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Tracy brought up her head and shoulders, tacking on a crisp little nod. “And she wrote the stuff from ‘experience’?”
He nodded again, clearing his throat. Her new position, while lending professionalism to their upper bodies, fitted their crotches tighter. She could have—should have—rectified things by getting up and walking away, but maybe she’d just ask him for the call-in number to Abbie baby’s show. Clearly, she needed psychological help. She was growing addicted to this man and his incredible body.
“She had a rough deal growing up. After her dad was hauled to prison for embezzlement and fraud, her mom turned to drugs, and the story goes downhill from there. Abbie ended up as a foster care kid at the age of twelve. Her angle is that bad shit can happen to anyone, at any time, and can be survived. Her whole reputation’s built on it.”
“And dating a guy who’s part-owner of a BDSM club doesn’t jive with the I-am-woman-hear-me-roar rep.”
“Give the lady a prize.” He lightly nipped the end of her nose with two knuckles. In the wake of his touch, Tracy wrinkled it with irked emphasis.
“Have you tried telling her that’s bullshit?” She didn’t explain herself. She didn’t have to. He got it. He really did. He knew that a person’s strength was greatest when they were at their most vulnerable. And dear God, how she knew it. Had learned it, over and over again, to the point it was nearly a theme in her life.
“A few times,” he replied to her charge. “I did try. As her Dom, I had the responsibility to. I mean, I knew there were parts of her I could help with the pain…”
“And the sex?” It hurt like hell to fill it in, but she ramrodded it through her lips. If not, she was no different than the woman to whom they referred, refusing growth just because it hurt.
“Yeah,” John concurred quietly. “And the sex.” But his gaze, swinging to her, was a blare of volume. His irises, the shade of polished brass horns, consumed her psyche like a whole orchestra. “But on both levels, we never totally connected. She wanted the heavy play and always verbally committed to giving it her all, but she kept parts of herself held back no matter how hard I tried to open those doors.” His face tightened. “She had the keys and wasn’t giving them up.”
Tracy quietly rested her chin on the ball of his shoulder. “Maybe she couldn’t disconnect from her public persona?” she suggested. “I’ve seen that one happen over and over again. The fame validates the public face more than the truth—but the sands under that foundation are constantly shifting.”
His stare sharpened. “Shit.”
Her head lifted. “What?”
“You sure you’re only thirty-five?” He pushed questing fingers into the back of her neck. “Come on. Where are you concealing the zipper?”
“The zipper to what?”
“You’re not really the young, hot VP, are you? You’re hiding some older wise woman in there, instead—like Dolly Levi.”
Her eyes bulged. “Dolly Levi?”
“No! I got it. The Reverend Mother from Sound of—”
She gasped. “Don’t you dare go there!”
He laughed. “Fine. Maybe you’re that cool bald chick from Doctor Strange…”
She twisted away from him, giggling. “Finish your story, island boy.”
As much as she wished he’d get snarly and choose to spank her for the impudence, the man sobered swiftly. “Like I’ve said,” he murmured, “not much of a story. Abbie wasn’t interested in conventional dates outside the dungeon, and her schedule only left her opportunities for ‘play dates’ every few months—”
“Making her the perfect fit for a Special Forces team captain spending more time out of the country than in,” she supplied.
He confirmed that with a defined twist of lips. “Which was why I committed one of the biggest Dominant fuck-ups in the book.” His eyes slid shut, staying that way until he drew in enough breath to grimace from that as well. “I stopped paying attention.”
Tracy lifted a hand to trace the creases bracketing his eyes and mouth, letting her own frown tighten. “You stopped seeing her?” She didn’t pull punches on her confusion. “Things like that happen, John. All the time. People grow apart.”
He peeled her hand away, finally releasing air on a ponderous growl. “I didn’t stop seeing her, dammit. I just stopped paying attention. Do you get it now? She became just another fuck, Tracy. I tied her up, because that was what she wanted. Flogged her, because she liked that even more. Screwed her, because she liked that the best of all. But it was all just actions without meaning, words without context.” He grimaced harder. Gritted his next words out. “A sham of a connection.”
Since he kept a tortured clench around one of her hands, she pressed the other to his chest once more. For long moments, simply let her touch be filled by his furious heartbeat. She’d known him less than a week, still unsure about everything from his birthday to what he liked on his pizza, but if there was anything of which she was certain about the man, it was his dedication to the truth—to being as real with people as possible. It seemed as ingrained in him as being raised in a large, loving, honest family, but perhaps had come about only recently, as a consequence of his subterfuge job. Life in the shadows meant one craved the sun—
And perhaps, sometimes, forgot what its warmth felt like.
“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured into the silence. “That must have been strange for you.”
He erupted in a short, sharp laugh. Dropped his head into his free hand. “You’d think, right?”
“It wasn’t?”
