Then his finger slid across my panties and I bucked hard—but not in a good way.
It was a panic-stricken feeling that came over me, and I started gasping for air. “I’m scared of the dark, I’m scared of the dark,” I chanted.
Reno yanked the shirt away from my eyes and unhooked the belt, eyes brimming with concern. He bent down and removed my jeans so I wouldn’t trip.
My hands shook with embarrassment. I looked away as he freed my wrists from the belt and tugged the shirt off my arms. His hands cupped my inflamed cheeks and I’d never felt more exposed than standing in front of Reno in my underwear while having a panic attack.
“Breathe, April. Look at me and breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. That’s it… nice and slow. I’d never hurt you. What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t like the dark.”
“Why?”
“A phobia thing.”
“Tell me.”
I shook my head adamantly and he held me in his arms so tightly that I was unable to get dressed and leave. Maybe he could sense it, because that was exactly what I was thinking of doing.
His bristly cheek scratched against my temple and he whispered, “Tell me why you’re afraid of the dark. We’re not born with fear, April. We’re exposed to it.”
“No, you don’t really want to hear all this.”
“The hell I don’t,” he bit out angrily. Then his voice softened like molasses. “Talk to me.”
Don’t do it, my inner voice warned. No man wants to hear personal baggage and you’re going to extinguish whatever fire you had going if you open your mouth.
So as I stood in the arms of a man who wanted to take me to new sexual lands, I exposed a dark part of my past that I’d never once told a living soul except my mother.
“I was… molested.”
Reno froze, as if his entire body had transformed to granite. I tried pushing him away, but he didn’t budge.
“Let me go,” I said, feeling shame and guilt for even saying the word. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but you asked.”
When I felt his tender lips kiss my forehead, I stopped struggling.
“Who?” he asked in a chilling voice.
“I don’t know. I was little. It happened in a department store. I don’t remember why, but I had separated from my mom and wound up in the bathroom. I wasn’t alone—a man came in behind me. He flipped the switch and shut off the lights.”
A tremor rolled through him, but not in a good way. Fear rose in me and I pushed at his chest.
But Reno held me tight, whispering in my hair. “How old were you?”
“Five, I think. My mom gave me a spanking when she found out I’d wandered off and when I told her what happened, she called me a liar. I guess she thought I was making up a story to get out of trouble. It was so long ago that it almost feels like a dream, so it’s not like it’s fresh in my memory. I just remember bits and pieces of what happened. I can tolerate low light, but sometimes I get scared in the dark. Not all the time, but I’m sure that’s where it stems from. I don’t even remember what he looks like,” I said, not believing I was telling him all this. “When the lights came back on, he told me that I’d get in big trouble if I told anyone and he’d come find me. I thought I’d done something wrong to make him do that to me. For years I thought he was going to come after me because I’d told my mom.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Fucking bastard,” he whispered. “They never caught him?”
I shook my head.
“Do you remember the store?”
I nodded.
“Wonder if they have surveillance archives,” he muttered.
My hands pushed hard and I leaned away. “Don’t you dare dig up my past. It could have been a whole lot worse. I was fortunate that none of my mom’s pimps or dealers ever got a hold of me as a teen. I scraped out of my childhood with only a few skinned knees. He just touched me.”
“Just? He just touched you? No big deal?” A vein pulsed on his forehead. “Do you have any idea what we do to Shifters who abuse children? It’s not only a crime punishable by death, but you can bet your ass they’ll have the entire pack going after them with the law on their side."
Anger sparked in his dark brown eyes.
I relaxed and took a calming breath. “Look, Reno, I don’t need a therapist. I’m scared of the dark and I shouldn’t have let you tie me up. Apparently, I have limits. My ex liked to have sex in the dark, missionary style. So my sex life has been pretty bland and—”
“No wonder,” he said, leaning against the door and shaking his head as if a revelation had hit him.
“No wonder what?”
“The only sex you’ve had is with a guy who throws you in the dark so that you can relive your childhood fears. You freaked out over a blindfold; I’m willing to bet you weren’t much of a willing participant when it came to sex. You’ve got control issues.”