His eyes run over my face. “I believe you. Stay here, all right? I’ll be back in thirty seconds.”
He plants a kiss on the top of my head and eases me off his lap. Alone, I look down at myself and see my underwear, the redness at the back of my thighs where he’s spanked me, the leather of his sofa. What the hell? I’m a grown woman. I’m here to work and he’s just reduced me to an infantile mess.
I hear a tap running in the bathroom. He comes back with a damp face cloth and sits down next to me. When he tries to tug me back into his lap I shake my head. It’s too embarrassing to be treated this way. But he gives me a hard look. “You’re still upset. Come here.”
His hand is holding mine so firmly. I look at the tearstains on his shirt. I put them there, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Just a bit more cuddling. It feels so nice.
So I settle myself back how I was, feeling his chest rise and fall against my ribs as he wipes my face with the wet cloth. I close my eyes and I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a very long time. I’ve never really enjoyed being in a man’s arms before. Adam was very lean, so it was bony and uncomfortable resting against him, and he didn’t really do cuddling. Frederic is large and warm, with dark hairs on his strong forearms and a solid frame. He’s got exactly the right sort of broad, muscled chest for weeping tears onto.
“Has anything stressful happened lately, minette,” he murmurs, “or are you worried about anything?”
Everything. I’m stressed about everything, past and future. This is the only thing that makes sense right now, lying against you. “What is minette?” I ask, stalling for time.
“It means kitty, kitten.”
“Oh. That’s sweet. Yes, I suppose I’ve felt stressed.” I open my eyes and play with the collar of his shirt, twisting the points in my fingers, as it’s easier than looking at him.
“Is it about this job? You haven’t signed anything yet, you know,” he reminds me. I shake my head. “Do you want to talk about it? You’re not going to make me uncomfortable, chérie, by anything you say. I want you to talk to me.”
Something twists inside me. Why couldn’t Adam have ever said something like that? I’ve never told anyone what went wrong between us. “I suppose it’s not a surprise that I cried just now,” I say slowly. “If it’s a sex thing, I mean, what you did. I always seem to cry after sex.”
A small line appears between his eyebrows. “You do? With who?”
“With my ex. We were together for nearly a year and we broke up a few months ago.” Broke up makes it sound like it was mutual. Apart from the sex, we were happy. Or, at least, I thought we were.
“Was he cruel to you?”
“No,” I say hastily. “Nothing like that. He was very nice. It was just sex, and I would usually come, but afterward...” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I would just get really upset.”
His green eyes study me. “Can you explain it a little more? What did you feel, exactly?”
I hide my face in my hands, feelin
g sick. All the shame and confusion of the last few months comes welling up inside me. “I, um.” I heave a sigh. “I used to get so angry with him when we were in bed. It’s supposed to be the moment you feel most connected and tender with someone, isn’t it? But I would watch him while he made love to me, feeling so much hatred toward him. Thinking the most awful things about him. I would scratch him. Not in that sexy way that people talk about, because they’re enjoying themselves so much. I would tear at him, on purpose. I drew blood a couple of times. He would get angry with me, I would cry. Other times I would just sort of grit my teeth through the whole thing and then go to the bathroom and cry so he couldn’t see me.” I finish miserably, “I don’t know why.”
Frederic doesn’t say anything. He just runs his fingers through my hair, looking down at me.
“I’m not right in the head. I’m screwed up about sex, for no reason at all.”
“Oh, I don’t know about being not right in the head. Unconventional, perhaps, but there’s nothing wrong with you.” Frederic sounds like none of this has fazed him, which is categorically different to Adam’s confusion and disgust. I’m relieved, but I still don’t understand.
“There’s something weird going on, isn’t there? People don’t usually bawl because they’ve had sex.”
“No, they don’t,” he agrees. “You didn’t seem to enjoy going to bed with your boyfriend, so it seems you needed something else.”
“What?”
He smiles at my mystified expression. “Can’t you guess? You’re a clever young woman.”
I shake my head. I’ve only ever been with Adam so I haven’t got anything to compare him to. When people complain about sex it seems to be because they’re not getting enough or they’re not coming. I had both, so what did I have to cry about?
“No? Well, I have the answer.”
I stare at him, bewildered. “What is it?”
“Dinner. Shall we go out, if you’re feeling better?” He squeezes my shoulders lightly, looking so gentle that it’s hard to believe this is the same man who snapped That’s not acceptable, Evie and spanked me over his dining table.
“Food, at a time like this?” But I let him help me up. I’ve stopped crying and I don’t feel hot and upset anymore. Some food and some cold water does sound good.