Maybe.
She blew out another long breath before continuing. “So, I took all his crap he’d left at my place while he was on the road and I dumped it out on the curb, and it was all gone a few days later—his clothes and his favorite boots and one of his guitars, and I don’t even know what else. Oh, he was pissed.” She had to smile a little at that.
“Good riddance. So, why not date another musician? Just because he was an asshole, surely that can’t condemn them all.”
“Oh, no—they’re all bad news. I’d been there before and it always ended the same way. They’ve all been cheaters, or they party too much, or think it’s cool to get speeding tickets they never pay. And it’s always about them—they have to be the star of the show. All the bad boys—musicians and guys with motorcycles, guys in leather jackets. All the men I’ve always been most attracted to. Bartenders are maybe the worst of the man-whores. I’d finally given up the bad boys after Jimmy—well, I’d kind of given up on men for the last year. Until you came along.”
“Ah, well, the damn, despicable bad boys. The musicians, and the ones who ride motorcycles.”
He was grinning outright now, and she sort of wanted to smack him, but he was right—he’d always be the one in charge. With her. In any situation, probably. And while she could sass him, this wasn’t the time.
“Duff? Can I ask you some things now?”
“I’m feeling generous,” he joked. “Why not?”
“What about you? Last relationship, I mean.”
“Ah.” She felt him tense for a moment, but then it melted away. “Jamie is the only person I’ve spoken to about this. My brother, Leith, and my friends back in Edinburgh knew her, but after it ended, I wasn’t up for having a discussion with anyone else.”
“What was her name?”
“Bess.”
? ? ?
HE COULD HARDLY believe he’d said her name out loud, never mind that he was going to tell Layla about her. But perhaps it was time he worked some of it out of his system. His very reluctance to talk about her told him he was still carrying the memory around like old baggage, and he didn’t like it.
“Yeah, Bess was her name. She was an English girl, come to Edinburgh for school. Then she stayed for work. Then she stayed for me, which was . . . a mistake.”
“A mistake? Why was it a mistake?”
He glanced down. Did he really want to answer the question? Sure as hell not. But he’d said she could ask.
It’s time.
“Duff?” she prompted.
He looked back at her. “Yeah. Well. We stayed together for two years, and it’s the longest run I’ve had with a girl, which maybe says something about me. And I was rough on her—I can see it now. I spent a lot of time working on my bikes, and everyone else’s, as well. I love my work, but I should have loved my woman more, right? Right.” He gave a sharp nod for emphasis. He’d never been able to really love her, and if he couldn’t fall in love with a good girl like Bess, then he was a hopeless case, wasn’t he?
After a moment, he went on. “She was a bit kinky—a little spanking, and she’d put up with me blindfolding her. ‘Bedroom’ kink. Not really enough for me, and I know she felt the pressure. And perhaps it wasn’t fair of me. No, I know it wasn’t. She was a good girl, and she deserved more. Sweet and even-tempered and probably more docile than was healthy for her in dealing with a man like me. But Lord knows that relationship was better than the one before her. Eileen was mad—totally out of her head. I loved her passion, and she was kinky as fuck, which is a better fit for me, but oi! She was trouble, that one. Jealous as hell. She caused scenes at the pubs, at the dungeon a few times. Slashed the tires on my Harley when I broke off with her. Could have been worse. I was three years between the two of them, and you’d think I’d have learned more. Well.”
He stopped, cleared his throat. Why the hell had he just dumped all this on Layla? It was more than he’d meant to say.
“And vanilla relationships?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah—that never ends well. They’re not for me. I tried, with Bess, who was mostly vanilla, but I couldn’t dial it back much. Well, I did, but it was a strain. It was always an issue that I wasn’t getting what I wanted, and to be honest, neither was she. Kink wasn’t what she was about, but it’s too much a part of who I am to give it up.”
“I get that. It’s the same for me.”
“Is it, now?” He looked at her, into those lovely green eyes. His dick was getting hard again, despite the difficult conversation, which he was secretly rather proud of.
“Yes, absolutely. Vanilla relationships have been a disaster—almost as disastrous as the kink relationships. I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe it’s the ‘relationship’ part that doesn’t work for me.”
“Ah, me, as well.”
“Yes, but I’ve removed the sex part, too. Until now.”
“Now, that I can’t claim to have done.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”
His dick was still hard—too hard to ignore, with an armful of warm, fragrant, beautiful woman.
“Princess.”
“Yes?”
“How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say?”
She laughed. “I’m sure it was. What am I agreeing to, exactly?”
“This.”
He picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, then carried her through the French doors and into her bedroom, where he tossed her down on the bed, which was a mattress on the floor, swagged in what looked to be Indian saris. It suited her, this room. He quickly took in an old armoire with chipping white paint on one wall, two windows hung with more colorful saris. But what he liked most was the long mirrors on the doors of the armoire—he could see the bed reflected there. The bed and the incredibly gorgeous woman lying naked on it. Waiting for him.
Oh, yeah.