“That’s all right,” he encourages. “Tell me what you can. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Hope floods my chest in a forceful, hot wave that makes my heart strain against my ribs. I want to share this burden with him, and I know he’s strong enough to help me bear it.
I take a deep breath and begin my confession. “I haven’t spoken to my family since I dropped out of college two years ago.”
He nods. “You said you didn’t need a degree to prove you’re an artist. But that’s not the real reason you quit school.”
“No,” I admit on a tremulous whisper. “I failed out. I stopped going to class. My parents were furious. My dad was so disappointed in me.”
Shame twists my gut on the admission. As much as I want to leave my toxic family in my past, some foolish, childish part of me still craves their approval and affection.
“Why did you stop going to class?” Dane presses gently. “I know you’re intelligent, so it has nothing to do with the difficulty of your course.”
The compliment bolsters me. He wants all of me, and he deems me worthy of him.
“I was depressed,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t say anything. He simply holds me and waits until I’m ready to continue.
I sort through my muddled thoughts and decide to start at the beginning. For so long, I’ve been terrified that Dane will learn my shameful secrets, but we’re beyond that now. I’m no longer afraid that he’ll turn from me in disgust if he knows the truth.
“I was raped on the night of my debutante ball.”
His body hardens to granite, and he’s so still that I don’t think he’s even breathing. After a tense moment, he resumes stroking my hair, but his muscles ripple and flex around me with unspent aggression. I know it’s on my behalf, and I don’t feel so much as a flicker of fear.
I tuck my face into his chest and breathe in his spicy cedar scent, allowing it to ground me while I talk about what I endured.
“It was my date, Tom. He was two years above me at college, and I didn’t know him well. My mom asked his mom if he would be my escort for the night, and he agreed. I thought he resented me. He seemed so angry all night.”
I’m detached from reality, floating in a space that’s neither past nor present. There’s only Dane and my voice, recalling what happened to me in a flat, distant tone.
“Tom got drunk at the open bar, and towards the end of the night, he said I owed him. He was smoking in the garden behind the Azalea Club. The ball was still going on inside, so everyone was busy drinking and dancing.”
The scent of cigarette smoke threads through Dane’s comforting cedarwood smell, but I continue as though compelled. The truth is drawn from my soul like poison.
“He pushed me up against the bricks, and I didn’t fight him. I just…let him do it. And I…” My throat closes, and nausea rolls through me. “I had my first orgasm.”
Dane’s hand stills in my hair again. He’s rigid around me, his entire, powerful body coiled tight.
“Later that summer, I saw him at a house party.” I’m no longer connected to my body. I’m just a voice, floating around us. “I knew he’d do it again. Iknew.And I let it happen anyway. It felt good. So, it happened again a few weeks later.” Another party, another shameful night of vicious pleasure. “And again.”
“Where is he?”
It takes me a moment to work out that the inhuman snarl came from Dane.
“He’s dead.” My voice remains disturbingly flat. “He decided to drive drunk after the last party. He never made it home.”
Dane’s fingers bite into my skin for a bruising moment, and the small flare of pain calls me back to reality. I blink and focus on his face. It’s carved in lines of rage, and his green eyes blaze with fury.
“So many times, I wished he was dead,” I confess on a strained whisper. “That’s why I became so depressed that I couldn’t get out of bed. I knew that the only way it would stop was if he was gone for good. Because I kept letting it happen. I think part of me wanted it to happen. And then he was dead, and it was like it was my fault.”
“Nothing he did was your fault,” Dane growls.
I shake my head. “I liked it. You’ve seen how I am. You know now.”
His eyes flash, and a shadow ticks at his jaw. “I am nothing like him. That’s not how it is between us.”
I shrink in his arms. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I know you would never hurt me like that. Everything we do is consensual. I trust you. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”
