I stared at him, remembering the afternoon before when he’d taken me to bed. I’d tried to pull him on top of me when he’d been laying facing me, but he’d resisted it. I hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d ended up behind me, pinning me to the bed and thrusting against my bottom as he invaded my *. Regardless of the position I’d been in, he’d still been the one in control. It didn’t make any sense that he should fear this.
“I’m not terrified of you,” I said gently. My heart raced even as I tried to reassure him, and my nerves were standing on end.
He sighed, letting his head fall back for a moment as he inhaled deeply. When he looked back at me, he was silent for a moment. “Mark told me what it was like for you after I left town.”
My eyes widened as I stood there.
“I asked him. I thought I wanted to know. I thought I needed to hear what he was going to say,” he whispered. “I did. I did need to hear it. But … I wasn’t prepared.” His eyes searched mine. “How can you want me? How can you not want a life apart from me, with marriage, a family, a real home, and real … problems—like whose going to take the garbage out, who’s going to fix the drawing on the wall, pull the banana peel from the DVD player, get the baby up from her nap.” He shrugged, looking down at the towel in his lap. “And it’s not just our past and what happened. It’s… It’s your life. It’s always been your life. Everything that happened today is so normal for you. And yet … it feels so strange to me.” He finally looked back to my eyes. “I don’t know how to give you that life.”
“I didn’t ask for that life.” My hands were clammy as I hid them under my crossed arms. The race of my heart was sending a flush of uncomfortable panic through my body. I really didn’t like this.
He just stared at me.
“Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me?” I finally asked. The question alone intensified the panic I was feeling.
“Breaking up?” he scoffed as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the damp strands back from his face. “From what? What is this? Is this a relationship to you? Is that what we’re doing?” His eyes continued to shift back and forth across mine. “Because it feels like a relationship to me, and … if that’s the case, then where does this go? You want to be in a relationship with a man who can’t even stand the idea of being between your legs because it disturbs him so much, and yet, who’s addicted to making love to you.” He scoffed again—this weird almost-laugh, and when he clutched at his forehead he just shook his head.
“You didn’t answer the question.” I glared at him, but in truth, it was still all panic. “Are you breaking up with me?”
He let out an exasperated huff. “No!” he snapped, glaring just as harshly back at me. “I’m just trying to figure out how to deserve you, Helene.”
I let out a gasp of air at that comment.
He stared at me, breathing heavily. “And when you figure out I don’t, I’m not sure what that’s going to do to me, and that … scares the shit out of me.” He shrugged.
“Don’t say that.” I stepped up to him, kneeling at his feet and clutching the backs of his calves. “Please don’t say that.” I focused on him for a moment. “Why is it so hard for you to believe you deserve to be happy?”
He smirked, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because you’re not always around to reassure me. And you’re the only person in the world I would believe.”
I kneeled up, pushing his thighs apart so I could get closer to him. I pulled the towel from his lap, dropping it to the floor. I clutched at his cheeks with my hands, my fingers curling behind his jawline. “I know you deserve to be happy,” I whispered.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “What happens when you find out you’re wrong?” His voice was just as quiet.
I pulled back, watching him, unable to say anything at all. The stare went on for a long time, and his expression was frozen as he held the eye contact. But then his lips twitched into an almost-smile, and he shook his head. “I just needed to fall apart a little today. I’m sorry.”
He pulled me up to stand and then into bed with him. He reached to the bedside lamp, turning it off, and then he pulled my T-shirt off and inched my yoga pants down past my hips. He stripped them off my legs along with my underwear, and then he wrapped his arms around me. He made no move to touch me beyond that, and I snuggled up to his neck and listened to his breathing. It slowed until I knew he was sleeping, and then I fell asleep, too.
I had no idea what time it was when I was startled out of sleep. Kane was thrashing beside me and gasping for air. I reached for his arm, but at my touch, the thrashing became worse, and I pulled away. He sat up, sucking in a deep breath as though he’d been suffocating, and then he groaned out, “Oh, fuck. Goddammit.” He panted.
“Kane.” I reached for his arm again, but he pulled away from my touch.
I listened to the bedding move, and I felt the mattress shift as he sat up. He flipped the bedside lamp on, and I glanced over at him. His back was to me as he sat on the side of the bed.