I saw the emotion in his eyes in response to my words. And when he removed the plug and gently untied me, I thought that I’d never known anything more erotic than the simple experience of being tended to by this man.
Once I was unbound, we lay atop the covers, legs twined so that we were facing each other. I traced my fingertips over his chest, enjoying the way his skin felt against mine. “Thank you,” I finally said. “For showing me this. For showing me that I like it, too.”
“Oh, baby.” He brushed my cheek, and though there was no mistaking the tenderness in his voice, I couldn’t help but see the storm clouds in his eyes.
“What did I say?”
He sat up, leaning over in the bed as he took two long, deep breaths. “I’m glad you like it. There’s nothing I want more in this world than to give you pleasure.”
He stood up, then turned back so that he was facing the bed. I was sitting up now, wary because of the measured tone of his words. I wanted to beg him to explain what the trouble was, but I also knew that he would. He just needed to take his time, and I just needed to be patient.
“It’s not a question of like for me. It’s a need. A requirement. Hell, it’s my goddamn sustenance.” His eyes were locked on my face, and I don’t know what he saw there. Understanding? Maybe a little. Mostly, I wanted to simply hug him, because no matter what I did or didn’t understand, I knew that he was hurting. And all I wanted—all I would ever want again—was to see this man happy.
“I want to help,” I told him simply. “I want to understand.”
“I know,” he said. “I want that, too. I told you I didn’t want secrets, and I meant it. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t. I think the hardest thing I’ve ever done was tell you about Roger.”
“You’re stronger than me, Katrina Laron. But then again, I’ve always known that.”
“And that’s just bullshit,” I said. “Just tell me. No matter how hard or how horrible or how complicated, just find the beginning and start there.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then pulled me close and kissed me hard. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, and I scooted over to sit beside him, one leg tucked beneath me so that I was at an angle to face him.
“You have Roger living in the shadows of your life,” he began, his matter-of-fact words somehow managing to drip with pain. “I have Anita.”
I reached out and took his hand, then held it tight in mine. I said nothing, but I knew that he’d continue when he was ready.
“I didn’t think I’d ever talk about her. I wanted to forget her. To pretend the bitch didn’t exist.”
“But she did exist,” I said softly. “And even if you could forget her, it wouldn’t change whatever she did to you. But it helps to talk about it.” I managed a small, supportive smile. “In case you were wondering, I have it on good authority that talking about childhood shit with someone you care about helps a lot.”
He held tight to my hand for a moment, then released me and stood up. After a moment, he moved to the window and spread the curtains wide. It was late now, the sky pitch-black, the stars unable to push through the curtain of ambient light that rose like a halo to surround the city.
Beyond Cole, I could make out the silhouette of buildings, most just a few stories tall, that filled the view before ending abruptly at a dark expanse of ocean that seemed to reach up and merge with the deep black of the night sky.
“I was eleven when I got in tight with the gangs. Young, but not for that life. Especially not for a kid like me who needed cash. Because it was just me and my grandmother and my aunt, and it was me who took care of them. There was no other man, not who stuck, and I don’t think I would have relied on someone else, anyway. How could I when my grandmother had taken me in and worked herself to the bone taking in laundry and sewing when my bitch of a mother had dumped me on her? And then was left with nothing when her mind started to go?”