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"I noticed your shoes at Tyler's, lying on the floor this morning."
"Some men would notice the shoes. Most wouldn't notice the size."
"I'm not most men."
She flicked her lashes up at the arrogant tone, then saw the spark of humor in his eyes, not quite covering his concern at her sudden quiet. It warmed her, his attempt to draw her away from darkness. She wasn't surprised he knew her shoe size at all, when he was so accomplished at picking up so many of her mood shifts.
As if he read her thoughts, he put his hand against her calf. "I notice everything about you, sugar."
"I'm beginning to see that."
And the realization was opening up her heart further to him, so that the vulnerable organ was all but lying at his feet, ready for him to pick it up and cradle it in those large hands. Or crush it with his formidable strength, enhanced tenfold by the fact that every third heartbeat in her chest seemed to be caused by him. When a slow smile transformed his expression, it jumped and accelerated, making her revise that. Probably every other damn beat.
Well, she wasn't a coward.
Violet closed the box, laid her hands over it, resisting the urge to grip it possessively, the way she wanted to do with him. But relationships didn't work that way, not D/s or vanilla, or any kind in between.
"I want to put this on your wrist more than anything, Mac," she said. "But I need to wait."
His eyes sobered and she looked down at the box beneath her hands. "There's something I want you to know about me first, and then..." She looked up, met his gaze. "If you don't regret choosing this as my gift, I'll put it on your wrist, and call you mine in truth."
"All right. Tell me."
She shook her head. "When we get home. I want to tell you when you have some space to think about it. For now, I want you to come up here and hold me like you said, and if I drop off for three hours and your legs fall off from lack of circulation, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Violet, there are things about me...we don't have to know everything right away to be all right with something like this." He nodded to the box.
"Yes. Yes, we do." She tapped the surface with its carved wooden cranes. "I take this very seriously, Mac, and I think you knew exactly how seriously I would take it, which makes it all the more special to me. I can't give it without you knowing the one thing about me that may make you decide not to pursue our relationship further."
"Sugar, there's nothing in the world that could do that."
She smiled. "There's that charmer again, but I can see you chewing on what it is I'm going to tell you. Come up here."
He looked as if he would try to persuade her further, but apparently came to the correct conclusion that she was not going to be deterred from her plan. Rising to his knees, he slid his arms beneath her thighs and behind her back and stood, lifting her at the same time. He turned, brought them back into the bench with her cradled securely against him, her legs bent up, held securely in his arms so she was limp and comfortable and immediately at peace, almost as if by giving herself into his arms she had entered the quiet sanctuary of a church. She scooted around to nest herself down, and the erection beneath her immediately drove out any thoughts of institutionalized religion.
"I seem to have a rather sizeable lump in my bed, but I don't think I want it removed," she observed.
"Good thing," he returned dryly. "With you sitting on it, the only chance it has of going away is if it's whacked off."
"Would you ask for water before I did that?"
He chuckled. "At the top of my lungs."
"Progress."
But she saw the shadows in his eyes and reached up to touch his face. "What I tell you will matter, Mac," she said softly. "I don't know if it will be for good or ill, but it will matter."
He didn't say anything this time, just held her closer. She shut her eyes, forcing herself not to push the moment, but to savor it, seeing as today might be the last she could enjoy him. The truth could set you free, but sometimes freedom was the last thing a person could want.
"What was that?" he asked.
She cleared her throat. "I said, what's that old adage about setting something free?"
He tipped up her chin. "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it doesn't--"
He paused, and a chuckle bubbled out of her at the same moment a devilish smile crossed his face. They finished it together.
"--hunt it down and kill it."
