“Notasay.Thesay. I’d never do anything to you that you wouldn’t want me to.”
I jerk my eyes from hers, instantly regretting that I corrected her. That sounded like agreement and admission that I want to do this to her.
“Riven, explain to her why you ever even brought this up,” Amick says softly. Too fucking soft. I hate that tone.
“I don’t fucking know why I did, and I don’t want to find out why.”
That’s the truth.
Not the clean version. Not the pretty one.
Just the truth.
Amick studies me for a long moment. It makes my damn scalp itch like he’s digging into my brain.
“Stop treating this like it’s something dark you need to bury deep,” he says. “Because that’s not what this is.”
I let out a breath through my nose. “It feels like it is.”
“That’s because you’re comparing it to what happened to you and her before. You’re taking a memory of abuse and trying to decide if you’re thinking or considering anything that looks similar. And if it does resemble, it must mean the same thing.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t interrupt him.
“Let me be clear. What was done to both of you before was punishment. It was one-sided, there was no consent, and you had no control over it. That’s what made it harm.”
His gaze flicks between us now, and my eyes move over to her. We stay staring at one another.
“What she’s asking for now isn’t punishment. It’s not harm. It’s not even about you inflicting pain in the way you keep framing it. It’s about you taking something that used to represent loss of control and turning it into something she is choosing, fully and willingly, with you.”
My throat tightens when she doesn’t look away from me. She doesn’t correct him or even flinch from his words.
He keeps going, like he needs me to actually hear what he’s saying.
“That doesn’t make you the person who hurt you. And it doesn’t make you like the people who hurt her. Because thedefining factor isn’t what you’re doing. It’s whether you both have consent in this. If either of you can stop it at any time and you both respect that decision, then it’s not the same thing.”
Silence settles, but I never remove my eyes from Thayla’s. There’s so much trust in her stained-glass irises. She looks at me like there’s never been a question in her mind whether she could trust me with something like this or not.
“If it isn’t the same, what is it? How do you even define the desire to do this? From either of us,” I ask, quieter now.
“Controlled intensity between two consenting people. Sexual trust,” he says simply and my fucking face flames.
“What is it?” she asks as soon as she notices the color on my cheeks.
“I’m struggling with that.”
“The sexual trust part?”
I nod.
“Yeah. I don’t know where that fits in. I don’t want you to think I’m aroused by the idea of whipping you. That’s not…I’m not.”
“I know you aren’t. That thought never crossed my mind.”
I release a heavy breath.
“Riven, why don’t you try telling her exactly what you imagined doing in that moment you said anything.”
“Exactly what I imagined?” I ask.
