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He stays with me while I pee, silent and serious. His face is almost always serious, but I know how kind he really is, and I smile. When I’m finished, he stands behind me to lend the support of his lean, strong body to my atrophied muscles while I wash my hands and face, brush my hair, brush my teeth and have a drink of water. Then it’s right back to bed with me, where I lie down and remain still while he re-ties my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he tells me in a murmur as he binds me. ‘So round and soft.’ He pulls the knots tight, then moves his hands over my naked body, dry palms over dry skin, the brushing sound loud to my ears. He touches my ribcage, my stomach, my thighs–but not between my thighs, never there, where I ache for him the most. In the three weeks since we met, we have not yet made love. I arch up to him a little, smiling, eyes closed, hoping he will change his mind. He doesn’t. ‘Breakfast time,’ he says. I give him a reproachful look, and he. “Laine, no. I can make this better.” Then he kissed me. If you could call it that. It was more like he crushed his face to mine where our mouths met, and it didn’t last long before I shoved him off of me and slapped his face. Hard.I needed to send a message. He and his advances were not welcome. He would not be restarting anything between us. I was gonna make sure of that.My tears pushed past my eyes and escaped down my cheeks as I screamed at him to get out. This time though, I didn’t bother with lowering my voice. I was done, and maybe screaming it at him would help him get the message.*Xander Larson trudged back to his room defeated. She had kicked him out. Laine, his little Laine, had pushed him away, slapped his face, and kicked him out.It was one lie. One little lie he told a girl he thought he would spend one night with and never see again. It might have been a mistake on his part, but she was the one who was gonna let that little white lie poison every second they had spent.
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