongue slip in to her mouth. Her soft whimper escapes her mouth. I still feel the wetness from her tears on her cheeks. I pull myself from her mouth and kiss each wet spot away. I am not worthy of having her, but I need her.

              I pull at her shirt and drag it above her head. She doesn’t have a bra on. Her breasts are fully exposed. I trail kisses from her lips and move down her neck until I reach above her left breast. I lift my body from hers and remove my shirt. Once my shirt is gone I delay moving on top of her again. I want to look at her. My eyes take in everything from the top of her lush, long hair down her milky, white skin on her neck down to her breasts. Her hands are resting beside her body. This is the first time she’s not hiding. She’s letting me see her. She’s so beautiful inside and out. I have never met anyone who is so forgiving and accepting of my flaws, well except for Eric.

Her hand extends to my chest as she slightly sits up. It slides to my shoulder and she pulls me to her.  She brings me closer and her lips are near my ear. In a soft voice she says, “Make me forget.” It’s a haunting phrase she uses when she wants me to make love to her.

Yeah, I said it...make love…because, I fucking love this girl. I didn’t even know I knew how to make love to a girl until Bree came along. That’s because I never did. I fucked. I fucked a lot. Until Bree, I thought that sex could only be a physical act.  I didn’t know of the beauty that can be found in the arms of someone who truly and completely cherishes you.

I quickly discard her shorts and panties and remove my own. I waste no time getting inside of her. We need this. We need each other…to come together as one.

~CHAPTER ELEVEN~

BREE

I lie on Josh’s bed watching him get ready for his yard concert. His face has cleared up from all of the bruises and scratches from his fight with Eric a few weeks ago. His light, brown hair is shorter than I like but it still falls across his forehead and curls up by the base of his neck. I want to run my hands through it. But, I can’t because if I touch him, he will be late getting up on stage. I try to hide the giddy look on my face from my naughty thoughts.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I lie. I want to tell him that I want his gorgeousness all over me on his bed.

“Yeah, you’re lying,” he plops down next to me on the bed. “I can always tell, your little button nose bunches up and your cheeks flush.” By this time he has me pinned under him. “Spill it.”

My hands are pinned above my head to prevent me from moving. I wrap my legs around Josh’s waist moving his pelvic area towards mine with the force of my thighs. My bottom area arches towards his already hard bulge. He whimpers from my gesture. “No,” I say to tantalize him more.

“Baby, I know what you want. I want to hear you say it. C’mon, we’ve talked about this. Tell me what you want. Use your words,” he orders. I have not mastered the art of talking dirty or telling him exactly what I’d like to do with him. It’s a struggle, but I’m getting better at it.

              He looks so tasty in his jeans that are hanging off of his hips. His V-neck t-shirt exposes his chest tattoos. I want to taste him. Literally. My voice is so low, he can barely hear me, “I want to taste you.”

              He growls in to the base of my neck and bites it. I’m about to unbutton his jeans when there is a knock on his door. Josh curses, “Fuck.”

              The knock comes again but this time the door swings open. It’s Eric, clearly amused by our compromising position. “C’mon Josh. Get your ass on that stage.”

              Josh doesn’t move from me. I come to the conclusion that he can’t. He’s got the biggest hard-on. His green spheres are wide with amusement. I rub his back and whisper in his ear, “Think of dead puppies.”

              “Yeah…um…not working,” he laughs.

              “Hey, ‘E’, can you give us just a minute? I swear I will have his fine ass up on that stage is two minutes,” I promise.

              Eric huffs and backs out of the doorway, “Fine. But, if he’s not, I’m coming back, busting the door down and dragging him out. I don’t care if he is buck ass naked.”

              Josh is laughing. He seems so happy. Heck, I’m happy. After his drunken night of stupidity, he has gone out of his way to make it up to me and to Eric. The communication between us is strong.

              It was hard to forgive him. Every now and again, I get the mental image of him screwing some random chick and then Eric coming in to finish the chick off or vice versa. When that happens, I do what I can to force the image out of my head.

Then, there is Eric. Josh roughed him up pretty bad. Seeing the bruises on his face kept reminding me that Josh does have a violent side and he is very capable of hurting the people he loves.

              In the long run, I chose to trust Josh and to forgive him. It was the best thing I have ever done. I have shown myself that despite of my experience with abuse, I can trust, love, and forgive. From what my therapist has said, it is hard to do. Trusting, loving, and forgiving, even without any trauma in your life, is a feat in itself.

              “Aww…shucks. I guess we are going to have to finish this later,” I tease. Josh throws his head in to the nearest pillow and growls. “C’mon. People want to hear you play, “ I push him off of me as I’m laughing.

              Josh jumps from the bed and adjusts himself. I’m still lying on his bed with my legs spread open. I’m testing him, I know. But it is so much fun. “Fuck. Seriously, Bree?”

              The grin on my face spreads from ear to ear. “Baby, you’re too easy. Now go, before Eric comes busting back in here.”

              He puts his hands on his hips and taps the sides of his waist with his fingers. “You do know that you will pay dearly for this later. Don’t plan on sleeping tonight. We’re going to be up all night long.”

              “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” I chuckle. I don’t plan on sleeping either. I don’t even want to move from his bed right now. It smells like Josh’s cologne.

              “I mean it! Hey, listen; stand in your usual spot with Lena. I will keep my eye on you. Kay?”

              “Kay, baby. Good luck with your show.”

              He leans in to my forehead and kisses it. “I love you.”

              I flop on to my belly and draw my knees up to crawl to him. I crawl up his body and kiss him. “I love you too.”

              Lena and I take our usual spots and watch all of the girls go wild over our men. I should be jealous, but I’m not. It’s a compliment to me that they want the guy that I have. The girls are going nuts over a cover of  ‘You’re So Last Summer’ by Taking Back Sunday. Our boys sound amazing as always.

              Just watching Josh on stage is getting me worked up for later. I think of how I can make it special. The first thing I want to give to him is a USB storage device of all the songs that remind me of him. I want to play it in the background all night long. The second thing I want to give him is trust. Yes, trust. I need handcuffs for this little exercise. I want to give myself to Josh without hiding myself. I will hand over the control to him tonight.

              As I plan the night out in my head, I realize I forgot the damn handcuffs. I’m going to have to run and get them from my house. Lena is bobbing her head to the music, so I tap her. I have to shout because of the volume. “Hey, I forgot something at my house. I’m going to run and get it. Be right back.”

              “You want me to come?” Lena asks.

              “Nah. It will take two seconds. I will be right back.” I say.

              I run across the street and go to unlock my front door. It’s unlocked. I’m not surprised. It still gives me a hard time as it has from the beginning, so I leave it unlocked sometimes. I enter the living room, which is dark. I swear I kept a light on, but oh well; I’m on a mission. I cross the room in the dark. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I know he is there before he shows himself.

              I feel for the lamp on the table and turn the light switch on. I turn my body to look at him. There he is, sitting quietly, hidden, like an animal watching his prey. Despite my calm appearance, my body is screaming inside. “Hello, Nick.”

              “Sabrina.” He crosses his legs and leans back on my couch putting his hands behind his head.

              Holding on to the table, my arms begin to shake. I’m scared. I should be. Apparently, the threat of a restraining order means nothing to him. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

              He sneers, “I know.”

              I take in his appearance. As usual, he is meticulous, from his leather-crafted dress shoes right up to his cotton, buttoned down dress shirt. His dark brown hair is precisely styled in the Ivy League haircut. His cruel, blue eyes are glaring in my direction. “Where’s Sofie?”

              Nick snorts, “That money, hungry bitch? Who the fuck knows? I’m not concerned with Sofie right now. I’m concerned about you, Sabrina.”

              Shit. He’s fixated. I can see it in his eyes. He came here with a purpose. “There’s nothing to be concerned about, Nick. As you can see, I’m doing well.”

              He chuckles this time. “Well? Is that what you call it? You have a jean skirt on that practically shows your ass and a t-shirt with skulls on it. You look like a homeless, whore. That’s not well, that’s pathetic.” Yeah, there’s no winning this conversation. I need to get out of here. Quick. I quickly scan for all of my possible exits. “Sabrina, I see you looking for a way out. Don’t bother. You’re not going anywhere.”

              Panic. That’s all I feel is panic and fear. I try to mentally calm myself and remember the words my therapist used. I am big, not small. I am big, not small. I am big, not small. Courage and strength outweigh panic and fear. Courage and strength outweigh panic and fear. “Did you come here to talk, Nick? If not, you can get in to trouble by being near me. Being here can have a negative impact on your life…your job. It will be a huge inconvenience for you. Please think about this.”

              He moves forward placing his hands on his knees. “I’ve thought about it, Sabrina. I’ve thought about you. You know what? You are the only woman who never wanted me. The night I met you in that dive bar, you were the only girl not paying attention to me. I thought to myself, ‘Damn, who is this woman?’ Then, I bought you a drink and saw that smile. I had to ignore all of the dark clothing but your face was just so cute. For two years, I worked at getting you to look normal…presentable. Now, here you are, back to your old ways. So disappointing.”

              I am me. This is me. Nothing is wrong with me. I am big, not small. “I like who I am. I like my life. I have moved on. I thought you have moved on with Sofie. Why are you here?”

              His left fist punches the couch. It looks like he is trying to fight the anger. “Moved on? With that Emo…punk looking thing? I’ve seen him with his hands all over you, touching you, kissing you. It’s disgusting. You deserve more than that. What can he possibly offer you?”