“Oh, sugar.” He walked to the bed, sat next to her, and untied the blindfold, barely resisting the instinct to pull her into his lap and cradle her. “You don’t have to do it this way. I love you. I only want another chance. I don’t need you to push yourself into this part before you’re ready.”
She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, then held out the box. “I am ready.”
He took the gift from her, her words not lining up in his head. “I don’t understand.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “You were right about what you said in the hospital. I’m always giving you lectures about being true to who you are. That very first night when we made love all those years ago, I told you I wouldn’t be with you if you were going to deny your nature. And then I spent the next ten years denying mine.”
His heart seemed to pause mid-beat, and his fingers tightened around the box.
“Ever since the rape, I’ve tried to block the submissive part of myself. Not only because of the fear, but because of what I thought it said about me. Davis told me that night that I’d better get used to what he was doing because I was a born whore. That no decent woman would enjoy a man tying her up and hitting her.” She looked down at her hands. “And part of me knew he was trying to be cruel, to humiliate me, but another part of me believed him.”
His jaw clenched. “That fucking bastard.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “My career is teaching women to value themselves, to take pride in who they are, and to live the life they want. I thought what that meant for me was striving for some idealistic image I created in my head when I was a kid. But it’s not. I’m proud of the person I’ve become. I’m good at what I do, have great friends, and have made a nice life for myself.”
He smiled and pushed a wisp of hair from her face.
She lifted her eyes to him. “But I’m also a girl who gets all wobbly-kneed when her man demands to fuck her in a parking lot in the storming rain. And I’m not going to be ashamed of that either.”
Her words and the memory it brought forth jolted through his nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. His cock flexed beneath the towel.
“I’m done worrying about what other people think. And I’m done letting what Davis did define me.”
He glanced down at her scars. “And the panic attacks, the flashbacks?”
She stared at him a moment, a small crease forming between her brows. “I think what scared me the most was losing control—being hurt again. But I realized the other night when I went to you without a safe word that submission is not about loss of control, it’s about trust. And I trust you.” She took a deep breath, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. “I love you. Always have.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing her words, letting the fear that had gripped his insides for the last few weeks melt away. She loved him back. Thank you, God. As long as he had that, everything else could be worked out.
He reached out and traced one of the scars that striped her sternum, the gentle caress making goose bumps rise on her pale skin. “I love you, too, sugar. More than anything.”
“Thank you for being so hardheaded and not giving up on me,” she said, her voice catching a bit and her green eyes going shiny. “Now, open that damn box before I get all weepy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t want her to cry—the moment was too sweet to mar with tears—so he pulled the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid. Inside, a sterling silver circle, its only adornment a simple O-ring hanging from it.
To the rest of the world, a pretty necklace.
To him—everything.
A wide grin spread across his face, the joy within him so strong, he was sure he could bleed sunshine.
She put her hands out to him, wrists up, just as she had that first night they’d made love. “Make me yours, Reid Jamison.”
Brynn shivered as Reid’s heated gaze caressed her naked form, heightening her awareness of every lonely inch between them. He lifted her wrists to his mouth and kissed each one. “I think it may take more than a collar for me to stake my claim.”r: Roni Loren
And hell if she didn’t want anything more in that moment.
She curled her fingers into his T-shirt as he pressed her against the front of the car, the residual heat from the engine warming her back. His hands traced up her waist, over her rib cage, and then cupped her breasts. She tilted her head back, her moan chasing a clap of thunder.
His forefingers glided up and hooked her spaghetti straps, then yanked them down along with the top of dress and the cups of her strapless bra. Her breasts tumbled out, the nipples already tight and needy when they hit the night air. She gasped as his hot breath slid along her bared skin. “Someone could see us.”
“Yep.” He circled an areola with his fingertip, the touch sending electric sparks straight to her center. “And I bet you’re dripping just thinking about it.”
He pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger hard enough for her to writhe. “Shit.”
He stared down at her. “You’ve convinced yourself you’re a good girl. The social worker in the conservative suits who teaches women about empowerment. But underneath all that, good doesn’t get you off, does it?”
She closed her eyes, unable to hold his probing stare.