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Apparently, he was too fucking stupid to do something that smart. “Come on.” Benson led the way not back through the club to the library, but to the Den’s back door.
“Can I be in here?” Mal asked.
“I don’t give a fuck right now.”
The Den looked like a British gentlemen’s club. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls of the lounge area that was replete with robust leather furniture. Doorways led into the area with lockers and bathrooms, and a display cabinet against one wall looked like the stockroom of a sex shop.
Benson headed for a shelf that held not books, but bottles. He grabbed a single malt and two glasses.
He set them down on a small round table, then doubled back to the sex toy cabinet. Pulling out a drawer at the very bottom, he grabbed a thin felt blanket. Not as nice as the plush versions used for aftercare, these were more utilitarian, and made great mattress pads or makeshift sheets.
He passed Mal the blanket, trading it for the glass she’d poured.
Benson sat, staring out the wall of windows. That he was sitting here with her after what had just happened was proof of his stupidity. Or perhaps insanity. He’d once heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over again, but expecting a different result.
“I lied to you. I’m not denying that.” Mal’s voice was calm and low, but when he looked over, her face was streaked with tears. “And I know how bad that is, because you were always honest with me.”
Benson frowned down into his glass. Well, fuck. Maybe he was here because he had something to say.
Her hands shook as she picked up her own glass. “But not in the way you think. I didn’t lie about all those things I wanted to try. The things that ended up being…too much.”
She glanced at him, and for a brief second, the corners of her lips trembled, as if she were trying to smile.
Benson just watched her.
Mal dropped her gaze to her glass. “I honestly wanted to try all that hard core, messy, dangerous stuff. It’s why, since then, I’ve continued exploring my submission. I need this, and that means I have to understand myself.”
“You wanted to try it, but the way I topped you—”
She cut him off. “I know what you’re probably thinking, but the truth…is way more fucked up.”
“Spit it out, Mal. The least you can do is finally be honest with me.”
Mal set down her glass with a clink, then turned to face him. Her back and shoulders straightened. Her gaze was direct and unwavering.
This was Malvia, the $2000 an hour business consultant.
“The issue is that I was in love with you.”
Benson stared at her. He was waiting for the punch line.
“Over the course of all those scenes we did and the dates—because that’s what it felt like every time we had dinner together—I fell in love with you.”
“You… I…”
Mal waited patiently for his shocked sputtering to stop. “I didn’t know, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I didn’t realize, until it was too late, that along with a kinky streak and bone-deep need to submit, I harbor juvenile but deeply ingrained fairytale ideals.”
“I have no idea what the fuck that means.” Benson set down his glass and ran his hands through his hair.
Mal seemed to melt back into the woman he was used to. The woman he lo—
“I wanted you to want to protect me,” she said.
The hits just kept coming.
“I was in love with you, and because I loved you, it was hard to accept…” She sighed, fingers twisting and pleating the edge of the thin blanket that she’d wrapped around her shoulders. “It was hard to accept that you, the man I loved, were willing to hurt me.”
Benson sat back, eyes closed.
