"Okay, hip-width apart, got it," I nodded.

He smiled at me. "Now, don't do anything with your hands yet. Put them on your hips."

I did as he asked. "I look like my mother," I remarked, catching a glimpse of my shadow.

"She yell a lot?"

"Not as much as my dad."

"Hmm," J looked like he wanted to ask more, but thought better of it. I was grateful. How many tragic stories could I burden him with in one day? "So now you can feel your hips. I want you to rock them back and forth."

"Like this?"

He laughed. "No, not like you're shaking your a.s.s." He flashed a dimple. "Though, thank you for that."

"Shut up."

"No like this. Twist them." He twisted his hips back and forth, thrusting one forward, and then the next. The effect was hypnotic.

"Thanks for that," I echoed, my gaze falling to his crotch as he thrust.

He raised an eyebrow. "d.a.m.n, you're a little nasty, aren't you?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I confessed, twisting my hips like he was. Though I had to admit, moving that way in front of him did feel strangely electric.

"Okay!" He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Stop before you kill me. I'm only human." I immediately blushed and looked down, my heart nearly hammering out of my throat. "Emmy, stop that, you're gorgeous, own it." He was looking at me impatiently. I nodded my thanks, too fl.u.s.tered to speak.

"Now then, you got your feet planted, you got your hips loose. Now what I want you to do is. .h.i.t me."

"What?" I threw up my hands in alarm. "I'm not going to do that!"

"I can take it, believe me," he prodded. "What you're going to do is make a fist, like this," he held up a huge hand and balled it up. "See how all my knuckles are at the same level? You don't want one sticking up above all the other ones." He formed my fist into an imitation of his. "Tuck your thumb down, you're gonna break it. Okay now." He stood back and turned to the side. I want you to punch me in the arm. When you throw the punch, twist your hips like we just practiced."

"Wait, I'm confused."

He turned back immediately and held up his fists. "Pull back on a twist, throw the punch on a twist. Back and forth." He demonstrated slowly, twisting his body in a fluid motion. It almost looked like dancing.

"Okay, I think I got it."

"Okay," he turned. "I'll count to three. On three, you hit me right here," he tapped his muscular bicep right where it was encased in his tight black t-shirt. "Aim carefully, please," he grimaced. "One, two...."

On three I let my fist fly. In spite of my careful aiming, it merely clipped him across the shoulder, missing its mark by a mile. "Are you okay?" I gasped.

"Did a mosquito just land on me?" He was laughing but his face was serious. "Twist your whole body into it. Follow through; don't stop short when you feel the contact. Think about punching through my arm."

I nodded and focused on the spot he had indicated. "One, two...three!" I counted and this time my fist connected solidly with his arm. The impact travelled back up my arm, and made my teeth clack together.

"Better!" he shouted.

"Are you still okay?" I marveled.

"I told you, I'm fine. You worry about landing three punches in the same place before you worry about me."

"Okay fine," I said and focused again. The summer sun shone off of his dark skin, revealing hidden layers to the deep, rich color. I saw browns and reds and deep blue-blacks all painted over the canvas of his skin. The muscles underneath revealed the hidden topography of him. I wanted to trail my fingernail down his bicep, tracing down to the valley of his forearm and let my lips follow suit.

Instead I punched him again.

He sucked in his breath. "Nice!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry!" I couldn't help it. It was ingrained in me to apologize.

"Shut up," he intoned. "Again."

I focused on that spot and hit him again.

"Okay!" he cried and walked away. "Time to switch arms."

"Did I really hurt you?" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Getting hit three times in the same place will hurt anyone."

"Oh."

He caught the disappointment. "Yes Emmy, you hurt me."

I laughed and clutched at his hand. "Yay! I mean I'm sorry and all, but, yay!" And without hesitation I kissed him again.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to press my lips to his. And when he caught my face in his hand to kiss me more deeply, I wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel. That sensation of falling and flying at the same time. I suddenly understood love songs.

He pulled back gently and brushed back my hair. "I'll take a couple more punches if it gets me more of that," he grinned.

The rest of the afternoon flew past far too quickly. I was aware of the swiftly moving sun even as J. taught me to block, to slip out of holds, to throw elbows. I was exhausted, and gra.s.s-stained, and sore by the time I finally called for mercy.

"I have to get back, J." The fear that his presence had tamped down flared back up again. "He doesn't like it when he comes home and I'm not there."

J. kissed me hard, bruising my lips and making me gasp. "I want to see you," he rasped.

"You will," I promised and once again I heard the truth in my words. I needed to see him again. If it meant I had to explode my life and run away, I would do it. Sammie would help me. J. would help me. I had people on my side. I smiled, feeling a blooming confidence that had withered for so long. "I'll see you really soon."

Chapter 18.

Emmy With every step I took away from J. my fear rose higher in my throat. I tasted the bright penny taste of panic on my tongue, spurring me to get back faster.

Bursting from the back of the cab, I flung a wad of cash at the driver and sprinted through the lobby to our elevator. Stabbing the b.u.t.ton over and over only seemed to make it travel slower. "s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t," I chanted under my breath.

This was bad. I had forgotten myself in the thrill of J.'s lips on mine. I had forgotten how far down the rabbit hole I was with Robert. He had more power over me than I could possibly imagine. My home, my life, my future, they were all wrapped up in him. And he would punish me for this.

If he caught me.

The doors swooshed open after an interminable wait. As the car carried me swiftly to our penthouse twenty floors up, I balled my fists and rocked my hips. I found myself imitating the motions J. had taught me. I imagined my fist connecting solidly with flesh. With a face. A patrician face, with high cheekbones, topped with wavy, chestnut hair.

I shook my head as the doors dinged open into our living room. Those were dangerous thoughts. I wasn't a fighter. Fighting him would only end up hurting myself.

I stood in the center of the elevator, unwilling to step into the room. I didn't want to be here. I wanted it all to be gone. I wanted to have never met Robert. I wanted to be free to see J., to kiss him, to have him hold me, to explore that rock hard body, and see if I could make him smile that wide, beaming grin. I wanted to know about him, his life, what it meant to be a biker. I wanted to ride behind him with the wind whipping through my hair.

The elevator dinged and the doors began to close. Someone had called it back to the lobby.

I screamed and slithered through the closing gap just in time. The doors dinged closed. Robert was home.

I mounted our staircase at a dead run, stripping my clothes as I ran. Running into our room, I stuffed them deep into the back of my closet, hiding the gra.s.s stains and scent of another man. Then I jumped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as I could, filling the bathroom with steam so it looked like I had been in there forever. I hopped under the scalding water and scrubbed frantically at the dirt on my hands, dumping my body wash over me, hoping its floral scent would hide any traces of J. that still lingered.

I heard tread on the threshold. "Babe?" I called sweetly. "You're home?"

Robert rolled the shower door back and looked at me. The scalding water had pinkened my skin already and I was flushed even further with terror. I hoped the effect was believable.

"Did you just get up?" he asked, by way of greeting.

"Well," I ducked my head, playing embarra.s.sed as I scrambled for an explanation. "No, not really." I squeezed my hair, ducking under the spray to buy time as I thought. "I only started feeling better this afternoon. So I wanted to be nice and clean for you when you got home."

He grinned crookedly, his devastatingly handsome face registering approval. "You're using the body wash I bought you," he observed.

I held it up in my hand. I hadn't meant to, the smell was overpoweringly floral. But he liked it, so it was the right move. "Yes, thank you again," I chirped.

He nodded. "Are you done?"

I had only just begun. "Um, I still have to wash my hair."

"You're done," he observed, and there was a note in his voice that made the copper taste flood my mouth once more.

"Okaaaay," I agreed, and switched off the water. "Can I have a towel?"

He grabbed a towel from the linen shelf and held it out in front of him. "Here."

I hesitated. "I'm all drippy, can you give it to me?"

"No, you come to me." His smile was playful, but his voice was not.

I stepped over the lip of the tub, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering. I hadn't turned the heat lamp on, and the air conditioning hit my damp skin with an arctic blast. I stepped towards him, naked and shivering and turned around so he could drape the towel over my shoulders.

Instead he wrapped me tightly, pinning me close to his chest. His strong arms pressed the air from my lungs. "Not so tight," I begged.

"You like it," he corrected me. He pressed me harder, crushing my arms painfully to my sides.

"Babe, that hurts!" I cried.

He squeezed tighter, pressing himself against me. I gasped in shock as I felt his desire press into my spine. "I want you," he rasped, his breath a ragged gasp in my ear.

This wasn't right. This was all wrong. "Can we go to the bed then?" I pleaded, my voice squeaky with the lack of breath. I could smell that floral scent on his skin. It was definitely perfume.

He flung one arm around my chest and I inhaled sharply, letting the air flood my lungs. There were spots dancing at the corners of my eyes and I felt woozy. I tried to step away from him, but he held me tightly. I could taste the smell of the other woman on my tongue.

Spinning us around so that we faced the mirror, he reached behind me. I saw my own eyes widen in shock as I heard the jungle of his belt buckle. "Not here honey, I'm all wet!" I begged again.

His only answer was a grunt. He shoved me forward and I flung my hands out to catch myself against the vanity. "Babe!" I begged. But his eyes were dark and his lips were twisted into a snarl reflected back at me in the mirror. I felt the first prodding poke, then the first painful thrust. He forced himself up inside of me, dry and uninvited. I was frozen in shock, biting my lip against the tearing of my delicate flesh.

He grabbed me around the throat in a choke hold and pushed higher inside me. I closed my eyes and willed myself far away. He had never done this before. This wasn't him. This was something else. He must still be punishing me for last night. That was it. He was giving me what I deserved for leaving him. He was telling me where I belonged. I felt something rip down there and blinding tears flooded my eyes.

"Look at yourself," he grunted in my ear. He squeezed my throat and my eyes flew open in alarm. Patrician, proper Robert was gone. I didn't know the man who spat and swore in my ear. "You see it? You see me f.u.c.king you?"

Unable to speak, I just nodded. His face was as dark as a storm cloud.

"Keep watching." He pushed himself high inside me, so far that I knew then and there he would break me in half if he could. His breath came faster as he held my face in place, forcing me to see how he had me trapped there, completely overpowered and at his mercy. He wrapped his other arm around my belly and grunted three times, as I finally felt his blessed release spurt inside of me.

It was over but he still held me firm, not pulling out, not pulling away. "Did you see it?" he prodded.

"I saw." He relaxed his grip on my neck and I gasped for air, rubbing the raw spot where he had held me.

"Little s.l.u.t. You liked every minute of it. Tell me you liked it."

I looked at him in the mirror. He pulled away and grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dabbing at his c.o.c.k fastidiously. When he saw I wasn't answering, he zipped his trousers back up again and traced a finger along my face. I shrank from his touch, but there was nowhere for me to run.

"You don't need to be wandering around town to get f.u.c.ked like the fat wh.o.r.e that you are. I can do that for you right here at home." He leaned down and kissed my shoulder sweetly as a grin spread across his face. "Keep that in mind next time you want to leave in the middle of the night." He cupped my face in his hand and turned me to face him, squeezing my cheeks in painfully. Then he kissed me fully on the lips as I shook so hard my teeth chattered.

Chapter 19.

Emmy Robert breathed deeply in bed next to me. Soft vibrations that used to lull me to sleep, but now kept me awake, taut and vibrating with fear. Thoughts flashed quickly through my head, never pausing long enough to let me focus. Over and over, my own brain showed me my face in the mirror as Robert forced himself inside of me. Over and over I saw my own eyes widen in terror and humiliation.

The only constant was the pain. The delicate flesh down there was raw and ragged and I felt bruised deep inside.

Robert rolled over in his sleep and flopped his arm across my chest. I froze, resisting the urge to fling it off in horror. He was reaching for me in his sleep. That had to be a good thing, right? Maybe he subconsciously felt bad about what he had done to me.

I felt a tickle on my cheek and realized I was crying again. The weight of his arm crushed into my chest, but if I closed my eyes I could pretend he was holding me. If I concentrated very hard on the feel of his skin against mine, I could imagine it was a loving embrace. How a fiance should hold the woman he loved most in the world. If he would just stay asleep, I could pretend that he was the man the world thought he was. The man everyone told me how lucky I was to be with.

I ran my hand over the sheets and held on to that thought. The man I loved was holding me. He hadn't meant to hurt me. He had seen me naked in the shower and was so overcome with l.u.s.t that he had to have me right then. I should be flattered that he wanted me so much. I should be grateful he found a fat girl like me so attractive. And as for what he had said to me? That was harder to wish away, but I thought harder and eventually realized that I deserved it for sneaking around on him. I would stop this minute. I would put all thoughts of J. from my mind and I would be good from now on. The next time Robert and I made love it would be nice. Proper, like a man and woman who loved it each other should make love. Face to face and gently.

The throbbing down in my core beat steadily on, but I was able to push it away. It was just a reminder of how much he wanted me. It was just a reminder of how much he wanted me.