Page 55 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“I wasn’t staring.” Sure she was. She did a poor job using the book as a cover. Coming close to plant a kiss on my lips, she tries to hold me in place, but I duck because I don’t feel like it. I have no idea why I am pissed, but I want to leave this place. Right now. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Pushing my legs over the bed, I tense slightly when her arms circle my waist. She rests her head on my shoulder, and the irritation flickers. I want to hug her, but my fingernails sink into the bed.

Seconds pass with none of us saying a word. Her arms tighten around me from behind, and her breath punctuates the morning air. The house is quiet except for the faint buzz from the streets.

“Benny, what did I do?” Gracie pokes my cheek in a playful gesture, but I don’t want to play or talk. Talking about that incident unearthed emotions I don’t want to identify. “Benjamin Carter.”

“What?” I snap.

A tide of loss sweeps over me when she releases me. She pats a spot in the middle of the bed.

“Okay, come here. Time to talk.”

Look who’s bossy today. I like that. I grumble all the way up to where Gracie is and cross my legs. She rolls her eyes. She tolerates me because of what I told her. That’s the problem. I don’t want the way she treats me to change. I am not a fragile porcelain doll. She’s allowed to punch my shoulder or aim a sneaker at my forehead. Or, even worse, ignore me when I’ve annoyed her.

Our knees touch, and she pulls my hands into her lap. “Okay.” I lean forward to kiss her, but she flicks a finger over my nose. “You are right. I was staring, but it wasn’t deliberate. Are you mad?”

“No. I don’t want you to pity me.”

“I don’t pity you,” she says. “I’m just amazed.”

Pride shadows my girlfriend’s face as she wraps her arms around herself. Her staring makes me conscious, and I tug on the loose thread sticking out from the knee of her jeans. She is wearing a crop top today. She has gotten more comfortable showing her skin. Her eyes tail my movement as I rub a finger over her exposed belly. She is waiting for an answer, but I reply with a question.

“By what?” I ask, though I know what she meant.

“How you handled everything. I am so proud of you, Benny, and I don’t… I don’t know how.” The confidence brought by her words shatters when her brown eyes brim with tears. I hoist her to my lap before the tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffs and wipes her eyes. “I want to hurt her.”

Me too.

I have thought of hurting her so many times. The first time I fought back was when she returned from her internship. I hit her. The second time, I bit her. There was no third time or a mention of what transpired. But she stopped sneaking into my room, and I only grew up to become angrier.

Anger burns in the pit of my soul. I’ve imagined walking over to her room in the dead of night to place her fancy pillow over her face. To watch her fight with the same helplessness I did all those years. Other times, I am scared. I worry she will see through my bad-boy facade and come for me again. Moving out of the house helped to overcome some of those fears, but the little boy inside me remembers those days sometimes. The best part about being with Gracie is she makes me forget. When I am with Gracie, I think only of her. I want things to return to how they were.

Gracie’s fingers graze my cheek, drawing me back to the present. I have my girlfriend and a full-ride scholarship to a great college. I should not worry about a mini she-devil who molests kids.

“Don’t bother,” I tell her with enough conviction. She shakes her head in disapproval, but I need her to listen to me. Mom thinks it’s important I don’t keep quiet about this issue, but I think it’s too long ago to talk about it. How will Josef feel? He might act so tough, but she is his daughter. “Hurting her won’t make us feel better. It won’t take away the hurt or pain. It’s not worth it.”

“Maybe,” she replies.

Her tongue seeks entry into my mouth, and I let her lead. She kisses me slowly till I lose my train of thought. Her warm breath tickles my face, she grinds on my crotch, and a moan escapes me.

“But you shouldn’t let her go free, Benny.” Logic battles with lust. It’s hard to think straight when the girl you love is kissing you. My hands travel up her chest and sneak into her bra. She jerks back. “Benny. What if she does it to someone else? Who says she hasn’t been doing it?”

Gracie has a point. Theresa used to work with kids. I don’t want to think about it, but dark thoughts infiltrate my head. Who knows how many of those poor kids she molested? Kids who must have been silenced. Jolts of guilt stab right at my heart. I’m not a bad person for wanting to keep silent about this. I want to be done with this topic and look forward to our future.

“Gracie…”

“Think about it, okay?” Her lips descend on my neck. She doesn’t need to seduce me into saying yes. I’ll do anything for her. She tugs on my shirt, and I lift my arms for her to pull it off. “Please.”

Without warning, she removes her shirt and brings my hand to her chest. I am the only one she’s comfortable being half-naked with. I trace the polka dots on her bra, and she giggles when I push a finger into a cup to tease her nipple. Heat creeps up her neck. Her face flushes, and her cheeks redden.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

Desire clouds her eyes, and her voice comes out husky. I unhook her bra and toss it across the room. She sucks in a sharp breath when my tongue swipes across her beady nipple. Her fingers lower to my buckle. She’s hesitant to undo it, so I help her. That encourages her to take off her jeans. She returns to straddling me, hands on my shoulders. This time, none of us does anything.

Shyness creeps up on both of us. Gracie is in only her panties, and I’m in my boxers. I can see how her vitiligo extends from her stomach and spreads to her inner thighs. It’s her superpower. I give her breasts another gentle squeeze, breaking us out of this haze, and she captures my lips.

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