“Because I don’t like the way I left things. I was horrible to you, and I never told you how sorry I was. That’s partly because I couldn’t deal with what I’d done.”
We walked a while longer in silence. I found myself unable to raise my eyes and look him in the face.
“Here’s the thing about me, Juliet,” he said, reaching to pluck at a bush as we passed. “I suck at trusting women. I’m terrible at relationships. I have a really hard time…making myself vulnerable. I want everything safe and predictable.”
“Like clockwork,” I murmured.
“I know. It’s fucked up. See, when I was growing up, my parents got divorced, and it was so acrimonious, so hateful, that I decided I’d never be like them. My first few relationships… Jesus, I went all in. I exposed myself and gave them everything, only to be used for my money, or accused of being abusive because of my kink. I started to believe after a while that I was abusive, that I was a rich, selfish asshole, this person they accused me of being.”
He stopped and turned to me, and now I could see that his eyes were dark, so dark, as he relived these past hurts. “But I wasn’t a rich, selfish asshole. I wanted to love them, but my relationships became these ugly things, full of hurt and accusation and emotional drama. I had to stop trying. I had to put the walls up and stay in control.”
I studied him, not knowing what to say. I felt bad that he’d been scarred by his parents’ angsty divorce, felt bad that he’d gotten mixed up with women who hurt him. But at the same time, I wouldn’t compromise on the love and connection I craved. “I’m sorry you went through that,” I said. “It helps me understand you more.”
“But it doesn’t fix us. I know.”
My breath blew out in a long, slow gust. “Do you want to fix us?”
He nodded, regarding me with a pained expression that looked more fearful than hopeful. “I miss you, Sparkles. I think of you every day. I think of your eyes, your voice, your laughter. Your bravery and strength. Even your emotions, that vast repertoire of expressions that transforms your face from moment to moment.” He chuckled, and reached to touch my cheek. “I’m watching them now. I miss them. I miss the way you made me start feeling things again.”
His hand dropped away as tears rose in my eyes. “I’m afraid now to be emotional around you,” I said. “It makes you close down.”
“It did. It still might. But I don’t want you to hide how you feel.” He came closer to me, cradling my head against his chest. His heartfelt confessions had opened some hopeful part of myself that I’d locked shut. Maybe…maybe the two of us… I was crying because I wanted it so badly, and because I was scared he wouldn’t be able to change.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” I said. “I want love. You can’t have me if you won’t love me.” I touched the front of my shirt, feeling the outline of the lock. “That’s not negotiable, not anymore.”
“I want to love you.”
“Wanting’s not enough,” I said, but he held up a hand to cut me off.
“You have to think about it from my point of view, Juliet. Here’s me, terrified of grand and dramatic emotion, determined not to get involved with anyone I can’t control. There you are, standing against the side of a building, completely unable to care for yourself. What drew me to you? Why did I reach out to you rather than walking away?”
“I don’t know. The socks?”
“Your fucking socks.” He sighed, taking my hand. “It didn’t take long to realize you were bad and dangerous, that you were everything I was careful to avoid…but at the same time, I found myself more and more attracted to you. The more I felt, the more I resisted. The more I pushed you away. But I didn’t want to push you away.”
He stepped back and pressed his fists to his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. I saw it then, the emotion struggling to get out. I tried to pull his hands from his face but he held them there. “What are you so afraid of?” I asked.
“Getting hurt.”
Funny, that a sadist’s greatest fear would be getting hurt, but I understood. He’d been hurt—traumatically—by the first few women he’d opened his heart to. His solution was to never love again, to never give up control. But…
“There’s no room for control when it comes to love,” I said. “Love isn’t like watches. It doesn’t keep perfect time.”
“Holy shit.” His breath came out in a whisper. “I know.” He lowered his hands and gazed at me, his eyes sparking with anxiety. “Remember when you asked to try things my way? To try sado-masochism and fetish? I promised we could start slow, build trust?”
I nodded, remembering that weighty conversation. “You didn’t start that slow, though,” I reminded him. “You wouldn’t let me have a safe word.”
“I know, because I think I can control everything. I need to control everything to protect myself.”
“Yet you wouldn’t let me protect myself.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t want to protect yourself. That’s how you are, that’s why you scared me so much.” He took a deep breath, reaching for my hand again, tracing my fingers. “You were willing to try things my way, with no reservations, no distrust, no fear.”
“There was a little bit of fear.”
His fingers closed around mine. He brought my hand to his heart and held it there. “You asked me why I came here. Juliet, I came here to ask if you’ll let me try things your way this time, so I can learn how to…how not to protect myself. You were so open to me, you gave me everything. Now I want to give that to you.”
I stared at him, confused. “You want to be my submissive?”
“Oh God, no.” He let out a laugh. I could feel his heart beating against my palm. “I want to fall in love,” he said, then shook his head. “I’m already in love, Sparkles. I need you to teach me how to do it the right way.”
“Oh.”
We stood across from each other, connected only by my hand against his warm chest. I realized I didn’t want to travel anywhere else, or fall in love with anyone else. They would be strangers, and this man was already well known to me, complex and guarded as he was. Could I teach him how to love? God knew how much courage it took him to ask.
“I’m not giving you a safe word,” I said, narrowing my eyes in a warning. “You might end up getting hurt, because love isn’t clockwork.”
“I know, you taught me that. Juliet…please…”
He took my hand between both of his. His palms were sweaty. The cool, collected playboy was sweating it out in the Italian countryside for a woman who scared him to death. That had to be worth something. I let go of his hands and placed my palms against his shoulders, measuring his solid breadth and the power of his intentions.
“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll teach you how to love, so this doesn’t end in drama and sadness. We’ll respect each other, bond and grow together, and make each other happy.” I gazed into his eyes. “Do you believe me?”
A smile dispersed the concerned lines of his face. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe.”
Then he grabbed me, hard, and clasped me against him for a deep, reuniting kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fort
Did u find her yet?
Yes, Dev, I found her.
And…????
She’s lying next to me. I can’t text now.
You can’t text in a good way, or a bad way?
…
C’mon Forsyth. Don’t leave me hanging
…
Fort…?
A good way, I texted. Everything’s good right now. Perfect. See u when we get home.
I switched off my phone, even though he was typing another text. Dev could wait, New York could wait, everything could wait. Now that I was in love, I wanted to revel in it for a while. I rolled closer to Juliet in our narrow bed and buried my face against her neck, breathing in the scent of my future. Potential energy transformed to kinetic energy.
Two clock gears, finally fitted into place.
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Chapter Thirty: Epilogue
Six months later
I stood on my toes, without recourse, without a safe word, gingerly sinking back into the black butterfly chair in my lover’s secret dungeon. “Ow, ow, ow,” I whispered.
“Hush. Don’t make me get the bigger one.”
Fort had settled into a routine of using the “big” or “bigger” dildo for the butterfly chair. The big one was extremely uncomfortable to take up one’s ass, but the bigger one was a monster, only used for punishments. Like if a maso-submissive was whining and complaining too much.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said. “It’s just… It really hurts.”
“That’s a good thing. Sit all the way back.”
He waited while I eased down, seating myself on the jutting shaft. When my ass cheeks finally contacted the chair, I sighed and laid back, taking deep breaths, squeezing on the width inside me as I acclimated to the feeling of being stretched.