"Why would you do that?" Nothing makes sense right now and my stomach feels weird. I think it's too much wine—shit how much did I even drink? I want to throw up so bad.
He doesn't say anything but brushes my hair and if he thinks it's helping me calm down, he's absofuckinglutely right. I need his touch.
"Answer me goddammit!" I say a little too loudly, not that Hannah will come to check up on me. That woman sleeps like a log. He pulls me close, but I don't let him. He will not manipulate me any further. This is not a game for me; it is my life and he just screwed it up. I am without a job in New York; I don't know how I will pay the bills or afford the roof over my head. How can he be so inconsiderate and selfish?
"You'll have your old job back Mia, calm down."
"No, I am not calming down Liam. You cost me my job over some stupid game you wanted to play. Do you like to exercise your power just to feel better about your pathetic little life?" I can feel the blood rushing to my head. I have to throw up—if not—I will go off on him. Say things I don't think I should say. I need some control in my life when he is puppeteering everything around me. I climb on him to get to the other side and he touches my cheek when our bodies touch, but I break the contact and hop out of bed. I run to the bathroom, shut the door behind me and kneel in front of the toilet seat. I hold my hair back with my one hand and put my finger down inside my throat.
It's gross and disgusting—I know—trust me, I know. I need to feel better and this helps. Wine and the Oreos I had today night are out of my system and I feel less fucked up. I rinse my mouth and blow my nose—my nose burns and the back of my throat stings, but my stomach isn't churning anymore. I don't feel stuffed and bloated like I was before.
I open the door to the bathroom and he's right there, towering over me. He doesn't say anything but opens his arms out to me and I walk right into his arms. He picks me up and I wrap my arms around his neck. He is not forgiven, but it feels too good to deny right now. He doesn't take me to the bedroom as I was expected. Instead, we are in the kitchen. He turns on the light, places me on the kitchen counter, opens the fridge and pours out water from the Brita in my coffee mug. He hands it to me and I take a big gulp. I can feel the water cascading down my throat into my stomach. It's cold and it certainly helps.
"Are you alright?" Concerned Liam is next level sexy.
"You are mad at him Mia, don't forget!" Inner voice reminds me.
"It's just the wine and Oreos combo, don't worry about it." Before I can say further, he wraps his arms around me and I hug him back. I can't resist the temptation that is William Kent; my body is made to respond to him. I inhale the familiar scent of him and suddenly my throat isn't bothering me anymore... he fills my senses and I feel something stir in the bottom of my stomach—okay fine, I am turned on okay?
He kinda has that effect on me.
"I am sorry baby." He purrs and I want to forgive him. I want to take an eraser and rub this day clean but I know that I can't put a bandage on a wound that requires stitches. If we have to heal, he has to accept the fact that I am not the doormat he can walk all over. He needs to treat me as an equal. If we have to nurse the injury he has initiated, it has to get worse before it can get any better. We have to talk; he has to let me in. I can't be blindsided at every turn I go to.
"Do you want me to forgive you?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
"Prove it."
"How?"
"Answer my questions. If you want 100% honesty, you have to give me back the same."
"That wasn't the deal," he reminds me and of course he was going to—I should have covered my bases when I had the time. Next time whatever he wants from me, I want the same. He might be William I own New York Kent, but I am also Mia I control my own life, Dawson.
"I want it to be the new deal."
"Will that earn me your forgiveness?"
I nod my head and he pulls my head to his face, grabs my hair and kisses my lips roughly. It takes everything in me not to kiss him back, but we need ground rules. He kisses my cheeks and my nose and my forehead— "Liam stop trying to distract me."
"Is it working?"
"No." Yes
"I will tell you what you need to know."
"Okay." For now.
"What do you want to know?"
"Did you send the video out?"
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I can see pain flashing in his eyes. What have I done?
"No Mia, I wouldn't broadcast my life for the world to see. What kind of man do you think I am?" I shouldn't have asked him this; we've already started on a rough note.
"Liam, we're getting to know each other, I had to ask for my peace of mind. Did you think I recorded you on purpose or put it up for some kind of clout?" I push his hair back, they were covering his eyes and what is with guys and such soft hair? They don't deserve it!
He doesn't say anything and confirms my fears.
I place both my hands on either side of his face and look into his piercing blue eyes. He has to see my truth and feel the pain his lack of trust is causing me, so I let him.
"I would never sell you out." I am not here to gain something out him, I don't need some Instagram clout out of him or increase my social media presence or yield some influence. I don't want all the strings that come with him—just his heart.
"And dick," Inner bitch comments and sometimes it's so hard not to laugh at the comedy that is my inner mind.
He moves towards me and I let him, our lips touch and I feel the fire simmering in my belly ignite. This man burns me with desire. I pull his hair and he shoves his tongue down my throat until I can't think. My lips are stretched out and his mouth is deep inside mine. Our teeth rattle together but he doesn't care as he continuous to kiss me—I am not even sure if there is physically a way to deepen this kiss. I can't breathe, but I don't want to break the kiss, he pushes his body close to mine as he pulls me closer. I pull his hair hard and he winces in pain. He breaks the kiss and pulls my sweatshirt up. I raise my hand, he takes it out of me and throws it on the floor. He squeezes my boobs hard and I moan in agony and pleasure. I can see his dick clearly against his pants and I can feel inner bitch cheering me on as I grab it and squeeze it. He squirms and I can't help but giggle at his response.
"I turn you on," I say to myself.
He groans and he agrees. I try to unbuckle his belt, but it's so complicated and I am so distracted, I am scared I might break a nail. He doesn't help me. Instead, he is enjoying my struggle. He presses my lips together until they are a pout and kisses them. Is he making fun of me?
"Have you ever unbuckled a guy's pants?"
I try once more but how do you make this thing open? Why does he have to wear such complicated things, actually it's good. That way I know another woman will be struggling just as much, it makes me feel good in a twisted way.
He lifts my head, breaking my concentration.
"Answer me?"
"Don't judge me." Can you die of humiliation and embarrassment?
"Never." The way his eyes are looking at me, with complete and utter softness—I can almost feel my mind, body, and soul believing his words.
"Tell me, Mia?" Why does he have to know everything?
"No." I can feel my cheeks burning up.
"What am I going to do with you?" Doesn't he want this? Am I too inexperienced for him?
He moves back and unbuckles his belt. Oh! It opens from the side—I learn something new every day. He opens his button; I can do that! I wanted to do that! Why didn't he let me? He unzips his pants and they fall to his knees.
He's wearing black boxers and I can see the shape of his bulging dick clearly. I touch it and my wall of boldness has chipped and is lying on the floor. Next to my shame and anger. How does this man unarm me to the point of nakedness? I still have my pajamas on, but I have never felt this naked in my life before. It's like he can see me, the real me that I hide from the world — the rejected and ashamed and paranoid me. The throws up in the bathroom after every meal me. It's like he sees me and why isn't he running away from me? Why is he still here?
"There is no rush Mia if you're not ready—"
"I am ready; I was just—I am nothing fancy Liam. I am just—I don't have six packs and big boobs and all that ass that's trending everything where. I am just a normal girl and I—" he cuts me midway by kissing my lips gently. This is nothing like the kiss we had before, it's like he knows all my insecurities and it's just—I am scared and I hate to admit it. I hate to be this girl who isn't everything he deserves.
His hands are slowly scratching the base of my head as he holds me in his arms and if he thinks I am a cat and he can pet me like one, he is absofuckinglutely right. I want to melt in his arms and mold myself into exactly what he wants me to be. I just know who I am is not enough to keep him hooked. I am not anybody's dream girl and he is every girl's fantasy in flesh.
"You're beautiful just the way you are Mia," he purrs against my ear and I want to believe this so bad. I want to hold onto those words until they drown out the loud voice in my head that is screaming that I am anything but. Aren't these the words every man says to another woman to fuck her? Isn't this part of some script men are taught to learn so that they can get into any woman's pants?
What if I am not what he wants? Best case scenario, I am wholly unremarkable and worst-case scenario I am the worst he has ever had. It's a lose-lose situation—how do I not quake in fear?
"I don't know what I am doing Liam—I've never been in this situation—I won't be—I don't even know what to do," I say as tears start dripping down my eyes. How do you have sex with a man in a body you so utterly hate? How do I tell him this without sending him into another woman's arms? I try to twist out of his arms.
"Shush—just let me hold you." And I let him as I cry my eyes out. He holds me and pats my back as I cough. By the time I am done, I have snot all over my nose and my eyes are tired. He pinches my nose to gather all the snot—ew—I want to die—and washes his hand in the sink. I am so gross and unattractive right now, why is he still here? I just don't get it at all.
He wipes my tears and kisses my cheeks.
"I am sorry for this—I just—I am sorry," I stutter as I manage to spit words out of my dried-out mouth.
"Why are you sorry?" How can he not know?
"I can't be like the other women you're used to fucking."
"I don't want you to be."
He holds my face in both his palms, "Look at me. Don't you think if I wanted anyone other than you, I would be with her instead of you right now?" Holy fuck, the intensity in his eyes back up his words. The blueness of his eyes remind me of M&Ms and I think they'll become my favorite chocolate now.
His thumb traces my lips and I think even him sneezing will turn me on. I just dig him too much. The sensation his fingers are causing on my lips is having a ripple effect on my libido.
"Have sex with me, Liam," I whisper and who am I? What have I become? How am I the lioness on a hunt one minute and the scared deer in the woods the other? Even I don't understand me.