I nod and he gives Faith another look, but says nothing more. He simply turns and walks away. I don’t speak to Faith. I lead her down the hallway and I don’t stop until we’re at room eleven. I open the door, and allow Faith to enter what amounts to a giant bedroom with a wall of sex toys on the left. A massive canopy bed is on the right. A bondage stand is in a half-moon space at the back wall that is covered by a curtain. Beyond that curtain are seats, should you decide to invite viewers, which I never did.
I’ve barely shut and locked the door before Faith is already moving deeper into the room, walking up to the wall of toys. She pauses and grabs a black silk face mask, and then walks toward the bondage stand. She steps inside it, her back to me, as she starts undressing. I move to a spot a foot back, watching her, waiting, telling myself I’m about to show her that we are still us here, and anywhere. That I am still me. Once she’s naked, standing there, her perfect, heart-shaped ass on display, she puts on the mask and then turns to face me. Her arms are at her sides, hands gripping the bars on either side of her. Her breasts are high, full, nipples tight pink nubs. And yeah. My cock is hard. Hard as sin city is to beat on a good day for a casino, which is every fucking day. This is Faith. She can smile and my cock sees it as an invitation.
“Tie me up,” she demands, her voice quavering, and I don’t miss the way her knees tremble, and that jolts me with realization. She’s trying to be that person she was in the club with Macom. But she’s not that person. And I’m damn sure not Macom.
I walk to her and I grab the bars above her hands, but I don’t touch her. I lean in, my lips near her ear. “You will never learn how to fuck me and still be alone because you will never be alone again, Faith. And I won’t touch you in this place.” I remove her mask. “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
“No. Nick.” She grabs my lapels, her naked body pressing to mine. “I need—”
“To put your fucking clothes on,” I say. “And let me be clear, Faith. If you don’t get dressed, I will dress you and that’s going to be awkward for us both. I’ll be in the hallway.” I turn and walk to the door, opening it and stepping outside, running a hand over my face, adrenaline I didn’t know I’d triggered pumping through me.
I lean against the wall, inhaling and willing my body to calm the fuck down. I am always calm. Until now apparently. The door opens and Faith exits the room, thankfully fully dressed, and I don’t look at her, nor do either of us speak. I take her hand and lead her down the hallway, getting us the hell out of here. We exit the mansion, and start down the stairs. By the time we’re at the bottom, the car is pulled directly in our path, and I open the door to allow Faith to enter. A minute later, we’re in the car and are back where we started. Her scent and her anger is a powerful cocktail and I turn to look at her.
“That anger of yours can burn me alive, sweetheart, but I’m still going to be here and I’m still not going to let you go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Nick
Thankfully, the drive home is short. Ten minutes and I pull us into the garage and kill the engine. I’m out before it even dies, walking around the car to get Faith. She’s out of the Audi by the time I’m there, facing off with me. “I should go back to Sonoma.”
She just burned me all right, scorched me inside and out. I’m pissed. One hundred percent certifiably pissed. I don’t say a word. I walk toward her, pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, just like I did the last time she tried to leave. “Damn it, Nick,” she hisses. “You can’t throw me over your shoulder every time I want to leave.”
I don’t respond. I’m already walking, opening the garage door and stepping inside the house, my hand on her pretty little ass, my path straight through the living room and up the stairs. “Nick, damn it.”
“You already said that,” I say, entering our bedroom and walking through the bathroom to the closet that used to feel too big and is now just right with Faith in the house. I flip on the light and then set her down in the center of the room. “What do you see, Faith?” I don’t give her time to respond. “Look around. Your clothes and my clothes. This is two people sharing a life and when you share a life, you don’t just leave because you’re upset.” Realization slices through me. “And if you really want to leave, then maybe you aren’t in this the way I am in this.”
“That’s not true.”
“Words versus actions, Faith. I can’t keep picking you up every time you want to leave? Stop trying to fucking leave. Or don’t. I told you. In or out. You said you were in.”
“You should have told me, Nick.”
“I took a nearly four hundred thousand dollar hit to give that damn place away, Faith. For you. I did it for you. Because after I heard what a club and Macom equaled for you, I wanted you to know the minute I told you that buying it was a favor, not some defining piece of my character. Not an indication of who I am or who we are. I waited to tell you. That was a judgment call, but I did it for the right reasons.”
“You gave it away?” I confirm in disbelief.
I close the space between us and cup her face. “Yes. I did. Because you mean that much to me.”
“Please tell me you have a way to get the money back.”
“I don’t care about the money, Faith. I care about you.” My mouth closes down on hers, and I kiss her, deeply, passionately, drinking her in, so damn in need of her right now, and that need claws at me. “Get undressed,” I order. “We need to be naked together.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “We do. I do.”
I brush my lips over hers and shrug out of my jacket, and we watch each other undress, the anger between us shifting to something just as dark, just as intense and demanding. Lust. Love. Need. And when we are naked, both of us, we stand there in the fucking closet, but neither of us are looking at the other’s body. Our eyes connect, that mask she’d had on and that I’d stuck in my pocket is in my hand, and to her it was a weapon against me and us. A way she made the sex nameless, faceless. To me, it’s a way to show her that that will never be possible. Not for us.
“Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
I walk to her, stopping a lean away from touching her. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I trust you.”
“You didn’t react like you trust me.”
“I obviously have triggers. I realize that now. It’s about me, not you.”
“It’s about us, Faith. Everything is us now.”
“I know.”
She doesn’t, but I decide right then, that I just have to accept the challenge. I’m not a patient man, but I am in love with this woman, and I will help her, not force her, to see how devoted I am to her. I snag the fingers of her hand and walk her into the dressing room connecting to the closet—a small room with one oversize blue and brown plaid chair, a dresser, a standing mirror, and a full wall that is all windows, the view the ocean, the city.
I lead Faith to the chair in front of the ottoman, which is large enough that it might as well be another chair. I then hold up the mask. “Trust,” I say softly.
She reaches for it and in the process presses to her toes, leaning into me, her hand on my shoulder, her nipples brushing my chest. Her lips are a breath from mine. “Because it’s different here.”
“Is that a question or a statement.”