Without another word, he pushes the knife off the bed, discards his gloves, and unties my wrists, massaging my fingers gently and avoiding eye contact. He pulls me into his arms, and I lay across his chest, aching and sore with my dick as confused as I am. I wait for him to speak but he doesn’t.
“You good?” I ask, long past the time when the silence has become strained.
“Are you going to try and leave me now?” he asks, arms stiffening around me as though daring me to do it.
“Because of a little rough sex?” I ask, even though we both know it was more than that.
“Because I’m a sexual deviant?” he asks tersely. “Because I want to hurt you without your consent?”
“You did warn me,” I say in his defense. Though the experience was much more visceral than any he could have prepared me for. “Did you want it to feel like rape for me?”
“Yes. I wanted to do worse. Cut you more. Make you bleed. Paint designs onto your skin with your own blood.”
“That’s pretty hardcore.”
“Yes.”
“What stopped you?”
“I have rules,” he says.
“That’s good,” I say, feeling slightly reassured. “Would you have stopped if I’d asked you to?”
“Probably.” He looks guilty, a rarity for him.
“I believe you. And I believe you wanted to hurt me more, but you didn’t because you knew I wouldn’t like it. That’s good you realized that.” I don’t know much about Cassius’s internal programming, but I know he tries very hard to not upset me.
“My mother was raped,” he says quietly, still touching my wrists where the rope rubbed them raw. “My father was her rapist. He’d been stalking her for a while and found a way to get inside the house. That was before all the security measures we have now. He’s serving time at King’s County Prison, not for her rape but for first-degree murder. His bad behavior caught up with him.”
“What?” It bothers me that he never told me any of this. If I’d known this was some sort of catharsis, I could have been better prepared, but then he probably wanted my terror to be real. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t answer, only looks at me like I should know the reason. “Did she tell you all that?”
“No, I hired a private investigator who dug up the original police report. It had been buried by her lawyers so the media would never catch wind of it. That’s not the sort of publicity she wanted.”
“That’s insane.”
“What’s more insane is that she didn’t abort me. It would have been the smart thing to do, for her career especially. Who wants to carry their rapist’s child?”
“It wasn’t your fault what he did to her.”
“She once told me that she’d always wanted a baby. Not a child or a son but a baby. Imagine her disappointment when she ended up with me.”
“Don’t say that. You’re amazing. You’re thoughtful, generous—”
“I’m acting,” he interrupts, eyes flashing. “I’m not really any of those things. I’ve just modeled my behavior off people who are popular or charming or clever. I am Beaumont Rivage fromSunset Cove.”
“No wonder I think you’re so hot,” I joke, and he glares at me, so I go on to say, “You aresomeof those things. No one is that good of an actor. And besides, it’s your actions that count more than anything else. Remember when I was depressed about not having any girlfriends out here, and you invited the Babes over to watchCluelessand eat stuffed-crust pizza.”
“I just wanted you to get out of bed so I could fuck you,” he says sourly.
“Remember when you did that cleanse with me?”
“I cheated,” he says.
“Asshole,” I exclaim indignantly. I knew I smelled cheeseburger on him. “But then you took me out for fro-yo and to the batting cages, so you must have felt bad about lying to me.”
“I like watching you swing a bat.”
I shove his shoulder because he’s so impossible sometimes. “Whatever, Cassius. You’re way nicer than you want to admit. All those names you call me when we’re having sex, what you’re really telling me is that you love me and need me and couldn’t stand to live without me.”
