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CHAPTER 27

Reeve showered with me, but despite his reassurance from earlier, he didn’t manhandle me the way he usually did. Instead, he soaped me up and washed me off, only touching me with the purpose to clean me, never to pleasure.

In stark contrast to his gentle treatment, tension sat taut in his shoulders and back. As he wrapped a large white towel around me, his jaw set and his lips turned down, I considered suggesting that a hard fuck might do us both some good, but I held my tongue. I’d had over six years to learn to live with the reality of what Bridge did to me. I could give Reeve at least one night.

Or, that’s what I told myself I should do, anyway. But then when he placed a soft kiss on my nose instead of crushing his mouth to mine like I wished he would, I couldn’t help myself from saying, “Is this one of those times that we’re being sweet, then?”

He pursed his lips. “We’re getting clean,” he said, as if that was an explanation that would make sense. Then he headed into the bedroom.

“As long as we’re eventually going to get dirty again.” But the door had shut behind him and I was alone in the bathroom.

I wiped the condensation off the mirror above the sink and studied my reflection. It was the same face I’d always seen and yet I felt like I was only just beginning to get a sense of who I was looking at. Someone damaged and broken. Someone who’d lost. A lot. Also, though, someone who’d rebuilt. She was still a work in progress, but she wasn’t the catastrophe that she’d thought she was.

I’d come a long way since Bridge. Since Amber. I hadn’t realized that until now. I’d thought I’d just run away, that I’d been hiding. Not ever looking back, it was impossible to see the distance I’d traveled. Revisiting the past with Reeve, I could see it. I could see that I’d survived.

And now you’re worried about a man who’s treating you too kindly.

I had to laugh.

Then, leaving a towel wrapped around me, I took off the one from my head, brushed my teeth, and joined Reeve in the bedroom.

The fire was going, and it hadn’t been before, which was a nice touch on a cold spring night after a hot shower. “Thanks for that.” I nodded to the hearth.

“Hmm? Oh. You’re welcome.” He’d put on boxer briefs and was sitting on the bed, his hands laced behind his head, looking distracted and as delicious as one of those underwear models – not the too skinny, boyish waifs, but the ones built like warriors. The kind of man who looked like he could fight for a woman and win. He’d protect her from harm and then brutalize her himself but only just enough. Complete trust.

Was that what love looked like? Was Reeve what love looked like?

I had a confiscated set of keys that said I didn’t trust him like that yet, so not likely. And obviously he couldn’t trust me either.

The thought scratched at my insides, uncomfortable and itchy. Adding to it was the fact that Reeve wasn’t naked. We’d never gone to bed with any strip of clothing between us. We’d never gone to sleep without sex.

I bit back my frown and settled in on the bench with a bottle of lotion. If I wasn’t in bed yet, then the status quo hadn’t changed. And I had dry legs. That ought to buy me some time.

Though Reeve watched me as I rubbed the lotion into my skin, I’d almost completely finished with my legs when he finally said something.

“Have you…” He hesitated until I looked up. Or maybe he’d hesitated until he’d found his words. “Have you had anyone take you in the ass since what happened with that fuckface?”

I smiled, because of his term for Bridge and also because he’d finally revealed what was going on in his head. This was what he was worried about, then. This I could deal with.

Pouring lotion in my hand for my arms, I answered truthfully. “I have not. Before, yes. Not after.”

“Yet, you were going to let me…?”

“I told you I’m not very good at saying no.” I stroked the cream up and down my left arm, hoping if I acted like the topic wasn’t that big of a deal then Reeve would adopt the same attitude.

Even if it was a partial lie. It was a big deal. Potentially.

He shifted on the bed, sitting forward. “You mean you’ll never tell me no?”

“As far as sex goes? I doubt it.”

“Now I’m mad about that too.” He swung his legs off the bed, got up, and moved around the room aimlessly.

I’d known he was agitated, but had believed him when he said it wasn’t directed at me. “Then you are mad at me.” I hated the emotion in my voice. “Because I didn’t tell you? Or because I don’t say no?”

He ran a hand through his hair that was now nearly dry. “Not mad at you. Mad at me.” With hands on his hips, he faced me. “If you’re not going to have a safe word, we need to set some limits between us.”

“I wouldn’t say no anal. I wouldn’t say no objects. I’d never think I’d need to say no scissors.” Frustrated, I popped the lid closed on the bottle of lotion and began working my right arm. It was a good conversation to have, actually. I just didn’t know how to participate in it. “I told you I don’t know what my limits are.”