by Anna Durand
He clasped his hands over my back. "Didn't you try them out with the men you've been with since?"
I shrugged. "A few times, but I didn't enjoy it, and they never reciprocated."
"You mean you gifted them with fantastic blow jobs and they refused to go down on you in return."
"Exactly."
He snorted. "Bloody eejits. They had a bonnie, sensual, amazing woman in their arms and let her slip away."
"You should thank them. If I'd married one of those guys, we wouldn't be here together."
"We would." He whisked his hands down to my bottom. "I would've seduced you away from whatever scunner you'd married."
"Hmm." I eyed him with mock suspicion. "You would seduce a married woman? I don't believe it."
The upward curve of his lips flattened out, and the lighthearted tone of our banter abruptly shifted. Somberly, he said, "Your faith in my moral character is misplaced."
Like a hammer slammed down on my head, his statement left me stunned and confused. I stared at him for a moment, struggling to sort out what had just happened. Flirtatious banter. Quips about my former lovers. He joked about luring me away from another man, and I joked about him seducing married women. Now, he told me in a grim voice I shouldn't have faith in his "moral character."
I pushed up on my elbows to gaze down at him, searching his stoic face. "Why do you keep hinting you're a bad person?"
"Because I am."
Lips puckered, I kept studying his expression but found no clues to guide me. "That's bullshit. You're the best man I've ever known."
He winced ever so slightly, and his hands dropped away from my body. "No, Rae, I'm not."
I rolled off him and sat up. "Explain, Iain. Right now. A little mystery can be sexy, but this enigma does not fall in that category. We're sleeping together, and you're determined to make me love you again. I need the facts. I deserve that much."
"Aye, you do." He pushed up into a sitting position, groaning, and swung his legs off the bed. His feet on the floor, his back to me, he slumped forward and grasped the bed's edge. "May I ask you a question first?"
"Okay."
"How many men have you been with in your life?"
"My whole life? Eight." I inched a little closer but refrained from reaching out to touch him. He seemed way too agitated for that. So, I focused on the back of his head when I said, "Two before you, my high school boyfriend and another guy sophomore year of college. Five more after you, including the douchebag taxi driver last year."
Iain slumped further forward, elbows on his knees, and shoved both hands into his hair. "My lovers have been…more numerous."
Okay, where the hell was he going with this? "You're fifteen years older than I am. I didn't expect you were a monk before you met me, or for all the years since."
He groaned again, his head sinking lower, his fingers lacing together at his nape. "Ye donnae understand. The number is…significant."
The number of what? His lovers? I scooted a little closer still, moving to the side in hopes of catching a glimpse of his expression, but his face was concealed by his arms. What was he trying to tell me? He'd been with a lot of women? Fine, I could deal with that. He was, as I'd just pointed out, much older than I was. I expected he'd had more than eight lovers in his life.
When he stayed silent for a minute, maybe longer, I had no choice. I had to ask.
"Okay, how many women have you slept with?" I asked.
He mumbled something.
I wriggled around on the bed until I sat cross-legged behind and the to right of him. His arms still hid his face. I dared to touch his shoulder, but he flinched. "Iain, just tell me. How many? Twenty?"
He lowered his arms but stayed slouched forward. "More."
"Thirty?"
A shake of his head. He pointed one finger toward the ceiling.
"More?" I asked. "Come on, stop making me guess."
He sighed heavily. "Fifty, give or take."
"Give or take what? Another fifty?"
"No." He flashed me an irritated look. "Not another fifty."
Air rushed into my gaping mouth, which hadn't shut since he'd spoken the word fifty. I'd told myself I could handle whatever number he threw at me, yet here I was acting like he'd committed a heinous crime. He was a man. A fifty-year-old man. An intensely sexual fifty-year-old man. If he'd started having sex as a teenager, fifty women in thirty years or so wasn't all that shocking.
Why, then, did I feel like he'd belted me in the face with a forty-pound grain sack?
"Um," I began, striving for a calm tone, "fifty in your whole life doesn't sound all that…excessive."
Jaw tight, he stared straight ahead at the wall. "I fucked thirty or so of them in seven months."
I did the mental math. "Well, that's about four a month. Still not too — "
He whipped his head around to glare at me. "Stop making bloody excuses for me. I fucked dozens of women. Lasses I didnae love or want to date. Their bodies were all I wanted."
The words he hurled at me left me reeling, but I managed to ask, "Did you sleep with married women?"
"Only one, and she came to me. Her husband was neglectful to say the least. Even I wouldn't seduce a woman who belongs to someone else."
"Even you? What does that mean?"
"It means I've made terrible mistakes in my life. Many mistakes."
I shook my head, suddenly baffled by the man I'd just had sex with in this bed. In my bed. In my house. The house where I'd raised our daughter. "Are you trying to make me hate you? After all the seduction, all the things you said about wanting me back, about needing me and — " I swallowed hard, my throat dry and thick. "You said you love me. Was that bullshit?"
His chin dropped to his chest. He snarled a string of curses in various languages, then sucked in a deep breath. Shutting his eyes, he exhaled slowly. When he looked at me again, a bleakness had replaced the anger. "Nothing I told you was bullshit, gràidh. I love you. I don't deserve you, but I need you in my life. I've always needed you. But I've done things I'm not proud of, and you need to understand that."
"Everyone makes mistakes. So you're not perfect, neither am I." Far from it. I'd slept with him, let him say he loved me, and still I hadn't told him about Malina. Maybe I should tell him, but after his behavior a minute ago, now didn't seem like the time. Or maybe I was a coward.
"How much do you want to know?" he asked.
Good question. If this was sex, nothing more, then I didn't need to hear about his conquests. I kept insisting he had to leave next weekend, but I couldn't deny I'd developed a fondness for him. Sure, I'd grown fond of him only in the past few days. Ugh. I'd fallen for him thirteen years, fallen hard, and those old feelings kept creeping back into my heart. Try as I might to ignore it, to pretend I could screw him and say goodbye, I had to be pragmatic about this. Since I felt…something for him, I ought to know the details about his past. But not the sexual details. I really did not need to hear about all the ways he fucked other women.
I sat up straighter, hands on my knees. "Tell me everything."
Chapter Twelve
Iain
How had this happened? I sat naked on Rae's bed, with her huddled naked beside me, discussing my less-than-admirable past with women. Moments ago, I'd made love to her. We'd forged a new bond, deeper and more meaningful than anything we'd had before. She trusted me with her body, which for most women meant she trusted me, full stop. Instead of basking in the afterglow of our first time together in thirteen years, I was struggling to explain why I'd fucked so many women.
Now, she wanted to know "everything."
Rae laid a hand on my arm. "I don't want to know the sexual details. I want to know about you. Were you sleeping around before we met? While we were together?"
"Neither." Resigned to my fate, I met her gaze. "Once upon a time, I was a perfect gentleman. I got to know a woman before I slept with her, and frankly, I didn'
t date much. My work consumed me, or rather, my need to use my work as an excuse to escape my home."
"Why would you need to escape?"
"That's another, much longer story." A sigh groaned out of me. "I'd been with ten women before you. The moment I met you, I lost all interest in other women. When I lost you, I tried to pretend I was fine. Then my da got in trouble again, and sorting out his mess compounded the strain until I cracked. Not proud of it, always thought I was stronger than that, but apparently I'm weak. I gave in to the grief and self-loathing." I scrubbed my face with both hands. "I became an expert in self-destruction."
"I don't understand."
How could she? I still couldn't fathom why I'd done the things I'd done.
"Drowning my sorrows became my favorite pastime," I said. "Tried drink, but after three instances of getting jaked at the local pub and getting into two brawls, I gave up that method. I couldn't drown myself in work since I was unemployed. The only thing I could think of that might numb me for a while was sex. They might've called me notorious at Nackington, but I earned the title back home. Turns out lasses love a man who acts like he doesn't give a shit about anything and seduces them with assurances the liaison will lead nowhere. I didn't care where we did it. Alleys, car parks, back rooms of shops, wherever. Quieting my conscience was all that mattered, and sex is excellent for eradicating thoughts."
She said nothing. Her face betrayed no hint of her feelings about what I'd confessed. Still in shock, no doubt. I'd been callous and selfish. How could she want me now that she knew the truth? I should've stayed away from her, but I'd pinned my hopes of redemption on earning the right to a future with her.
Rae had a child. How could she introduce her daughter to a man like me? If she knew about my other mistakes, the ones far more scandalous than enjoying a good fuck with a willing lass, what would she do?
I'd fought too hard to recover from my mistakes, to become a man worthy of a woman like Rae. I couldn't give up now. I'd stay until she gave me the boot.
She chewed the inside of her lip. "Do you still sleep around?"
"No, not like I did then. I've been with nine women since, but only one in the past five years."
"Were you, um, dating these women?"
Her tone was hopeful. Ah God, she wanted to believe in me. It might've been sweet if I hadn't behaved like such a bastard all those years ago.
"I dated some of them," I said, "briefly. Others were flings. I married one."
She jumped as if I'd blown a foghorn in her face. "You were married?"
"Unfortunately." A sudden weariness overtook me, and I dropped back onto the bed, jostling it. Lying there on my back, I stared at the tiny acoustic balls on the ceiling. "Julia was a sweet lass, but I had no right to marry her when I was still in love with you. I tried to be a good husband, tried to love her, but I failed. I cared for her, but not the way a husband should. We were married for three years but separated for all but seven months. She left me after I said your name during sex."
Rae winced. "Ouch."
All rights to sympathy in the matter belonged to Julia, as it should be. I'd entered into a marriage, promising to love and honor her, all the while knowing I could never follow through on those vows. No woman could fill the hole left behind by the only one I'd ever loved. Expecting Julia to save me from my own past had been unfair, to say the least.
"At first," I said, "Julia thought I was gay and shouting the man's name Ray. I told her the truth, but I think she would've preferred to keep thinking I liked men."
"I can see how that might be easier for her to handle. At least then she wouldn't have been rejected for not being good enough."
"She was good enough. The perfect wife." I glared at those bloody balls on the ceiling. "I was the unworthy one. The bastard who made false vows."
"You didn't lie, Iain. You made a mistake."
I cast her a sidelong glance. "Shouldn't you take my ex-wife's side? Female solidarity and whatnot?"
"Who says I'm not on her side?" Rae laid down next to me, on her side, her head propped up with one hand. "I see both sides, that's all. And I know you. Whatever mistakes you've made, I will never believe you treated women callously. You wanted to love your wife and make those vows true. I believe you tried the best you could."
Surprise flashed over her face. Her gaze turned distant, her eyes widening a wee bit, and her lips parted.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I just said — " She blinked rapidly, giving a small shake of her head. "Never mind."
Her expression baffled me, and so I thought back on what she'd just said. A realization whispered through me. "You said you believe in me."
A faint blush tinted her cheeks, and she shifted her focus to the sheets. "I guess I did."
Hooking a finger under her chin, I encouraged her look at me. "Why does that fash you?"
"Fash means bother, right?"
"Yes."
She took a breath, lifted her chin, and said, "It doesn't fash me. I surprised myself, that's all. Hadn't realized I do believe in you, in the kind of man I know you are. Whatever you might've done in the past doesn't matter anymore. Maybe I would've bed-hopped to drown my pain if I hadn't had other problems to worry about."
"Do you want to tell me about them?" I couldn't demand she open up to me, not after the way I'd left her.
She averted her gaze to the sheets again, her fingers picking at the fabric. "I'm not quite ready to share all of that yet. Is that okay?"
I cradled her face in my palm. "Of course it is. You have no obligation to tell me anything. I shared my story with you because you deserve to know."
"Thank you for understanding. And for sharing."
"Your reaction wasn't what I expected." I ran my thumb over her lips. "Your initial reaction was, when you were horrified. After that, you surprised me. Maybe I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I won't reject it."
"Forgiveness?" She straightened her arm, pushing up into semi-sitting position. "I haven't forgiven you because you've done nothing that needs forgiving. Whatever you did with other women in the past thirteen years is between you and them. It's got nothing to do with you and me."
"Doesn't it bother you? The way I've treated other women?"
"Have you forced yourself on women?"
"Of course not."
"Did you lie to them to get them in bed? Promise a rosy future? Claim you love them?"
I frowned at her. "None of the above. I always made it clear we had no future, it was just sex."
"The way I see it," she said, laying a hand on my chest, "the only questionable thing you've done is sleeping with a married woman. But if she made the first move, I guess it's not so awful."
I experienced a twinge of guilt at her tacit forgiveness of my liaison with a married woman. Maybe I had allowed myself to be seduced by another man's wife, but I'd misled Rae about the extent of that involvement. It had been more than one night, though nothing close to a relationship. Should I tell Rae that?
Not yet. I'd told her about my bad behavior and confessing that bit might ruin what we found tonight, her in this bed. I would share the rest later.
Hosenscheisser. That's what you are, MacTaggart, a bloody coward.
Rae sighed. "At least you weren't a lothario who seduced hapless women into cheating on their husbands by whatever means necessary."
"I wish you wouldn't make excuses for me."
"Not excuses. I understand your pain because I went through it too." She flexed her fingers on my chest. "What happened to us back then, it was devastating. We handled the trauma in different ways. I won't judge you for the methods you chose, and I hope you won't judge me for mine."
Just as I wondered what she meant about me not judging her and considered asking what she meant, she let out a big yawn.
I sat up. "Time for sleep. I've exhausted you with sex and revelations."
She smiled. "Sex with you is a revelation."
Her statement stopped me for a moment, and I had no idea how to respond. After all her claims she would never sleep with me, she had. After all her claims she wouldn't care for me, she clearly did. And after everything I'd told her tonight, she still wanted me.
Christ, I had to tell her the truth.
I combed my fingers through her hair. "About the married woman I slept with. It was, ah, more than one time."
"Okay," she said cautiously. "How many times?"
A rock solidified in my gut, cold and jagged. I swallowed, coughed, and said, "Off and on for five years."
Rae stiffened. "Five years? You said you didn't have relationships with most of these women, except for your ex-wife. You made it sound like you casually dated a few of them and the rest were flings." She rose onto one elbow to stare down at me. "Having sex with one woman for five years is a relationship."
"It wasn't. Delyth wanted a lover to occupy her time while her husband was away on business, which was often."
Rae's mouth tightened. "Was this screw-and-run sex, or did you have conversations too?"
"We talked, but it wasn't meaningful conversation." I fidgeted her her sharp gaze, wishing to bleeding hell she'd give up this line of questioning. "You're making too much of it. That part of my life ended, so it doesn't matter."
"You're not sleeping with her anymore."
"No."
Rae shut her eyes and sighed, her bunched shoulders slackening. When she looked at me again, she seemed more relaxed. "All right, fine. Your past is your business, and I'll try not to get judgmental about it. But you need to be way more forthcoming with the info. No hedging or sidestepping. If you want me to trust you, be honest."
"I will."
She tapped my chest with one finger. "Even if it's uncomfortable."
"Yes, Rae, even it's uncomfortable." I caught her finger and lunged my head forward to pull it into my mouth, releasing it slowly. "If you'll do the same for me."