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They were silent for a moment, and Benson pressed his hands over his eyes. “I checked in. I asked her if she was green.” He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or break something. Both reactions showed an unacceptable lack of control.
“You did everything right, but unfortunately, your recent play has been more intense than she could really handle.”
He settled on anger. A white-hot rage that muted everything else.
“She was terrified of me. She looked at me like… Like I’m a monster.”
CHAPTER 14
Benson jerked back. He took several fumbling steps away from her and his gaze darted from her outstretched hand to her face and back.
Carter had slipped into the Den. Any minute now, a bunch of Doms would probably come rushing in. Hopefully, this time, he wouldn’t end up in restraints.
Benson looked at Mal. He’d never hated anyone as much as he hated her at this moment. It burned through him, reopening an old wound, even as his soul screamed.
“Fuck you, Mal.” His throat was tight, making his words rough. “And fuck me too, because I’m a fucking idiot to fall for this again.”
Mal wrapped her arms around her middle. “No. It’s not…”
“It’s not like last time?” He threw out his arms. “I guess it’s not, since you’re not screaming and having a panic attack.”
“Will you let me explain?” Her eyes seemed wide and luminous, but not glossy with shock. As he watched, the first tear slid down her cheek.
“Explain what? There’s nothing to explain. Last time you lied to me about what you could handle, and as a result, you fucking broke. I broke you.”
Mal was shaking her head, her hair flying around her. “No—”
“This time… This time I thought I knew what to do. I didn’t do any crazy hardcore shit just because you wanted it.”
Mal’s head jerked up.
“But here we are again. You safe-worded out of the scene, because apparently, no matter what I do or don’t do, I’m a monster.”
Benson was done with this. He was just fucking done. He turned on his heel and stalked away from her.
He was leaving Las Palmas.
Also, he was going to have a doctor scramble his brains and rewire his sex drive so he no long had any dominant or sadistic tendencies.
“You were right, back then,” she called out.
Benson knew he should keep walking, but he stopped to listen, his back to Mal.
“I lied.” There was resignation in her voice. “But not about what I wanted. Everything I said I wanted to try, every extreme scene, idea or toy… I really wanted to try it. I just didn’t want you to be the one to do it.”
Benson turned. “I thought this couldn’t get any worse. You’re telling me the whole time we were partners, you wanted to scene with somebody else, but couldn’t figure out how to tell me?”
She’d wanted the one thing he’d been desperate to avoid.
For all the thousands of times he’d thought about what happened between them—the million lists he’d made of what he should have done differently—the one thing that had never occurred to him was that the problem was wholly, and entirely, him.
Benson couldn’t help it. He laughed, but it was a mirthless sound.
Mal rose, wobbling a little. He curled his hands into fists, dampening the urge to go over to support her.
“Do you want a drink?” Mal’s question caught him by surprise.
He should tell her to fuck off and walk away.
