Page 54 of Reclaiming Love

Counting.

She would count. It would give her something to focus on. He started to slip off her sweatshirt, but she moved away and, without saying a word, began to do it herself.

It felt strange. Preparing for sex. Like a clinical examination. She slipped off her sneakers next, then her jeans, until all she had on was her T-shirt and underwear. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. When he came up behind her and she felt his hardness against her bottom, she knew he was completely naked. Every fiber in her body tensed.

His fingers slipped through her hair then slid along her arms like a thousand spiders crawling over her skin, until they reached the bottom hem of her T-shirt. “Everything comes off.” He tugged the flimsy cotton up and over her head, and released a low moan as he stared at her body.

She watched, as if from another place in the room, somewhere over by the door, or so it felt. She wasn’t here, the person who let him do this to her.

When he had stripped her bare, he laid her down against the bed. When he tried to kiss her, she turned her head away, twice. “No kissing.” Her voice was dead, barely a whisper he either didn’t hear or ignored as he draped his body over hers.

She reached down to check he had protection, and shuddered knowing he was bigger and harder than she ever remembered from before. She knew just how badly he had missed this. Not her. Just this. She started to count.

Moving her face away again, she refused to let his kiss reach her. Stiff fingers grabbed her mouth. “We had a deal,” he hissed, before reaching down, and plundering her mouth with his.

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…

Salt tears mixed with saliva and then rolled down the sides of her face as he moved down hungrily to her breasts.

Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty…

Her arms lay splayed out on the bed, and if she stared at the dirty mark on the ceiling she could temporarily fixate on that instead of this. He was like a rutting pig, and she was dry, and in pain. She clenched her teeth.

Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six…

Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three…

She didn’t even realize when it was over, when he’d pulled out, and clambered off her. She was still counting and the tears still rolled down her cheeks.

He looked over at her as he dressed. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” His words were spoken in fast anger. She got up quickly and rushed her clothes on as fast as she could.

“Mel?” He buttoned up his jeans and walked over to her when she didn’t reply. She threw on her T-shirt, covered her bare skin as fast as she could, then climbed into the safety of her jeans.

Ignoring him completely, she looked around the room making sure she hadn’t left anything. Then opened her purse and double-checked she had the memory stick.

“Mel?” He stood directly in front of her, blocking her path. His face was softer now, almost as if an ounce of regret had mellowed the hardness. She wanted to spit at his face.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Come on, we were good once.” He seemed to want proof of validation.

“When you were the IT guy and nothing else.” She sidestepped him and walked towards the door, needing to escape and put this sorry episode behind her, to forever wash it out of her memories.

He buttressed himself against the door. “Don’t say that. You make me sound like a monster.”

“You are a monster.” She tugged at the door handle. “Let me go. We had a deal and I delivered my end of it.”

“I love you, Mel.”

“Fuck you.”

He moved then, to let her go, but followed closely on her heels, still shirtless. She charged out of the room, down his end of the hallway and prayed that the kitchen would be empty.

Like a playful puppy at her heels, he pranced behind her, trying to grab her attention. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to—”

“Oh, hey, Matt. I didn’t know you were—”

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