Page 156 of Breathe Again

He nodded, the crease between his eyes evident. “How can I make it easy for you?”

“It’s the same concept as the bar. Be attentive, don’t be uptight, be affectionate.” I paused. “It would help if I had some notice, time to get used to the idea.” I couldn’t believe I was risking rejection in saying this next part, but we were going for honesty. “It would help if we had sex the night before, so I’d feel more connected to you, feel wanted by you.”

The enormity of the impact BPD had on me, on Zale, on Olivia, hit me all at once. I couldn’t even participate in the simplest of pleasures, like dressing up and going out with friends, taking Olivia to the beach, things that he should take for granted, that I should be able to enjoy, without them being hijacked by fear.

I rolled away to the other side of the bed and jumped out, filled with shame.

“Where are you going?”

I headed for the door, thought better of it, and spun to go into the bathroom instead.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” His palm hit the door before I could shut it. He stepped in with me, closing us both in, and took me in his arms. “Let’s work this out.”

I buried my burning face in his chest, gripping handfuls of his t-shirt at his waist. Where was a good hole when you needed one?

“I’m so stupid! It’s not fair to you and Olivia. I hate this!”

He rubbed his palms up and down my back.

“You’re not stupid. Complicated? Yes. A pain in my ass? Definitely.”

I laughed, loosened my hold on his t-shirt, and stole a peek at his face.

He gazed down at me, his eyes soft and concerned, his mouth lifted on one side in his signature half smirk.

“You’re not mad?”

He puffed out a breath. “Honestly?”

I winced. “Yeah.”

“I’m sad, disappointed, frustrated. I wish you could get into my head for just one minute so you could know how I feel about you, see what I see when I look at you. If you could do that, you’d never worry again.”

“Don’t you see me, Zee? I’m chubby, so chubby.”

He shrugged, smirked. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He pushed his hips into mine, letting me feel the hardness growing there. “This is from seeing your ass reflected in the mirror behind you.”

I threw my head back and laughed happily at the effect I had on him, then froze at the thought of his view of me, worried about how I looked in the mirror. It occurred to me that I projected what I felt about my body onto him. I rubbed my pelvis against his experimentally and elicited a squeeze of my hips.

“Wait right here,” he commanded.

He turned around and slipped out the door but returned within two minutes, closing the door, and locking us in again.

“Olivia is watching a show with a bowl of goldfish crackers.” He backed me up toward the counter, unbuttoning and unzipping my shorts as we went.

My poor stomach flipped again. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” he muttered.

He slipped his fingers down the front of my shorts, inside my panties, curved them under and delved between my suddenly slick thighs.

He stroked, smirked. “Not a good idea, hmm? You’ll have to be quiet. Can you be quiet?”

I panted, pushing against his palm. “I can be quiet.”

He laughed softly. “You’re never quiet. I’m going to have to cover your mouth.”

I spasmed.

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