Authors: Joey W. Hill
hoping the right man wil pry open
those doors.”
“I know that. I almost wish you were,
because that would
make this easier. But you wouldn’t be
the woman I want if
there was anything artificial about
your feelings.” Gently, he
pushed her head back so she could
look up, meet his gaze.
“You’ve wal ed up so many
wonderful things about yourself,
things you think no one wants. To me
they’re treasure,
Rachel. And I plan on opening every
one of those things.”
How could she believe that? How
could any woman,
especial y one who’d seen enough of
life to know that such
things didn’t exist?
“I don’t believe in happily-ever-
afters either,” he
continued, giving her a mild look of
reproof. “That suggests
the story has an end. Life is always
going to have ups and
downs, chal enges and bad moments.
That’s what life is.
What I do believe in is finding the
person to share it with. Al
of it.”
He shifted, bringing her even closer.
With his arm
wrapped around her waist and her
turned into his body like
this, one leg now over his thigh, the
other foot braced on top
of his, she couldn’t imagine anything
that would look more
intimate to passersby. “Now,” he
said quietly, holding her in
his gaze in that way that made it
impossible for her to look
away. “You’ve as much as said it.
The age stuff is bul shit,
so we won’t go there again. Instead,
you tel me what’s
real y happening here.”
She swal owed. Like last night, when
he’d pul ed her
deepest possible pain from her,
Kyle’s loss, she couldn’t
not tel him. He was like a priest and
lover at once…but only
one label truly fit, didn’t it? That one
word that said why he
could open up so much in her, the
word she had so much
trouble saying. So she told him this
instead.
“I married my husband at nineteen
and had Kyle shortly
after. I believed Cole was my prince.
That’s not a slur
against him. I’m sure he thought I was
his princess, the way
we al do in the beginning. There
were a lot of things that
went wrong with our relationship.
Though my son never
knew the underlying…issues, he
eventual y viewed me with
a similar impatience, because a boy
learns how to treat his
mother from watching his father.”
She swal owed. “Kyle’s death came
after our divorce. I
could have stood next to a stranger at
his funeral and felt
more connection. He brought his new
wife. Stood with her. I
stood alone, but I told myself to take
strength from that. I
stood
alone.”
Right now, she was taking strength
from Jon’s arms
around her, and that seemed far more
real and substantial.
“Later, that thought mocked me. What
does it mean? That
you’re strong enough to stand
alone…against what? Being
alone means you’re alone. No more,
no less. We attach
significance because it makes us feel
justified, important.
And it means nothing.”
She shook her head, frustrated with
herself. “I have no
idea what I’m trying to say, Jon. I
should be saying it better,
but… I look at you and al I do is feel,
not think. And my
feelings are taking over everything. I
don’t want to be alone,
but I’ve done it for so long, I don’t
know how to handle
not
being alone. I had to box al of it up in
my heart, and I’m
afraid of what wil happen when you
open it up, because I
know you wil . And I don’t think I’l
survive you turning your
back on it, once it’s al pul ed out and
turned upside down.”
“Then believe that I won’t. Because
it’s not going to
happen.”
His expression was compassionate
but also measuring,
intent. As his knee pressed into the
give of her buttock, her
foot slid further over his, twining
ankles.
“When a submissive like you loves,
Rachel, she puts
everything into that love. Every scrap
of pride, every bit of
who and what she is and wants, and
as such, her identity
becomes that love. She’s lost when it
turns out to be not
what she expected, or even worse,
it’s betrayed or
rejected. So the best way to deal with
it is to pretend it
wasn’t, to go on as long as you can
until there’s no denying
that it no longer exists, and then
something gets broken
inside of you.”
He framed her face, taking away the
tears his words
were evoking. She cried so much
around him. When she
hitched over a silent sob, his mouth
tightened, reacting to
her anguish, though his hands
remained soothing. “You can
go with al the therapy mumbo-jumbo
bul shit that says
you’re merely a woman who needs to
stand alone, who
needs to learn self-esteem or self-
confidence, but when
you’re the type of person you are,
that’s not where the
problem lies. The truth of it is, you
had a gift to give, and
you gave it to the wrong guy. End of
story. The gift is stil
there, if you’re brave enough to give
it again. And I think
you’re exceedingly brave.”
She tried for a wry smile, hurting stil
. “Is bravery the
reason I bolted from perfectly good
bagels and tea?”
He answered the smile, though his
eyes remained
serious, heartbreakingly tender as he
stroked her face.
“They caught up with you. They’re
right here.”
“I didn’t expect you to give chase.”
“One day you’l know when you’re
hurting like this, the first
thing you should do is run to me, not
away from me. Until
then, you won’t ever outrun me,
Rachel. I’l never permit
that.”
Her hand fel on his thigh and she put
her forehead on his
cheek, closing her eyes as he slid his
hand under her hair,
a slow stroke of movement along her
neck. He kept doing
it, waiting her out, letting her think
about what he said,
letting other things rise to the top,
slip from her lips.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “As
much as it hurts, it
was
real y simple, when al was said and
done. Almost tedious.
My husband and I were one thing
when we got married and
time changed us both. Maybe the
seeds of those
differences were there in the
beginning and we didn’t see
it, didn’t anticipate those changes. He
was… overbearing
and I…mistook it, subconsciously,
for something else. In
hindsight, I also think we brought out
the worst parts of each
other. I baffled him, and the
unhappier I seemed, the more
frustrated and angry he got. I don’t
blame him…and I guess
I don’t blame me, but it happened,
and it hurt… He’d
already left me when our son was kil
ed, but if anything, that
drove us further apart.”
She closed her eyes then. He
remained silent, breathing
with her, being with her as that
turmoil settled, as she got
her breath back. He didn’t offer her
platitudes. He didn’t say
he understood, because of course he
couldn’t, not real y. It
didn’t mean she couldn’t lean on his
strength, feel his
sympathy and care. His heart and
arms were open. That
was the message she heard in his
silence, and it helped
deepen her calm. She might be
feeling more foolish as she
composed herself, but his silence
wasn’t condemning or
judging. It was support, pure and
simple.
“The bagels smel good,” she said at
length.
“You smel better.” He nudged her
hair aside, dipped his
head to nuzzle her throat, his hair
brushing her face. “Or it
could be the two together. Fresh
baked bread and female.
My female.”
“You’re relentless.”
“Exactly. You might as wel give in
now.” Reaching past
her to the bag, he kept holding her,
such that he pushed her
backward in his arm span. The
stretch made her chuckle
and hold tighter to him for balance as
he pul ed out the
blueberry bagel she’d wanted.
When he straightened, he released
her to pul off a piece
of the bagel. The heat steaming out of
it brought her the
yeast smel , awakening taste buds.
Before she thought to
reach for it, he held it up to her
mouth. “From my fingers,
Rachel.”
Those blue eyes had so many ranges
of expression.
Compassion was now replaced by
that steady expectation
that put everything inside her on high
alert, al of her senses
focused on what he might demand.
As she took the bite, closing her lips
briefly on those
digits, she did it without a single
self-conscious look around
her.
“Good.” He handed her the rest, then
took out his own
bagel and passed her the organic
green tea she’d wanted,
though he laid an arm over her thigh,
crossed over his,
keeping them in the intimate position
of lovers.
“Wil you…tel me more about
yourself?” She was
honestly sick of thinking about herself
and the fears a
relationship with him could provoke.
She was ready for a
break, no matter how hazardous that
might be. “What kind
of kid were you?”
“Gawky limbs and thick glasses, a
hundred percent
science geek. Even had a stutter for a
while. Don’t let the
boyish good looks and charm fool
you.”
“I actual y don’t find you boyish at al
,” she admitted. “I’ve
never met a man who made me feel
so safe…and cared
for. I doubt myself, Jon. Not you.”
“It comes out to one and the same,
because it affects
both of us.” He put the bagel aside
and slid both arms
around her again, only this time he
brought her up tight
against him, her hip pressed against
his groin, both legs
hooked tight over his thigh as he
kissed her, long and
deep, until she was leaning into him
again. His hand
dropped down to her hip, gave her
ass a squeeze that
made her flinch.
“Stil tender,” he noted against her
lips, a sexy gleam in
his eye.
“Inside and out.” Daring, she added,
“And al I want is
more.”
“That’s good. Because you’re going
to get plenty more,
sweet slave. You already earned a
punishment for not
taking my hand at the table and an
even worse one for
trying to run away.”
The fingers she threaded through his
dark hair trembled
a bit in response. “Do you have to
work today?”
“Not this Saturday. I plan on
spending the morning with
you. This afternoon, we’l go to my
place for a few hours,
and tonight, I’m taking you out to a
proper club.”
She stopped in mid-motion, gaze
darting up to him. “Oh
Jon. I don’t know.”
“I do. After breakfast, we’l go pick
out something you’d
like to wear. With my approval, of
course.” He put his hand
over hers, already anticipating her
next thought. “You won’t
be hedging about money. I have
plenty of it, and what I
spend on you is my business, not
yours. Understood?”
That was clearly his Master’s voice,
stern and
uncompromising. She nodded, a little
uncertain, but trying
to take things in stride better than she
had when they were
at the table.
“I’m a little freaked out,” she
confessed. “Can we talk
about something else for a little bit,
so I can process?
Something that helps me…I don’t
know, feel more
balanced. What’s the worst thing that
happened to you as a
child?”
He curled his hand over hers now on
his shoulder, slid his
thumb into the cup of her palm to rub,
then tugged her hair
with the other hand. “My job is not
always to make you feel
more comfortable, Rachel. Especial
y when I know you
need to be off-balance. But I’l
answer your question, if you
ask me with the proper address.”
That was exactly what she’d been
attempting to do, she
realized. Assert some kind of control
with the personal