Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play (22 page)

She jumped at his first touch. His hand on her hip, light at first, almost hesitant. He tilted his head, tongue reaching out to circle her lips in a slow return of affection. Relief so pure and full sent the tears tumbling from her eyes.

The kiss grew more fervent, his hold turning firm. He tugged her closer when there was no place for her to go. Her knees bumped the stool, and his legs opened wider to surround her. Blood roared in her ears to counter the gut-wrenching silence that encased the room. It was a horrible space. A place that brought this much misery to anyone shouldn’t be allowed.

He cupped her cheek and pushed forward until her back bowed and he caught her weight with his other arm.

“Beth.”

His whispered plea took a second to register. Another second to sink in. A last one to nail her heart with final understanding. The sense of loss was devastating as it tore through her.

She jerked back, vision blurred by tears and hurt.

His eyes flew open, shock followed by recognition, then remorse flashed like lightning in his eyes. He sat back, his hold slacking before he yanked her to his chest. “My God.” He clutched at her back, her hair, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Or maybe she just couldn’t breathe through her own pain. “I’m so sorry.” His whisper flushed hot on her neck, his kisses flames on her skin. “I... I... Fuck. I’m sorry.”

She managed to nod, somehow understanding when she wanted to yell. This
really
wasn’t about her, was it?

“Liv.” Her name was a tortured croak of shame and suffering. “What have I done? I can’t...”

This was a Noah she’d never seen. A man who’d somehow hit rock bottom and was scrambling to hang on. So she clung to him and let him know he wasn’t alone, even though her own heart ached with every word she spoke.

“It’s okay. Don’t... It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” he insisted, his lips forming each word over the juncture of her neck. The light tease of sensation sent a rush of tingles to her breast and farther when she didn’t want it to.

Her love for him formed so solid and clear right then she almost sobbed. There was so much more to this man than the cold shell he presented. So much he hid and pain he harbored from everyone. Everyone but her. He trusted her with this, and that somehow meant more than words of love or professions of undying commitment.

She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and pressed a kiss to his temple as she collected herself. “It is. I understand,” she reassured. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I understand you’re in pain. Let me help.” Another kiss was pressed to his cheek before she leaned back to see his eyes. “Please.”

Please let me in
. Her silent plea was as much for him as her. He needed someone to confide in. Someone he could trust with his burden. She could be that person for him, if nothing else.

In that moment, his eyes were open windows to his soul, and the vivid pain she saw had her clutching him closer.

“How are you still here with me?” There was wonder in his voice, mystery in his lifted brows.

“Where else would I be?” She kissed his unmoving lips and found her strength from the source she’d seemed to pull so frequently from of late. Him. She would be strong for him.

“Far from me.” He swiveled his head in a slow move of incomprehension. “I’ll only hurt you.”

“No,” she insisted. “You won’t. Not on purpose. That’s not in you—I know that.”

“How?” He searched her face, his voice cracking. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.”

“Then tell me. I want to help.” She tried not to beg. “Don’t you know how much I care about you?”

He sniffed and looked away, his expression desolate. “Then you should hear it all before you care anymore.”

“Okay.” That was a start. She went to step back, but he wouldn’t release her, so she wrapped her arms around him and tried to convey everything her words weren’t saying.

She loved him. It was fast and crazy and intense and more than she would’ve ever let herself feel for any one person. But he’d snuck up on her when she’d been distracted by all of the other stuff going on. And now, she was almost positive she was going to lose him, even if he didn’t want to be lost.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Noah stared at the room beyond Liv. It was impossible not to look at the emptiness. That space that held him trapped in a past he couldn’t seem to escape.

“It’s just a room.” He tried to convince himself of that to no avail. His voice was too tight for even him to believe. Hell, his actions already mocked the words as a petty lie.

“No,” she said, leaning back to intercept his view. She forced his head to turn until he met her eyes. “I’m guessing it was a playroom.” The statement was soft, the words rock hard.

He almost fell back at the sucker punch. It ripped the wind from him in a rush of pure shame that went deep. Pain radiated out of his chest in waves of regret. “How do you know that?” His snarl had the question coming out as an accusation when she didn’t deserve it.

He expected her wrath, hoped for it in some ways, but there was only understanding in her eyes. “V showed me hers. I’m making an educated guess.”

Wasn’t this what he wanted and had been too chicken to follow through on when he’d come home? He’d been ready to tell her about Beth, to explain about his past and how he couldn’t be a Dom again. Now it was all so raw. With Liv standing there, tear tracks on her face, it was too much. She was an innocent in this world.

The clamminess turned to a full-blown sweat that beaded on his nape and formed rivers between his shoulder blades. His vision shifted to the image of Beth dangling from the rope strung from one of the damn joist-mounted ceiling hooks. Her face white, lips blue, hair a limp mass of silken gold that draped to the side with the tilt of her head. Her bare toes only inches from the floor behind the toppled chair, so close but unable to reach the tile.

There’d been no claw marks of second thoughts on her neck. No burns on her fingers from grasping the rope. Both had been impossible due to the cuffs that had locked her hands behind her back.

Not quick-release bondage cuffs, but solid lock-and-key metal cuffs that had chafed her delicate wrists when she’d struggled. Involuntarily or not, he’d never know.

He shoved Liv away to stand, plunging his fingers through his hair to hold the strands until they pulled on his scalp. It wasn’t enough though. The sting didn’t distract from the one that pulsed from his guilt.

The pain engulfed him like it hadn’t since the weeks following her suicide. If he’d only been more aware. Hadn’t demanded so much of her, had known more about her past. If he’d been a better Dom, she’d still be alive.

“Noah?” Liv was next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other working his fingers free of his hair. “God, Noah. What happened?”

He dropped his hands to his sides, lifted his head and forced his eyes to meet hers. There was only emptiness inside him again. It was how he should be. All the warmth and kindness Liv offered him should be spent on someone else.

With effort, he forced his mouth to say the words that would chase her away forever. “She killed herself.” He took a breath. “I should’ve known. Should’ve stopped her... It’s my fault she’s dead.”

Her mouth dropped open then snapped closed a second later. A frown tugged at her brow as her head slowly swiveled in rejection. “I don’t believe that.” She hadn’t removed her hand and its presence on his shoulder was grounding, like the grip that tightened with her conviction. “You are a lot of things, Noah, but you’re not a mind reader. I know you and I’m positive you did everything you could to help her.”

Why was she still there? She should be running away. Instead she stood there with her chin thrust up in a dare for him to deny her.

He turned his head to the darkened taunt of his past. Beth had never stood up to him. She’d been the complete submissive. Vulnerable, needy and dependent on him for more than he’d anticipated. “Beth might disagree with you.” The haunting words hung in the room like the ghost that remained.

She ran her hand down his arm until she grasped his cold fingers. He still hadn’t looked to her when she gave a tug and started to back away. “Come on. This room isn’t good for you.”

All his life he’d been expected to lead. His scholarly parents had instilled that in him when he’d been a boy. Now it was Liv turning off the light and closing the door before leading him down the hall, away from his hell.

The brown cloth sectional was about ten years out of style, but its lack of use still had it appearing brand new. Liv nudged him until he sat down then shook out a blanket that’d been thrown over the back and wrapped it around herself. She curled her legs under her and nuzzled into the crook of his arm like she belonged there. He was powerless to resist her comfort.

He settled his arm around her and held on, the fruity scent of her hair calling him home. If only...

“Tell me the story.” There was no demand in her soft words. True to her, it was an opening that he could accept or reject.

The glow from the upstairs kitchen light cast the room in shadows but not darkness. She wasn’t looking at him, giving him the privacy he needed to repeat Beth’s tale.

“She was my submissive. Beth,” he started, settling back into the cushions as the story unwove in his mind. “I was thirty-four when I met her. At a BDSM club. She was fragile. Pale with big doe eyes that drew a Dom in. I noticed her right away. Watched her for weeks before I approached her.” From there, the words flowed. He’d never recounted the entire tale to anyone, not even the police.

Liv gave little sounds along the way, things that let him know she was listening as he recapped how their relationship had grown from club play to private play to her moving in. How that had evolved to her being his full-time sub when it’d started out as Scene play only.

“Was that what you wanted?” she asked. “A full-time sub?”

He threaded his fingers through her hair until it fell down in soft, soothing brushes over his palm. “Now, I can look back and say no. But then I didn’t think enough about it. It was what Beth wanted—no, needed. She craved direction and security.” He dipped his fingers through Liv’s hair again, the absent motion so different from the calculated moves he’d had to make with Beth. “She had a dark past with more scars than she told me. She hid so much pain I never knew—” His breath hitched, the shot of remorse kicking him hard.

She snuggled in closer and rubbed her hand over his ribs until he had his composure back.

“I never knew how depressed she really was,” he finally got out. “She hid it behind submission and the masochistic acts she craved. I didn’t realize until after that it was all a form of self-punishment for her.” He’d been so blind. Arrogant even in his assumption that he knew her well enough to be her full-time Dom.

“After what?”

That part. Yeah. He rubbed his eyes and wished the image of her hanging from the rope would disappear. Weren’t pictures supposed to fade with time? That one never did.

His throat was raw like the words when he answered. “After she hung herself in our playroom.”

Liv flinched, going stiff against him. “That playroom?” She pointed behind them.

“Yeah.”

Her mouth was gaping when she turned around. “How long ago was this?”

He could be exact, but he rounded down. “Four years. Almost five.” He rubbed his eyes again as an excuse to avoid her gaze.

She was shaking her head when he dropped his hand, her brow furrowed with the confusion that was etched into her expression. “So that’s your personal damnation room.” He nodded, even though it wasn’t stated as a question. Her face softened, but thank God it wasn’t with pity. She rubbed his thigh, another soothing touch that spoke without words. “You have to know that’s not healthy for you.”

He dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Of course it wasn’t healthy. Tonight was more than proof of that. “I can’t get myself to leave.” He had to work to find enough saliva to swallow after admitting that.

She shifted again. A nudge to his thighs had him scooting over without thinking. He didn’t have the energy to protest or question. She straddled his lap, her bottom a firm weight across his thighs before she cupped his jaw and forced him to lift his head.

Now what? Was this when the pity came? The sorry look for how pathetic he was, or maybe the scorn for being the bastard who’d caused a woman to end her life?

Refusing to open his eyes was a childish but effective avoidance tactic.

“You’re a good man, Noah Bakker.”

His eyes flew open at her soft statement. “What?”

“Everything you do shows how much you care about people.” He hunted for the falseness in her voice or eyes, only to find sincerity. “You must’ve loved Beth very much. I can’t imagine losing someone like that.” She blinked a few times, swallowed and brushed her fingers over the edge of his hairline. “I can’t tell you to let it go or tell you what to do, but I know this. You need to heal.” She laid her palm over his heart, where it accelerated with her words. “You have so much love to give, but your heart is still broken. Her actions shattered it. But it still beats. You’re still alive. You need to find a way to piece it back together so you’re not afraid to use it again.”

Damn it. Damn it completely to hell. His eyes stung with an urge to let it all out. To purge the ache and anguish in a well of useless expression that had never helped.

She leaned in, her lips soft and warm when they touched his. God. His emotions were exposed and bloody and ready to purge all over them. Yet he couldn’t deny the truth of her words when he tried so badly to do so.

He wanted to be whole for her. Wanted her so fucking much, only...

His lips moved almost of their own accord to meet her gentle strokes. Her softness tempered his pain and seemed to tear it from him at the same time.

“You’re still alive, Noah,” she whispered against his lips.

Every one of her touches scorched him with the truth of her words. She simmered through him, enfolded and somehow held him from the inside out. Her kisses continued, pressing and easy in a contradiction that was her. So exactly like the beautiful woman she was.

Her long, sweeping kisses played with his tongue to spread her warmth and share her heat when he’d thought he’d never be warm again. He wrapped his arms around her, his barely suppressed emotions leaking from the squeezed creases of his closed eyes. The anguish burst from his chest in a strangled sound that was distorted by her kisses and his unwillingness to set it free.

His hands fisted on her back, a last stance against a losing battle he no longer wanted to fight. In the next breath he let it all go. The burden, the beliefs, the judgments, the condemnations that had held his walls strong until Liv’s gentle giving had shredded them. They bled from him in the silent tears that rolled down his cheeks to be wiped away by her tender fingers.

With a last holding press of her lips, she shifted back around to curl up on his lap, legs stretched out on the couch, head nestled into that spot on his shoulder that brought the soft caress of her hair and sweet hints of her shampoo. She hugged the blanket around her, leaving her naked legs exposed before she finally settled.

He waited for the next volley of questions or advice or whatever she had in her. Waited for long breaths that turned into minutes until his tears dried and he finally accepted she was done.

He slowly brought his arms around her, almost afraid to hug her too tight for fear she’d leave. She sighed, the warm rush of air over his neck a gentle kiss of trust. Trust he didn’t feel he’d earned, yet she continued to give him.

The quiet settled in to bring an uneasy sense of peace through him. With Liv on his lap, the past didn’t have the weight it used to. She was warm and here and strong. God, she was so strong. He pressed a kiss to her hair, holding it until the sting retreated from his eyes once again.

Her breathing evened out, muscles twitching before she relaxed into sleep. And he sat there. In the basement with his past, he wondered long into the night. Beyond the slow lighting of the windows as dawn broke, past the ray of sunlight that cast a beam of light onto the blank TV screen.

Was it really possible to keep the future he was holding? If he believed in Liv, trusted her as she’d more than done with him, then it might be possible. As long as he was able to let Beth go.

* * *

Liv awoke to the familiar scent of Noah and the comforting press of his arms wrapped around her. It was only when she blinked her eyes open to see the unfamiliar outlines of his basement that the previous night came crashing back to her. Her instant inhale shot a piercing jab of pain to her chest—for him and herself.

His fingers ghosted over her cheek to brush her hair from her face in a touch so gentle she could almost believe nothing had changed. Maybe if she didn’t move they could stay there and pretend it hadn’t.

“You’re awake.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled over her to shred her silly fantasy.

“What time is it?” she croaked around her dry throat.

“I don’t know. But we should get moving if we want to be at the hospital for Tyler.”

She bolted up at the reminder. “Crap.” The sun showed brightly through the small windows near the ceiling, proclaiming dawn had long past. She scrambled off his lap and quickly refolded the blanket she’d used. “We’d better hurry.”

She turned to rush out of the room filled with unspoken questions, only to glance back when she hit the stairs and stopped. He hadn’t moved, not even a finger. She couldn’t do that to him.

Her feet squished over the carpet as she forced herself to return to the couch. “Noah?” She stood behind him, and he dropped his head back to look up at her. That blank expression of his was back and it hurt to see it, even though she’d expected it. “Are you all right?” He’d bared his soul to her last night, every gory detail that she’d wanted to hear. But at what cost to them?

He blinked then lifted his head and shoved to a stand. “You can grab the first shower.” He came around the couch, his even look chilling her.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because I don’t have an answer,” he replied without inflection. He carried on up the stairs, leaving her there to watch his retreat.

She clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in the bitter moan that wanted to escape. The rush of anguish was swift and telling. She’d pushed him too far, and now they were both struggling for footing in the aftermath.