“I’ll never know. There was no before. He was always there.”
She shifted on the bed, trying a different tactic. “Do you think I like control because I was assaulted?”
His brows quirked. “Is that why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe it played a part, maybe it didn’t. Like I said, I liked teasing boys from the start, liked that feminine power. But who knows? Doesn’t mean I’m going to deny who I am over it. Those girls win in that case. I know in my gut what turns me on. If it makes me happy, is consensual, and does it for whomever I’m with, then the origin doesn’t matter. No one gets to have that much say over my life.”
Gibson’s lips flattened into a hard line. “But you standing up and saying, hey, I li
ke to tie up guys and dominate them is a sign of strength. Toughness. For me, I don’t know how to admit that I like the things I like without feeling like a failure as a man, like I’m confirming something others knew all along. That I’m soft or needy or whatever.”
She would’ve rolled her eyes over the macho issue if not for the pain in his voice. This was a real thing for Gibson. His dad had made him feel less than, damaged, and that had gotten burned onto his psyche. Your mother would rather be dead than deal with all your neediness. How could that not fuck a kid up? She straightened into a sitting position. “Look at me, Gib.”
He did, effortlessly submissive when his guard was down.
“You know who’s needy? Goddamned dominants. All that do this for me and this and this. Please me. Serve me. My needs are number one. We must have all the control. We need it. God, how does any submissive put up with us?”
His lips twitched.
“So let’s get that out of the way. And, second, you need to hear this. Since that day in the training room—when you completely misbehaved, by the way—I haven’t had another man touch me. There’s been lots of masturbation. Lots.”
Now it was his turn to show shock.
“And you know why I want you so much, why I couldn’t move on? Because you’re strong and sexy and smart. And cocky as shit. And you make me laugh.” She laid her hand on his chest. “And because there’s nothing that turns me on more than a guy who’s tough enough and confident enough to give up control to me. I am a dirty and twisted and filthy-minded mofo. I want to hurt you. I want to make you beg. I want to take over your body and make every part of it my own. To see you desperate and coming like you were tonight. Primal and messy and lost to it. I want to push your edges and explore my own. And I want you to be able to love it, too. During and after.”
His gaze slid away, and she reached out to grab his chin to force him to hold her eye contact.
“Tonight, how you were, was epically hot, Gibson. It was a fantasy in the flesh for me. You coming all over yourself and roaring like a beast? Hell yes. I will vote for that over and over again. I wish you could let yourself watch that video. If you doubt your strength, your power, just watch yourself, see how beautifully intense you are in submission. Seeing you like that makes me want to thank the universe that you exist, that there’s someone else who gets it. It makes me want to parade you around at the Ranch and show you off because of how fucking lucky I’d be to have a man like you.”
He closed his eyes.
She released his chin. “I know that part’s hard for you. It’s okay. That’s what having a relationship involves. I’m dominant, but that doesn’t mean we don’t negotiate and compromise. My penchant for exhibitionism isn’t a deal breaker, Gib. We can play in private. I can respect that it’s a hard limit for you.”
“That feels like failing you. I don’t want you to have to give up something you enjoy.” His eyes met hers, torment there.
“It’s okay. I’m telling you I’m willing to compromise there. But I have my own hard limits. And one is that I can’t be anyone’s secret. I lost my virginity to Jesse. While he was fucking me and teaching me the fine art of blow jobs at night, he was parading around his ‘real’ girlfriend at school like she was a princess. It made me feel like I was something to be embarrassed about. So I don’t do secrets anymore. And I won’t be yours. If we do this, people will know we’re together. And they know what I am, so they will make assumptions about you.”
Regret crossed his face. “I’m so sorry that I put you in that position. You should never have to be anyone’s secret.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I won’t be. But you have to tell me if you can handle that.”
A lost look filled his eyes. Like he was already saying good-bye. “I want to, Sam. I want to be able to give that to you. So much. I just . . . don’t know if I can. I . . . Being out in that way terrifies me. And I hate that. Hate that I can’t seem to beat it. I think about it and I want to run.”
The stark honesty in his voice was hard to argue with. And old instincts wanted to surface. In her life, if someone didn’t want to be with her, she wouldn’t push. You didn’t want to cling to parents who would never adopt you or try to force bonds with foster siblings who didn’t want you there. You didn’t want to set yourself up for that letdown.
But the yearning in Gibson’s voice was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying he didn’t want to be with her. He was saying he didn’t think he could fix the anxiety. It was the same way she hated how she’d frozen up when those guys had grabbed her. No matter how much she wanted to react a different way, her body had its own ideas. But that was an anomaly. Before she went through self-defense classes, she used to jump at every little thing, panic when anyone touched her too roughly or came up behind her.
She’d beaten that back by going to classes over and over, letting men and women bigger than her grab her and try to take her down. The more aggressive and violent those practice attacks got, the more her panic ebbed. Her therapist had told her to take things slowly, work up to it. Instead, she’d jumped in and charged through the blinding fear, taking it head-on, having the panic attacks in front of the class and then telling the instructor, Come at me again. Go big or go home.
It had sucked. It had worked.
So now as she stared down at Gibson, another idea came to her, one that was steeped in risk and edged in danger. One she was almost afraid to think.
What if . . .
Chapter 10
Sam watched Gibson with careful eyes, wondering if he’d think she was crazy. She probably was. She licked her lips. “Do you really want to, Gib? If you could change things, your reactions, would you?”