And then I hear the soft jangle of a belt buckle. Followed by the fluid whisper of cool leather being wrapped around my wrists at my back.
“Nick . . . no.” I flinch, a jolt of alarm shooting into my veins. I tamp it down, knowing he would never hurt me or do anything I don’t want. “Not like this, okay? Not tonight.”
Nick and I have played at games like this before, but something is different about him tonight. I don’t know why he feels the need for this kind of control right now, but he is lost to it. I sense a darkness in him so strongly it startles me. Terrifies me.
And the leather doesn’t leave my wrists; it only tightens. Everything inside me freezes in an instant.
“Nick?” I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder but his eyes are wild and vacant. “Dammit, Nick. I said no!”
I scramble away from him. Pulling my hands out of his hold and kicking free of the sofa, I fall to the floor in an inelegant sprawl. I sit up, naked and shaking. My breath heaves in and out of my lungs as I stare up at him in shocked silence.
I’m not sure which of us is more horrified.
“Avery—fuck.”
He reaches for my hand to help me up, but I don’t take it. I move away from the sofa in a rush of limbs then slowly stand up, easily out of his reach.
“Now you’re afraid of me?” His face is a mask of contrition . . . and barely contained fury. “Jesus Christ.”
He swings his feet to the floor and stands, pulling up his black boxer briefs and pants and tucking his still-erect cock inside. He zips up tersely and reaches for his empty glass on the table.
I swallow hard, searching for words as I watch him stride away from me toward the kitchen. Hastily putting on my clothes, I follow after him.
“What was that about, Nick? What the hell were you doing?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
His flippant reply stops me cold in my tracks. I watch from behind him as he pours two fingers of liquor into the glass. I wince as he throws it back in one gulp. “Do you really think more alcohol will help?”
He grunts, not bothering to face me. “It’s been known to in the past.”
“Oh, really? You mean like the night you almost put a gun to your head in the back office at the gallery?” The glare he swivels on me nearly sends me back a pace. I’m sure that’s his intent, but I hold my ground. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you. Does it have something to do with Kathryn’s cancer? The fact that she’s dying?”
“This has nothing to do with her.”
It’s not much of answer, but at least he’s talking. “Was it the hospital, then? I noticed how uncomfortable you were there.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Forgoing the glass, he grabs the bottle of single malt and stalks past me, back into the living room. “Stop trying to analyze me, Avery. If I wanted a therapist I’d fucking hire one.”
“Maybe you should.”
He barks out a caustic laugh. Still keeping me at his back, he walks to the large living room window that looks down over Manhattan’s nighttime skyline and the two glistening rivers that flank the island. The first night he brought me here, I stood in front of that window marveling at the view below and the darkly handsome, mysterious man who had invited me into his world.
Dominic Baine had been a fascinating puzzle to me, one I couldn’t wait to solve.
Now I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever know him.
Will he ever truly let me in?
“What were you going to say to me earlier today at the rec center, Nick?” I watch his body tense at the question. The change that sweeps over him is almost palpable. “When I said I was proud of you, something happened. Did it have something to do with your past? Maybe something about your father, or the fight the two of you had that injured your hand?”
“Drop it, Avery.” He pivots around to face me now, his jaw clamped. Finally, he blows out a short breath. “You’re making something out of this that isn’t there.”
“Am I?” I slowly shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think the way you’re acting with me now is nothing.”
“How I’m acting?” He holds his arms out, the web of scars gleaming on his forearm and his right hand, which is wrapped around the neck of the half-empty bottle of whisky. I notice he’s not quite steady on his feet. “You said you needed to fuck, so we fucked. Now you’re looking for reasons to fight with me.”
Anger and hurt surges up inside me like a black wave I can’t stop. “I didn’t need to fuck tonight. I needed tenderness from you, Nick. I needed comfort. Connection. Things you seemed willing and capable of giving me a few nights ago, so why not now?” I hate the way my voice trembles, the way my whole body shudders with the raw ache of my disappointment. “I told you that if we had any chance of making it, there couldn’t be any more lies or secrets—and you agreed. You agreed there would be no more games of control. No more power plays.”