Full Circle (10 page)

4. Anal play.

So this item was a complicated one. What if,
when she learned exactly what he wanted, it made her too
uncomfortable? What if she looked at him differently?
Because . . . yeah, that could easily happen.

He needed Karma to understand his fetish was
normal and healthy, not dysfunctional.

5. Exhibitionist sex.

Something about getting caught having sex was
an incredible turn-on. Even just the threat they could be caught
excited him. He had sensed such tendencies in Karma, too, but so
far hadn’t explored them. He wanted to, but that might mean finding
a sex club tame enough not to offend Karma but not so tame that it
would be like attending a book club discussion on better sex. At
the very least, he would have to get creative about finding places
that allowed them enough privacy to play yet put them close to
potentially prying eyes.

6. I want to dance again.

He stared down at the paper.

There it was.

The big one.

The one item on his list he wasn’t even sure
he could do, anymore. Yeah, lame, right? But for him, dancing was
about so much more than learning a few steps. It was about joy and
intimacy, as well as a hundred other little things.

Carol had stolen his joy of dancing. She’d
stripped away his desire to sweep a woman into his arms and truly
dance with her the way he used to. As if his heart depended on
every roll of his hips during a sensual
rumba
or every
commanding snap of his arms during a
paso doble
. As if his
soul longed to guide his partner through the dance, his arms and
hands caressing, turning, touching.

To him, ballroom dancing wasn’t about
competition. It was a sharing of hearts, of two bodies so tuned in
to one another they flowed seamlessly as one over the dance
floor.

It was about true partnership. Complete
trust.

And Carol had shattered that. Much in the
same way her deception had created an inborn fear of weddings, it
had scared him away from the dance floor, as well.

He didn’t count slow dancing, though.

No, wait. His eyebrows scrunched inward. That
wasn’t entirely true.

Until he met Karma at the benefit in Chicago,
he hadn’t even slow danced in six years. Six whole years. How had
he not made that connection before? Of all the women he’d dated
during that time period, he hadn’t danced with a single one. But
within thirty minutes of meeting Karma, he’d had his arms around
her, swaying to easy jazz played by a live band. He should have
known then just how different she was from all the rest.

But slow dancing wasn’t Latin ballroom
dancing. And the idea of dancing Latin ballroom style still
shackled him with the shakes and a side of cold sweats. But damn
it, he wanted to dance like that again. With Karma. And not just
dance, but
live
. That’s what dancing meant to him. It was
foreplay, almost as intimate as making love. As much a part of
sexual intimacy as kissing.

But he couldn’t expect Karma to fill Carol’s
shoes. She wasn’t a professional Latin ballroom dancer. It wasn’t
fair to expect her to indulge this side of him simply because he
missed it. In fact, he imagined she would be offended—and maybe
even intimidated—that he still longed for something that had
clearly been a sizable aspect in his and Carol’s relationship.

He frowned at his words on the sheet of
paper. He was selfish to want that with Karma.

No. Number six had to go.

He slashed a line of black ink through
it.

He could deny himself this one point for the
sake of their relationship, even though it was the one thing he
longed for more than all the others.

But relationships required compromise, and
this would be his.

“Are you finished?” Karma asked, capping her
pen.

Scanning the first five items, he ignored
number six and nodded.

“Yes.” He handed her his pen.

She set it next to hers on the bedside table.
“Okay. I’ll go first.” She shifted her legs, creeping closer until
their knees touched.

He took her hands. “Wasn’t this supposed to
be about me opening up to you?”

“Yes, but I figured it might make it easier
for you if I broke the ice.” Her fingers tightened around his
reassuringly.

Her compassion never ceased to amaze him.
Only a short while ago, she’d been angry with him. Angry enough to
walk away and cry.

He’d made her
cry
, for God’s sake.

And yet, here she was now, lovingly laying a
path for him to follow, trying to make this easier for him. Whether
she believed it or not, she was pure. Only a pure soul could give
so selflessly.

“Okay.” She let go of his hands and clasped
hers together. “Here’s something I’ve never told you.” The guilty,
mischievous sparkle in her eyes made him smile. “Remember when you
first came to Solar?”

“How could I forget?”

She bit her lip and grinned shyly. “Well,
there were days I was so turned on just sitting so close to you
that I had to go to the restroom and . . . you
know . . .” Her face shaded bright pink, and she
squirmed, making her knees rub against his.

He curled his palms encouragingly over her
knees. He already knew how her confession ended, but that made him
want to hear her say the words even more. He pushed his hands up
her inner thighs, his fingers disappearing under the hem of her
robe. “Come on, you can say it.”

She giggled and closed her eyes, bowing her
head. “I masturbated. I couldn’t help it. Especially after we
started seeing one another.” Her face took on a dreamy quality. “I
would sit at my desk, remembering how you kissed
me . . . how you looked at me . . .
things you said. And I could barely sit still. So, I’d escape to
the ladies room, sometimes two or three times a day.”

His fingers gripped her thighs as his mouth
dropped open. “Two or three times a day?”

She hid her face behind her hand and giggled.
“Yes. You turned me into a nymphomaniac.”

He chuckled, recalling a time or two when
he’d glanced up from his place at the conference room table to see
her returning to her desk, face flushed, unsteady on her feet. Now
it all made sense. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I’ll let
you in on a little secret.”

Her gaze met his. “What?”

“I did the same thing.”

Her eyes widened. “You did?”

He nodded. “Quite often, in fact. Especially
when you wore a pair of sexy shoes. Something I think you did on
purpose just to turn me on.” Emphasizing his point, he skimmed his
palms down her legs and closed them over her bare feet, making a
mental note to add foot jobs to his confession list. “And don’t
deny that wasn’t your intent when you dangled one of your sexy
shoes from your toes.”

She blushed and looked down. “Guilty.”

“Uh-huh. I know.” He let the tips of his
fingers play along her arches as his mind wandered to the time when
she surprised him at his apartment in Chicago. She’d used her feet
on him for the first time during that trip. Only a little, but
enough that he’d almost come just watching her pretty toes curl
around his shaft.

He remembered with utter clarity telling her
the next time they did that, they would use baby oil. But next time
had never come. She’d teased him. She’d played footsy with him. But
she’d never come as close to delivering a repeat of one of his
greatest fantasies as she had that night.

And tonight, among other things, he was going
to reveal that he wanted to. He only hoped Karma would be open to
that and all the rest, and that the reason she hadn’t put her feet
on him again wasn’t because she hadn’t liked it the first time and
didn’t want to again.

Clearing his throat, he squeezed her feet and
glanced down at the sliver of mattress separating them. “I guess
it’s my turn, huh?”

He’d never been one to shrink away from
difficult discussions. In fact, he considered himself a deeply
confident man. But at times like this, he wondered if his
confidence wasn’t just a mask to hide his fears and insecurities.
Hadn’t he considered that possibility in the year he and Karma were
apart? That he’d assumed such a bold persona more as a defense than
as a natural portrayal of who he really was?

She folded her hands over her lap. “Yes. Your
turn.”

“Okay, well, I might talk a little longer
than you did.” He had a lot more to say.

She smiled and gave him a shallow,
encouraging nod. “That’s okay.”

He took a deep breath, fidgeting. “I’m not
sure how to start. Like I said, I’d planned—”

“Stop planning.” She placed her hands over
his. “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice was kind, gentle.
Coaxing. “Just start talking, and before you know it, you’ll find a
rhythm.” She pulled her hands away and placed them in her lap
again, waiting for him to continue.

The person he’d been two years ago wouldn’t
have had any trouble opening up. Old him would have seen this
coming and would have headed it off at the pass. Which was sort of
the point, wasn’t it? Because old him would never have even let him
get to this point. Old Mark never would have let himself fall in
love. He would have walked away that day at the benefit the moment
he saw Karma sitting across the room in her incredible red dress if
he’d known she would be the one to break through his armor and
steal his heart.

But he hadn’t walked away. He’d crossed the
room and sat down next to her. He’d flirted, did the casual dancing
thing with her, and then taken her up to his room. He had intended
to make her another of his conquests. But before he could seal the
deal, she’d bolted. And that would have been the end of their
relationship had he not met her again two days later at Solar in
Indianapolis. However, even then, had it not been for that one
night in Chicago, he doubted he would have pursued her. By then,
his heart had already belonged to her. He just hadn’t realized it
at the time. But by the end of that summer, he knew he would never
be the same man he’d been before they met.

Old Mark had been dealt a fatal blow that
night in Chicago. And he’d been dying a slow death ever since,
giving way for a new Mark to emerge. A man whose skin he still
didn’t feel comfortable wearing.

But he was trying.

Taking her advice to just start talking, he
closed his eyes, threw out a prayer for strength, and took off.

“After Carol left me, I fell into a really
dark place.” He released her feet and reached for her hands. She
slid her fingers into his palms, giving him an anchor to hold
onto.

“I know.”

He shook his head. “That’s just it, you don’t
know.”

She blinked as her eyebrows furrowed.
“But . .  I thought . . . you told me
about—”

“I told you only some of what happened, but
not everything. And my duplicity wasn’t completely intentional. I
put a lot of what happened out of my mind. I wanted to forget all
the shit I’d done.” He puffed out a derisive exhale. “And I was
drinking so much, anyway, everything felt like a dream, making it
much easier to forget.”

Karma nodded tightly and licked her lips.
“Okay, so why now? Why are you remembering everything now?”

“I wish I knew, but . . . I
think it has to do with you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve done something to me, Karma.” How
could he explain it when he didn’t fully understand himself? “It’s
like you woke me up from a six-year nightmare the moment I met you,
and now I’m changing. I’m becoming someone else. Not exactly who I
once was, but more than who’ve I’ve been. And part of this
transformation is that all those memories I wanted to forget are
pushing to the forefront of my mind. I’m being forced to deal with
them now. Deal with the guilt, the shame . . . and
the excitement.”

Her frowned deepened. “I don’t
understand.”

“I know, and that’s why I need to explain, or
at least try to. Because for whatever reason, this new person I’m
becoming needs you to know. I need you to understand. You’re part
of whatever is happening to me.”

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth then
let out a shaky exhale as if she were finally beginning to see how
bad some of what he was about to say could be. “I’m listening.”

After another short pause, he continued.
“Okay, so I was in a really bad place. I’d just been left at the
altar, found my fiancée in bed with another man, and pretty much
had my entire world pulled out from under me. I was young. I was
stupid. I got a little self-destructive as I tried to find footing
again.” He closed his eyes at the memories of some of the shit he’d
done. “Okay, make that
a lot
self-destructive. I started
drinking. Heavily. Somehow—and I don’t know how—I was able to keep
it hidden from work . . . or maybe I didn’t and just
think I did. I don’t know. All I know is they didn’t fire me. But
that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you this so you
know just how bad it got.”

She scooted forward, tightening her grip on
his hands. Otherwise, she didn’t say a word.

“Karma . . .” He sighed. “It
was so much worse than I ever let on. Not even Rob knows how bad I
really got. I never told him. Like I said before, you’re the first
person I’ve ever admitted any of this to.”

He was risking everything. He was putting his
heart on the line for the first time in over a decade—maybe even
for the first time
ever
—and it scared the holy living shit
out of him.

“Hey,” she said, running her right hand
soothingly up his forearm and back down to his wrist. “It’s okay.
Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She said that now, but after he told her
everything, would she still feel the same way?

“Yeah, well, you might want to by the time I
finish.”