Page 1 of Reclaiming Love

Chapter 1

She didn’t understand why it excited him—taking cheap shots of her in her underwear—but it did. It made her feel grimy, as though she’d eaten in a cheap burger place where the meat was of questionable origin.

Melissa recoiled at the thought of it, remembering how humiliated and dirty she felt. It was the kind of dirty that brought a smile to his face. As it had last night when she’d had no intention of staying over.

“You look so hot,” he’d whispered hoarsely, before he slipped her bra strap off her shoulder. “You can do better than that,” he told her, when she wouldn’t kneel like he said. She’d winced, wondering how they’d gone from making out to this. It seemed to turn him on—the idea that he could make her do things she wasn’t comfortable with. Melissa blushed at the memory, the color heating her cheeks. She’d sat back down on the bed and buttoned up her shirt after the shame of it all. Like trapped gas, a feeling of discomfort lodged deep in her stomach and made her uneasy.

And yet at other times when he was good, he was the best. Her friends at work thought he was hot. Not just cute-hot, but hot-hot. And he was. No arguing with that. She’d seen the way girls swept their gaze his way even when she was out with him: buying tickets at the cinema or ordering at a restaurant. They didn’t try to hide their lust.

It always made her feel invisible. The way she often felt when she went out with her friend Heather—her outwardly ditzy persona adding to her beach blonde look, complete with smile and curves. She got noticed. Melissa did not.

“Skinny latte to go,” a barista on autopilot announced into the air.

“Skinny latte to go for—Melissa.” Another announcement, spoken in a world-weary voice.

“I think that’s yours.” A gentle touch of a hand on her arm and a soft voice close to her drew her back into the bustling buzz of the early morning coffee shop, just across the road from work and a few minutes walk from the gym.

The gym where she’d spend a couple mornings a week before work. She glanced at the person who’d spoken to her. He pointed to her cup. “You’re Melissa, aren’t you?”

Her attention had been snatched back and she acknowledged him with a nod, this stranger with the soft eyes. “Huh? Yes.” She stared vacantly at the tall coffee cup, then glanced at him again, his face registering familiarity. She’d seen him here before. His hair was the color of dark chocolate, longish and swept back at the sides.

With an effort she grabbed her coffee, voiced a quiet “thanks” to him and turned to head out the door.

But collided head-on with a motorcycle courier who was removing his helmet. His oversized frame knocked right into her and the sharp bite of instant heat singed her chest.

She yelped in agony as the sensation, like hot prickly barbed wire, stung her skin. The motorcyclist turned, saw what he’d done and rushed to her side as she pulled her sticky, coffee-stained shirt away from her scorched skin.

“Oh, damn,” she groaned.

“I’m so sorry.” The courier turned crimson when he saw her drink had spilled all over her. Luckily her coat and scarf had absorbed most of it.

“Here.” The familiar guy with the soft eyes handed her some tissues, which she gratefully accepted.

“Does it hurt? Do you want to sit down?” The motorcyclist asked, fussing over her. She shook her head, truly embarrassed at what had happened even though it hadn’t been her fault.

“Can I at least get you another drink?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Melissa wiped the stubborn stain and kept her shirt away from her body. It had cooled fast, but she still felt a slight pinch of soreness underneath.

“I’m sorry,” the motorcyclist repeated, as if the mantra would fix the situation.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Melissa said, with a finality she hoped would get through to him. He shrugged and left, heading towards the washroom.

An assistant came over to ask her if she was all right and whether she’d like another drink. “No, thank you.” She was eager to get out, to not draw even more attention to herself.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It wasn’t your fault.” The guy with the soft eyes told her. She looked at him, her face flushed from attracting too much unnecessary attention.

“Maybe getting a drink might help. A small comfort for the pain?” She was too dazed to reply. Instead, she watched as he turned to the assistant who still hovered around. “She’d like a skinny latte and a blueberry muffin, please.”

“I didn’t get a blueberry muffin today.”

“No, but you sometimes do.”

Startled, she patted the stain and stared back at him. Long eyelashes, she concluded.

“They’re probably hoping you don’t sue,” he said quietly as he waited by her side. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, even though it stung a little. “My scarf got most of it.” She unwound it from her neck and scrunched up her nose as she inhaled the smell of stale, cold coffee. Wonderful. Now not only was she wearing yesterday’s clothes, but she smelled of old coffee too. “Thanks for the tissues.”

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