The Complete Secrets Series

by LK Shaw

  “Okay, you have this look on your face now. Like something happened. You have to tell me,” Bridget demanded.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I wasn’t playing coy. I truly had no idea what she was talking about.

  “I mean, you suddenly got this surprised look on your face like I’d said something that made a light switch turn on inside your head. Like you figured out what was giving off your weirdness and you weren’t sure how to react to it.”

  “That didn’t even make any sense.” I shook my head at her convoluted thinking.

  “It makes total sense. Something changed since the last time I saw you and you know what it is, you’re just surprised it’s noticeable to other people. So, now that we’ve cleared that up, tell me what happened since the last time I was here, damn it.” Bridget bossed me around in a playful way.

  Because I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I blurted it out. “I kissed Donovan.”

  Bridget’s head snapped toward me before quickly turning forward to keep her eyes on the road. “Shut the fuck up. And? How’d it go?”

  Her exuberance was noticeable. She practically bounced up and down in her seat in anticipation of some juicy story.

  “It went—okay.” Now that I’d said it out loud, I was hesitant to discuss it. It just seemed wrong somehow. As though I was betraying a confidence. She must have sensed my wariness because she reigned in her excitement.

  “What do you mean… okay? Like, he’s a terrible kisser, which by the way I don’t think he is, or you didn’t react in a way you wanted to?”

  I sighed as I rested my head in my hand and stared out the window. “The second one.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes as though formulating her questions in her head.

  “Panic attack? Freak out? Flashbacks?”

  I looked over at her in surprise. “How’d you know?”

  A sadness was etched in her face. “I had a friend who’d been assaulted when she was in her late teens. It took a lot of therapy and the love of a strong man to help her, but she had the same problem at first. Any time she tried to get intimate with someone, she’d have flashbacks and anxiety attacks. So, I figured the same thing happened to you. It hasn’t been that long, Phebe. You’re not going to get it right the first time out.”

  “Oh, I understand that. Which is what I tried to explain to Donovan, but he refused to listen to me. He stormed out of the house afterwards, hating himself for even touching me.” Even still, it hurt to think about him just walking away.

  “I’ve known Donovan a long time, Phebe, and this is what I can tell you about him from my own personal observations. He’s changed in the last year. Before that, he was charming, flirty, and charismatic. Something happened, my guess would be a woman, and suddenly he’s dragging everyone down. He’s mopey and pitiful. But he’s been different since he’s met you. He’s certainly not the happy-go-lucky guy he used to be, but he’s not a Debbie Downer either. He’s protective, determined, vengeful even. He’s probably beating himself up over causing such an adverse reaction.”

  I tried to picture Donovan as Phebe described. She was right when she said he was protective. I had a hard time seeing him as flirty though. He just didn’t seem the type. Then again, what did I know? I never figured Kieran for the drug-dealing, girlfriend-selling type either. Still, it was a hard image for me to create in my mind.

  “But why would he be so angry? I asked him to do it. It was my idea and my fault that I reacted the way I did,” I argued.

  “Yeah, but here’s the thing, Donovan is not your usual guy. For him to harm you in some way also harms him. It’s just the way he’s built. So, when your response was so reactionary, he blamed himself. Donovan is used to negotia—um—talking things out first with a woman before he even kisses them. To know what her limits are.”

  “Limits?” I inquired, confused.

  Bridget looked decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

  “Oh, look, we’re here.” She avoided my question as she pulled into the parking garage at Dr. Parrish’s office building. She quickly parked, shut off the car, and exited leaving me sitting there still trying to puzzle out her words. I slowly stepped out of the car and glared at her.

  “We’re not done talking, you know?” I warned her.

  “Have fun.” She waved me off and, for the moment, I let her get away with it. But I still wanted to know what she meant by limits. It was going to bug me until I received an explanation.

  I trudged up to Dr. Parrish’s office and sat down in the lobby, patiently waiting for her to come get me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. Even after so many visits, I still wasn’t fully comfortable with exposing my inner demons, although it got marginally easier each time.

  “Good afternoon, Phebe, come on back.”

  I followed her back to her office, where once both of us were seated, she turned on her white noise machine like usual.

  “So, let’s start with your journal. Have you noticed any change in frequency or duration of nightmares and panic attacks since we last spoke?”

  I thought about my journal entries that I’d written lately. “They seem to be coming less frequently. I don’t hear his voice as often in my nightmares either.”

  “That’s great news, Phebe.” She said, pleased with my answer. “As you continue healing, as you learn to forgive yourself, you should continue to see improvements. It’s going to take time. Nothing says they’ll go away completely, but they should diminish significantly. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you.” I cleared my throat before broaching the topic of what happened between Donovan and me. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Madeline seemed a little surprised, yet pleased, by my initiative. I typically only answered her questions. This was the first time I’d voluntarily wanted to discuss something.

  “Please, go right ahead.”

  “Remember our session when we talked about having flashbacks if or when I decided to become intimate again?” I asked a little shyly.

  “Of course. It’s typical of PTSD sufferers to have memories come back unexpectedly when having an intimate moment with a partner or potential partner.”

  “Well, it happened. I mean, we weren’t really intimate, it was just a kiss, but I completely shut my mind off when it happened. I retreated wholly into myself. Total panic attack. It was awful, not the kiss, the kiss was good, but my unhealthy reaction to it.” I rattled off the words, not even taking a breath between, before I snapped my mouth shut to stop the word vomit from continuing.

  “I see. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m going to assume it was Donovan you kissed?”

  I kept my mouth shut and only nodded.

  “Believe it or not, kissing is actually extremely intimate. So, it’s no surprise that you reacted so strongly. Before your adverse reaction, how did you feel about the kiss?”

  I thought back to the way Donovan’s lips felt against mine. They were warm and full. A tingle had started at the base of my neck when I’d first leaned up to touch him which traveled down my arms and burst out of my fingertips in tiny electrical shocks when I’d caressed his chest. The spark flared again when our lips met.

  I smiled a little when I thought of it.

  “I felt good. The kiss was gentle. Tentative. Innocent.”

  “What changed?” Madeline asked as she looked up from her notepad, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

  I remembered the feel of Donovan’s hands gripping my hips, the feel of his erection pushing against me. I cringed at the memory. Not because he’d been touching me, but because I’d freaked out so drastically over nothing. Even if, at the time, it didn’t feel like nothing. At the time, it felt like a black hole had swallowed me alive.

  “It became more.”

  “More than a kiss?” she inquired.

  “Yes.” I bit out.

  “In what way?”

  “It’s stupid.” Donovan�
�s stern voice sounded loudly in my head, scolding me about calling myself stupid. I pushed it away.

  Madeline sat back in her chair, her arms folded across her stomach. “Your feelings and reactions are not stupid, Phebe. They’re human. It’s okay to feel them. Take ownership of them. That’s the only way to conquer them. Now, in what way did it become more?”

  “He took control. At first, he let me lead. I initiated the kiss. It was nice. Simple. I wanted to try it again. So I did. I was exploring, testing my boundaries, and I pushed them a little too far. Donovan deepened the kiss and I wasn’t ready. He touched me, my hips, I mean, and the minute he pulled me close and I felt his erection, the terror and helpless feeling struck. There was nothing I could do but retreat.”

  “Then what happened?”

  My mind flashed back to that moment I came back to awareness and Donovan stood there staring at me with that expression on his face. “Donovan was horrified. He was angry at himself, maybe even a little bit at me. We argued and he stormed out. He’s been avoiding me since.”

  “What did you argue about?”

  “About my request that I wanted to try again and his subsequent adamant refusal. About how it was his fault I reacted that way. How he was never going to touch me again. Pretty much everything.” I shrugged.

  Madeline sat forward again and scribbled on her notepad. “I think it’s a great idea that you’re willing to try again. I think that shows a lot of growth in how far you’ve come in your recovery. My only advice is to not force Donovan to do this. That will only make him push back against the idea even more. You have to show him that you’re ready to try again. Touch him whenever possible. I’m not saying grab him or grope him. But subtle touches on his hand when he gives you something, his arm if he’s sitting near you. Not only does it familiarize you with the feel of his body, but it also shows him that you can handle light touches.”

  I nodded to let her know I understood when she paused.

  “Most importantly, talk to him. Explain why you reacted the way you did. Go over terms of the interactions. How you want it to play out. Spell it out explicitly. You need to be the one to take the lead. Tie his hands up if it makes you feel better.”

  I snorted at the imagery. There was no way Donovan would let me tie him up. Besides, I knew what it was like to be bound and helpless. I had no desire for Donovan to go through that. It was one of the most demeaning experiences and there was no way I’d force that on him. If he couldn't keep his hands to himself until I was comfortable, then we’d figure something else out.

  “Something tells me Donovan isn’t the ‘tie his hands up’ kind of guy.”

  Madeline penetrated me with her gaze. “You’d be surprised what a man would do for the woman he cares about.”

  A sudden shyness overcame me and I could feel a flush rising from my chest. “Oh, it’s not like that between us.”

  She smirked at me as though I was only fooling myself. “I won’t argue with you about it. But, either way, talk to him.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “I think that’s all for today. You should be proud of yourself, Phebe. You’ve come a long way since that first day.”

  “Thank you, Madeline. I know learning how to cope with what was done to me is going to take time, but I definitely feel like I have a little more control over my emotions.”

  “Absolutely. I’ve noticed a change in you. You seem a lot more in control, and that’s a good thing.”

  She stood and I followed suit. She walked me out to where Bridget remained waiting for me. “I’ll see you next week, Phebe.”

  I waved my goodbyes as Bridget and I left. The entire ride home I processed what Madeline had said about familiarizing myself with Donovan’s touch. Easier said than done since he was avoiding me. He couldn’t evade me forever. Eventually, he was going to have to come back to the house. Until then, I’d try to be patient. My mind had been so engrossed in thinking about Madeline’s advice regarding Donovan that I didn’t notice when Bridget finally pulled up to the house, ending my inner musings.

  “Hey, I’m going to have to drop you off and run. Connor called while you were in your session and he needs me at home.”

  “No problem, thank you for playing chauffeur as usual.”

  “Hey, anytime. There are perks to owning your own business. I can leave if I need to. I enjoy our visits even if they aren’t long. Tell Roger I said hello.”

  “I will. Thanks again.” I waved goodbye as I walked up the sidewalk.

  She returned the gesture and waited until I’d opened the front door before backing out of the driveway. I closed the door and immediately headed out back. This time, I didn’t pace like I usually did when I returned home from a session with Madeline. Instead, I made a beeline to my chair. I curled up in it and watched my fish swim, feeling better about the future than I ever had before, and completely forgetting about my earlier conversation with Bridget.

  Donovan

  I'd buried myself in my work for two days after the fiasco between Phebe and me, trying to figure out how the fuck I’d lost control so quickly. I’d started training as a Dominant right after I'd been discharged from the Marines as a way to gain the control I lost while recovering from PTSD. I knew Marcus and his college girlfriend had lived the lifestyle, and I’d asked him for guidance.

  How, after only a simple kiss, did I throw away almost fifteen years of control? It had been a year since I'd scened with anyone at Eden. Clearly I needed to get back there and get myself into the right headspace, because what happened with Phebe couldn't happen again. Over the last few months I'd learned how stubborn she was, and if she was bound and determined to try again, she would. I needed to be prepared, because I refused to cause her that kind of harm again. It was unacceptable.

  I dressed in an old pair of leathers and headed to Eden. I greeted Philip at the door and made my way down the hall, the beat of the music blaring through the speakers thumping in my ears. As I entered my old playground, I scanned the room looking for a play partner. Someone who I knew wouldn’t expect anything more than a single scene. There wouldn’t be any expectations beyond a Dom and a sub engaging in a power exchange. I wasn’t even craving sex. I just needed to rediscover the control I knew was buried deep inside me. For my sake, but most importantly, for Phebe’s.

  I’d almost given up hope, thinking my search would come up empty, when I spied a sub named Gina. She was surrounded by several other subs, including Bridget, who happened to be her boss. Gina had that fresh-faced, girl-next-door look with little to no makeup on her face. Her dark brown hair was parted in the middle and cut in a bob that didn’t quite reach her shoulders. She wasn’t tall, the top of her head probably reached my chin, but she was delightfully curvy in her black plunge bra and leather micro skirt. She’d be the perfect play partner for the night.

  I racked my brain trying to remember if Gina had been in a relationship with anyone, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember. It had been too long, and I’d been too disinterested in anything regarding the club over the last year that I wouldn’t have noticed anything on the security feed anyway. However, she wore a pink bracelet which signified she was a submissive that was open to play, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t been given permission to wear it by her Dom. Figuring it was now or never, I headed toward the women.

  Pulling out the old charm, even if it sounded fake now, I greeted them with a toothy smile. “Hello, ladies. You’re all looking beautiful tonight.”

  They all turned in my direction at the sound of my voice and returned my smile with a collective, “Thank you, Sir”. Except Bridget. Instead, she glared at me. Like the old saying goes — if looks could kill. I pointedly ignored her as I focused on Gina who dropped her eyes in perfect submission as I continued staring at her.

  “Gina, may I have a word?”

  She separated herself from the group and took my offered arm. I led her over to the bar, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as I could
feel Bridget’s gaze following our every step. I couldn’t worry about what Bridget thought. What I did was my own business. A tiny bit of guilt settled when I thought of what she might tell Phebe. Although how she was going to explain how we all lived our lives would be interesting to see. Since I was probably in the clear, I shrugged it off.

  I motioned for Joe, the bartender, as I helped Gina up onto the only empty stool around the crowded bar. Flurries of conversation buzzed around us, but I ignored the sounds and focused on the woman next to me.

  “I’ll have my usual and white wine for the beautiful submissive here.”

  Joe nodded before leaving to fill our order. I turned my body sideways to lean against the bar and looked down at Gina who sat perfectly still in her seat, legs crossed with her arms lightly resting on them and her head turned slightly toward me.

  I gestured toward her bracelet. “You’re wearing pink tonight, and I just happen to be looking for someone to play with. You’re also not wearing a collar. So, is it safe to assume you don’t have a Dom and are free to play with anyone?”

  She glanced up at me briefly, before averting her eyes from mine. “Yes, Sir. I’m currently without a Dom.”

  For a brief moment, I was almost disappointed in her answer, which only emphasized why being here, with her, might not be the greatest idea. Pushing away the emotion, I focused again on engaging Gina and beginning negotiations.

  “I’m happy to hear that.” I punctuated my words with a touch as I ran a single finger down her arm. “I’d like to negotiate a scene if you’re interested.”

  We were briefly interrupted as Joe returned with our drinks. Gina lifted the glass to her lips as she took a sip of her wine while I tipped my beer to my lips, swallowing down half in one pull. I patiently waited for her to make a decision. Again, I ignored the hope that she said no. Why was I suddenly having second thoughts about this? Phebe’s face flashed in my mind, her eyes filled with sadness.

  I shook my head when I realized I’d missed whatever Gina had said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”