Free We Shouldn't and Yet... by Stephanie Witter Page B

circles on her silky skin. This innocent touch is raising the hairs on my arms.
    “Calm down and match your breathing with mine. You hear me?’’
    She nods slowly, her eyes now glassing over with unshed tears and I’m man enough to say that it’s breaking my heart. There’s so much pain contained in her, so many dark emotions she’s keeping inside. I don’t know her, I only met her a couple of days ago, but it’s blatantly obvious this woman does not easily show her emotions. But right now, they’re ready to overthrow her and it’s ruining me.
    After a couple of minutes of breathing deeply and slowly, she’s calm again. But I don’t want to release her small hands from my big ones. Yet, she tugs gently at them and I reluctantly let go, already missing the warmth of them in mine. It’s crazy how I sound like a pussy since I’ve met her.
    “I’m sorry about this.’’ She shakes her head and keeps her chin down. She’s hiding.
    “No need for that.’’ My voice is rueful, raspier than usual. “Never apologize for coming to my defense.’’ I take her chin in between my thumb and index finger and tilt her head upward. When our eyes lock, it’s like a charge straight to my balls and I’m getting hard again. It’s not the first time I’ve felt a connection with her, but it’s the first time I’ve seen the darkness in her. “Who did you lose?’’
    She blinks and a tear falls down her cheek. Before it even reaches her chin she dries it, not even leaving a damp trace of its path on her skin. “My uncle. He died a year ago during a tour.’’
    I nod and this time, I’m the one looking away. It’s always hard hearing about death overseas because it keeps bringing me back to the ones who died next to me, the ones I considered my friends. A sharp pain tears at me from the inside, the same fucking pain I’m desperately trying to run away from. But there’s nowhere to hide from this and I don’t know how to make it go the fuck away. I don’t know.
    “I’m sorry for your loss.’’ Expected words, almost meaningless at this point. It’s not a balm on an open wound. “Is it him, Hal was talking about? Yann?’’
    She closes her eyes as if I just punched her. She forces more air in her lungs before she opens her mouth. “No. Yann was my boyfriend.’’ She clears her throat and blinks back more tears. Suddenly, her eyes take a harder glint, losing that intense and vulnerable emotion. “And it’s an off-limits topic. Hal knows this, but he pushes and keeps pushing. It’s not like I’ve never talked about him with him.’’
    “I’m not going to ask. I know what it’s like not wanting to talk about something.’’
    “I know.’’
    Silence falls, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it’s welcomed. But it gives me too much of an opportunity to watch her, to wonder about what she’s hiding, about who she is under that sexy, strong exterior. I now realize that I’m interested in her, not in just fucking her, that's a whole other mess in waiting.
    I sigh and stand up. When her eyes take me in slowly from my old biker boots, my black jeans, my chest encased in the regular black shirt and my face, I’m gutted. And harder. She’s there, still on the couch, her face turned upward, her big beautiful eyes on me and I only think about one thing. Kissing her. No, actually I think about two things. Kissing her, and fucking her right there.
    “I should go.’’
    Her pink tongue makes an appearance, drawing me in even more. “And the pizza?’’
    I scoff and rub at my neck. She looks down and her gaze stops at my crotch and the unmistakably bulge. She gasps and flushes and I’m ready to pounce.
    “Is it really about the pizza, Aideen?’’
    “I…forget it.’’ She flicks her hair over her shoulders and avoids looking my way at all costs, even when my dick is pushing hard against my zipper right in front of her.
    “No, I won’t. Tell me what the fuck you want.’’
    Cornered, she