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And that’s what does it. My back arches and my eyes close and again, I scream silently, lost in ecstasy, overjoyed at the sense of losing myself. Forgetting everything, everyone. There’s nothing in the world but this.
And by the time I’m finished, he’s following me, this time coming on my inner thigh before letting my legs drop to the side. I can’t even be disgusted. Even that brings with it a sense of satisfaction. I don’t understand any of it. This is all so new for me.
He takes a few deep, ragged breaths, swaying a little as he puts himself together. “Stay like that,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right back.” Where am I going to go? All I can do is stare at the ceiling in shock while trying to catch my breath.
I’m about as far from being a virgin as a girl can come, but in so many ways that felt like the first time. Only now there was no shame, no fear, no pain. No sense of having to do it or else. For the first time, I was present in my body from beginning to end. And now I understand that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
I don’t know why, but tears well up in my eyes—hot, bitter tears. Why did it have to be with him? Why did it take him to show me everything I’ve missed out on my whole life? It’s not like I ever thought there was anything right about what was done to me, what I had to let happen.
But I didn’t know how good it could be. I had no idea how much I would love it.
I’m so deep in thought, it’s only when something warm and wet touches my leg that I’m brought back to the present moment. He’s cleaning me up with a wet cloth. I didn’t know it until now, but there’s a bathroom adjoining the study. That makes sense. “Thank you,” I murmur.
“It’s the least a man can do.” Funny, he didn’t do that last time, but I guess he was trying to make a point. It’s so strangely intimate, the two of us together in this moment. I don’t know what to say, but I feel like I should say something. I’m still struggling to figure out what that is as I sit up and fix the top of my dress so my boobs aren’t hanging out anymore.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss—losses,” I quickly correct. “I wanted to say so at dinner, but I didn’t get the chance.”
“Thank you.” He won’t look away from the patch of skin he just finished wiping clean.
“I know how it feels to lose family. I mean, it isn’t the same, but…” I can’t believe I’m about to tell him this. Why did I start talking in the first place? “When I was eleven, my dad went out for smokes and never came back.”
He snorts softly. “You’re right. It isn’t the same.”
“He didn’t come back because he was murdered.”
His eyes snap up, meeting mine. “Shit. Really?”
I make a gun with my fingers and hold it to my temple. “Boom. His wallet and wedding ring were missing, so the cops figured it was a robbery gone wrong. The fact is, he owed money to a handful of drug dealers. It could’ve been any of them.”
“Jesus.”
“When I was sixteen, my mom went out one night with some girlfriends. They used to hang out at the corner bar like the classy ladies they were.” I can’t help but laugh bitterly at the memory of them. “She never came home. Now, it wasn’t unusual for her to spend the whole night out, but she’d normally come home by lunchtime the next day. Dinner rolled around. No Mom. So there I was, sixteen years old, going to the bar and asking about her. When I didn’t find her at that one, I went down the street to another. Then another.”
“Damn.” He perches on the corner of the sofa and angles his body in my direction. He looks genuinely concerned and I can’t decide whether that’s comforting or unnerving. Of all people for me to open up to about this. Maybe that’s what makes it easier, not caring much about what he thinks. I don’t exactly respect him.
“It was three days before the medical examiner’s office called. She was a Jane Doe until they fingerprinted her and her record came back. After Dad died, she did what needed doing to keep a roof over our heads, you know? I guess that’s why my—I mean, why I got into the life. It was what I already knew.”
Shit. That was close. I almost said why my sister got into the life. Did he notice? It doesn’t look that way. He’s too busy shaking his head, brows drawn together. “What happened to her?”
“Car accident. They thought maybe she picked up a guy at the bar and rode off with him. I don’t know why she didn’t have her purse on her at the time. Probably too drunk to realize she didn’t have it on her when she got in the car.”
“It’s amazing you survived. Here I was, thinking I had a ton of shit on my hands.”
“You did, obviously. Everything’s relative, right?” I offer a little shrug. “The whole point of pouring my guts out was to say I know how it feels, losing people. I’ve been losing people my whole life. And I’m sorry you had to go through it.”
He sighs. It’s maybe the most painful sound I’ve ever heard. A glimpse inside the man who’s held me captive for days. “It doesn’t seem right, thanking someone for saying that.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
Our eyes meet and again, I can’t help but identify with the pain I see in his. Is that why he acts like a heartless bastard? Because he doesn’t want the world to see who he really is—and how much he’s hurting? I don’t see the monster now. I see a man who lost so many people he loved all at once and had to pick up the pieces for the rest of his family. No wonder he had to harden himself like he did.
Wait. What I am thinking? Just because the man gave me an orgasm, he’s a good guy? Just misunderstood, in need of the right woman who’ll finally heal him? I need to get out of this room, or else I might end up liking him. That would be the biggest mistake in a lifetime full of them.
As it turns out, he’s thinking along the same lines. “You’d better get to your room,” he mumbles, standing and straightening out his clothes. “I have a few phone calls to make.”
“Do you ever stop working?” I can’t help it. I had to ask.
His lips twitch, but his eyes are serious. “There’s no end to it. Making sure shipments make it through without problems. Advising on next steps when they don’t. Settling beefs, doing favors so I can call them in later.”
