Promiscuous (Tease 2)

I know what you’re thinking: Why the hell would she let a guy she barely knows drive her home from a bar a month after being raped? I’d be screaming the same thing at me. I honestly cannot tell you what I was thinking, only that I wasn’t thinking clearly.

This was typical Beth behavior. Who reacts to a sexual assault with more sex? Apparently, I did. According to the internet, I should be withdrawing from contact with people after an assault, but what I was feeling was just the opposite.

All my life, sex had empowered me. It gave me control over something, and I loved that. Fuck Ivan for taking that away from me. I was so desperate to cling onto that tiny thread of me that I’d somehow become even more sexual after the rape—if that were even possible. Only, I couldn’t do it alone. I couldn’t block out the memories without a whole lot of alcohol.

I didn’t give a damn how people thought I should behave. I used to enjoyed the feeling sex gave me, and I was obsessed with not losing that. If I lost that, then what did I have? I was stuck in a job with a manager who had raped me; I had no friends, no family, and no life. My life was a joke. I wasn’t after sympathy, and the last thing I wanted was pity. Thinking about it made me depressed, so I distracted myself the only way I knew how.

“I’ll come in with you, make sure you’re safe.”

He got out of the car and walked around to my side as I giggled uncontrollably. No doubt about it, I was drunk. I tried my best to look desirable as he helped me up the steps to the front door, catching me before I fell on more than one occasion. I’d be thinking back on this tomorrow and cringing, but I was doing a lot of that lately, anyway.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he asked, his smoldering eyes laughing at me. I fumbled with my keys and turned to him with every intention of glaring, but what resulted was a giddy smile.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” I replied, tossing my long blonde hair over my shoulder. I stumbled inside as he stood on the porch, shaking his head, amused.

“Thanks for getting me home safely,” I said, balancing against the doorframe. Before I could think about it, I stepped forward and kissed him. He raised his eyebrows, a smile appearing on his sexy lips, which had been as soft as I’d imagined them to be.

A wave of nausea rushed over me. Here we go. This was about the time I began to regret drinking so much. In about an hour I’d be swearing off alcohol for life, and then the cycle would begin again tomorrow.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyes creasing with concern. “You’re looking a little . . . green.” I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him I was fine, and that he could leave, because the last thing I wanted was for him to see what I knew was coming. And if I didn’t hurry up and get rid of him, it would be coming up all over his polished black leather shoes.

“I’m fine. ‘Night . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized I still didn’t know his name.

“Goodnight, Beth.”

I watched as he walked away, confused by what I was feeling, still no closer to knowing his name, and not in the least bit disturbed that he knew mine. This guy stirred up emotions inside me that I hadn’t felt for anyone since Coop—feelings of attraction that I wasn’t even sure I was ready for. Especially after . . .

I shuddered, bad memories flashing through my mind. The alcohol, the partying, the sex—it was all I had to help me forget. In my stupid head, all these things I was doing that were destructive to my life were my way of trying to get back the control he had taken from me. The more out of control I got, the more in control I felt. At least, that’s what I told myself.

***

I crawled my way up the stairs and fell onto my bed, still fully clothed and reeking of vodka and cranberry juice. My stomach ached like crazy, as though the alcohol was slowly eating away at the lining.

The urge to vomit hit me. I jumped off the bed, making it as far as the tiled bathroom floor before the night’s contents spilled out of me. I groaned and sunk to the tiles, curling my legs up under me, and began to cry.

“This has got to stop,” I muttered, clutching my stomach. I didn’t want to be this girl, but I didn’t know how to get over . . . it. I acted tough, but underneath I was scared as hell, and so, so alone.

People were beginning to comment that I was acting differently. But maybe this was the real me. Maybe who they thought they knew was just a cover for the nightmare of a person I really was. I’d tried to escape my past before, yet I always seemed to end up back in a shitty situation.

If only Coop had met me that night like he’d promised. I grabbed my phone and clicked on messages. Nothing. I’d begged for him to leave me alone, but when he did, I just ended up feeling worse. I couldn’t handle being around him, but the thought of not having him in my life was worse. I was walking a dangerous line. How long until he gave up and just cut me off forever?

Chapter Three

Roman

My heart raced as I drove away, my mind struggling to process everything I knew about this girl. I could still feel her lips on mine. I hadn’t been expecting that, but holy fuck. I shook my head, speechless.

I’d been watching her in the club as she slowly began to unravel, as if she were determined to spin out of control. I’d been content to just sit back and observe, but she changed that when she started throwing herself at anything that moved.

Why was she hell-bent on fucking up her life? It didn’t matter. That wasn’t important. I’d kept her out of trouble. I’d kept her safe. Even if that had meant sitting there watching her fuck Scarlett. I groaned, my dick hardening just thinking about it. Thinking about her.

Even though I’d been expecting her in the club that night, seeing her in front of me . . . the last thing I needed here was to be attracted to her. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it.

But fuck, she was incredible. I saw behind the woman she was trying to be—behind the facade to the scared, vulnerable, lost girl who was crying out for help. There was something there that I just couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t sit back and watch her d

estroy herself.

***