ASMTD Ch. 10

"Where have you been?"

I put off answering for as long as I can. "Out."

"Where?"

"At a bar."

"You should have called. I was worried."

Huffing out a frustrated breath, I throw my purse down on the TV stand and fist my hands at my hips. "Let's just get this over with so I can go to bed. I was a bitch. You were an asshole. I'm sorry. You're sorry. Done."

Leo shoots up, fingers tightening around the sloshing glass. "No. Not done, Rai. Act like a fucking adult for once and try to have a grown up conversation!"

"I. Don't. Wanna."

He looks at me like I'm demented, but I don't have to be the adult. Most of Europe still considers me a "Youth," young and inexperienced and able to do what I want without the severe consequences of adulthood.

Slamming down the glass on the nearby side table, Leo rakes his hands through his hair and paces. "Jumalauta, we're going in circles."

"What do you mean?"

"Less than a week ago, you cried in front of me and shared the problems you have with your dad. Then we talked about my wife and daughter. Now, it's like that never happened. You're the same as how you were in Ireland."

"Leo," I breathe, trying to find the words to explain what I've known all along—what I thought he knew too. We never finished the conversation in the pub on that sleeting day. My mind never changed; I never gave him more than I was willing to sacrifice and never asked for things I couldn't handle. I don't lie awake wondering how many women Leo's slept with, or if there's someone in Finland waiting for him, or any of the other bullshit I assume comes with relationships because this is so much more than a relationship but so much less than permanent.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, holding my hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry I called out your shit. And I admit, leaving the restaurant was a dick move."

"You don't even realize..." he trails off, shaking his head as he stares at me. "Rai, I needed you and you weren't there. You bail when things gets complicated and don't work for you."

"And that's a bad thing?" I raise my brow. "We're together for one more night Leo." I hold up my pointer finger. "One."

"But we've been together for a month—"

"Yes!" I agree vigorously. "One month! Traveling the entire time. We know each other in this instance—this little bubble—and I'm beyond happy that you came on this trip with me and made it amazing. But you have to realize, it ends tomorrow. You and Helmi go back to Finland, I go back to Michigan, and if we're lucky, we'll message each other for a few weeks and keep in touch on and off for a few years."

"Is that what you think?"

"Leo, I'm doing my best not to think." I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing the stress and tension out of my shoulders. "I'll do enough thinking when I get back and have to deal with my father and Kate and whatever else the universe drops on me. But right now, I just want to be us without the strings. Can you do that?"

We stand ten feet apart, my arms open with Leo's closed. I wonder if he's trying to draw something out of me, something everlasting. But I was never into Disney princesses or happily ever afters; I made fun of them and mentally twisted their plots into something believable. Ariel got an arranged marriage. Bell married Gaston, and later killed him in their bed for spousal abuse. Jasmine's pet tiger ate her.

Leo wants something that I can't give.

"I'm in love with you, Rai." His face is without expression, but the slight downward tug of his lips and the lone crease between his brows tells me he's spitting angry and desperate for blood. But his words, his tone, contrast sharply.

What do you say when a man says he loves you? "Thanks," I wince as his lips firm, feeling like a surgeon who nicked an organ. "I, uh, love you too."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it. Not right now, Rai." He looks away, fists clenching until his knuckles turn white. "I'm really contemplating strangling you here."

I laugh and cross the divide between us. No doubt Leo thinks he would strangle me, but I know the man. "Come on," I cajole, wrapping my arms around him. "You would have strangled me way earlier than this. Remember that time I said running was stupid?"

He relaxes minutely. "I nearly walked out."

"See." I press into him, cheek to his chest. "I do love you, Leo. Have for a while. I just didn't know if I was going to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because at heart, you're a big 'ol softy and I didn't want to bruise that man ego when I say I love you but it changes nothing." Tilting my face up, I move closer, stand on my tip toes and feel for his lips. I seek him out, eyes closed, desperate for that connection. Sex is so much easier than talking, and as much as I hate to admit it, more often than not I would suck Leo's dick to get out of a serious conversation.

He returns the caress tentatively, anger simmering under the surface. "Stop it."

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk."

"And I want to fuck. Can't we do both?"

"Rai."

"Leo."

He pulls away to look at my face, eyes roaming over my features. Whatever he sees has the opposite effect I want. If anything he gets angrier, doesn't kiss so much as smash our mouths together. Before I can blink, he tosses me on the bed, face first and rips down my jeans. "We'll do it your way. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He slaps my naked pussy and I try to feel the floor with my tip toes as I groan into the comforter. "But then it's my way, and I'll make love to you. All night. Until I'm carved on your fucking soul."

There's no precision or perfection when he slams home inside of me and roughly forces his hand under my shirt and bra to pinch my nipple. Leo delivers on his promise, hand at my hip, holding me still while he thrusts into my body. My hands flutter, trying to gain purchase as the bed squeaks and slams into the wall.

He's never been gentle, but this is something else. Violent and menacing, hanging around us like a cloud. This isn't what I want, but a part of me things it's what I deserve. Punishment for the disconnect, the space I constantly force up between us even when I hate it being there.

I choke, tears welling up in my eyes. "Stop."

He does immediately.

Burying my head in the comforter, I try to calm down, to stifle the crazy. But I am being crazy. The duality of my own emotions tearing at me. It's overwhelming.
"What do you want, kultaseni?" Leo whispers above me, so softly I almost miss it.

I swallow and shudder. Wants hold future, needs hold present. And what I need is for Leo to pull up his big boy pants, treat this as a fling, and leave me so that I won't have to leave him and feel like the person in the wrong, the bad guy, the one making an awful mistake. But what I want is to wrap my arms around him, say sorry, and make promises I can't follow through. "Not this."

He draws out. I hear him pad across the floor and the bathroom door slam shut.

July 2

I don't see Helmi or Antonia again. Leo sleeps on the floor and leaves before sunrise. The cool hotel room is the perfect place to bawl my eyes out, but I stifle it, forcing myself to take a shower and get ready. I'm in Paris. Paris! And yes, things aren't going perfectly, but I have less than twelve hours in this amazing city and I don't want to waste it.

My cheery mentality lasts through my shower and as I dress, but a small rectangular bag with fancy cursive catches my eyes on the TV stand behind the small flat screen. I remember Leo saying he bought me something, and knowing him it's probably some lingerie he wants to rip off. Moving from the bed, I think about wearing whatever Leo bought me and sending him a picture; maybe that would calm the man down enough to come back.

Picking up the bag, I shuffle through layers of lilac stuffing paper to a tiny stump of smooth wood. "Okay..." So not what I was expecting.

Turning the stump over in my hand, I try to figure out why it warranted such a nice bag. "Maybe it's like a weird sex toy," I mutter to myself, remembering the glass dildos I'd once seen.

The box shifts in my hand, an inch of the top sliding over to reveal a thin silver band with a square diamond perched on top. I stare at the ring for a full second until reflex kicks in and I drop it, screaming. Then I scream again because I just dropped an engagement ring. A ring Leo is going to use to propose. A ring that—as I pick up the box and tug the jewelry out—fits my finger perfectly.

"Fuckity Fuck Fuuuuuuuck!" I groan, holding my hand out and looking at my finger.

I toe the receipt under the bed and try not to think about how much he spent or what the hell he was thinking about when he bought it. "Maybe it's not for me." My eyes roll a second later and I snort, "Yeah right."

Yeah. Right.

I start to pace, talking to myself, "So he bought me a ring. Well, maybe it's not the ring I think it is. This could just be a thanks-for-having-sex-with-me ring. Or he bought it for himself. Men wear pinky rings." Glancing at my finger again, I dismiss the idea. "God, what was he thinking?"

For hours, I pace and fight with myself and try to put myself in Leo's shoes. I'm unsuccessful. Afterall, never once did I think about getting married to him. Well, maybe once. But that was at the very beginning and only for like a minute before reality hit that this is all fun and games. "Fun and games 'til someone pulls out a ring."

Noon hits and I stop pacing as realization hits me: Leo's a dick who pulled a dick move. Buying an engagement ring on the second to last day, leaving it in the room for me to find, not bringing it up yesterday when he said he loved me so he could rub it in my face today—all dick moves.

I'm contemplating putting Leo's balls in a blender when the door creaks open. I'm flat on the bed, hands clasped over my stomach, staring at the ceiling. "Rai," Leo starts slowly and I'm not sure if he sees the ring still on my finger or not. "What are you doing?

"Thinking if I should put them in a food processor or a blender."

"Put what?"

"Your balls." I lean up on my elbows and stare at him, sweaty with his hair in a messy bun. Damn, the man looks too good to be true. "Can't decide which."

He closes the door and sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Is this still about last night? I've gotten—"

I flip him my ring finger and he shuts up. His throat works, eyes fluttering in tandem with the pulse at his neck. "Where did you get that?"

"Let's start with what it is." I bounce up from the bed and approach him.

"It's a ring."

"Err. Wrong. It's an engagement ring. An engagement ring for me."

"Why do you think—"

"For. Me."

His jaw clenches, the lone crease between his brow coming out to play. "And you're upset with me because I was going to ask you to be my wife? You're fucking unbelievable, Rai."

"I'm unbelievable?" I screech, hurting my own eardrums. "Says the man who's going to propose to a person he met a month ago on the day she's leaving! Do you even get how wrong that is?"

"No, Rai. I don't. I don't get any of this," he thunders, fists clenching at his side. "What the hell is going on? You never act like this? If I'd have asked you to marry me a week ago, you would have laughed it off and then I would have fucked you until you said yes."

"Is that how you think this works?" My laugh is short and harsh. "Your dick isn't some magical device that makes me do what you want."

"Why don't we just confirm that? Spread your legs and let's see what you say."

My mind freezes as I replay his words and watch his face transform from anger to shock and finally regret. "Did you really just say that?"

"I didn't mean—I shouldn't—I'm sorry."

"No." I slice my head to the side. "When people are angry they say what they mean. And you meant every word."

"I'm not angry, Rai. I'm hurt." He runs a hand through his hair, tugging it out of the bun. "Really fucking hurt."

"So am I," I say quietly, looking at the ring on my finger. "Did you think this all was easy for me? Just to backpack through Europe with some guy I didn't know and have loads of sex and make it seem like I was totally fine with it?"

Shaking my head, I try to dislodge the emotion in my throat, the panic snaking through my nerves. This was what I wanted to avoid: THE CONVERSATION. I want to leave, smile intact, and hold out for as long as I can before doubt and loneliness and hunger for all the things Leo gives me eats away at my walls. Or what's left of them.

"You never seemed 'totally fine with it', Rai. Not once." Leo's in front of me before I can blink, dragging me into his arms, holding tight as I struggle to get away. His gentleness slays me. Give me the anger, the passion, the name calling and bullshit any day. I'll step up to the plate. But when there's no plate and the ground beneath my feet shifts to untrustworthy sand, I can't deal. Not even a little.

"This doesn't have to be a fight, kultaseni," Leo says into my hair. "Keep the ring and your distance. Come to me in your own time."

"And when I find out you slept with someone else? When I sleep with someone else? A pretty diamond's not going to warm my bed, Leo."

"Then let me."

We've been talking for too long. Leo wants to work it out, but that's just not going to happen, and talking is a waste of time and energy that could be better used to brand this time on me. I want Leo under my skin. Want to be able to look down and remember most of the good moments, some of the best, and all of the incredible. My last day needs to be seared into my memory.

"Let's have a drink."

The statement throws him off. I slip under his arm, moving toward the mini bar. Skimming the contents of the counter, I snag a port and pour two healthy doses into glass tumblers. The entire process takes less than a minute, but when I turn back around Leo is sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging.

His shoulders are stiff, hands clenched tight into fists with his knuckles white. I hold the glass out to him and wait long moments as he takes it, sniffs it, and downs it. He snatches the other one from my hand and pulls the same move, head tossed back, throat working.

"Another," he rasps, pushing the empty glasses into my hands.

"Ask nicely, Mr. Bossy Pants."

Before I know it, his arms snake around my waist, pulling me in tight to his body, his face pressed between my breasts. "Why are you so fucking stubborn?" he grumbles, though I don't think it's aimed at me.

I answer anyway. "It's my father. Being an asshole runs in my genes."

"You're not an asshole."

"But I'm not good either." He lifts his head and stares at me, waiting. "A good girl would accept your ring and jump into your arms and go to Finland with you in a heartbeat. All I want to do is fuck your brains out and get on a plane back home."

"If I wanted a good girl, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

"That's a lot of talk for a man with a chub," I murmur, bending down and brushing my lips against his. "If you're going to confess your undying love for me again and again, at least be standing at attention."

He laughs, the sound deep and a little fake as he flips me onto my back on the bed. The glasses fly out of my hands, hitting the carpeted floor with a thud. When he kisses me it's slow and exploratory, as if he's searching for something. I attack, ruthless, ripping at his clothes, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip. Now is not the time for Leo to be gentle. I want cave man, hand prints on my ass, bruises on the thighs, a pussy so sore I won't sit right for a week.

His belt whips out of its loops as his eyes darken. There's my bossy man. Him, I can take. The warm leather slides against my wrists as he wraps me up and ties a knot around the metal bedframe. I test the restraints. Not too tight, but not easy to break out of either.

"Have I been a bad girl, Leo?" I purr, sliding my foot up and down his calf as he slides back down my body. "Want to punish me?"

The man says nothing, but I feel his hands against my jeans, flicking the button, sliding down the zipper. They're off in a second, leaving me in a pair of blue cotton panties, a t-shirt and bra. His hands feel too hot on my skin, the calluses shredding what little control I have left.

"Fuck me until I can't think."

His fingers tug at the elastic band on either side of my hips.

"Until I can't breathe."

I feel the rip before I hear it, the slight pressure of elastic pushing into my skin and the distinctive tear of material. He leaves me bare.

"Until I feel your cock whenever I—"

Leo stuffs the torn panties into my mouth before shoving my shirt high above my head and folding it over my eyes. "Be quiet. You say nothing too much."

The bed dips before rising, and I crank my head to follow his sounds. The makeshift gag doesn't allow for words, just halting sounds, and my t-shirt absorbs any light, leaving me blind. I move my arms and legs, struggling as my inability to do anything becomes clear.

Is he fucking serious? The gravity of my position—naked and tied to a bed—hits me like a semi and I realize Leo could do anything to me and no one would be able to stop him. No one to hear me scream, no place to run. At least I won't see my death coming, so there is a silver lining.

"Calm down, kultaseni," Leo soothes from somewhere in the room. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Says the guy who's got a girl bound, gagged, and blindfolded on a bed.

"I just need a moment to think."

About how you're going to kill me.

I hear the pour of liquid into a glass, the pat of Leo's feet on the carpet, and the brush of material against material. I'm guessing he's sitting in the chair at the small table in the corner, sipping a drink and staring at me. His gaze practically burns my skin.

Nothing creepy about that.

"It took me ten minutes to buy that ring," he starts, glass hitting the wooden table. "Helmi and I saw the store and she dragged me inside. We were in there for less than a minute before I saw it and immediately thought about it on your finger. And I've never cared about a woman wearing my ring before. Not until you."

Maybe I would have been flattered, but the whole tied-to-a-bed-thing exnayed that emotion. Dick! I screamed through the gag. The word coming out garbled and a lot of spit.

"The first time I saw you, Rai, I didn't think you were my type. Too young, too drunk, too inexperienced with the world." He laughed, "And then you spoke and blew me away. Drunk off your ass telling me when I should use an oxford comma."

The minute you untie me, I'm punching you in the nuts. Then I'll slap you so hard, you'll have a bruise for a week.

He's moving again, the air shifting, clothes rustling. His fingers are cool on my ankle and I jump reflexively, trying to yank my foot away from him. "I don't know what I'm doing."

He rests his fingers there, giving me time to pull away or kick him. I want to do both and neither. Want to stay and want to leave. Limbo. I've been in the place since that first night with him, only ever dipping my toe into the pool of reality before pulling it out and slinking away. But that pool's getting bigger and there's nowhere to run, no choice but to dive in or be consume by it.

Shifting my body toward Leo, I resist, just a little bit more and seek him out. Let reality take me, the ground fall out beneath me. So what if I sink to the bottom and have to crawl my way back to the top? He's worth it. This is worth it.

"Tell me what to do," he pleads pulling off the gag, pushing my shirt over my head. Our eyes meet in the sunlight peeking through the curtains and for the first time Leo looks younger than me.