Page 31 of Was I Ever Free
“But I’m not—”
“Get some rest, Luce. We’re back on the road tomorrow.”
He leaves me no chance to further interject, disappearing into the bathroom, the door firmly closing behind him.
Frustration curls around my lungs,squeezing. My jaw clenches followed by my fists, and I feel stuck, rooted to the carpeted floor, triggered by yet another man telling me what to do. I let out an irritated groan, taking off my hat and throwing it on the bed. I huff a curl out of my face, storming to the taunting closed door and bang on the wooden surface.
I am too emotionally heightened to take the time to realize how brazen my actions are, instead I just bang louder. The door swings open, Bastian appearing in a state of undress. I notice his bare chest first, the silver chain laying crookedly against his damp skin, the glint of his pierced nipples, my eyes then flicking down to his unbuttoned jeans. I jerk my gaze back up, refusing to get flustered. Not this time.
“You need to stop telling me what to do,” I bite out in cold determination.
His face never falters, his eyes only growing darker as he lets the silence fall between us, like a loose thread waiting to be pulled and unraveled.
“Okay,” he rasps, his mouth slowly wrapping around every letter as if finding it hard to even say one single word.
“Okay?” I cannot help but ask.
He nods, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
“Okay,” I repeat, closing the door for him.
In the end, I still crawl into bed like he told me to, but what makes me doze off soon after is knowing that it was on my terms, and not anyone else's.
* * *
My eyelids flutteropen before my mind questions why I was awoken. I keep perfectly still, the room cloaked in darkness as I lay on my right side facing outwards, my hand tucked under the colder side of the pillow. It takes me a moment to situate myself, my body still sleep-heavy and lethargic from whatever slumber I slipped into. Until I hear a slow deep breath in the room with me and remember I am not alone. Before I turn around, I can already feel the empty space next to me in bed. I must have fallen asleep before he ever even came out of the bathroom.
I slip the thin sheet down my torso and turn my body slowly around to face where I think the noise came from. I find Bastian tucked between the shadows, sitting on the only chair in the far corner of the motel room. I feel his dark brown eyes on me, although I can barely see the features drawn on his stoic face. He appears to be wearing the same thing as earlier, and still shirtless.
“What is wrong?” I find myself whispering, unsure if I even wanted to puncture the silence with something so plebeian as spoken words.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he whispers back.
My sight slowly pierces through the darkness, lost in the magnetic pull his presence has on me. I am not sure how long I stare at him, but my back grows straighter the moment I realize whatthisis—what is happening between us in the dead of night. I pull myself up, now on full alert. I watch as Bastian’s lips curl into a smile, his nose ring catching the moonlight. It is so genuine—but beautifully lethal—that it even reaches his darkening eyes.
“Still don’t want to be told what to do?” I swear his tone is playful while he rests his chin between two fingers, his elbow casually leaning against the armrest.
I swallow hard, slowly shaking my head. More for myself, than for him.
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” My voice comes out hoarse and shaky, but in this moment, I do not care how I come off.
The only thing that matters now is what happens next.
He places both forearms on the armrests, widening his legs and leaning back into the chair. “Stand in front of me.”
I sit still for another few long breaths before I act, flinging the sheet clean off me and climbing out of bed. I try to center myself, the motel carpet scratchy under the soles of my feet as I take one tentative step after the other, wearing only a thin white cotton top and sleep shorts.
Maybe I did imagine his playfulness because his face is as serious as ever. A marble statue chiseled into an intimidating human form. He leans toward me, his fingers creeping closer and closer to the bottom hem of my top but he stops before ever touching it.
“Take this off,” he orders me all too casually.
“Take…” At first, I am startled by his demand, until I remember this was my idea to begin with. I steel my spine, refusing to feel ashamed by any of it.
The rustle of my shirt pairs with the staccato of my inhales, my nipples puckering as soon as the cool air hits my naked chest.
The same hand from before moves down my thigh, close but never touching, leaving my skin tense and yearning for his touch. “Take all of it off, Luce,” he demands, his voice silky smooth.
The air is thick between us, charged with an indescribable buzz that leaves me lightheaded. It is addicting. It still does not prevent the trembling of my fingers when I slowly bring my hands to my waist and slip them under the elastic band. I gently push my shorts and panties down, letting them fall to the floor, while never breaking eye contact with Bastian, who is still firmly sitting before me. In this moment, it feels natural to share such intensity with the man sitting in front of me. As if we have done this countless times before. I take a deep breath in and step out of my clothes, my hands finding each other in front of my stomach, gripping them together to try to calm my nerves.