Although, if they had, then what I’m experiencing with him wouldn’t feel so freeing.
Sighing into my coffee cup, I flex my foot a little, stretching my leg out across Tanner’s couch and trying to keep my ankle moving so it doesn’t seize up. I haven’t been able to go home yet. It has a little to do with all the orgasms I’m getting, but it’s mostly because it doesn’t feel like home anymore.
I hate that the place where I have built my life is unsafe now, all because of some spoiled bastard with a tiny dick complex who lives off of Daddy’s money.
My life may have been boring, but it was mine and he took that away from me. The training has been helping, though. I’m getting pretty good with a knife and I’m at least hitting the targets with a gun now. No kill shots, but something’s better than nothing. Having stuff to focus on—and again with the orgasms—is good for my peace.
Finishing off my coffee, I place the empty cup on the coffee table in front of the couch before resting my head back against the arm. I have to admit that his couch is more comfortable than mine, by a lot, but it’s also probably a hell of a lot newer than my inherited one. I close my eyes and immediately open them again when hot tears spring to the surface along with flashes of the attack.
Being alone with my thoughts sucks. Talking to a therapist would help, for sure, but I already know all of the advice they could give. I understand the complexities of my emotions andthe techniques I can use to work through them, but if I’m honest with myself, the offbeat track I’ve chosen instead makes me happier than I’ve ever been.
Yeah, it’s fucked up, and is also probably the reason I definitely won’t be speaking with a professional.
My new cell phone buzzes and I sit up, grabbing it to check my messages. I could do with a good birthday doom scroll. Although, when it arrived in the mail yesterday morning, I didn’t rush in setting it up. Not having a cellphone has been quite nice. There’s a message from my mom.
Mom:Happy birthday, sweetheart. Our cruise is wonderful, but we don’t have the internet very much. I’m not entirely sure this message will send, but I hope it does. Dad and I will raise a glass for you this evening. Chat soon. We love you.
I huff a laugh. She texts exactly the way she speaks.
Me:Thanks, Mom. Out with friends tonight. Love you too.
As I hit send, another message comes through, but this one is from Tanner…? I didn’t know he had my number. Although, Iampractically living in his house, and we’ve been sharing bodily fluids for almost three weeks now. I guess it isn’t a stretch that he has it…even though I have no recollection of giving it to him or saving his number in my phone.
Tanner:Clothes in the closet, get dressed. Be ready in fifteen.
Bossy.
I have been living out of my suitcases—with a pile of clothes that has been gradually growing the longer I’ve been here, thanks to Tanner’s multiple trips to collect my things—so I’m curious as to why something for me to wear would be in his closet.
Choosing not to reply, I grab my empty coffee cup as I stand and head to the kitchen to pop it in the dishwasher, because a messy house guest I am not, then I allow a little excitement to bubble in my gut as I rush up the stairs to his bedroom. Healready told me that he has a birthday surprise for me, so this must be the first part of it.
This is all new and a lot surreal. Birthdays have never really been a big deal with my family, and having no friends growing up meant that parties weren’t in the cards. Neither were surprises or gifts from anyone other than my parents. I’m choosing to go with whatever Tanner has planned, allowing myself to ride the excitement because I damn well deserve to be happy.
I open the closet, raising my brows when I see a pair of faux-leather pants—the tight kind—and a plain black hoodie front and center. There’s a piece of paper on the hanger with another note:
Yours.
Oh, such sweet words he writes…
I laugh and shake my head, looking down to where the arrow below the word is pointing to find a pair of black ankle boots.
We’re obviously not going dancing. Although, it’s like nine in the morning so that wasn’t my first thought anyway. Everything is in my size and fits like a glove, and I’m shocked, yet again, at how this man gets his information. Maybe he’s been spying on me or something and that’s why he won’t let me in his special room. I huff another laugh because that would be insane.
Brushing my hair through, I leave it down. After last night’s shower it seems to have fallen in just the right way to give me perfect birthday hair. I apply a little makeup, not needing it to cover the bruising anymore as that all seems to have faded. My ribs still ache when I move in a certain way, but I’m actually becoming accustomed to the bites of pain.
They’re especially fun when Tanner is ravaging me, removing any and all traces of anything before him so that he is the only touch I can remember.
A loud car horn beeps from outside…I recognize that sound. Frowning, I rush out to the front of the house, my eyes wideningwhen I see my Firebird idling on the street. Tanner is standing with the driver’s door open, casually leaning against it and looking like all of my wet dreams in one—would be a lot better if he was naked, though.
“What the fuck are you doing with my car?” Not the most eloquent good morning greeting, but that car is my pride and joy.
“Cleaned her up for you, and now that your ankle is better, you can take us for a drive. All you gotta do is follow the GPS.” Ignoring my barb, he gestures for me to get in the car with that punchable smirk plastered across his face.
I narrow my eyes but I’m not actually mad. She does look good. He even did the alloys. I know this because I can almost see my reflection from here.
“Fine. But ask next time. I have some special cleaning products I like to use…” I trail off mid-sentence as I reach the car, the fruity scents coming from the interior. He used my shit too…again, not gonna be mad because, while I love this car to death, cleaning days are a whole thing. “Thank you.”
Tanner is at the passenger door now and he pauses with the door half open. “Could you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”
