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Jerking my hands out of his, I shake my head. “No. This isn’t…” I can’t say it.
Sean stands with me, remains at arm’s length like he’s worried I’ll run. “You don’t have to do anything. Avery.” I glance up at him when he says my name, pulled from the images he’s laced within my mind. “It was just a suggestion. The other option is this.” He lifts the bundle of leather straps with ropes on two spots.
“What is that?”
“A swing. I can hold you, cuddle you, gently make love to you without hurting you.” He reaches for me, strokes his hand in my hair. “We can have the softness. We can snuggle and throw this thing out. Whatever you want. I miss you and thought you may want to try it.”
“Why does it feel like you’re pushing me down the dark path?”
Sean pulls away and speaks sharply. “I’m not making you do anything.”
“But you are. You are, Sean. Why? I feel like you should tell me. I’m not a china doll. I won’t break because you say something mean. Just say whatever it is you’re thinking.” It’s not a fight. Not yet. But the floor feels uneven. Like I should tread carefully.
“Avery, you’re already on the dark path. Okay? That’s it. That’s what I see. I know because I’ve been there and denying it just makes it harder.”
“So, you want me to beat you? Is that what you think will make me feel better? I’m not angry at you!” My voice is loud. I’m yelling and I don’t know why. I’m angry and I have no idea where to direct it. It’s not Sean though. I know that much. He saved me. I suck in a jagged breath and hiss through my teeth, “This is wrong.”
Sean shakes his head. “It’s only wrong if neither of us wants it. If one person forces it on the other. I know where you are and what you need. Why won’t you take it?”
I shake my head and step away. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I retreat further into the living room. My jaw is clenched shut, shoulders tight. I’m so rigid I can barely breathe. “I’m not her.”
“Who?” Sean steps toward me, his gaze searching for mine, but I won’t look at him.
“You can’t make me.” My eyes burn, but tears don’t fall. “I’m not her. I won’t become her.”
Hands are on my shoulders, fingers on my chin, and then he lifts it so I have to look him in the eye. “Who? Say what you’re thinking. Tell me.”
“Black.” I didn’t realize what was going through my mind until it tumbled out of my mouth.
“Black?”
“Yes!” I pull away from him, shaking him off. “She’s depraved. Sex isn’t love to her. It’s recreation, intimidation, manipulation, and a million other ways to crush someone. I’m not her.” My spine straightens as I look him in the eye. “I won’t become her.”
Silence fills the air. Sean remains distant and slips his hands into his pockets. “I never thought you were like her at all. The two of you are incomparable. I didn’t realize you were worried about this.”
Neither did I. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and repress a shiver. There’s a tidal wave of thoughts burning through my brain. They’re so close to spilling over my lips. Arms wrapped tightly around my middle, I glance over at him. “Have you let anyone do anything like this to you before?”
He nods once.
“Who?” I regret asking, but the question is already out of my mouth.
“It’s not Black if that’s what you want to know. It was a long time ago. It was brutal. There was no love there. It’s not like this, not like what I’m offering at all.” Sean holds my gaze for a long time and then looks away.
He turns toward the couch and falls into the cushions, sitting down swiftly, before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have a past, Avery. I can’t erase it.”
“I don’t want you to.” I’m standing alone in the middle of the room, watching him.
He regrets suggesting this. I can tell. He thinks he pushed me too far, asking me to do something I didn’t have any desire to do.
My lips part and I try to say it. I can’t watch him blame himself like this. I spit out the words without thinking, not wanting to admit it to myself. Saying it out loud makes it real. I feel it as the words are forced from my body, and hang in the air. “It intrigues me. You’re not wrong. Sex, like that. Being the one in control. The carnal rawness of it. Mixing pleasure and pain.” I swallow hard and breathe the words, “You’re not wrong.”
Those sapphire eyes look up at me. His reply is one word, a reprimand. “Don’t.”
“I’m not,” I snap back, offended. “Raking my nails down your back isn’t enough sometimes. Sometimes, I want to do more.” I stand there like a girl abandoned on an island, confessing something wicked to the wind. My throat is tight thinking about it. Putting the thoughts into pictures in my mind and then voicing them into words.
It’s real now. That desire. And he knows. He’s known. For how long? It doesn’t matter.
There’s a pause. Sean asks a careful question, “What do you want to do to me? What have you imagined?”
I shrug and twist my hands in front of me. “I don’t know exactly. I just know it’s not what we’ve been doing. I feel listless. It’s infuriating. I just want to—” I’m looking at him, at his beautiful face, and thinking about the things I’d do to him if he were tied up. Sean Ferro at my mercy. The roughness that once terrified me is alluring. It’s been calling to me and I’ve been denying it fiercely. But, that’s not how a mom acts. That’s not who I am, who I was. Torn between allowing that part of me to break free and shoving it back down, I stare at him. Lost in his eyes. Utterly lost.
A nervousness works its way through me. The innate desire is so conflicted that talking about it makes me really uncomfortable. Putting something to words makes it real. But he already knows. He sees it, though I’ve barely admitted it to myself.
After a moment, eyes on the floor, I swallow hard and add, “You won’t think less of me?”
Sean is across the room and in front of me. There’s a rush of air around him as if he were falling toward me. S
uddenly he’s there, filling the space, making my heart beat harder.
Although he’s near, he still doesn’t touch me. The space between us fills with the scent of his cologne. Something that’s unmistakably intense, dark, and seductive. Like Sean. I feel his eyes on me when he asks, “Did you think less of me for being so brutal with you at times?”
I shake my head and try to ignore the tightness in my throat. Veins of vulnerability shoot out from my heart and spiderweb across my carefully constructed façade. My shoulder lifts a little. A half shrug, as if those times weren’t terrifying at first. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I confess, “No, I didn’t think less of you. It was scary and enticing. Exciting in a way. I don’t know how to describe it. At first, I didn’t want it. But now…” I swallow hard, refusing to meet his gaze. The fissures I’ve created over my carefully contrasted secret are about to break free.
Closer. Somehow, he’s closer but not touching. Nose to nose, as if leaning in for a kiss, his voice is a whisper. “So, what’s holding you back?”
The words are so raw, so clenched down, that they rip my throat as I force them out. “I don’t know.”
If I say the truth, I can’t take it back. I’ll have to admit that this part of me, the dark part, the anger—it’s there and I let it take over. It tastes like a failure, but no matter how hard I push the feelings away, they keep coming back.
We stand toe-to-toe watching each other. Neither of us speaks. The tension between us is corded tight like a rubber band about to break. I want his hands on me, I want to feel the strength of his touch coupled with the possessive warmth. I don’t want the softness, the “please” and “thank you” of it all. I want to feel him take my face between his palms so I can do the same. I want to tip his lips to mine, and thread my fingers through his hair, pull hard and control the kiss. A ferocity I don’t recognize burns within me. Lust for devouring him whole, and taking what I want from him.
