A Single Glance by W. Winters

A Single Glance by W. Winters

Author:W. Winters [Winters, W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Willow Winters Publishing LLC


Bethany

My eyes open quickly, the darkness consuming me except for the moonlight from the bedroom windows. My heart’s racing and it’s then that I realize the trembling isn’t a dream. I can’t stop shaking and I’m so fucking cold.

“Shhh.” Jase’s voice is anything but calming. After the initial shock of realizing he’s in bed with me, I barely turn around before the bed groans and he pulls the weighted blanket up and around my entire body.

Frantically I try to recount it all, every moment that I can remember.

“What did you do to me?” I ask, and the question comes out viciously. I’m fucking freezing, and I can’t stop trembling.

“I brought you to bed,” he says lowly, a threat barely there, warning me to be careful but fuck that.

“What did you do?” The words are torn from my throat. It’s not even the fear that’s the most overwhelming. As my throat dries and a sinking sensation in my stomach takes over, I look him in the eyes and realize how much trust I had in him. It wasn’t just business. I gave up more than I should have, and he did something to me. He hurt me.

How could you? I want to say the words, but I can’t bear to bring them up and admit to the both of us that I thought he wouldn’t hurt me. That I was that fucking naïve.

Jase’s arm is heavy and pulls me closer to him, even though I attempt to push him away as he says, “It’s just the endorphins crashing.” Although his words are drenched with irritation, there’s something else there, something buried deep down low in his words that I can’t decipher. “You’re okay,” he nearly whispers and then pulls me in closer, dragging my ass to his groin, my back to his chest and nuzzling the nape of my neck with the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

His voice is a calming balm. Even as I continue to shake. As my fingers feel numb and then like they’re on fire. Cold again. “I’m so cold.”

I almost expect my confession to turn to fog in front of me. Like warm breath in the winter air.

“You were on a high,” Jase tells me and then presses his arm against mine, pushing it closer to me and acting as if I’m not trembling uncontrollably. “It’s all coming down. I thought you may have a little aftershock. That’s why I stayed,” he explains.

Aftershock. Endorphins.

He didn’t drug me. It’s not drugs. I can barely swallow for a long moment, trying to make it stop, but my body’s not listening.

“Does this happen all the time?” I ask him, attempting to let go of the anger, swallowing my regret that I immediately assumed the worst of him. It was my first instinct, and shame hits me hard as I realize he did quite the opposite.

I’m a bitch. I am an asshole. An embarrassed asshole.

With sleep lacing his words he tells me, “Not often, but I imagine that was your first?” and I instantly clench my legs.



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