“Please, Hendrix,” I rasp, dragging in a breath. “I am begging you … please … leave.”
I can’t let this awful human watch me have a fucking panic attack. I just can’t.
I start to push past him—or try to—but he grips my shoulders and dips his head lower so we’re forehead to forehead. His eyes bore into mine, but I squeeze them shut, forcing tears to drip down my cheeks.
“Breathe, Isla.” His voice isn’t condescending, like I’m used to, but instead steady and deep. He keeps his hands on me but slides them to the sides of my upper arms. Pulling in a deep breath, he slowly lets it out. “Just like this.” He pulls in another. “Breathe with me, okay?”
I want to tell him to fuck off. Or maybe punch him in the dick and run away from him, but I can’t because I’m frozen in place. So, instead, I keep my eyes closed, and reluctantly, I do what he’s telling me to do.
I breathe. Each time matching his own.
“There you go,” he whispers after a few minutes, continuing to talk me through it. “Nice and easy.”
I drag in another long, shaky breath through my nose just as a few more tears run down my face. I’ve never felt so much and so little, all at the same time. My mind is numb, but my body still somehow aches.
I don’t know how long we stay like this until, finally, I open my eyes.
Hendrix isn’t staring down at me like he’s judging me, but instead the opposite.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I squeak the words out before sniffling.
It’s almost like the simple question I asked stuns him, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I guess because in this moment … I can’t be a dick to you, Isla. I just … can’t.”
I don’t have a bitchy response for him, so instead, I stand here, with his face a mere few inches from my own and his strong hands pressing on my arms, keeping me grounded. I drag in a long breath, filling my nose with his scent, and somehow, it calms me like a tranquilizer. I’ve been close to him, but I’ve never allowed myself to breathe him in the way I am right now because I’m always trying to get away.
In this moment, I don’t want him to go away. I want him closer.
My eyes drop to his lips, and I’m suddenly wondering what they would feel like against my own. I’ve been the good girl my whole life. And when I’m upset, I usually keep it inside because my life is great, so why would I have the right to cry?
Everything inside of me hurts, but there’s one thing that’s slowly numbing me like Novocain.
And as fucked up as it is, it’s having Hendrix this close.
I don’t want to be the good girl right now. I don’t want to be the responsible one who shoves my feelings so far down, hoping they won’t resurface.
I want to be bad. I want to be irresponsible.
I want to use Hendrix Hunt to take away this agony inside of me.
My body still shudders, though my breathing has settled as I stare at him through tear-soaked lashes.
“I think it’s much simpler when you’re a dick to me,” I rasp before slowly lifting my hand to his abdomen and sliding my palm against his rock-hard stomach. “It makes it easier to hate you.”
A minty breath of air rushes from his lips, and his jaw tenses. “Isla, what are you doing?”
There are plenty of thoughts rushing through my head, but all are moving far too fast for me to actually pinpoint one. This isn’t me. I’m not the girl who hooks up with a guy in a dirty closet. Especially not someone she hates. But right now, I don’t feel like me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I need …” Despite not even knowing what I’m feeling, my eyes fill with tears again, and a lump lodges itself in my throat. “I need a distraction.” My lip trembles, and I slide my hand to the waistband of his sweatpants. “Distract me, Hunt.”
His eyes darken, and his body tenses under my touch. “Isla,” he whispers, “I didn’t come in here for that. You’re not in the right headspace right now. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“You’re right; I’m not.” My voice is stronger now. “And that’s why I need this.” I graze my fingertips under the band of his briefs before stepping closer. “What’s the matter, Hunt? You’ll fuck anyone, but you can’t fuck me?”
His cock jumps, grazing my pelvic bone, and he sucks in a breath. Knowing I did that somehow calms me while also exciting me at the same time, making me feel things I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been with anyone—but I’m not about to tell Hendrix that. He’d never agree to this if he knew he was my first. I’m sure he’d automatically assume it would mean something to me when, really, it won’t mean a thing.
“Don’t pretend you’re some martyr,” I hiss, desperate for him to take the next step. “You came in here to be nice …” I stop, swallowing thickly. “You can be nice by fucking me. That way, when I leave this closet, I can be stuck regretting this decision instead of thinking about other things.”
