“Who says there’ll be a next time?”
“I was wrong,” he says. “I didn’t think anything could touch you. Touch us. I didn’t realize…”
“Didn’t realize what?” I urge.
“Even now, it surprises me how much I love you. How much I need you in my life. To be without you will be torture.”
I stand again, wanting—no, needing—to be near him. I tentatively reach forward. “You don’t have to be without me.”
“Don’t you get it?” He rubs furiously at his temple, as if easing a throbbing ache. “I have to let you go. I can’t take the chance—”
I close the distance between us and fall into him, resolving not to shed the tears that threaten. He thinks I’m the strongest woman he knows. Now is the time for me to prove him right.
“I won’t let you go,” I say against his chest. “I won’t. I refuse.”
“Oh, Skye…” He kisses the top of my head.
I ease back and meet his gaze. “We didn’t work this hard to be together just to have it torn away from us. By Beau Reardon? By Peter and Garrett? No way, Braden. I don’t accept this. Not for a fucking minute.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He shakes his head. “Neither of us does.”
“Bullshit.” I pound my fist on his chest. “If it would truly be torture to live without me, why would you subject yourself to that?”
“For your safety.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“What if I hadn’t come tonight?”
“You did.”
“Damn it! Fight fair, Skye.”
“Why should I? You’re not.”
He levels his gaze on me. “I always fight fair.”
“Not with me. It’s your way or the highway, always. Well, not tonight, Braden. We’re not in the bedroom at the moment, and this time I’m getting my way.”
My heart is beating like a hummingbird’s. Fast and twittery. I’m ready to go to battle for the man I love, even if he’s the one I’m fighting.
“I can’t lose you,” he says, his voice resigned. “Not like I lost her.”
His eyes are sunken, as if he’s resolved to his fate.
I curl my hands into fists, ready to win this war. “I’m not your mother, Braden.”
He sighs. “I know.”
“She made a choice. She chose you. I’m making that same choice. You want to condemn us both to torture without each other? I won’t let you.”
“I didn’t keep her safe,” he says into my hair. “I lost her.”
I pull back and grip his strong shoulders. “You were six years old, for God’s sake! Are you going to hold a child to some insurmountable standard?”
“Don’t you?”
Fair question, and one I wasn’t expecting. “No,” I say. “Absolutely not. My parents’ separation was not my fault.”
For the first time, I believe the words with all my heart. My journey is far from complete, but I’m moving forward. And with each step, I understand myself a little better.
“And your mother’s death was not your fault, Braden. It isn’t. It never was.”
He cups my cheek, then, running his thumb over my top lip.
“I won’t give you up,” I say. “You’ll protect me. And I’ll protect you. That’s how it is when you love someone. We both have an equal obligation to each other.” I cover his hand with my own.
What seems like an eternity passes between us, our gazes locked. Braden doesn’t cry, but his eyes are glazed over with what I suspect are unshed tears.
I hold my own tears back—for him, and also for me.
Finally, he smiles. It’s weak, but it’s a smile. “I’ll never truly control you, will I?”
I move forward and brush my lips against his stubbled cheek. “Braden, did you ever honestly believe you would?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Black Rose Underground.
Braden’s private suite.
I wear only platform stilettos and black-and-red lace panties.
“Lie down on the table,” Braden says darkly.
A black sheet sits on top of the leather table. Braden has prepared for something. My nipples are hard and aching.
I know what’s coming, and I know how much he’s giving me.
I flash back to the last time we were in this room—that horrid evening when we almost ended for good because of something I wanted. Something he couldn’t give me.
This lifestyle means as much—perhaps more—to me as it always has. But now, I see the play for what it is—play. It’s not punishment for something either of us did in the past. It’s simply part of our sex life, a part we both immensely enjoy.
And we both need to be comfortable with what happens.
I lie down as commanded, Braden’s diamond choker heavy around my neck—a symbol of who I belong to when I’m here.
“Hold this.” Braden places a black leather flogger next to my hip.
I grasp it in my hand, my body shivering. What will he do to me with the flogger? How will it feel against my hard nipples, my abdomen, my clit?
I can’t wait to find out.
But Braden won’t be rushed. He’s always on his own time.
“I’m not going to bind you tonight,” he says. “You have only your obedience to me in this room to hold yourself still as I do what I do. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say.
“I’ve never given you a safe word. I give you one now.”
“Okay, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“Just in case,” he says. “Your safe word is ‘always.’ Because you’re mine. Always.”
“Always,” I repeat softly. “And you’re mine. Always.”
“I am. I never thought I’d want to belong to another person, but I’m yours. Always.”
I can’t help a smile, and I reach forward—
Braden grabs the flogger from me and whips my hand away.
I drop it back down to my side, the sting a lovely flame that probes straight to my clit.
“Stay still,” he commands. “And stay quiet, as well. The only thing you’re allowed to say is your safe word, if you need it.”