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Daniel released her foot, resting his forehead against her knee. “I did. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you, but…”
“I like it when you touch me. It terrifies me, but…”
She let her words trail off, matching what he said. Her fingers slid through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. If he’d been a cat he would have purred.
“It terrifies me that you’re here,” she went on. “I promised myself I would never mix the two sides of my life. I tried it, twice. Didn’t work. It’s why I didn’t want to scene with you.” Her voice turned wry. “Because you seemed like…whoops, I mean youare…the kind of guy I’d bring home from the bar.”
“And I’m…a dangerous liar.”
Her hand stilled in his hair. Daniel lifted his head from her lap, pushing slowly to his feet and then dropping onto the other chaise.
“What do you mean you’re a liar?” Her gaze was hard, sharp.
“Let me clarify. I never told you a lie.”
She reached down for her glass, tapping it against her lip before she took a sip.
“I’m a liar because…because this, all of this?” He gestured to himself. “This is all a facade. I dress the part. I have the house. But my past, and my genetics...”
“Seriously?” Autumn’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I thought you were going to tell me that you’re an undercover federal agent. Not that you suffer from imposter syndrome or have shitty parents.”
“I’m sorry, you were worried I was awhat?” Daniel just stared at her
“An undercover agent.”
“In a BDSM club? Why in the world would you think that? Is that even a thing?”
“I maybe read too many Lexi Blake books. Anyway, ignore that. Go on.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. Then shook his head. Strangely, that weird little byplay made him feel better.
Right then he knew, just knew, that nothing he could tell her, except, apparently, that he was an undercover agent, would make her think less of him. Though they were so very different, they were the same, both scared to trust, afraid.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He was supposed to be walking her through his fucked up childhood. That didn’t seem as important right now as it had when they walked in.
Autumn froze, eyes wide.
“I don’t expect you to say anything back. I don’t expect…well anything. It just felt important that I tell you.”
“You jerk,” she breathed, but she was smiling. “I’m working very hard on not falling for you, and you go and say something like that?”
Hope made him smile, but a nasty voice in his head told him that he was wrong. That when he told her about his past, realized where his sadistic tendencies came from, she’d throw him out.
“And before you go any further, you should know that this is new for me, too. I don’t come from money. My great-grandparents were migrant workers, and I grew up lower middle class. My grandmother is convinced I must be a criminal—a very successful one.” Autumn shrugged. “I mean she’s still proud of me for being successful, even if it’s a successful bad guy.”
“Your family sounds fun.”
Autumn studied him. “I’m guessing yours isn’t?”
He opened his mouth, then shook his head. He wasn’t quite ready. “I had an idea, for how we get around your issue of not wanting to tell men you date that you’re a sub.”
“Is it date a Dom?” she asked dryly.
“That would work, but I had another idea.”
“This conversation has gone so far off the rails.” She took a sip…no, that was a gulp…of wine.
“It’s because I’m stalling,” he acknowledged.
