The Imperfections

ass, he says, “Up on the bed.”

“How do you want me?” I ask as I crawl over to the middle of the mattress and look back at him.

His eyes are on my ass, then without a word, he walks into his bathroom. When he comes back with lube, my heart does a somersault. He places the bottle on the bedside table, drawing my gaze there, then he starts to undress.

Once he’s naked, he grabs the lube and climbs up on the bed behind me. Since I have a hunch he wants my ass, I’ve remained on all fours.

“I didn’t take this pretty little ass before I took you home,” he reminds me, running his hand over the smooth flesh. “Wasn’t going to,” he continues. “I wanted to, but it wasn’t my right. I’m not your man.”

That reminder pokes a little hole in my happy bubble, but I seal it up before it can lose too much air. “I told you, you can have it if you want it.”

“Do you enjoy having your ass fucked?” he asks crudely.

I swallow, not especially liking the degrading feel of that question. There’s anger in his tone, and I don’t know where it’s coming from. “It’s—I don’t know, it’s okay,” I offer, not sure what he wants to hear.

“That’s not what I asked.” He runs his hand over my ass for another moment before it stills. A feeling of foreboding tickles me as he keeps his hand on my ass, then escalates at the hard sound of his voice when he asks, “Did you like when Theo had your ass, Alyssa?”

I swallow past a lump of shame and ask softly, “Can we please not—?”

He startles me, smacking me hard on the ass. “Answer the question.”

“Brant,” I object, moving my butt away from him. I plan to sit on it, but he sees what I’m doing and grabs my hips, forcing me to stay where he wants me.

“I didn’t say you could go anywhere.”

I don’t try to pull away again, but I do tell him, “You’re not being nice.”

“Never said I was nice,” he tells me. “You weren’t very nice when you let Theo fuck you. Nice to him, but to anyone worth a damn? Nah.”

I don’t argue with him. “I know that. I told you I was sorry. If I had it to do over again, I’d never have let him touch me.”

“He came to my bar tonight,” he remarks rather casually.

My heart stalls and I look back at him. “What? Why?”

“To piss me off,” he mutters. Then, more clearly, he says, “Wanted to make sure you were dead.”

Hearing that still makes my heart heavy, even though I wish I’d never met the slimy bastard. I don’t know how to respond to it, though, so I don’t say anything.

“I know you can’t change the past, but it really pisses me off that you gave yourself to someone as shitty as him, Alyssa. It really does.”

I don’t know if he’d be scolding me if not for all the alcohol he must have consumed tonight, but I do know whether he would’ve said it or not, he means it, and that makes me feel lower than low. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“Don’t do it again,” he tells me.

“I already told you, I’d never let him touch me again.”

“Not just him. No one. No more shitty guys, Alyssa. You’re better than that.”

“You’re the only man I want now, Brant.” I look back at him so he can see I mean it, in case he can’t tell by the sincerity in my tone. “Date me yourself and you won’t have to worry about me being with anyone shitty.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he mutters, releasing one of my hips and popping open the lid on the lube.

“I don’t know that. I know it wouldn’t be the easiest thing because of all the complications, but they’re external complications. I like you and you like me. We could be good together and you know it.”

“You’re right, Alyssa,” he says evenly. “I do like you, but I love my sister, and you slept with her husband. That means it doesn’t matter how much I like you—I can’t be with you.” He must be able to see the hurt on my face following that calm pronouncement, because he holds up the lube and says, “In light of that clarification, if you’ve changed your mind about letting me do this, I’ll understand. Just let me know that now.”

Even though I knew that was the reason, hearing him say it crushes me. I can’t change the past, and he knows that. I’m not proud of what I did, and he knows that, too. By making something I regret but can’t change the reason he refuses to give us a shot, he’s pounding nails in the coffin of what we could be, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to drag them back out.