relationship with Lance or compromise my living situation. And if the bewildered yet tortured look on Decker’s face was anything to go by, he felt the same way. It was a thrilling sort of devastation. We both wanted to explore this more but knew we couldn’t.
We didn’t ride it again.
I think I finally understood Mama’s love of carnivals though.
9
Decker
It took hours to fall asleep last night. My dick was hard as steel all fucking night, and I refused to jack off while thinking about her, so I lay in bed, tortured about all the fucked up things I wanted, knowing I couldn’t act on them.
I’d fucked up. Majorly. I should have pulled away the moment she touched her lips to mine, but the fear and honesty of the moment rubbed me raw in a way I still didn’t understand.
Blakely was an enigma, a beautiful brightness shrouded with her past. Seeing her up there in the dim lights was something close to perfection, and I hadn’t wanted it to stop. So I kissed her. I mean really kissed her. She tasted like the funnel cake we’d eaten earlier and hope. It was one of those messy kisses with clashing bodies and roaming limbs, and it chewed me up then spit me out.
And yet, there was a careless danger lurking around every corner. Of all the women in all the world, why her? Was it because she was forbidden that had my dick all worked up? I’d met women I couldn’t have in the past, so that wasn’t it. Maybe it was my hero complex. Rose had kept harping on that with me in our sessions. She said I needed to feel like I could save myself, so I saved others.
Lance gave till he bled; I liked to jump in front of moving trains. Neither was productive. Blakely was a train derailing my life, and I didn’t understand why I was so determined to stand there and let her.
“Hey man, wake up,” a gruff voice said while shoving my shoulder. My eyes opened up, and I jolted when I saw a concerned Lance hovering over me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice laced with sleepiness and an edge I couldn’t hold back. I checked my alarm clock on the nightstand and winced when I saw that it was four a.m. My first thought was, he knew. That’s why he was here. He saw us, or he noticed the way Blakely and I clammed up the rest of the night. He saw the light bruise on her neck from my teeth or the way my hair was ruffled from her digging, demanding fingers. I’d ruined the best friendship I’d ever had for someone I hardly knew.
“What’s up?” I choked out, my voice gruff from emotion and the lack of sleep.
“It’s Blakely,” he began. My heart hit a brick wall. “I thought I heard the door open, so I went to go check. She’s not in her room. I’ve called her about a thousand times, and she’s not answering. I have the building security searching for her, but she’s not here.”
Shit. Lance looked distraught, and I knew it was my fault. I probably spooked her. I got out of bed, tossing my comforter to the side before grabbing my sweats and putting them on. I was still sleepy, a deep yawn escaping my lips and contradicting the racing in the broken cage of my chest. “Did anything happen last night while I was searching for my wallet? She was quiet when we got home. Why would she leave? Should I call the police?” Lance’s words were racing out of his mouth. His blond hair was standing straight up, likely from sleep and running his hands maniacally through it.
Lance was rambling. He did this when he was freaked out. I watched as he paced the floors, clenching and unclenching his fist as he tried to make sense of it all. I’d seen him do this a number of times. When his parents got in the car accident. When his dog went missing and got hit by a car. When the woman held me at gunpoint. I should have told him, admitted to what happened on the Ferris wheel, but I was a proud bastard and too ashamed to let the truth fall from my lips. Did she run away because of me?
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I lied, not willing to admit what had happened just yet. I wanted to hold on to