Darkness can’t hide everything. The outline of the bad is always there if you look hard enough. I should know.
The thing about darkness is that you want to keep people away, but you want to do that without them seeing how vulnerable you are. It’s assumed that those of us that live in darkness are tough, but the opposite is true. Living in darkness is a weakness. The weakness you don’t want anyone to see.
If they see you hiding from the demons, then they know they’re there.
I’ve played the greatest trick of all—living my whole life in the limelight, on stage, in front of millions of people, and all the while, they have no idea of the darkness inside.
And I don’t want Kailey to see my demons. I don’t want my demons to think they can play with her. I have to keep her safe. I failed tonight. Rationally, I know what the doctor said is true. He said what happened tonight is no one’s fault. But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’ve done, the pain I’ve caused.
Karma is a bitch, and she’s coming for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kailey
“It’s been eight minutes!” Ryder yells, knocking on the bathroom door.
It’s a week since my bleeding episode, and he’s still on threat level red. At first, it was sweet, endearing even, knowing how much he cared. But by day five, it started to grate on my nerves, and now I’m ready to go nuclear on him.
I was worried and scared, too. So I understand what he’s feeling, but some of my angst has settled as the days passed. Each day that I feel good, don’t have any more bleeding episodes, gives me more confidence that things will be fine. Ryder doesn’t seem to possess that positivity.
I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried understanding how scared he was. I’ve even tried inviting him to shower with me, but nothing works.
Not only does he time my showers, making sure I’m not up for more than ten minutes at a time, but he has started to keep track of how many hours I sleep a night, what I’m eating, how many calories I’m consuming (which is never enough). My water intake is a source of daily conversation, too. It’s gotten so bad, I’m waiting for him to measure my urine output.
“Need five minutes,” I yell back.
The bathroom door comes flying open. “You’ve already been on your feet for . . .”
“Eight minutes,” I bark. “I know. I’m shaving my legs.”
“It can wait,” he says.
“You want me to stop with one leg done?” I ask, sticking my head out of the shower.
“Yes,” he says, holding up a towel for me. “You know what Dr. Myers said about being on your feet too long.”
Deep breath! I could tell him to back off and calm the hell down, but I know he means well, so I’m trying to be patient. He’s the protective type. I get that. I know he’ll be the same way when our baby is born. Protective is fine. I know my health and safety are of utmost importance to him, so I try to be patient. This will pass, and he’ll return to a “normal” level of protectiveness. Perhaps a distraction?
Turning off the water, I take the towel from him. “Get in bed,” I tell him, drying myself off.
“What?”
“Get in bed,” I say, stepping closer to him. He’s battling not to look down at my naked body, but he’s losing. I lean closer, letting my lips hover over his. “I seem to remember some other things Dr. Myers said. Something about talking dirty.”
“Kailey, I promised you that if you couldn’t, then I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t be a gentleman,” I say, pressing my body against his. “It’s not you.” His eyes glance down at me. “You want me off my feet, don’t you? This is my condition.” Not bothering with clothes, I slowly walk past him toward the bed. I don’t get under the covers, letting him see me stark naked. Granted, my body is changing, but Ryder doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes locked on me like I’m his lunch. Really sucks, he can’t touch me, but he needs this. Maybe even more than I do. “You’re not going to leave me alone and naked in bed, are you?”
“You’re not playing fair,” he says with a small smile, the first real one I’ve seen from him in days. When he reaches for the button on his jeans, I know I have him.
He lifts his t-shirt over his head, and the tan, ripped muscles of his abs and chest are perfect eye candy. I should just have him stand naked in front of me while I’m on bed rest. That would never get boring. He flashes me a wicked grin as he steps out of his jeans. Only his boxer briefs remain. I raise my eyebrows at him, like I’m daring him to remove them, which is stupid. Ryder is not shy, and why should he be? He’s hot as the day is long, and his package is . . . Dear God, is he hard twenty-four seven?
It’s not often you see someone totally naked in the bright light of day. During sex, you’re usually pretty busy doing other things, but as he walks toward me, I can really admire him. He’s a god! There’s not an ounce of him that’s not hard and chiseled. And he’s all mine! How did that happen?
He slips in beside me. “I want to touch you,” he growls.
Taking his hand, I move it to his dick, long and hard—his weeks of neglect evident. “This is all for you,” I whisper, giving his balls a gentle tug.
“Fuck!” he groans loudly.
“Have you really not?”
“No,” he moans, his hand starting to slide up and down his shaft.
I continue to massage him and whisper in his ear, “Think about our night.”
“I ate your pussy,” he moans.
My legs clench together at the memory. When my ex did that to me, it seemed like a chore. I found myself thinking about how long he was taking, hoping he wasn’t getting frustrated, but not with Ryder. He got off on doing that to me, going down on me over and over again.
“I came.”
Pumping himself harder, he reaches for the back of my neck, pulling me to his lips and kissing me hard. When his hand starts to drift toward my breast, I stop him. He has no idea how hard this is for me. I want him to touch me so badly. I want to feel him inside of me again, our bodies moving together, his arms wrapped around me. His mouth doing all the wonderful things it did to me our night together.
“Are you wet?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Open?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath growing ragged. I can’t forget who’s supposed to be talking dirty to who. Time to bust out all the naughty words I know he loves. “My pussy is throbbing for you.”
“Christ!” he groans, moving his hand harder and faster.
“I wish you were straddling my face,” he says, his voice gruff.
A dirty thought comes into my mind. One little touch won’t hurt anything. Okay, I can do this. “Look at me,” I say in my best dominatrix voice. His blue eyes spark, locking on mine. Slowly, I slide my hand down my chest, over my full breasts and then between my legs.
One touch.
My muscles clench, wanting more, wanting it to be his fingers touching me. But I maintain control.
He bites his bottom lip, and I lift my finger to his mouth. Like a starving man, he pulls it between his teeth, sucking down on it hard. “Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth before releasing all over his belly.