6. Six

Six

I 'm surrounded by darkness, yet this time, I know exactly where I am. There's a heavy weight on top of me, and the stench of lager and cigarettes fills my nostrils. Hot, acrid breath pants against my face as he relentlessly rams into me, inciting pain where pleasure should be. Saliva fills my mouth, and I know nausea is close, but I swallow it down and go to my happy place, like I always do when he does this to me.

I'm eight years old, in Cornwall with my mum and dad. We go every summer holiday. We've picked a sheltered spot on the beach, close to the rocks and out of the wind. Mum's sunning herself on a folding chair. Dad sits on a stool with his watercolours and pad, painting the ocean in front of us. I'm beside him on my Minnie Mouse beach towel with my colouring pencils, copying what he's painting while he gives me words of encouragement.

Suddenly, bony fingertips increase their grip around my neck, closing down my throat and splintering my memory in two.

"I can't breathe," I choke out, but my protest is merely met with a grunt.

I tell myself it will all be over soon. Just another couple of minutes of pain and discomfort – thank God – but his fingers tighten further.

"Theo, stop …"

He doesn't respond, and the world is closing in on me and getting darker. I try to speak, but I can't, and panic starts to rise in my chest as I realise I'm going to suffocate.

He's going to kill me. I'm going to die here.

Then, everything goes black.

"Sophie … Sophie … wake up."

I sit bolt upright in fright, frantically looking round in the darkness to gather my bearings. A large hand on my shoulder soothes me gently. The sound of my heartbeat thuds deafeningly in my ears, and my brain is fuzzy with disorientation.

Art sits on the bed and leans over to flick on the lamp. We blink at each other in the sudden light. He looks concerned.

"It's okay; you're safe. Calm down. It was just a nightmare."

His words ease my anxieties, and I feel my galloping heartbeat begin to slow.

I close my eyes and press a shaky hand against my forehead, taking deep breaths as the panic in my chest begins to fall. His arms envelop me, drawing me to him, and I don't fight it, relaxing against his warm, bare chest.

"I'm here. It's okay." He presses his lips to the top of my head. "No one can hurt you now."

And I know he's right. We sit for a few moments with him holding me, gently kissing my forehead, as my breathing begins to return to normal.

"Are you okay?"

I nod, relieved he hasn't pushed me on the details of my nightmare.

Once he's satisfied I'm okay, he reluctantly lets me go and stands, heading for the bedroom door. "Settle back down and get some sleep. I'm just across the hall."

That's not enough. I know I'm being irrational. I know it was only a nightmare. I know Theo isn't here and can't hurt me, but it's stirred up unpleasant memories and unsettled me.

"Don't go," I blurt before I can stop myself. "I don't want to be alone."

He turns back and reaches out a hand, stroking his fingertips across my cheek and soothing me once more. "Of course I'll stay."

He turns off the lamp and gets into bed, staying over on his side. I'm relieved he's not using this as a way of pushing things between us. I'm still not ready.

He curls one arm beneath the pillow. "You're safe. I'm here now. Go to sleep, my beautiful Sophie," he whispers.

A feeling of security wraps around me like a tight, warm blanket, and I drift off into unconsciousness.

I open my eyes to sunlight streaming through the curtains. Art's watching me from across the bed, his head propped up against his hand. Colour has returned to his cheeks, and his eyes have regained their usual sparkle. His thick hair flops across his forehead in that haphazard way I find so attractive, and my stomach flips at the sight of him.

I rub my sleepy eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eight."

I'm going to be late.

"Shit, I need to get ready for work."

I throw off the covers, but he puts his hand on my stomach, preventing me from sitting up.

"No, you don't. We're not going in today."

I look at him as if he's gone mad. "I can't keep not going into work. I've got stuff to do."

"Not today. I texted George and got him to check your diary. You've nothing on until Wednesday."

He's back to his usual self. Taking control.

"The other staff will notice. They know about us anyway, and this will just piss them off," I point out, recalling Olly's silent treatment.

He fixes me with a look that tells me he's not going to budge on the matter. "I don't give a fuck about the staff or the hotel. Right now, all I care about is making things right with you." He hesitates before saying, "I want to take you to the club."

I stare at the ceiling and shake my head. "No, I don't want to go."

He shifts towards me under the covers, moving as close as he can without actually touching me, and once again, he props his head on his hand. I can feel the heat from his body so close to mine.

His words pull my focus back into the moment. "I want to put your mind at rest and make you see that you've got nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."

I appreciate the fact that he's trying to put me at ease, but the thought of going to Dark Desires doesn't exactly fill me with pleasure. "I'll think about it."

"Thank you. Are you okay after your nightmare?"

"Fine."

"You were screaming. I had no idea what was going on, so I ran in to check."

I carry on, looking at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze, because I know he wants me to elaborate but I'm not ready to. "Yeah, sometimes, I have them."

He grazes a fingertip down my cheek. "What causes them?"

"Anxiety," I reply honestly.

Serious eyes search my face. "I'm sorry." He continues stroking my cheek with a featherlight touch. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way. I'm sorry for hurting you." He swallows, looking lost for a moment. "I've done the one thing I didn't want to do to the most important person in my life."

"You must care about other people?"

"I've learnt it's easier not to care about people because it's less of a disappointment when they don't care about you. I've let a few people in, like my parents, but you … you're different." His eyes settle on mine. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

My heart turns over. I slide my fingers through his hair as he kisses me lightly on the lips and then pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"If all the terrible things I've experienced have led me to you, then I'd endure it all again in a heartbeat."

His words tug at my heart. I feel the tears pricking my eyes, but his lips land on top of mine, and he kisses me fiercely. I'm lost as I fling my arms around his neck and slide onto my back as his body covers mine. I was so afraid this was over. I've missed having all of him.

"I never want to spend another night without you," he pants in between kisses. He drags a hand down my body, caressing my breast, gliding over my hip bones, and ducking beneath my silk nightdress. "I never want to be parted from you again."

I moan as his hand cups the damp heat between my legs and graze my fingernails down his broad back. Impatient to feel him again, I tug his boxers down, freeing his erection. He takes my right hand and presses it into the pillow beside my head and does the same with my left, pinning me down so that I can't touch him. He hasn't restrained me for a while …

"I need you," he breathes, sliding his cock against my folds, sending pleasure coursing through me and obliterating any questions about restraint from my mind with those three words.

I hook my legs around his waist, angling my hips so I can feel the tip of his erection nudge against the entrance of my vagina, once, twice, before slowly filling me. My muscles contract around him as he drops his head, giving us both a few seconds to adjust to one another. He withdraws and then pushes forward once more, reaching deep inside me.

"Never leave me again."

A fireball is building at my centre, knocking my focus and making my thighs shake.

"Promise me," he rasps, moving over me, into me, with hard thrusts. "Promise me, Sophie."

This isn't tender make-up sex. He's fucking the answer out of me. My head lolls as white heat spreads through my body, tugging me closer to the brink. And he knows just what to do to get me to concede. He rears back and plunges forward, deliciously deep, and I cry out, digging my nails into the back of his hands.

"Fuck," I gasp.

His laser-like gaze sears into me as I burn beneath him. He twitches inside me. I'm close, and so is he. As if sensing he's on borrowed time, he changes tactics, hammering into me, determined to make me say what he wants to hear.

"Sophie, promise," he demands.

I'm shaking. I can't hold on any longer. He can have his answer. This time.

Fuck it .

"I promise."

His cock swells at my admission, and the next two words are barely audible. "Next time."

He glides into me without mercy, and a tidal wave of release splits me in two. We fall over the edge together. A mash of cries and groans as he explodes inside me.

We lie still and quiet for ages. I love the feeling of his weight on me. When there's no end to me and start to him.

"Can we stay here all day?" I sigh.

He nuzzles his nose into my neck, as if he agrees. "Let's get showered, and then we can come back to bed."

I'm exhausted from two disturbed nights' sleep and still basking in the warm glow of a bone-melting orgasm. "I don't want to move," I grumble.

He lifts his head and looks at me as if he's had an idea. "I'll carry you. Hang on tight."

I'm too tired and relaxed to argue, so I do as I was told. I wrap my arms around his neck and link my legs around his waist.