Brad:
Are you sure?
Callie:
Yes, Brad. I’m sure ;)
Her reply is instant, and the added winky face convinces me enough that I drop my phone and reach down to slide my shoes on.
Before I leave my room, I make sure to grab a few condoms from my drawer and stuff them into my pocket. I know that we may not end up having sex, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Callie
Rushing around my room, I gather all the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor and fling them into the laundry basket in the corner. Huffing from exertion, I grab a cute pink nightgown from my wardrobe and push my arms into it, pulling it down my naked body.
I stare at myself in the mirror and a hint of a smile graces my face. The nightgown clings to my body, accentuating my pebbled nipples and the curves of my hips. It’s something that I bought years ago when I wasn’t being battered and raped. When I wasn’t broken.
I gaze at my flushed skin in the mirror and I take deep breaths, calming my erratic heartbeat.
I can do this.
I want this.
Everything will be okay. Just focus on Brad and you’ll be okay.
I reach over to my dresser for my phone and check the time.
It’s been ten minutes since Brad messaged me.
He should be here soon.
My eyes roam over every inch of my bedroom, checking that it looks okay. It’s tidy and warm. The light beside my bed casts a soft glow around the room creating a sensual vibe.
A shiver runs through my body when my eyes sweep across my desk.
Don’t think about that man.
He’s gone now, and he can’t hurt you anymore.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to rid every haunting memory that I have of this room from my mind. I don’t want to think about any of that.
I want to be normal. I want to be able to fool around with a guy that I’m interested in and not feel afraid. I don’t want my skin to crawl every time another man touches me.
I want to be intimate, and I want to enjoy it.
I breathe in through my nose, drawing a deep breath and holding it for a few moments before blowing the air out through my parted lips.
“I can do this,” I mumble.
“Am I interrupting something?”
When I hear Brad's voice, I screech and jump in the air. He chuckles until I curse and bend to grab my foot, hopping towards my bed.
“Ah, fuck. You bastard! I stubbed my bloody toe!”
He has the decency to look sheepish as he approaches me, crouching in front of me and removing my hand from my throbbing foot.