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by Lydia Michaels


  “Stop.” He held up a hand. “You’re never going to sway me. When I say I don’t like the way you make a living, what I mean is I really fucking hate your job. Really.”

  “I swear it’s just business.”

  “To you maybe, but not to them. You’re their fantasy. I see how they look at you. I watch them try to touch you. Micah point blank told you.” He turned out his palms. “Maybe a stronger man could handle it, but I can’t. I’m territorial for good reason. My ex left me for my best friend. I swore, the next time I fell in love with someone, I’d make sure she fully belonged to me. All this time I’ve been single because I didn’t see anyone I wanted that much, but then I met you, and I wanted you every second since.”

  “You want me?”

  “Yes, I fucking want you.”

  “Still?”

  He hesitated. “I want to know you’re mine and mine alone. I can’t fucking share you, Avery.”

  I placed my glass on the table. “How would that work, if I was yours?”

  “What do you mean? We’d be in a relationship. No other women and no other men. None. We would be a normal couple.”

  “Normal.” I tasted the word, my mind calculating the time needed for student teaching and the money I’d need to rent a new place. “I… I’d have to move.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “What?”

  “If you think I’m going to pay that fucking asshole rent, you’re crazy. I’ve been looking for a new place for weeks.”

  He was leaving? I immediately knew I wouldn’t be able to afford to live wherever he moved. “How far will you be?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple gliding beneath the pale stubble on his throat. “You could come with me.”

  “I can’t afford it.”

  “You could once you started teaching.”

  “That won’t be until September, Noah.”

  He smiled. “We can work something out.”

  What was he asking, that we move in together? “You mean we would be roommates?”

  He met my stare but didn’t answer. “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

  I shrank into the chair, my arms folding around the uneasy feeling in my stomach. “Then let’s slow down.”

  “Why did you sit over there?”

  Confused by his question, I shrugged. “I thought we needed space.”

  “I don’t want space. Come back to where you were on my lap.”

  I stood then stilled. Who made him boss? “I think we should talk this out—”

  “Avery, get your fucking ass over here.”

  I moved around the coffee table and stood in front of him. He caught my wrist and tugged me to his lap. This time both my legs draped over his to one side, and he pulled my back to his chest. His palm pressed to my breastbone, his fingers teasing the neckline of my dress.

  “We need to get some things out in the open if this is ever going to work.”

  My stomach tightened. “What sort of things?”

  “I want you to tell me about the first time you took control in sex. How old were you?”

  I shifted to face him, but he held me still. “Why do you want to talk about that?”

  “Because I do and we’re trying that new honesty thing all the kids are talking about.”

  I sighed. “I lost my virginity just before my eighteenth birthday.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Well, that’s the answer. With sex, I’ve always been the one in control.”

  His fingers stilled, then continued drawing circles on my flesh just beside my bra strap. “Who was he?”

  “My brother’s friend. Eventually, he was my friend.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  “We didn’t. He died.”

  He let out an audible breath. “I’m sorry. How old were you when he died?”

  “Eighteen. I was in Philly when it happened. I didn’t go home for his funeral. Last month was the first time I’d been home in years. I think it’s the first time I actually processed his death.”

  “Next time you have to go home, I could go with you.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, but I don’t intend to go back.” And I didn’t want to think about home, so I continued answering his question.

  “After Gavin, I tried dating for a split second. It didn’t end well. I assumed everyone had sex the same way. I probably put that guy in therapy. He never called.”

  Noah chuckled.

  “Then, I decided to do some research. The Internet could be a scary playground. I visited the most otherworldly corners of the World Wide Web until I was able to sort of piece together what I was.”

  “What did you think you were?”

  I shrugged. “A Domme or a Dominatrix. The label never much mattered, but it helped me meet the right people. I hooked up with this guy Tucker. We met online, and we seemed to be searching for the same thing. We lasted about a year, but we never slept together.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  I smiled at his confusion. I’d warned him I wasn’t normal. Neither were my needs.

  “It wasn’t sexual with Tucker. Not as much as it was personal. We shared a puzzle piece we both needed to feel whole. He needed pain, and I needed power. When I hurt him, I did so with careful affection. When he cried, it was beautiful, like poetry in motion. Our co-dependent relationship went deeper than fucking and was sometimes far more intimate than making love.”

  “Are you saying you’re a sadist?”

  “No. But I’m addicted to that feeling. It doesn’t matter if I’m being tender or cruel, so long as I’m the one calling the shots.”

  Gavin wasn’t the pain slut Tucker had been, yet we still fit together because he liked being controlled and needed someone to control him. I was that person. Same with Tucker, but with a lot more leather and toys.

  “Why did it end with that guy?”

  A bittersweet flutter teased my heart. “He fell in love.” The irony was, once Tucker found Raoul, he claimed he no longer craved the pain as much. I envied him for that, wondering if I’d ever stop needing control.

  “Who was next?”

  I smiled, detecting that he expected my list to take hours. Wouldn’t he be surprised? “You.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re only the third person I’ve slept with.”

  He leaned forward to look me in the eye. “You’re serious?”

  I shrugged. “How many women have you been with?”

  “More than three.”

  Ugh, why did I ask that? I didn’t want to picture him with other women. And now we were just sitting in this awkward silence, and it was all I could picture. “Say something.”

  “I’m getting hard thinking about the fact that I was only your third.”

  “I can tell.”

  He nudged his hips forward, and I laughed. “Feel like taking care of that for me?”

  “While you have some other woman’s lipstick on your lips?” I grimaced. “No, thanks.”

  “I told you that was an accident.”

  “Did you trip and fall on her mouth?”

  “No, but I stopped her the second she tried to kiss me.”

  Was that a dig at me for not stopping Micah? My smile faded. “I don’t always know how to respond, Noah. The girl I was never got any attention. If you saw what I looked like—”

  “Avery, I saw the pictures in your album. You were a kid. There was nothing wrong with your looks. You’re still the same person.” He gave me a little shake. “This is the real you.”

  “It doesn’t feel real.”

  “Why don’t you stop trying to be what you think others expect and just be you?”

  Just be me? Sometimes I was. Sometimes I was just Avery, building a snowman with my neighbor, cuddling up on the couch, dancing around my apartment in my pajamas. “Sometimes I think you
see the real me.”

  “That’s my favorite part.”

  I glanced at him through my lashes and smiled. “You’re sweet.”

  He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Can I tell you my theory?”

  “On?”

  “You.”

  I stiffened, never one to enjoy being the center of attention, and even less of a fan of being psychoanalyzed by a non-professional. Why couldn’t he just accept me for who I was?

  It was an easy request, but even I didn’t accept the real me. I was forever trying to change her or hide parts of her away from others. Maybe he could explain why that was. “Go for it.”

  His hands closed around mine. Maybe he feared I’d bolt at the first sound of something I didn’t want to hear.

  “I don’t think it’s about control, Avery. I think it’s about feeling needed, necessary. If you set up a deliberate role for yourself, you guarantee that happens. Your role with your clients is the opposite, but specific enough that you can relinquish control. Maybe because you still feel desired. They hired you to fill a need in their lives.

  “That’s what it seems to come down to, Avery, feeling needed. The control isn’t always necessary, so long as things stay within certain parameters. You trust me not to take things too far, I think. That’s why your authority slips when you’re with me, because you see how much I want and need you. You only fight for authority when you start to doubt things.”

  I could hardly blink let alone form words to respond. What if he was right and all this time I’d been wrong? I felt like an idiot, totally out of touch with myself. I should have spent some of my money on therapy instead. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a head case.

  “Sorry if that was too much.”

  I shook my head. “I’m just processing.”

  “Well, I should also be honest about myself. Since meeting you, I discovered how much I like taking control.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “I told you about my ex. She really messed me up. It took a lot of rebounds to get over what she did, and I’m still messed up from it. With you, it’s different. You and I have this gloves-off sort of chemistry where we can just go at each other and be ourselves, whoever we happen to be in that moment. You challenge me to always give you my best. I love being with you. I love trying new things. And I really love when you let me take the lead. You’re so fucking intimidating, but you can be incredibly indulgent at times. I love getting you there, watching you surrender. And if I’m holding the reins, I know exactly where you are, emotionally and physically. It’s so intense. When we’re in sync like that, I feel… I might be holding you in place, but you’re there by choice. It’s so clear in those moments that every part of you is present—with me.”

  Control was a drug, and I knew the high he spoke of well. My body responded to his words, my breath turning heavy, and my breasts straining against my bra. “That’s a great feeling.”

  “I love it.”

  “Me, too.”

  If I shifted my legs, arousal would gush to my panties, so I remained perfectly still. I swallowed, unsure of what to do or say.

  The first time Noah took control, I saw it as a deliberate betrayal. I specifically told him I needed control, and he usurped it.

  But after we slept together and came to an understanding, it was easier to switch back and forth. He no longer stole my authority when it was my turn. But I also enjoyed when it was his turn. Sometimes I forgot who was in charge and just let it happen. No matter what, with Noah, it was always good.

  He turned my chin to face him. “You’re not saying anything.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My head was spinning. It was getting late, and my brain was on overload.

  “Whose lipstick is it?”

  He rubbed a hand over his lips. “I ran into an employee of mine, and there was a misunderstanding. I straightened it out.”

  “Were you on a date with her?” I couldn’t hide the jealousy or accusation in my voice.

  “No. But it’s good to know I’m not the only territorial one.”

  There was still the matter of the flower. “The rose wasn’t for her?”

  “Avery, the rose was for you. If you don’t believe me, check your mail.”

  “What?”

  He let out a breath. “It was an olive branch. It’s Valentine’s Day. I was just going to leave it by your door, but you happened to be standing there. When I saw what you were wearing, I knew you were spending Valentine’s Day with someone else. Then I saw him.”

  I lowered my head. “I’m so ashamed of everything I put you through.”

  “We’re working it out.”

  “You must have hated seeing him with me tonight.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t hesitate or sugarcoat his feelings. “I pretty much hate his guts, and now that I know he’s trying to start some sort of relationship with you, I want him totally out of your life.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  “Anything’s possible—if you want it bad enough.”

  I wanted Noah. “Tell me how to have a normal relationship. I’ve never had one. What would our relationship look like?”

  He returned his hand to my chest, his fingers stroking over my skin gently. “We’d be totally committed, so we’d eventually live together. It would make sense because I like to cook and you never have any food at your place. Plus, my couch is better for snuggling.”

  “Not true.”

  “It’s bigger. We can do more on it.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was right.

  “You’d be a teacher, and I’d get hard every time you dressed for work, especially when you wear your hair in a bun and those little glasses I like.”

  “I don’t wear glasses.”

  “It’s a new prescription and my fantasy, so stop interrupting.”

  I smirked and let him go on.

  “You teach at the little private school on 17th Street, and since I pass it on my way to work, I drop you off each morning. You like long showers, so I’m in charge of lunches. Each morning when I drop you off, I hand you a little brown bag with your lunch and a note on the napkin, telling you what I intend to do to you that night. But you never wait until lunch to read it.

  “Every day you text me around ten, just to check how my day’s going. You love your job, and your classroom’s real cute. There’s a bulletin board with all the kids’ names on the wall and little Sally with the lisp is your favorite.

  “School’s out at three-fifteen, but your day doesn’t end until five. Most days I have to come find you at your desk because you don’t like to leave until your lesson plans are just right.

  “We drive home, and I make dinner while you cut out materials for some science project. We always have music playing—in the fall it’s mostly jazz, classics like Louis Armstrong and Etta James. In the winter it’s nothing but Christmas carols, because we’re those annoying people who go all out for the holidays. And in the warmer months, it’s whatever feels right.

  “My parents love you, and sometimes I get jealous of how close you and my sister have become. We argue over stupid stuff like who gets the remote or the last slice of pie, but we never really fight. We never take each other for granted, and we made a promise to always be honest with each other, no matter what. Every night we make love and then talk until we fall asleep. And the next day we do it all again.”

  His description left me breathless. “Wow.” I wanted everything he described, exactly as he described it.

  “Yeah.” He pressed his lips to my hair. “And the sex is incredible, but you already knew that.”

  Yes, our sex was incredible, but he didn’t say we would end each night fucking each other’s brains out. He said every night we would make love. I didn’t know the difference, so it was a little hard to picture, but it sounded amazing.

  My cheeks heated, and I ducked my face. “I’ve never made love.”

  His fingers stilled, just along my c
ollarbone. “Never?”

  I shook my head. I’d never been in love before either, but Noah was changing that.

  Time suspended, as he seemed to consider this new information. I wanted to make love with Noah, but I wasn’t sure if we were there or if we would ever be there. He was the only person I could picture holding me closely and looking into my eyes, the only person I wanted to share that sort of intimacy with. But maybe he didn’t want to.

  I suspected that wasn’t the sort of sex where one person could boss the other around. Stroke my hair tenderly! Look in my eyes! I would have to be genuine, natural, totally of my own volition.

  “I want to make love to you, Avery, but…”

  I braced for his excuse, unsure if I could take it. “It’s okay. I get it. It can’t be forced.”

  “It wouldn’t be.” He untangled our limbs and sat me across from him on the sofa. “Making love to you would be as easy as breathing, but the morning after might kill me.”

  I lowered my gaze. “Because of my circumstances.”

  “Yes.”

  We were back where we started. “It’s only a few more months.”

  “I don't know if I can sit around and wait for you to wrap up dating other men. I can put up with a lot of stuff, but not that. Consider it a hard limit.”

  “You learned what hard limits are.”

  “I learned a hell of a lot more than that. Consider Pandora’s Box opened.”

  I smiled, but my amusement was short lived. This wasn’t a joking matter. “I need to talk to Micah.”

  “Then do it. Call him and figure this out.”

  Micah wouldn’t want to discuss this over the phone. He preferred to discuss such matters in person. I had more leeway in person as well, but I didn’t want to upset Noah. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, but I don’t trust him or any of your other … clients.”

  “Then give me until the end of the week to sort this out and let me do it my way.”

  He reached across the couch cushion and grabbed my hand. “Don’t… Don’t let him sway you, Avery.”

  He wanted me to break it off completely. I wanted Noah. The choice was obvious now that we discussed a future. But change was never easy. “I won’t.”

  39

 

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