Reeve showered with me, but despite his reassurance from earlier, he didn’t manhandle me the way he usually did. Instead, he soaped me up and washed me off, only touching me with the purpose to clean me, never to pleasure.
In stark contrast to his gentle treatment, tension sat taut in his shoulders and back. As he wrapped a large white towel around me, his jaw set and his lips turned down, I considered suggesting that a hard fuck might do us both some good, but I held my tongue. I’d had over six years to learn to live with the reality of what Bridge did to me. I could give Reeve at least one night.
Or, that’s what I told myself I should do, anyway. But then when he placed a soft kiss on my nose instead of crushing his mouth to mine like I wished he would, I couldn’t help myself from saying, “Is this one of those times that we’re being sweet, then?”
He pursed his lips. “We’re getting clean,” he said, as if that was an explanation that would make sense. Then he headed into the bedroom.
“As long as we’re eventually going to get dirty again.” But the door had shut behind him and I was alone in the bathroom.
I wiped the condensation off the mirror above the sink and studied my reflection. It was the same face I’d always seen and yet I felt like I was only just beginning to get a sense of who I was looking at. Someone damaged and broken. Someone who’d lost. A lot. Also, though, someone who’d rebuilt. She was still a work in progress, but she wasn’t the catastrophe that she’d thought she was.
I’d come a long way since Bridge. Since Amber. I hadn’t realized that until now. I’d thought I’d just run away, that I’d been hiding. Not ever looking back, it was impossible to see the distance I’d traveled. Revisiting the past with Reeve, I could see it. I could see that I’d survived.
And now you’re worried about a man who’s treating you too kindly.
I had to laugh.
Then, leaving a towel wrapped around me, I took off the one from my head, brushed my teeth, and joined Reeve in the bedroom.
The fire was going, and it hadn’t been before, which was a nice touch on a cold spring night after a hot shower. “Thanks for that.” I nodded to the hearth.
“Hmm? Oh. You’re welcome.” He’d put on boxer briefs and was sitting on the bed, his hands laced behind his head, looking distracted and as delicious as one of those underwear models – not the too skinny, boyish waifs, but the ones built like warriors. The kind of man who looked like he could fight for a woman and win. He’d protect her from harm and then brutalize her himself but only just enough. Complete trust.
Was that what love looked like? Was Reeve what love looked like?
I had a confiscated set of keys that said I didn’t trust him like that yet, so not likely. And obviously he couldn’t trust me either.
The thought scratched at my insides, uncomfortable and itchy. Adding to it was the fact that Reeve wasn’t naked. We’d never gone to bed with any strip of clothing between us. We’d never gone to sleep without sex.
I bit back my frown and settled in on the bench with a bottle of lotion. If I wasn’t in bed yet, then the status quo hadn’t changed. And I had dry legs. That ought to buy me some time.
Though Reeve watched me as I rubbed the lotion into my skin, I’d almost completely finished with my legs when he finally said something.
“Have you…” He hesitated until I looked up. Or maybe he’d hesitated until he’d found his words. “Have you had anyone take you in the ass since what happened with that fuckface?”
I smiled, because of his term for Bridge and also because he’d finally revealed what was going on in his head. This was what he was worried about, then. This I could deal with.
Pouring lotion in my hand for my arms, I answered truthfully. “I have not. Before, yes. Not after.”
“Yet, you were going to let me…?”
“I told you I’m not very good at saying no.” I stroked the cream up and down my left arm, hoping if I acted like the topic wasn’t that big of a deal then Reeve would adopt the same attitude.
Even if it was a partial lie. It was a big deal. Potentially.
He shifted on the bed, sitting forward. “You mean you’ll never tell me no?”
“As far as sex goes? I doubt it.”
“Now I’m mad about that too.” He swung his legs off the bed, got up, and moved around the room aimlessly.
I’d known he was agitated, but had believed him when he said it wasn’t directed at me. “Then you are mad at me.” I hated the emotion in my voice. “Because I didn’t tell you? Or because I don’t say no?”
He ran a hand through his hair that was now nearly dry. “Not mad at you. Mad at me.” With hands on his hips, he faced me. “If you’re not going to have a safe word, we need to set some limits between us.”
“I wouldn’t say no anal. I wouldn’t say no objects. I’d never think I’d need to say no scissors.” Frustrated, I popped the lid closed on the bottle of lotion and began working my right arm. It was a good conversation to have, actually. I just didn’t know how to participate in it. “I told you I don’t know what my limits are.”
“You have to know some things,” he insisted. “You don’t want to be shared. That’s a limit.”
“We established that together.”
“You mean if I hadn’t said it first, you would have let me give you to whoever I wanted and you wouldn’t say anything? Even if you didn’t want that?” He must have sensed my answer without me giving it because he asked, “Why would you do that?”
I stood and snatched up the lotion bottle to take it to the bathroom. “I don’t know why.” But I did, sort of, and after I grabbed my robe from the hook, I came back into the room and tried to explain. “I’d do it because you wanted me to. That’s more…” What was the word? “Satisfying, I guess. I like that better. Sometimes that’s what makes something really good, even. Because I don’t want to do it but I’m pleasing you.”
He conceded a tight smile. “And that’s what works so well between us. Because I like that too.” Then the concession was gone. “But men have gone past that. Have hurt you. Was that worth pleasing them?” When I shook my head, he said, “So you do know some things that you absolutely don’t want to explore again.”
“Okay, my limits are don’t damage me. Don’t destroy me.” I sounded exasperated because it was an exasperating subject. On the one hand, I should have boundaries, shouldn’t I? It was embarrassing to harp on the fact that I didn’t.
On the other, it seemed like do not harm should be a no-brainer. Where was the confusion in that?
“Emily, I don’t just want to do things with you because you let me.”
Dropping my towel, I slipped an arm into my robe and gave him an incredulous look.
“Okay, sometimes, yes I do.” He crossed to me and took the belt out of my hands to tie it for me. “But I… I don’t want to do something to you that you don’t at least at some level want me to do.”
I placed my hands on his chest, assuring him. “And so far you haven’t.”
His hands stayed at my hips when I wanted him to draw me closer, wanted him to wrap me up in him. “How am I supposed to know when that changes?” he asked, his brow pinched.
I inspected my nails, ragged from horseback riding and the campfire and rough sex. “I don’t know, Reeve. I’m sick. I told you.”
He pushed away from me. Gently, but pushed away all the same.
My lip quivered. “You are mad at me.”
He spun back toward me. “Yes! I am.”
“What can I do to change that?” I’d do anything. Not just because I was a pleaser, but because if we had any chance at a relationship, this would have to be resolved. “Tell me what to do.”
“Stop blaming yourself for your rape. Stop blaming yourself for your friend. Stop calling yourself sick. Stop letting men —”
I cut him off, choosing this point to defend. “I’m not ‘letting men’ anymore. I’m letting you.”
He let a beat go by and h
is expression transformed, easing. With the slightest hesitation he asked, “Because you trust me?”
Hope flickered in his eyes, and I understood the basis of his question. I’d said that trust was equivalent to love. He was asking if I loved him.
I twisted away from him and placed my hands on the dresser for support. “I didn’t say that.” I wanted to say that. More than anything. But it was complicated, and I was confused.
“Then you don’t trust me.” He’d come up behind me. I could feel his body heat rolling off of him, tugging at me like gravity pulling at the moon.
He deserved honesty. As much as I could give him.
I met his eyes in the mirror above the drawers. “I’m not sure you’ve opened up enough for me to know that I can for sure.”
His hands settled on my hips and he pressed in closer. “You’ve seen what I am. How I’ve been with you – that’s how I’ll always be. I won’t ever hurt you more than you like. I won’t ever do any real damage. I won’t fuck around on you. I’ll allow people to watch you and hear you, but they won’t ever get to have you.”
“Those could just be words, though.”
“If you trusted me, they wouldn’t be.” He nuzzled his chin against the top of my head. “Is it odd that I want you to so badly?”
My throat ached and my stomach knotted. “Only if it’s odd that I want to as well.”
“Then what’s stopping you? Give me your trust, Emily.” His hands circled my waist and he laid kisses on my neck.
I let my head fall, giving him access to my skin. He could have my body. He could have my pleasure. He could have my desire.
But I couldn’t give him my trust. Not yet. Not only because of the lingering questions about Amber but also because I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t asking just to satisfy some selfish need to be important. Wanting my love when he hadn’t given me his. While reciprocity wasn’t a requirement of the emotion, I already felt unequal in my relationship to him. This was the only card I had left.
Reeve moved to nip at the shell of my ear. “What do I have to do to earn it from you?”
Steeling myself, I answered him. “Tell me what came between you and the woman you loved.”
He stilled.
After a few seconds, he stroked his hands down and back up over the curve of my hips. “What does it matter, Emily? That’s another relationship. It isn’t relative to you.”
My hands balled into fists against the wood of the dresser. “It matters because it’s a piece of you. Trust isn’t just about sex, you know. It’s about opening up. You want my trust and you won’t give me yours? It doesn’t work that way.”
He dropped his hands and I saw his expression tighten in our reflection.
His withdrawal stung. “Hey, you asked,” I snipped.
He backed away. Turned away completely. “I told you before, I don’t want you to know the worst of me.”
I spun around, keeping my hands behind me, still needing to lean on the furniture for strength. “But it’s okay that you know the worst of me?”
He perched on the edge of the bed, still strong, but with just the barest hint of defeat. “Your story was the worst people had done to you. Not the worst you’d done.”
Yet it had still had an impact on him. Still created a trench between us. “And why do you think that’s different? Because you think I might run? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been good at running. Even when I should be.”
I took a shaky breath in as I realized what I’d said. Realized I meant it. No matter what I found out about Amber, I wouldn’t run.
As if to prove it, I went to him.
He opened his arms to me as I stepped between his legs. “Maybe I’m afraid that you should run from me.”
“If I should, would you let me?” God, I was pathetic. I was begging for a sign of his affection as blatantly as he was begging for mine.
“I said I wasn’t going to keep anyone again.” He placed a kiss at my cleavage. “But honestly, Emily” – he lifted his eyes toward mine – “I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself if you really tried.”
I cupped his face with my hands. “I’m not going to run, Reeve. And I hope that doesn’t get me hurt in the end. So my trust isn’t really even a big deal, is it? It’s still win/win for you.” Maybe it was manipulative, because I still wanted him to confess his secret. Because I really did want to trust him.
I really did want to love him.
He really wanted me to love him too. He confirmed it again when he pulled my hands from his face, kissed each of the palms, and said, “It is a big deal. To me.”
His expression, his posture, his tone – something told me he wasn’t trying to bully me into giving him what he wanted anymore. That he was ready to earn it.
Tentatively, I tested him. “How did sex come between you, Reeve?”
“It wasn’t sex. Exactly.” His jaw ticked.
I barely dared breathe let alone speak, but I asked anyway, “Then what was it exactly?”
“Well.” He ran his thumbs over the backs of my hands. “The thing that bothered her in that area was actually a part of my personality, not just limited to the bedroom. She thought I was, uh, controlling.”
I scoffed. “You are controlling.”
“But you like it.”
“Sometimes.”
He flinched, so I squeezed his hands reassuringly. “A lot of the time, Reeve. The times I don’t aren’t a problem for us because I like pleasing you. But, was that not the same with her?” It would fit the Amber that I’d remembered. The Amber who liked men to please her more than the other way around.
“No, that wasn’t her style,” Reeve confirmed. “She put up with it in the beginning. Then, when it became an issue, I reined it in. I behaved. For her. I kept it out of our sex life, which is where it showed up most of the time anyway.”
I pulled away from him and sat on the bed next to him. It was hard to listen to him talk about Amber without being jealous, and while I wanted to prove that his openness was good for us, it bothered me enough to require a little bit of distance.
If he noticed my withdrawal, he didn’t show it. He angled himself toward me. “The more I refrained from that in the bedroom, though, the more it came out in other places of my life. It was a constant argument between us. Both of us always trying to figure out how much we were willing to compromise for the other.”
“That’s what healthy relationships are. You find a balance, or, if you find that you’re compromising too much, you call it quits.” Not that I knew much about how to have a healthy relationship. Amber had called it quits with me, though, and I found myself wondering if she’d felt like she was compromising too much for me.
“I wanted to marry her.” Reeve’s statement drew my attention back full force.
“You proposed?” The question came out a bit choked. I hoped he assumed I was surprised rather than hurt. Truthfully, it was a bit of both. A lot of both.
He averted his eyes. “Not exactly proposed.”
“Let me guess. You arranged a minister and a dress and set it all up and then told her.” My words were bitter with envy, meant to stab at him. I hadn’t expected that they were also accurate until I saw the guilt in his eyes. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t.”
“It was meant to be a surprise. It was romantic.”
“You can’t surprise a woman with a wedding.” Especially not Amber. “Any woman. Even if she likes your dominant side.” Well, maybe if she liked his dominant side. I did recognize the romance in it.
He scooted back to lean against the headboard. “I’ll remember you feel that way.” There was no time for me to properly digest that before he’d moved on. “She felt that way too, it turns out. She refused the marriage. In front of the minister and the guys. It was here that this happened, if you haven’t figured that out. And instead of giving me another chance, she told me she was leaving.”
I tensed, all of a sudden remembering that this wasn’t goin
g to be a pretty story. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten, really. He’d warned me it was bad, but it took a lot to shock me, and I’d forgotten that whatever he’d done had made Amber call me. Had scared her enough to use the safe word.
Hugging my legs up to my chest, I urged him on. “And then…?”
“I couldn’t lose her. So I didn’t let her go.”
“‘Didn’t let her go’? That’s what you meant by you kept someone.”
He nodded.
I tried to imagine the worst. “Chained up? Caged? Locked in her bedroom?”
“No.” He gave me a look that said he was appalled I’d even asked. “I just didn’t allow her to leave the ranch. I made it impossible for her to even think about going.”
I’d been at the ranch without him, and not only had I had free rein, I couldn’t imagine how he could pull off keeping me captive. “How? Was your staff in on it?”
“Only Brent and a man I hired to be her bodyguard. It’s easier to control someone than you think, Emily.” When I rolled my eyes, he clarified. “Even someone who isn’t you.”
A chill ran down my spine and I couldn’t exactly say what it was that had caused it. He was so direct with his admission here. So up front about his ability to keep someone under his thumb. It was frightening. Especially considering how he wouldn’t have to try very hard with me. Especially considering that he knew it.
I sat very still as he explained. “I threatened her. Told her what would happen if she tried to leave. Even when I wasn’t here, she was constantly being watched. I had cameras already set up on most of the ranch. I set up more. I bugged all the phones.”
My heart started to pound when he mentioned the phones. Had he heard Amber’s call to me? But I calmed myself down by remembering she hadn’t said anything. She’d made the entire message sound benign. I’d been the only one who recognized that “blue raincoat” was a cry for help.
But my pulse stayed rapid because of something else he’d said. “She had a bodyguard to prevent her from leaving? Like Tabor is for me?”
“No. Tabor is one of my men. He’s here to protect you. I swear. You can and always have been able to leave whenever you want.” His body language said he was sincere. And before we’d come on the trip, he’d seemed reluctant when he’d offered me access to a vehicle and encouraged me to go into Jackson if I wanted. Was his reluctance rooted in the memory of what he hadn’t given Amber?
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