Zoey And The Nice Guy (Big Girl Panties #1) (29 page)

She was facing herself, her cheeks bright red and swelling. She stood only five-foot-two and completely swallowed by her baggy pajamas.
 

“What do you see?” he asked.

When she didn’t answer, he pinched her arm so hard that she cried out. “What do you see?” he shouted again.

“A whore,” she answered.

“That’s right. A worthless whore.” He spun her around to face him, but when he did, her body collided with his and for one horrible moment, time stood still. He had an erection. She could feel it digging into her stomach. She tried to keep her shock off her face, but he saw it anyway. His face morphed from horrified, to enraged. He shoved her. Her back slammed into the doorknob.
 

“Get out!” he screamed. “Get the fuck out of my house, you goddamn whore!”

She reached behind her, turned the doorknob, and then ran. She ran out the door and down the block. Then she slowed to a walk and sobbed more with each step. She didn’t know where she was going or what she would do. Her bare feet were sustaining small injuries from sharp pebbles and occasional bits of glass.
 

She just walked. Cars drove past her, but no one stopped. She made her way towards town, but then:
 

“Maya?”

She stopped and turned. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes so she could see better. It was Damon Bradley. She was friends with his brother, Kellen, who was a senior. Damon was twenty-two. His elbow hung out the window of his pickup truck. There was a lawn mower in the back. He earned money doing odd jobs around town. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. That’s when she realized she was still holding the piece of paper with Jayce’s number on it. She sobbed even harder.

Damon climbed out of his truck, took her by the shoulders, and helped her in. “I’m gonna take you home.”

“No!” she shrieked. “Please. I can’t go back there.”

He studied her and then understanding gradually dawned in his gray eyes. He nodded. “I’ll take you back to my place, then. Get you cleaned up and a good night’s sleep. We’ll deal with your troubles tomorrow.”

“I can go to my friend, Zoey’s.”

“That the redhead who flipped off the mayor last week?”

Maya laughed. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“It’s late. She’s likely asleep. If you want, I’ll take you in the morning.”

Maya wiped a stray tear from under her eye with her knuckle. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He drove back to his apartment. It wasn’t much. In fact, it was rather run-down. Not much better than her home. Except that there wasn’t a drunken father trying to attack her.
 

Then again, how much did she know about Damon? He’d always been around. A friendly face in the community. She vaguely recalled hearing about a bar fight a few weeks ago. But the one thing she knew for sure was that he wasn’t her father.

He showed her to the bathroom and offered her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She set her paper on the counter and showered, grateful to be clean and to wash away the feeling of filth her father had put on her. She dried off and put on the t-shirt and picked up the paper again. The shirt hung mid-thigh on her. She didn’t have underwear unless she wanted to wear the ones she’d come in. She didn’t.
 

She gathered her clothes and walked out of the bathroom. Damon was laying blankets and pillows out on the couch.
 

“Do you have a washing machine?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Help yourself.” He nodded back towards the kitchen. She found a small machine in a utility closet and loaded her clothes into it.

“You get the bed,” Damon said. “I’ll sleep out here.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. You don’t have to do that for me.”

He shot her a wicked, half-grin. “‘Course I do. I’m a gentleman.”

She blushed and shuffled her feet. “In that case, thanks.”

She made her way into his bedroom. It was cluttered. She got a sinking feeling when she saw two, crumpled beer cans on the nightstand, next to an ashtray and lighter. She grabbed the cans and slipped them under the bed, the better to pretend they weren’t there. Then she crawled under the covers and turned off the lamp. She tucked Jayce’s number beneath her pillow.

Sleep evaded her. Every time she thought she might doze, she snapped back awake, fear clutching at her chest. At last, she wept. Only the sounds of her sniffles disturbed the night, but her face was screwed up tight in an effort to remain quiet.
 

Damon must have heard her. He came in, a silhouette in the doorway. “You alright, Maya?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but a sob escaped. He came toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked her hair and thumbed away the tears. “Shhh. You’re safe tonight. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Gradually she calmed as his fingers gently touched her face and hair.

And then his movements changed. She couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she could feel the intent in his hands. He cupped the back of her head and his breath was warm on her forehead before he kissed her.
 

She trembled, suddenly aware that she was in a new kind of danger. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her gently. Her body responded. She didn’t understand the sensations, but he seemed to. His touch heightened everything. Her mind screamed at her to make him stop, but her body was weary and aroused.
 

He pushed the blanket off of her and dragged his fingertips up her legs and to the hem of her t-shirt. They hovered there for a moment as he continued kissing her lips. And then he slipped his hand beneath the shirt and between her legs. She gasped and felt him smile against her neck.
 

She could only inhale, her breath a rattling sound in the room.

He stroked her while he took her hand and pressed it to the front of his boxers. He guided her hand in the open front and wrapped her fingers around his length. She’d never felt a man like that before. She’d wondered, but never felt.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Want me to stop?”

Yes
. “N-no,” she said.

He stood, removing his hand from her and her’s from him. There was enough light that she could see his movements as he peeled off his t-shirt and shoved down his boxers. Then he pulled her upright and removed her t-shirt. She thanked God for the darkness. She could stand having his hands on her, but his eyes—that would have been unbearable.

He lay on top of her and kissed her again, this time parting her thighs with his knee. “I…I don’t think I’m ready,” she whispered.

“Shh. It’s okay, Maya. I’m gonna take care of you, I swear. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

They were the right words at the right time. A voice, way, way back in her mind told her they were a lie, but in that moment, she wanted to believe them so badly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He slid slowly inside of her. It only stung for a moment and then it felt…good. Wrong and right at the same time. Invasive, but intimate.
 

She clung to him, excited by his pants and moans, thrilled to be the source of his pleasure. When he pulsed inside of her, he whispered a curse in her ear, and she felt chills ripple through her body. She felt powerful and vulnerable all at once.

He collapsed on top of her and she listened to a clock ticking and the crickets outside. When he rolled off of her, he brought her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. At last she fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time in her memory.

The next morning, while Damon was in the shower, she found Jayce’s phone number, crumpled on the floor. She used Damon’s lighter and burned it in the ashtray.