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“Rule Number 2—If you want to spend the night with me tonight, you have to call your family first and secure an invitation for me to attend whatever celebrations you’ve promised to attend for the holidays.”
I wince again. I didn’t plan on telling anyone I’m in a relationship again. Either they’ll all hover and panic, waiting on me to fall apart, or they’ll try to keep us apart for fear that I’ll get hurt, or worse, he’ll back out as soon as the full impact of my needs become known, and then I’ll have to explain to them all over again.
Yes, I’m broken. No, I’m not normal. I want and need things you can’t possibly understand. I can’t turn those things off. I can’t. I’ve tried. I might as well stop breathing.
“No hiding, Ranay.” He says it gently, but when I meet his gaze, I flinch at his burning intensity. “I’m not the kind of man who’s going to tiptoe around your life for fear of upsetting your loved ones. They deserve to know enough about us that they’re not worried about your well-being and safety. They need to meet me as soon as possible so I can alleviate some of their worries right out of the gate. We’re in this together, kitten.”
“It’s going to be hard.” My lips tremble as I mumble the words. “They love me, I know they love me. They want only the best for me. But sometimes, I don’t think they understand. At all.”
“They don’t have to understand, as long as you and I come to an understanding. They just need to know that you’re safe with me.” He lightens his voice, rolling over on his back so the sheet slips a bit lower. Interesting. He has another tattoo above his groin, a small design that I missed before, nestled in the tender skin above his hip bone. What is it?
I can’t tell from here, but as I start to move closer, he holds up his hand.
“No, I don’t think so, Ranay. If you come over here for a goodbye kiss, then I won’t get any sleep. I don’t want you to see how grouchy I get without my beauty rest, not so soon. You might change your mind about me.”
Me change my mind about him? I blow him a kiss and then turn to quietly pull the door shut behind me.Never.
6
Itape the last present shut, then sit back to examine my handiwork. Wrapped presents are another thing that’s going to shock my family. They know I’m a last-minute shopper. Usually they’re lucky if I take the gift out of the Walmart bag and put it into a gift bag with a wad of tissue paper.
But ifhecan wrap a present for me, then the least I can do is put a few thoughtful touches on the gifts for the people I love most in this world. Even if they annoy the crap out of me.
My phone rings. With a sigh, I answer my sister’s call. “Hey, Sam. I was just going to call you.”
“That’s what I was afraid of, and yes, you still have to come tomorrow.”
Samantha’s two years younger than me, though that doesn’t stop her from bossing me around. Based on her complete incredulity any time I try to explain the lifestyle I seek, I don’t think she’s into BDSM play at all, but she has more dominance in her little finger than I do in my whole body. “I never said I wasn’t coming tomorrow.”
I hesitate, trying to think of a way to present the facts with the least amount of discussion.
“Just tell me,” she says impatiently, as if she thinks I’m being deliberately evasive.
“I met someone.”
A long silence meets my words, and I can already feel the chill creeping over the miles of air separating us before she finally responds. “Who?”
I can hear the five thousand questions she hasn’t asked me yet. Is he a biker? An ax-killer? A drug addict? Where’d you meet him—a bar? Jail?Online?
Which is infinitely worse than jail will ever be, of course, because that’s where I met Josh.
“Charles MacNiall.” I’m pleased at the blasé tone of my voice, like we’re talking about some new color of towel for the bathroom. “He’s one of Dr. Wentworth’s clients, the one I left you a message about yesterday because I was going to be dog sitting for him.”
Sam sniffs with disapproval. “I see. How long have you known him?”
“Er…” Do I go with the year or more I’ve been working at the clinic? Because technically I’ve known him that long.
“Not how long you’ve worked at the clinic,” she retorts, knowing exactly what my hesitation means. “How long have youknownhim?”
“In the Biblical sense?”
“Ranay! Honestly. Is he nice?”
My hackles rise. “Like I wouldn’t know anyonenice?”
“Well, Sis, you do tend to go after a certain kind of man. If you know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t. It’s not like I hang out in bars or clubs, Sam.”
