Page 35 of Fractured Fear

Forcing myself to engage in small talk; I intentionally become oblivious to the fact that the two men on either side of me look like they just walked off a movie set. It doesn’t help that my insides are fluttering with each word oozing from their mouths.

They tell me how they met at NYU. Rio said Zane was grumpy and hated him, which isn’t all that hard to imagine.

They tell me about their other roommate, Asher, who works for the FBI and is currently traveling for work. They said I’ll meet him soon, but I don’t know if I can. If he’s anything like these two—drop dead gorgeous and charming in his own right—I won’t survive it.

As we talk, I finish my drink and decide to switch to water. I don’t need to embarrass myself further by being intoxicated in front of them. Thankfully, the scales begin to balance as they dive into embarrassing college stories of one another.

“Remember that one time you got drunk and thought the tree in Central Park was a bear and you decided you wanted to befriend it?” Rio teases Zane.

Zane turns to me. “It was my first time drinking and I accidentally got hammered”—he shoots back at Rio—“but you got nothing on me. What about the time you said the weed was safe, but it was actually laced with acid? Then during your trip, you decided it would be a great idea to get a tattoo.”

I let out an obnoxious laugh. “Which tattoo is your drunk tattoo?”

Rio winks at me and answers, “You’ll have to at least buy me a drink first if you want to see it.”

Trying to deflect the heat in his gaze I turn to Zane. “What about you? Any drunk tattoos?”

“You don’t need to buy me anything to get my shirt off, Angel.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt and I gasp at the sliver of smooth skin.

Snatching his hands with my own, I stop his stripping. “I didn’t mean you had to show me now.”

“Would you like to take me home first?”

“You’re a shameless flirt, Zane Kingston.”

“There’s no shame in flirting with a beautiful woman.”

I go to pull my hands away but he grabs my left hand and traces an invisible pattern across my skin.

“I’d like to change my answer. You don’t need to buy me a drink. I’ll take my pants off for you for free.” Rio’s humor breaks the moment, and we all laugh. I turn towards Rio and he places his hand back on my thigh, at the same time a warm arm is laid across my shoulders.

After a few minutes I realize I’m not bothered by their touch. There are no memories of pain, no panic about knowing a potential escape route, just intoxicating pleasure.

These men are different, and if I’m not careful I’ll get too comfortable. Being comfortable means letting my guard down, which means they can get close. Close enough to cause real damage. I can’t become complacent.

Excusing myself, I dart to the bathroom. I think I hide my emotions well but these two read me like an open book. As much as they scare me, I want them to stick around. I don’t want to scare them off with the constant back and forth in my mind. It’s giving me whiplash, so I’m sure they’ll grow tired of it too.

Thankfully the bathroom is clear so I’m able to do my business in peace. As I’m washing my hands, I hear the door open and close with a click. When I look up into the mirror, Riois standing there with his arms crossed and his back resting on the door.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, little Mama?”

Keeping eye contact with his reflection I answer, “Nothing I’m fine.”

He approaches with measured steps and an energy that makes my heart pick up speed. He grabs my hips and steps up so his front is flush with my back.

“Is this how he touched you?”

Unable to speak, I frantically nod and my heart continues to race. But this time with a man’s hands on my hips, it’s not fear I’m feeling, it’s excitement. Anticipation. I allow myself to give in a little and lean back into his firm chest.

“What about like this?” Rio moves my hair to my right shoulder and leisurely runs his lips up the length of my neck. I gasp when he finds that spot right below my ear and sucks.

“Answer me, Spencer.”

“No,” I breathe out.

“Good girl.”

I’m not going to live through this. He’s going to kill me from praise alone. I never thought I’d be into that kind of thing, but apparently, I am. I guess I wouldn't know if I was into certain things, having never felt the urge to explore. That, and if I had felt an urge to explore, it would have been shut down in my previous relationship. I knew only whatheliked, whathewanted to do.

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