he strips and enters the shower. There is no command to join him or even an invite to stay in the room. I sit down on the covered commode and pout, burying my chin against my fists. I stare at my sock covered toes. The socks are red, another reminder of so much spilled blood last night. I pull them off and toss them into the wicker hamper.
We didn’t discuss it, meaning I wasn’t given permission because I didn’t ask, but I am dressed and ready…just in case we have to leave the penthouse in a hurry…just in case Thomas needs us.
Over the spray of the shower I hear Garrett say, “I don’t doubt you love me. That isn’t why I’m not going to marry you.”
My heart drops to the floor, feeling like a weight is holding it there. My stomach turns over and for the first time in two years I feel doubt. “Then why?”
“You don’t trust me.”
“How can you say that? I’m asking you to marry me.”
“You don’t trust me to bring your darkness.”
I slump, defeated, all the air leaving my lungs at once. He’s right. It’s why I left him to be mastered by Lord Fyre over a year ago. I wanted to embrace the deviant need singing in my veins, and I knew Garrett couldn’t take me to the brink of sanity and back. I knew he’d never walk the fine line of life and death with me. He wouldn’t hold my mortality in his grasp. And ever since I went to Lord Fyre and returned to Garrett there has been no mention of his wanting to bring my darkness. I know that there are people who pay him ungodly amounts of money to take them to the edge and back, but me, his property, he treats with kid gloves. Since becoming the ménage, I rely on Thomas to be that Master to me. That part is no secret. Garrett knows I dance a fine line of sanity with Thomas. Our play is dark and dangerous. I know he knows I love it. But with Garrett there is only pleasure and pain, no adrenaline rush. I’ve started to believe he isn’t capable of truly mastering me, although Thomas assures me he could as Lord Ice if he chose to.
One step at a time. Get through this …
My head is spinning, heart racing, palms sweating…and my inner darkness is absolutely screaming bloody murder inside my head. I can’t give up Lord Fyre! “What does that have to do with me being your wife? How can that mean anything at all when I am talking about raising a child with you?”
He leaves the shower, a towel already wrapped around his waist. He is a commanding presence, tall, lithely muscular. Need strikes hot, low in my belly, and I realize how desperately I want him to make good on a long ago promise that I will someday meet his alter ego.
Still dripping, he strides into the bedroom leaving me alone in the bathroom. So that’s it? That’s how he intends to leave this conversation? I don’t think so.
I follow him and find he is already under the covers. Not knowing what else to do, I sit on the edge of the bed and look at him. His eyes are open, but he isn’t looking at me. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry about everything.”
“You should be.”
His sharp retort takes me by surprise. Shit. I have really screwed up.
“I know you won’t possibly understand, but when I discovered I was pregnant, I was terrified. I panicked.”
He sits up, the covers pooling around his waist. He looks deep into my eyes. “ That is a normal reaction to pregnancy. Keeping the fact from someone you love and who loves you back with every ounce of their being is not .”
“I just needed to think things through. I needed to get it clear in my head what I wanted to do about it before I told you or Thomas.”
“And yet still you went to him first because not knowing him as well as you think you do, you assumed he would be on your side if you chose an abortion. Whereas, you thought I would be selfish and demand you have a child you didn’t want based on a conversation we had a year ago? I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s your life. Your body. Your right to
We didn’t discuss it, meaning I wasn’t given permission because I didn’t ask, but I am dressed and ready…just in case we have to leave the penthouse in a hurry…just in case Thomas needs us.
Over the spray of the shower I hear Garrett say, “I don’t doubt you love me. That isn’t why I’m not going to marry you.”
My heart drops to the floor, feeling like a weight is holding it there. My stomach turns over and for the first time in two years I feel doubt. “Then why?”
“You don’t trust me.”
“How can you say that? I’m asking you to marry me.”
“You don’t trust me to bring your darkness.”
I slump, defeated, all the air leaving my lungs at once. He’s right. It’s why I left him to be mastered by Lord Fyre over a year ago. I wanted to embrace the deviant need singing in my veins, and I knew Garrett couldn’t take me to the brink of sanity and back. I knew he’d never walk the fine line of life and death with me. He wouldn’t hold my mortality in his grasp. And ever since I went to Lord Fyre and returned to Garrett there has been no mention of his wanting to bring my darkness. I know that there are people who pay him ungodly amounts of money to take them to the edge and back, but me, his property, he treats with kid gloves. Since becoming the ménage, I rely on Thomas to be that Master to me. That part is no secret. Garrett knows I dance a fine line of sanity with Thomas. Our play is dark and dangerous. I know he knows I love it. But with Garrett there is only pleasure and pain, no adrenaline rush. I’ve started to believe he isn’t capable of truly mastering me, although Thomas assures me he could as Lord Ice if he chose to.
One step at a time. Get through this …
My head is spinning, heart racing, palms sweating…and my inner darkness is absolutely screaming bloody murder inside my head. I can’t give up Lord Fyre! “What does that have to do with me being your wife? How can that mean anything at all when I am talking about raising a child with you?”
He leaves the shower, a towel already wrapped around his waist. He is a commanding presence, tall, lithely muscular. Need strikes hot, low in my belly, and I realize how desperately I want him to make good on a long ago promise that I will someday meet his alter ego.
Still dripping, he strides into the bedroom leaving me alone in the bathroom. So that’s it? That’s how he intends to leave this conversation? I don’t think so.
I follow him and find he is already under the covers. Not knowing what else to do, I sit on the edge of the bed and look at him. His eyes are open, but he isn’t looking at me. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry about everything.”
“You should be.”
His sharp retort takes me by surprise. Shit. I have really screwed up.
“I know you won’t possibly understand, but when I discovered I was pregnant, I was terrified. I panicked.”
He sits up, the covers pooling around his waist. He looks deep into my eyes. “ That is a normal reaction to pregnancy. Keeping the fact from someone you love and who loves you back with every ounce of their being is not .”
“I just needed to think things through. I needed to get it clear in my head what I wanted to do about it before I told you or Thomas.”
“And yet still you went to him first because not knowing him as well as you think you do, you assumed he would be on your side if you chose an abortion. Whereas, you thought I would be selfish and demand you have a child you didn’t want based on a conversation we had a year ago? I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s your life. Your body. Your right to
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