Page 32 of Wick
Malik studies me for a moment while taking a bite of his meal. He sighs. "Me too."
The air in the room becomes thick. "Listen—"
"Vayda, I'm sorry." The apology leaves his mouth before I can finish what I was about to say. He puts his fork down and pushes his plate to the side. "This thing between us. The shit that has been brewing for too many damn years." Malik steps to my side, invading my space and my senses. "I'm tired of fighting it. I'm fucking exhausted from fighting it."
My insides feel like combusting with his admission, but I can still see the struggle behind his domineering brown eyes. Something is holding him back from completely giving in to what I know we both want, and I cup his cheek in the palm of my hand. Malik leans into it, seeking the comfort of my touch, and that alone causes my heart to smile. "But?" I inquire knowing something deeper is bothering him, that there must be a root to the reason he struggles.
"I want us, baby. I want you. There is no doubt in my mind, in my heart, when it comes to you." His eyes close. "But my head is all fucked up, Vayda. You're my best friend's sister."
"Somehow, I don't think my brother would have had an issue with us being together, Malik. He loved me." I brush his cheek with the pad of my thumb. "And he loved you too." My words literally cause Malik to flinch beneath my touch. He takes a step back, and my hand drops to my side.
"You wouldn't say that if you knew." His voice becomes filled with sadness.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I take a step toward him, and he takes another step back. The gesture guts my insides. Frustration overtakes me. I become angry. Angry for the way he has avoided me all these years. Hurt towards the way he is shutting down again when I thought we were moving past all this bullshit. In turn, I bite back. "What is it, huh? Talk to me, Malik," I plead. "What is keeping you from giving in to this?" I point to him and myself. "You just told me you wanted me, but just as fast you back away as if my touch repulses you?"
Without warning, Malik rages, screaming at the top of his lungs. "It's my fault, Vayda. It's my fault Damien is dead!"
Momentarily stunned by his outburst, I stand rooted in place. Turning around, Malik puts his fist through the wall. "It shouldn't have happened. He should have let me die that day. He should have lived." His shoulders rise and fall with his rapid breathing.
Approaching him, I wrap my arms around him from behind, placing my hands on his chest and resting my cheek against his back. I realize, as I listen to his heart pound hard against my ear and feel it beating against my palms, we've never actually talked about the day my brother died. "It wasn't your fault."
Malik takes in a shuddered breath, but remains facing the wall, with his hands braced against it and hangs his head. "You weren't there. If only—." He doesn't finish his sentence.
"I've seen the report. Daddy got his hands on the statement you and the other soldiers in your unit gave as well, Malik. If he would have been wearing his headgear, then yes, he most likely would have made it through the incident on that particular day. But there is no guarantee he would still be here today. That's the risk he was willing to take. He knew there was a chance he would never come home. It's a choice we all make every day." Malik stays silent, so I keep going. "He died trying to save you. He was doing what any best friend—a brother would do. He made a choice that day, Malik."
"And I live with his choice every day, and those scars are more profound than the visible ones I wear on my body."
Ducking under his arm, I insert myself between him and the wall, and it forces him to look at me. Tears well in my eyes when I notice the hurt in his as he stares deep into my soul. "I can't get the image out of my head, baby. I close my eyes, and he is all I see. That day haunts me, and as much as I know I should move on, I can't," Malik admits. His gaze drops to my lips. "You want to know what's more fucked up? I'm baring my soul to you, letting you in to see the demons I battle against on a daily basis, and the hardest battle of them all is trying not to kiss you right now."
I feel lightheaded. Malik has this effect on me, and right now, I want nothing more than for what I'm feeling to consume me. My eyes fall to his lips. "I want you to kiss me too." Malik doesn't give me time to breathe before his mouth captures mine. He kisses me as I have never been kissed before, and I lose myself in it. It feels like the floor beneath us disappears. My entire body becomes weightless as we consume each other. The kiss is messy and desperate. It's perfect.
All the air leaves my body once he breaks our connection. Malik rests his forehead to mine, both of us panting. "I want this. I want us."
"Are you sure?" I ask him, hoping he says yes.
"Fuckin' positive. Right now, it's the only thing I know I'm sure of." With ease, Malik scoops me into his arms. Without asking why, I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me out of the kitchen, leaving our forgotten food on the counter and brings me up the stairs. He sets me on my feet. I can't take my eyes off him as he begins to strip his clothes from his body. Desire takes over, but so does apprehension. Hesitant because anything more physical than walking would surely hurt like hell. Malik reads me like an open book. Leaving his boxers on, he steps up to me, the thin tank I'm wearing does nothing to hide my body's reaction to him, and my nipples protrude against the fabric. His palm slides from my shoulder down my arm, and he kisses my forehead. "Not tonight, baby." My shoulders sag. "Don't get it twisted. I want to fuck you." He lifts my chin. "I'm going to fuck you. But not until you have healed enough to do so. Got it?" He waits for my reply, and I nod. "Words, Vayda."
"Got it."
His brow raises, and the corner of his lip turns up. "Got what?"
I hold his stare, with a grin of my own. "You will fuck me."
After settling me into the bed, Malik walks to the other side, switches the lamp off, and slides in behind me. Resting his palm on my hip, he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "For now, holding you is just as good." And I smile. "Vayda?"
"Yeah?"
"I've been fighting it for so long, thinking I was doing the right thing, but I was lying to myself." He pauses, then finishes. "It's always been you. Since the night I took you to homecoming, I knew."
"Knew what?" I hold my breath.
"You are mine. You have always been mine."
* * *
The following morning,I wake to my phone ringing and Malik's palm gripping my upper thigh, his pinky finger dangerously close to my lady bits. Then his hand flexes. "You going to answer that?"
Sighing, I slowly grab my phone from the nightstand and notice my dad's face lighting up the screen. "Hey, Daddy," I answer in a sleepy tone.
