Thankfully, Con stepped away and then turned his back on me completely. I forced myself not to admire the lines of his strong back but instead took stock of my own body. Most of the pain had started to recede and was localized to my arm, which was in a cast. My side felt like someone had sliced into it with the sharpest of knives. My head was pounding like a mother but closing my eyes and remaining still helped ease some of the pressure. I could hear Con moving around the room and while part of me wanted to watch his every move, I didn’t want to risk worsening the pain, especially since I needed all my strength to get to the kids.
I wasn't sure how much time passed before I felt Con’s presence again. The heat from his body seemed to waft off of him and I wished I could curl myself around it. But then I remembered where I was and why I was there.
“These are going to be big on you, but at least there's a drawstring.”
I forced myself to open my eyes and saw that Con was actually kneeling in front of me, fumbling with the drawstring on a pair of sweatpants.
“I want my own clothes,” I said. Something in my tone must've caught Con’s attention because he looked up. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could remind me that I'd agreed to all this. I didn't need that particular truth thrown back in my face.
“I'm not reneging on our deal,” I snapped. “I would just prefer to wear my own clothes if you don't mind?” Rage tore through me as I tried to keep my voice firm yet polite. What I really wanted to do was rip into the man for what he had done to me.
Con didn't respond. Nor did he move. When he finally said, “Our deal?” his tone was dangerous. Enough to make me nervous. It shouldn't have, considering how many times Ricky had talked to me with that same tone, but hearing it from Con was different somehow. I didn't know why.
I found myself looking around the room nervously just to avoid the chips of ice in Con’s eyes. “I hope you used protection,” I blurted as my nerves began to kick up another notch. I knew I was quickly losing control of not only myself, but of the situation. Con’s silence was doing that to me. Making me feel off balance. I hated that. Even with Ricky, I'd always had some semblance of control over myself. At least as I'd gotten older, anyway, and had accepted the inevitable. I’d never been able to physically escape what Barry and the other men had done to me, but my mind had been long gone by the time they’d taken ownership of my body.
So why couldn’t I do that now? Why the fuck was I even engaging with the man?
“Because that's nonnegotiable,” I continued even as I tried to command my brain to shut the hell up.
“Is it?” Con asked, his voice sounding very brittle now. I wanted to kick myself for not having played this differently. If I'd been compliant, maybe I could've gotten out of the situation. But I felt like I was burying myself deeper and deeper every time I opened my mouth. And for the life of me, I couldn't stop.
“This thing has a shelf life,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure he could even hear me since my voice felt like it was caught in a vise.
“This thing?” Con repeated, even as he began easing the sweatpants over my feet.
His moves were gentle and calm, as if he were dressing a toddler, but his jaw was tight with fury.
This time, I was smart enough not to take the bait and I kept my mouth shut. As the soft fabric of the sweats moved up my legs, all I could focus on was Con’s skin as his fingers held the material in place. I had enough sense to drop my hands to grab the waistband of the sweats just as he reached my thighs.
“I'll do it,” I said shakily. I expected Con to turn away as I stood up to pull the pants over my hips, but the man did no such thing. In fact, as I stood, we were once again face to face with mere centimeters separating our bodies. I hated the shiver of excitement that went through me. Despite what Barry and the other men had done to me, I’d come to understand what healthy attraction was. My first experience with it was standing right in front of me. I’d been around thirteen or fourteen and had been watching one of Con’s fights when my body had unexpectedly begun to react to the man’s body and the way he moved. I hadn’t been alone at the time. Ricky had been sitting mere feet from me on the couch. I’d escaped to the bathroom to try and figure out what was happening. By the time I’d come out of the cramped space, I’d experienced my first orgasm and I’d had to face two ugly truths.