With the Lights On

by Jackie Ashenden

  She shivered, her arms winding around my neck, her thighs spreading wide then closing around my hips. I could feel soft wetness and heat against my rapidly hardening cock, making me catch my breath.

  ‘“Darling”,’ I said, nuzzling against her throat. ‘Is that what you call all your clients?’

  It was a gentle tease and she took it as such. ‘Not at all,’ she said primly. ‘I sometimes call them other things. Like Daddy. And Hotshot. And My Lord and Master.’

  I smiled against her sweet skin. ‘I like the last one. I think you should call me that.’

  She laughed. ‘You would.’

  I kissed her throat. ‘Say it, sweetheart.’

  She sighed, her body arching into mine, already hungry for me. ‘Yes, my lord and master...’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Magdalen

  IT WAS THE daylight that woke me, shining full in my face and waking me up. I didn’t want it, though, so I turned and rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, searching for the welcoming darkness again.

  I lay there for a second, wanting to go back to sleep, before the realisation slowly worked its way through me that tiredness wasn’t the only reason I wanted to be back in the dark.

  It was morning. Which meant my night with Trajan was over. There was an ache in my heart, a tug of pain, but I forced it away.

  I was the one who’d decided not to see him again and, despite the fact that I knew I’d fallen for him, I wasn’t going to change my mind. It wasn’t just because Strangers would frown on me having a relationship with a client outside of work, but because I had no idea how that relationship would even look.

  He was such a very private man, and a proud one, and he was dealing with a serious health issue. An issue, from what he’d told me last night, that he was determined to handle on his own. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, he didn’t want to let anyone in, and I could understand why. His father—his whole damn family—had let him down badly. He’d had to do this all on his own, and I got that. I’d had to handle my grandmother on my own too, and sometimes it was easier that way.

  Sometimes you were stronger on your own.

  You don’t really believe that...

  I let out a breath and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Did I? Certainly when Trajan held me in his arms, when he listened to me talk and when he touched me, offered me reassurance and advice, I felt stronger. But of course I felt weaker too; the temptation to fall apart and let him handle things was too great to resist. And I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. He had so much other crap to deal with; he didn’t need mine as well.

  Besides, would someone like him really want someone like me? He was head of a billion-dollar company and I was...

  Well, I was Honey. I made money from selling my ‘company’. I had to take care of my gran and get into med school, and the money for that wasn’t going to come from waitressing. Which meant I couldn’t give up working for Strangers any time soon.

  I turned my head, glancing at the empty pillow beside me, feeling the ache in my heart deepen. Clearly he hadn’t wanted to stay for any last-minute pleasure, which was his prerogative. And maybe it was for the best anyway. I didn’t need this to be any harder than it already was.

  Moving slowly, I slid out of bed.

  My dress was out in the living area, along with my bag, and normally going out there naked wouldn’t have bothered me but it did today. I felt vulnerable and fragile, and I wanted something to cover me.

  After a hunt, I found the blindfold he’d used on me the night before, which turned out to be a soft T-shirt in black cotton. I put it on, shivering as the familiar scent of him surrounded me.

  Perhaps it was a bad idea to wear something of his. Then again, I didn’t have a choice. It was either that or use one of the sheets and I didn’t want to do that.

  I went out into the hallway and heard the deep rumble of his voice coming from the kitchen, so I followed it.

  All the blinds had been drawn up and sunlight streamed through the glass. Trajan stood at the kitchen counter, leaning back against it as he talked on the phone. He wore jeans and nothing else, the sunlight gilding his magnificent torso, outlining hard muscle and smooth brown skin. It glossed his black hair too, lovingly outlining the stark planes and angles of his face.

  A beautiful man.

  But he wasn’t mine and he never would be.

  The pain in my heart became wrenching but I pushed it aside. It didn’t matter. None of it did.

  He must have sensed my presence because he suddenly turned his head and looked at me. And I knew he could see me because of all the sunlight and the way his gaze met mine in a collision of brilliant blue.

  He didn’t smile, just finished up his call, then disconnected and slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Coffee?’ he asked neutrally.

  I went over to where he stood, strangely reluctant to get too close to him. He had a French press cafetière full of fresh coffee ready and a couple of mugs out.

  ‘I’m going to cook breakfast,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’

  Breakfast and coffee. More time in his company... No. It was going to make it too hard. I needed to go and I needed to go now.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, trying not to sound husky. ‘But don’t worry about me. I have to go.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ His gaze caught mine, intent and fierce. ‘We could have more than a night, Maggie. This doesn’t have to end today.’

  There was a wrenching feeling in my chest. ‘I think it does.’ I tried to sound calm. ‘I told you why I can’t see you again, Trajan. That hasn’t changed.’

  He searched my face. ‘Hasn’t it?’

  I stared back, holding his gaze. ‘No.’ It was the truth. No matter what I felt for him, no matter how intense and perfect and wonderful our night had been, no matter how my world had shifted on its axis because of him, nothing had changed. My situation was still the same. ‘Everything I told you about only wanting one night is still true.’

  ‘What? About not getting involved with a client? Fuck that.’ Trajan took a step towards me. ‘I just won’t be your client any more. We don’t need a company to keep seeing each other.’

  I hadn’t expected it. I hadn’t expected the fierce look in his eyes as he stared at me, or the note of possessiveness in his voice. And for a second a tendril of stupid hope fluttered in my chest.

  ‘You really want to share me with my clients?’ I stared back, trying not to let that tendril take root. Hope was one thing I couldn’t afford. ‘Because that’s what you’ll have to do, Trajan.’

  A muscle jumped in the side of his perfect jaw, a flame of what looked like anger burning in his eyes. ‘Why? Why can’t I have you all to myself?’

  My heart ached and I felt a raw throb in my chest. There was nothing I wanted more than to allow him that. To tell him I was all his. That I didn’t want anyone else to touch me, anyone else to hold me. That I didn’t want anyone else inside me, only him.

  But I couldn’t. ‘Because I have bills to pay,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘I have college to save for and Gran needs—’

  ‘I’ll pay for it,’ he cut me off brusquely. ‘I’ll pay for all of it. You won’t need to go back to working for Strangers. You can be with me instead.’

  ‘As what? Your paid whore?’ I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of me. ‘Or is “mistress” the more acceptable term these days? A little old-fashioned, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘There’s no shame in it.’ His stare was as uncompromising as he was. ‘If it means you don’t have to work for them, and it solves all the issues of—’

  ‘No,’ I said, cutting him off, a sudden anger rising up inside me. Because of course money would be how he viewed this. Payment for intimacy. Payment to have me all to himself. Payment so I could give him what he wanted.

  The real
isation hit me like a blow to the head, dizzying me. I didn’t want to be paid. I didn’t want to be paid for what was in my heart. It was precious, it was rare and it was fucking priceless.

  I knew what the difference was now, the difference between paid intimacy and intimacy given out of caring. Intimacy given out of love. And you couldn’t buy that. That could only be given freely and without expectation.

  And maybe that was the fundamental issue. I wanted something in return. All my life I’d given freely—to my mother, to my grandmother, to my clients. And when I became a doctor I’d give freely to my patients. I’d give everything and get nothing back. Nothing to heal the ache in my heart.

  The ache that had always been there. The ache that had driven me into working for Strangers, searching for the intimacy I’d always craved yet repeatedly been denied from the people who were supposed to care about me.

  I’d been searching in the wrong places, though, and I knew that now. I couldn’t get intimacy from the men who paid me, or from Gran, or from my mother. Trajan had given me a taste and I knew where it came from.

  It came from love—because that was what this emotion was, wasn’t it? The ache in my heart and the longing inside me. It was love. The need to give it and the need to have it returned.

  And now I knew what it felt like nothing else would measure up. Nothing else would be good enough. And I wasn’t going to settle for not good enough. Not any more.

  ‘No?’ he demanded. ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘I don’t want you to pay me. That’ll make you my client and I don’t want you to be my client.’

  ‘But if it’ll solve the problem with your gran and college, then what’s the big deal?’ He took another step towards me. ‘Don’t you want this? Don’t you want us to spend more time together?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I said helplessly, because I couldn’t lie about it. ‘But you can’t pay me for intimacy, Trajan. I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to be my client and I don’t want to feel like I’m your kept whore.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’ He reached for me. ‘Maggie...’

  I stepped away, not wanting him to touch me all of a sudden. Grief gathered in my throat. ‘Don’t,’ I said hoarsely. ‘Please don’t touch me.’

  He went still, searching my face. ‘Why? What’s so wrong with letting me take care of your money issues?’

  I took a little breath. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. And, maybe if I was Honey when I’m with you, that would be enough for me. It would certainly be enough for her. But it’s not. Because I’m not Honey with you. I’m Maggie.’ I took another shuddering breath. ‘And Maggie is in love with you.’

  Something flickered through his eyes, bright and shining, an intense blue flame. Then abruptly he turned away from me, his jaw rigid, his whole body gone stiff with tension. ‘That was never supposed to be part of it.’

  ‘No,’ I said as the tendril of hope inside me curled up and died. ‘It wasn’t. But that’s what happened. And I can’t be with you, loving you, knowing that you’re paying me by the hour.’

  He said nothing, frozen in place, looking away at the wall. ‘You can ignore it. We can pretend it doesn’t exist. It doesn’t have to change things between us.’

  There was another wrenching ache and my eyes prickled with tears. But I blinked hard, forcing them away. ‘You might be able to; you do so well with pretending you’re not terrified of what’s happening to you, after all. But I can’t, Trajan. I can’t tell myself this feeling in my heart isn’t there, and I don’t want to.’

  He was silent, rigid and frozen with denial. And my heart contracted with a sudden aching pity. It was the worst thing I could have said, wasn’t it? The most terrible crime—to love him. He was a man who valued control in all things and love was the ultimate surrender. The ultimate acceptance, too.

  But Trajan hadn’t accepted anything and he hadn’t surrendered. He thought that by not acknowledging something he had power over it, but now I could see the truth. It was the opposite. His rigidity, his refusal to be vulnerable, had allowed it power over him.

  He will never love you.

  No. He wouldn’t. I could accept that now. It broke my heart but I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t force it on him either.

  This time I was the one who moved, going over to him, raising a hand to caress the smooth surface of his cheek, one last touch of his skin to take with me. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to demand things from you that you can’t give. Love requires acceptance and surrender, and I don’t think you can do either of those things. But I get it. I know why you can’t. You’re afraid.’

  He turned back to me, blue gaze pinning me in place. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ I looked back at him. ‘Refusing to let your sight loss impact your life? Telling no one about it? Acting as if you can see just as well as anyone else?’

  His face shuttered completely, becoming that blank, expressionless wall. ‘That’s got nothing to do with anything.’

  ‘I know you think that’s not true. It’s all connected, Trajan. And this has nothing to do with me, not wanting to be yours, because I do. I can’t think of anything I want more. But the problem is, you’ll never be mine. You’ll never give your heart to anyone, because you don’t want to be afraid and you don’t want to be vulnerable, and love is both of those things.’

  He stepped back from me, as cold and reserved as he’d been the night we first met. ‘You’re right.’ His voice was blank, stripped bare. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best that you leave, then.’

  Of course he wouldn’t give in. He was a man who never surrendered.

  My heart broke clean through, but I was used to the pain by now.

  ‘Goodbye, Honey,’ he said tonelessly.

  And then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Trajan

  I WALKED OUT of the kitchen, brushing against the doorway as I did so, then knocking against the table in the hallway that had somehow shifted out of position.

  Anger burned in my gut, a formless, furious rage that I didn’t know what to do with.

  I forced it down, trying to be cold and clear as I staggered down the hallway, heading to the bedroom for reasons that eluded me right now. I just had to get away from her.

  Something hit my shoulder, making me stumble, making the anger in my gut burn brighter, hotter.

  What the fuck was happening? Had the cleaning staff moved all the furniture?

  It’s not the furniture, you fucking idiot.

  I strode into the bedroom and, even though there was sun everywhere and I could see, I stumbled again, this time against the bed.

  An odd panic gripped me and I stood there for a long moment, breathing fast and hard, trying to suppress it. Trying not to see Maggie’s lovely face and the sadness in her dark eyes. The regret. The hurt.

  It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. I’d paid her for the night and now she was going. It didn’t matter that she was in love with me either, because I hadn’t asked for that. I hadn’t wanted it either. I was fine with being alone.

  Shit, if she didn’t want more time with me then I’d hire another woman instead. There were always plenty of women who’d be more than happy to spend time in my bed.

  You don’t want another woman.

  My heartbeat was loud in my head and I could smell her in the air, the lingering scent of coconut, vanilla and orchids...

  I imagined myself in bed with another woman, holding another woman, fucking another woman...but I couldn’t. For some reason I couldn’t even picture it.

  You can pretend that you’re not terrified but that doesn’t mean the feeling doesn’t exist...

  Sure it did. Pretending had worked for me for a long time and there was no reason to think it wouldn’t work now. Fear was
easy to overcome; you just didn’t let it in.

  Yet I found myself sitting down heavily on the bed, a cold thread of panic winding through me. I didn’t want her to be right. I didn’t want her in my head. I didn’t want this feeling that pulled tight, but no amount of wishing I didn’t feel it was going to change anything.

  I wanted her. I wanted her desperately. I didn’t want her to leave me.

  I didn’t want to be alone in the fucking dark with no one.

  Love requires acceptance and surrender, and I don’t think you can do either of those things.

  And why the fuck should I? When had acceptance and surrender ever done anything for me? Fear had nearly let Susie die. Fear had made me deny what was happening to me.

  And love? Fuck love. Love wasn’t acceptance. Love was demanding nothing less than complete perfection, and the moment you were less than perfect, whether it was your own fault or not, that love was withdrawn. My father being a classic case in point.

  That’s not all love is and you know it.

  I sat on the mattress, breathing hard, not wanting to think about this, yet the thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding through my head. Memories of the night before when I’d knocked the glass off the counter and Maggie had found out I was blind. How she hadn’t ignored it and hadn’t pushed me away like my parents had.

  No, she’d wanted to get closer. She’d come after me, asking questions and wanting answers. Then, later, she’d let me do everything I’d wanted to do to her in the dark. She’d never pulled away, never withdrawn her trust. No, she’d trusted me even more, her touch and her warmth grounding me in the blackness.

  And even before then, before she’d known about my sight, in all those meetings we’d had, she’d simply taken me at face value, not expecting anything, not demanding anything. Giving freely and never asking for anything back...

  She hadn’t pitied me. She’d just accepted me in a way that even my own parents hadn’t. And before, when she’d told me she loved me, she hadn’t even asked for anything in return.