Page 37 of Stowaway Whirlwind
My brows shoot up, and I gape at him. “That wasn’t rape!”
He slides a hand through his hair, gripping the strands like he wants to tear them out. “Yes, it was!” He hangs his head and clenches his eyes shut. “You were asleep. You couldn’t consent. And there I was, hard and humping between your legs, and I woke up inside you. It was only an inch or two—as if that makes it any better,” he says, interrupting himself with a scoff. He twists and palms my cheek, pleading with glassy, fearful eyes, “Please believe me when I tell you I didn’t mean to…that I was horrified by what I’d done to you.”
My chest tightens at the pain in his eyes. “For god’s sake, Davis, I might have been the one who initiated it.”
Davis drops his hand, his jaw going slack for a second before his brows crash together. “I confess torapingyou, and you try to take responsibility for it? What the fuck, Goldie?”
Since he’s so hell-bent on believing the worst about himself, I say, “Alright, so let’s pretend it was all your fault. That means you shut me out for nearly five weeks, making me feel like a whore that you were done using, all becauseyou had morning wood? Are you serious?” I want to throat-punch him repeatedly, but with Lily in my arms, I can’t do that.Yet.
“A whore? I made you—fuck, fuck!” Pushing that aside for now, he says, “It was more than just morning wood! I could have seriously hurt you, and I was scared to death you’d get some kind of infection.”
“But you didn’t—I didn’t! You hurt me more by trying to sneak out. What is wrong with you?”
Davis slaps a hand to his cheek and pulls it down his face. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving before I could hurt you again.”
“Yeah, well, walking away is never the ‘right thing’, you big fucking oaf. Next time, just talk to me about it like an adult instead of freezing me out.”
“There won’t be a next time,” he says stubbornly, clenching his jaw hard enough to make the muscles in his cheeks ripple.
I huff and roll my eyes. “Oh, so you’re telling me that you’re never going to wake up with morning wood again?”
“Well…no. I can’t promise that. But I have my own bed now,” Davis reminds me. “So I won’t get the chance to…” He waves his hand around, leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished.
My heart squeezes in my chest at the thought of him neveraccidentallyfalling asleep in here again. “This is so stupid,” I say too loudly, startling Lily, who pops off my breast with a cry. I guide her mouth back and say, “I mean, I’m glad you stopped since I’d just given birth, but it’s not like I’ve never had sleepy morning sex. Sometimes it’s even better that way.”
“Don’t talk about having sex with other men,” he growls and slides his hand under the comforter to grip my bare thigh.
I had kicked off my sweatpants before going to bed tonight, and the heat of his touch makes my belly flutter with need. It’s strikingly obvious how starved for affection I am, even if I’m getting angrier by the second.
I glare at him. “Oh, please. I’m not the Virgin Mary. Lily wasn’t created through immaculate conception. I’ve had plenty of sex with—”
Davis shifts his hand up higher, flexing his fingers. “Do not finish that sentence.”
My belly dips, and my eyelashes flutter. It feels so, so good to feel him touch me, caress my skin with his rough thumb that has goosebumps rising along my arms with pleasure, like the chills I get when listening to certain songs.
“Why? I’m sure you’ve had sex with a ton of women over the years.” I frown at the thought and push my leg a fraction closer to him.
“I don’t want to think about other women, either.”
“This is so stupid,” I repeat. “I’m an adult. You’re an adult. We’ve both had sex—a lot of it. It’s not a big deal. So why do you care?”
“I just do,” he says gruffly.
I’m too exhausted to continue arguing, so I simply close my eyes and say, “Fine.”
We sit in silence afterward, listening to Lily’s sweet sounds as she nurses, though it’s taking her longer than usual. My eyes snap open when she pops off and cries again. I press the heel of my palm against the top of my breast and drag it down, hissing as I try to work out the blocked duct, knowing Lily isn’t getting as much milk as she needs. When that doesn’t work, I pull up the rest of my shirt and tuck it under my armpit before switching Lily to my other side.
Davis twists and leans forward, pointing to my breast as I continue to knead it. “What’s going on? Why is it all red like that?”
I should probably feel embarrassed at the way I’m groping my bare breast with Davis sitting just inches away, but I’m in too much pain to be concerned about modesty. And it’s not like he hasn’t seen my breasts before, though not quite like this.
“I have a blocked duct. If I can’t get it worked out soon, I’m scared it’s going to turn into mastitis, and I’ll have to go to urgent care or the ER.” He knows I don’t have health insurance, and I’m dreading the hospital bills that I’m sure are already rolling in. I’ll have to figure out how to get them from Dad since I put his address down when I was filling out my paperwork.
“What can I do to help? Do you need me to get something from the store?”
“No, that’s ok. I read online that pumping and nursing should help, but it hasn’t worked so far.” One of the few extras I allowed myself to purchase was a small, manual breast pump—the cheapest I could find at Walmart. “Hot water might, but…” Ok, now I’m embarrassed. I subtly try to sniff my armpits. It’s been a few days since I’ve taken a shower, and I’m not even sure there are any clean towels to dry off with.
Davis pulls off his T-shirt and plucks Lily from my hold when she finishes nursing. “Go take a shower. I’ve got her.” He slides lower on the bed and lays Lily on his bare chest, rubbing and lightly thumping her back to burp her.
