Page 35 of Stag

Her brow creased a little, and she tilted her head, but she wasn’t pulling away.

“For?”

I sighed. “For stalking, but it was you. I mean, Jesus fuck, what do I mean? That sounds so creepy. I was at the same place as you, and your sister called the cops on me for stalking. It was a fucking joke. A mistake. I wasn’t stalking you. Just making sure you were safe. She did this to me.”

“Making sure I was safe? Like following me?”

Ugh. There was no way this was going to go well. I’d already fucked it up.

“I see you about sometimes, and I keep an eye to make sure nobody messes with you. Kinda protective, but not in a creepy way, I swear.”

She swallowed, lowering her eyes to her beer, which meant our conversation was over until she looked at me again. I was actually getting used to having to wait ’til she looked at me to speak. Every other relationship in my life was ruined by my mouth, my voice. Was it possible to make this work, when she could still see my words?

She lifted her head at last, resting the beer against her knee, both hands around it now, which fuck me, don’t imagine her hands around my dick like that. Asshole.

“If I accept that you were being sweet, and looking out for me, do you promise not to get over the top like her? I can’t handle two people trying to control me for the excuse of my safety. I’m my own person. I work, I drive, I cook, I do everything. I just can’t hear. That’s all. It’s not like missing a limb. It’s a sense. We adapt. I did adapt.”

Fuck me. Was that what it would have appeared like? Me trying to control her like that bitch she was related to, hell, was literally a carbon copy of? No. The sister was the copy. Claudia was the fucking definitive person. The original, best, and only.

“I felt like an ass after that night at the club, the first one. I thought you were just ignoring me like the others do. Like I’m not enough. Like I’m just some prick. I guess I am sometimes, but I mean well. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but I guess I was a coward, and when I saw you out, I couldn’t approach you. That second night at the club, I was there to look for you. To man up and at least say hi.”

She smiled and nodded at me to continue. Fuck me. Not more words from me, that’s never good.

“You looked so fucking sexy, just lost in the music like that. Even though I’m banned from there, I just wanted to be near you, to feel what you were feeling. To be closer to you, and touching you, and I half expected you to slap me, but you didn’t.”

She was still smiling. “I don’t normally like men dancing with me when I don’t know them, but something about your touch felt right, like I already knew you. I know that’s weird, but I didn’t pull away because your touch felt natural.”

Fuck me. I want to touch her naturally all over.

“I’m gonna get so much stuff wrong, Claudia. I’m shit at literally everything, but I just want to be near you. To spend time with you. I promise to always do my best not to fuck up.”

She reached over and touched my knee again. Jesus, it’s nowhere near my junk, but it feels like it. It feels like a first step in something that I want to race to the end of, just to feel everything.

“I liked dancing with you,” she said, “and I really liked kissing you.”

Tell me that’s her saying she wants another kiss. All I fucking want is to get closer to her, and feel her against me, to taste her. All the fucking things.

“I liked that too,” I said lamely, so glad my brothers couldn’t hear how pathetic I sounded. This was why I always failed with women. Not because of my approach. Not because of my words. Because they weren’t her. She’s why. It was always meant to be her.

“If we kiss again,” Claudia said, lifting a palm as she giggled softly, “wow, I never speak this much normally. It almost feels natural too.”

I nodded, but I wanted her to get back to that kissing thing. Were we about to go back there? Would begging help that happen? I’d beg. I’d fucking get on my knees for her.

“If we kiss again, it doesn’t mean we’re doing more, okay? I need to get to know you first, and I think that’s important. You seem like a really good person, but I need to know for sure.”

As long as she doesn’t interact with anyone who knows me, maybe that could work, but what are the chances of that?

And if that’s how I react to that comment from her, doesn’t that automatically mean I’m not a good person? That I’m an asshole who’s already trying to figure out how to hide all the bad parts of me, just so she doesn’t lose that illusion of the man she thinks she sees?

Her eyes were fixed on mine, and she nodded slowly.

“This bothers you. Is it because you just want what’s between my legs? Is this just about sex for you?”

If she looked down right now, she’d think she knows the answer to that question, but for me it had become so much more complex. It wasn’t just about sex, although I really fucking wanted her that way. It was about her as a person, as a fucking goddess who suffered something that’d break a person, and took it in her stride. Adapted to work with it, rather than fighting against it. Didn’t I owe her the chance to see if the me she thought she saw was real?

“It doesn’t. It scares me. I’m scared you won’t like who you get to know. I’m just some biker prick, love. I’m nobody special, and fuck, I can’t even talk to you with my hands like I should be able to. I’ve been trying, but it’s so hard online. I need to try the classes at the place you mentioned.”

Claudia