Release (23 page)

How have I allowed myself to
be in a position where I’m praying she still wants me? This is potentially a way
out, I should be taking advantage of it – it wouldn’t take much for me to
ensure that she walks away. Even more ideal is that she’ll think it was on her
terms.

This is a perfect
opportunity.  

I whisper in her ear. “Do I
still have you?”

I should be pulling a
Roadrunner in the opposite direction to Brooklyn, not anticipating fighting to
keep her.

After a hesitation that has
me on the verge of asking the same thing again, Brooklyn’s arms go around my
shoulders. “You do.”

I don’t feel too confident
in that answer.

How the hell do I get her
back?

When the main door to the studio swung closed behind
Dane this afternoon, I felt like absolute fucking shit. Shit because of my
reaction to his answer to a question I never should’ve asked. Shit because I
knew he felt like shit, too. I don’t want to make him feel bad, and I don’t
want to feel bad myself. I want to be with him, more than any man I’ve ever
wanted before, but I know he can cause me a deeper hurt than anyone else has.

I know he will at some
point.

Being aware of that fact
doesn’t seem to be enough to make me stay away from him, it isn’t an option.
Instead, it just raises my defenses. This is a total head-fuck and, in this
case, it’s self inflicted.

Now I’m standing at Dane’s
front door, ready to use the key he gave me. I’m hoping that using it
symbolizes that I really want to be with him. I know I left him doubtful of
that earlier – I was doubtful myself then. I’m also hoping that by using it,
he’ll accept it as an apology for the way I questioned him last night and my
reaction to it. 

I know we’re not heading for
life-long true love, but there’s no denying he feels something for me and, at
this point in time, he wants me – at least I know where I stand. That
knowledge, and the fact that he doesn’t know the depth of my feelings, gives me
power, and that pleases me greatly. I fully intend to hold on to it.

I enter Dane’s dark, quiet
apartment. After taking off my shoes and jacket, I go through to the bedroom
and find that the place is empty. It’s only now I remember his request that I
call him when I was done at the studio. I completely forgot, thanks to being so
immersed in thought and indecision.

I sit at the foot of the bed
and search my handbag for my phone. I call Dane, but it rings out to voicemail.
I leave a brief message and ponder what to do. It’s nine p.m., and given that I
don’t know where he is, I don’t know how long he’ll be. I can go home or wait
here. We had plans tonight, and I’ve fucked everything up. Well done me.

With the heels of my hands,
I rub my heavy eyes. I’m so tired after last night’s shitty sleep, maybe I
should just go to bed. I’ll be here when Dane gets back, at least, even if I’m
not awake.

After taking off my jeans
and jumper, I bury my naked body under the duvet, Dane’s scent surrounding me,
calming me. Yawning, I reach over and turn off the side light and close my
eyes. It isn’t long before I feel myself drifting.

I stand leaning back against the closed bedroom door.
With the blinds partially open, the way they always are, Brooklyn’s form under
the comforter is visible. Even without being able to see her properly, just
being in this room with her is making me realize what I intend to do is going
to be a lot harder than I expected.

The relief I’m feeling just
because she’s even here is making shit more challenging.

All I want to do is climb in
beside Brooklyn, wake her with my lips, and then bury myself deep inside her
and make it so that she feels only me, and thinks of nothing but me; not the
past, not the future, just us in the moment.

That goes against the
decision I’ve made.

I leave the room to go
shower in the main bathroom, so I don’t wake her. When I return, I sit naked at
the edge of the bed, contemplating my intentions.

A subdued moan sounds from
behind me. I look over my shoulder at Brooklyn as she curls tightly into the
fetal position. After watching her do nothing more for a short time, I turn
away from her and get back to my thoughts.

Another moan plays out, this
one longer and more distressed. Another soon after and Brooklyn flips over onto
her back, the comforter and sheet becoming tangled with one of her legs.

Fucking hell.

“You. Are.
Mine
,” he says directly into my ear
through teeth so tightly clenched I can hear the creaking of his jaw.

His fierce breaths blow
harshly against the side of my neck and the rapid rise and fall of his chest
crushes mine, restricting my breathing.

His lips lock with mine so
firmly it hurts.

My mouth fills with the
metallic taste of blood.

I push against his solid
abdomen, but I can’t– 

“Brooklyn,” a familiar,
tender voice whispers into the dark hallway.

The scent of safety suddenly
encapsulates me, taking me to another place.

Warm breath caresses my ear
as that caring whisper carries my name again. I smile as soft-firm lips kiss
across my cheek to my mouth. Mmm … warm, silky skin … strong, demanding arms.

I
really
like this
dream.

Our kiss deepens, and he
moves over me, settling between my thighs, his hard cock pressing against me.

I open my eyes to darkness
and wonderful recognition.

This is better than a dream.
This is real.

“You’re back,” I say,
pleased, but not completely alert.

“You’re back.” He kisses me
once on my lips.

“Where’ve you been? I called
you.”

“The shop. I had music
playing and didn’t hear my cell. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. When
I noticed your message I left.”

“The shop? Why so late and
on a Saturday?” His forefinger rests on my lips to silence me.

The tips of his fingers
journey over my face – forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, chin. It’s as though he’s
seeing me through his touch. Cupping his cheeks, I bring his mouth back to
mine. He kisses me once and then moves off of me. The bedding is tangled around
my legs. Dane rearranges it all and then turns me onto my side and puts us into
the spooning position, our naked hold semi-snug.

“What did you do after you
left the studio?” he asks.

I wanted to kiss him
breathless.

He wants to have a
conversation.

I push back tighter into the
frame of his body. He feels so good. “Just went to my place with Leona. Kayla
was out with Chase, so it was just Lee and me until she went to meet Xavier.
What were you up to at the shop?”

With his arm remaining
around my waist, Dane shifts onto his back. Turning to face him, I drape my leg
over his midsection and snuggle closely in at his side.

“Paperwork and stuff. Are
you hungry?”

“Not for food,” I answer,
reaching down to his–

“I am,” he says, sliding out
of the bed.

I listen to him pulling on
his tracksuit bottoms and watch his movement in the dark. He leaves the bedroom
door open, so when the kitchen light comes on the glow spills dimly into this
room. Getting up, I go to the wardrobe to grab one of Dane’s T-shirts and then
decide not to bother.

When I walk into the
kitchen, pulling my hair up into a bun and securing it with a clip, Dane is
standing looking in the fridge. He glances over his shoulder at me and does a
double-take when he notices my lack of clothing. “Sure you don’t want anything
to eat?” he asks, returning his attention to the fridge.

“Nah, I’m fine. I had
Chinese with Leona. We stuffed our faces.”

“Drink?”

“Nope. Thanks.” I sit on a
stool at the breakfast bar and cross one leg over the other. “I just came in
here to keep you company.”

“Baby, aren’t you cold?”
Dane asks, still gazing into the fridge.

“Not really.”

He closes the door and rubs
his face with both hands, sighing.

“You okay?” I get off the
stool to go to him.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m
hungry after all.”

Good. I want to be fucking,
not eating, or waiting for him to eat. Coming up behind Dane, I snake my arms
around his waist, pressing my body against his. This time when I reach down, I
make it to my intended destination. It seems I’m not the only one who wants to
fuck.

His hand over mine, he halts
my movement. “Baby, aren’t you tired?”

“No.”

“You were sleeping when I
got here. I woke you up?”

“True, but I feel fine. Are
you tired?” He didn’t get much more sleep than me last night.

“Yeah, I am.”

I stop myself from sighing.
I wanted intimacy with him; kissing, hugging and sex. I wanted to completely
draw a line under last night and today and, to me, being intimate is the best
way to do it. I suppose I’ll have to wait until the morning.

Almost one hour after returning to bed with Dane, I
still can’t get back to sleep. He’s asleep, and we’re spooning in a loose fit.
Laying here in the dark has given me thinking time, and I’ve noted a few things
about tonight.

Gently, and holding my
breath, I slip out from under his arm and the duvet. After waiting a few
moments to make sure I haven’t unsettled him, I carefully pick up my phone from
the bedside table and walk around to Dane’s side to switch our phones. I make
my way over to the bathroom, lock myself in and turn on the light.

Standing leaning back
against the counter, I unlock the mobile and tap on call history. The last two
incoming calls were mine, the ones he missed. I search down the list, looking
for female names I don’t recognize and notable ones such as
Mia
. She is
in town, after all, and I don’t see why Dane would go to the shop after hours
on a Saturday.

It never would’ve crossed my
mind that they might intentionally see each other if he didn’t come back acting
so weird and distant. Now I wonder if I’ve put too much trust in him.

It’s not until I get to the
dates that indicate the week we met, five weeks ago, that I see female names
Dane hasn’t mentioned to me; his sister and Jen from the shop, for example.
It’s irrational of me, because he was single then, but seeing that there was a
call between Dane and Mia the day before he came to see
Release
makes my
stomach drop. They probably fucked that night.

Aside from the fact that she
looks like some kind of goddess who’s no doubt mind blowing in bed, there was
enough of a connection between them for it to be on-going. I don’t understand
what makes me so different that I’ve earned ‘girlfriend’ status. I’d feel
honored, even without knowing the reasons, if we weren’t only three weeks into
this relationship. Clarissa made it to three and a half months, and that was
after months of ‘fuck buddy’ status. Dane said it himself; he cared about her,
he didn’t love her.

I know from the way he is
with me that he cares about me, so at this point I’m no different to her. But
he said what we have isn’t the same. What the heck does that even mean?

Exiting the call log, I tap
on messages. Most people text more than they speak, this location will be more
informative.

A knock on the bathroom door
makes me jump. I almost drop the phone, but catch it by clutching it to my
stomach before it makes its descent to the ground.

“Brooklyn?” Dane says.

I hold my breath as my heart
races at a billion beats per second – my body could fail to function at this
level of shock and fear.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” is the most I can
get out.

“You’ve been in there a
while, what’s up?”

How long has he been awake?
How long have I been in here?

“I was a bit too hot … I
felt sick,” I say, doing my best to sound calm. My heart’s still racing and now
my palms are sweaty. “It’s cooler in here.” I look down at myself. I’m bloody
naked; I have nowhere to stash his phone. I can’t go out there holding it.

“Can I come in?”
No!

I exit his messages, rush to
the door and turn off the light. When I open up, as I’d hoped, the bedroom
light is still off, so Dane can’t see that I have
his
mobile. Ours are
the same, so in the protection of the darkness and without him looking at the
actual screen, he’ll assume it’s mine if he notices it in my hand.

He reaches out and strokes
my cheek. “Do you want me to open the window?”

“Please,” I agree.

Whilst he’s distracted with
that, I place his phone on the bedside table, next to mine, and quickly slip
under the duvet. Dane gets in beside me, and I finally start to calm down.
Propped up on his elbow and leaning in close, he threads his fingers through my
hair and massages my scalp. “Better?”

He’s so lovely. I feel sooo
guilty – I didn’t even find anything to justify my snooping. But he’s been
weird since he woke me, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not
right. First things first, though. “Much better. Thank you. I think I should
close the window, we’ll get cold. I cooled down quite a bit in the bathroom.”

“What were you doing in
there?”

“Just playing on my phone.”
I go to move. “I’ll close the–”

“I’ll do it.”

I feel like I’ve betrayed
him.

I flipping well have.

I will
never
snoop on
him again.

Even if I didn’t get to read
his text messages.

After the window is closed,
we settle close, side-by-side, but I’m aware Dane’s being mindful of our degree
of closeness, possibly so I don’t get ‘hot’ again.

Possibly for reasons
relating to his strange behavior.

Keeping my tone
non-confrontational, I ask, “Why have you avoided getting intimate with me
tonight, Dane? And why did you frown when I walked into the kitchen naked?” It
sounds stupid, but I played back everything for that one hour before I went to
the bathroom, and I realized details which may seem small, but they hold
significance.

“I didn’t frown.”

“Yes, you did. You see me
naked all the time and you always, always look at me with adoration. We sleep
nude every night and we’ve even eaten together like that. Tonight you did a
double take and then frowned before looking back in the fridge. All the other
times I’ve been unclothed you’ve never asked me if I’m cold, in fact, there’s
rarely enough space between us for me to get cold. And that brings me to my
next point. You haven’t touched me or held me properly, and you’ve evaded me
touching you. You even rejected my kiss. What’s that all about?” 

I get that he was tired. I
was and still am. But we’ve both been absolutely knackered before, and it
didn’t take more than a simple touch to make us forget about how tired we
were.        

He doesn’t respond
immediately, which only adds to my resolve that something isn’t right.  

“Dane?” I whisper, desperate
for his reassurance.

“You’re looking way too
deeply into this, Brooklyn?”

“Please don’t treat me like
an idiot. If you’re pissed off with me or if you’ve tired of me already then
just tell me.”

“Tired of you!” He turns
onto his side and looks at my face, but he won’t be able to see me clearly. I’m
happy about that. “With the exception of not fucking you, everything else has
been the same. That doesn’t represent tiring of someone. Or even being pissed
at them.”

I’d like to know why he
seems so annoyed with me now – I’m the one who’s feeling the sting of
rejection. “With the exception of those three nights in the first week, I’ve
been with you every night and every free moment we’ve had. Don’t you think I’d
notice a difference in your behavior?”

This afternoon it sounded
like he didn’t want to lose me. Tonight it’s been as though he wouldn’t be
bothered either way.

“I think I should go home.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Neither of us moves nor
speaks for a long moment.

“This is where you’re
supposed to convince me you actually want me to stay, Dane. Message received
loud and clear.” I yank the cover off of me and leave the bed. I grab my
clothes from the wardrobe and get dressed in the dark. Dane doesn’t move or say
anything.

I leave the room, without
speaking a single word, and head for the front door. Jacket and shoes on, I
release the lock and pull. It’s barely open when Dane comes up behind me and
pushes it closed with one hand. He stands with his palm against the door, the
front of his body pressed to the back of mine. “Stay,” he says, softly.

“Tell me why.”

A frustrated sigh sounds,
the harsh breath brushing against my hair. “Don’t push me.”

“Are you threatening me?”
This is getting ridiculous now, I know he’s not.

Just like I know I wasn’t
really going to leave.

I just wanted him to come
after me. How fucking pathetic?

“What’s this all about,
Dane?”