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She turned her face back toward him. She knew she looked mutinous, but she didn't want to be stupid. She just had too much crap happening right now. When he reached out to touch her cheek, his expression softening, she drew back. It was instinct, not planned, but a clear telegraph she was still feeling too fragile. He dropped the hand back to his side. "I'm not going to yell," he said. "I'm not going to say anything. I'm just going to listen. Tell me what's going on in your head."
"I'm not okay," she said after a protracted silence. "I'm freaked out by what could have happened. I'm embarrassed it happened in front of everyone. I'm wondering if I should have known better and I just proved to them I know less than nothing about this stuff. I'm mad at you for yelling at me in front of them. I'm also really, really glad you came when you did."
She blinked back traitorous tears and looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the loading dock. The others had experience in BDSM play, but she remembered the chaos of those first vital seconds. She wasn't sure if any of them would have been level-headed enough to know to do what Des had done. None of the others were riggers.
His hand settled alongside hers. Not covering it, just pressed against it, their smallest fingers aligned with one another.
"I'm glad I did, too."
"I don't know any of this stuff, Des," she said, tracing cracks in the parking lot with her gaze. "That first time with you, you made me feel so safe. I guess it didn't occur to me it could be different, that Pablo wouldn't know what he was doing. Like you said, I was being stupid."
"Hey." When he touched her face this time, she didn't draw away. His expression was serious. "I never said you were stupid, and I never would. You weren't being stupid. I was."
It was then she saw the component of his rage she'd missed--guilt. Her lips parted on a protest, but he held up a hand so she'd let him finish.
"Because it did work so naturally with you, I focused on that and not on your lack of experience. I didn't think about how you'd be exposed to other performers here. Since you're so proactive, I should have realized you might offer to help them in a situation like that, thinking that what happened with us was the way it always goes."
"That's a lot of things to anticipate. If you'd put all that together, you'd be God. No one can anticipate everything. Even a Dom."
"There are eastern philosophies that postulate all of us are God. That the collective unconscious is the true source of Divinity."
She made a face, but she was glad they'd both recovered enough to tease. "How about this? Let's go Dutch on the guilt. I'll take half and you take half, because ultimately we're all responsible for ourselves. Though I didn't care for the way you made your point--patronizing and assholish--you weren't entirely wrong. I should have thought it through."
"And I shouldn't have been so caught up in how well things worked between us last time that I didn't give you a safety lecture afterwards."
"That would have been a buzzkill," she pointed out practically. "Plus I'm not sure I had the brain cells to process anything afterwards."
"Nice ego stroke, but I would have made it really easy. Tarzan breakdown. 'Des great at this. Everyone else sucks. Only let Des do this to you.'"
She elbowed him, then decided to stay leaning against him. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her forehead.
"You scared me, love. Scared the shit out of me. Are you okay, really?"
"Yeah, I really am. Promise. Pablo might be a dumbass, but he wasn't some mean person intending me harm. I think the deal is he's always performed in a club environment, and this is the first time he's really been on stage. He got a little distracted and self-conscious.
"I'm not excusing him," she said as Des's expression became ominous. "I'm just saying it wasn't much different from the tech guys almost braining me with a boom. I've learned to be nimble and duck when needed. But it's hard to duck when you're tied up."
"Yeah." He stroked her hair, held her close with both arms, squeezing her hard. "Don't do that again, all right?"
"I promise to never again let someone tie me to a frame that's going to fall over and make me a theater ghost."
"Smartass. Say the Tarzan thing. Make me happy."
"Des great at this. Everyone else sucks. Only let Des do this to you." She chuckled into his shirt front. "And Des needs shower."
"Yeah." He sniffed himself ruefully. "It was a particularly nasty job today. I was going to do a quick clean up in the back bathroom and change my shirt before I came to find you, but I wanted a quick glimpse of you first. Fortunate timing."
"That's an understatement." She dropped her head back to give him a speculative look. "So, you become a rage monster when you're pissed."
"Pretty much. Might as well put that down on the con
side of things about having a relationship with me."
"I don't know, I better hold off. I don't want that side to outweigh the pros too quick."
"Ouch." He winced. "What else have I done?"
"You've left a gap in my program, for one thing." She held up her phone. "Pablo texted me that he's pulling out, just as Billie predicted. So can you recommend any riggers to me that could come up to speed yesterday? I don't want just anyone. You owe me someone who will absolutely wow my audience. Someone who can compete with Billie for top billing."
