Thank God she had that hand to hold on to, because the room started to spin out around her.
Dane had given her so much, and all he’d asked of her was her support. He’d wanted her acceptance of who he really was. To hear the story he had told, she was the one who’d given him the strength to embrace what he wanted from his life.
And she’d rejected him for it. She’d been so damn scared that if he didn’t share every part of her day, he’d walk away, but holding on too tightly had pushed him even further.
If she wanted him back—if he would even take her back, she had to love him just the way he was. Domineering bedroom behavior and firefighting heroics and cliff-diving claustrophobia and all.
She had to make a leap.
And maybe they wouldn’t spend every moment tied together, but that was fine, wasn’t it? She’d walked into their relationship afraid of ropes and everything they meant. She didn’t want to be bound to anyone who was destined to leave. She was too scared of being left hamstrung and helpless, unable to move or free herself or breathe.
A hysterical peal of laughter threatened her throat. Maybe she needed the kind of rope he threw himself off mountains with. Strong enough to keep a person tethered—to keep them safe when they leapt off into thin air.
But flexible enough to bounce back. To stretch. To allow two people to be whomever they were in whatever parts of their life they chose to pursue.
Dane had eased her into every facet of being with him sexually. He’d restrained her with her own will to obey and with loose scarves that she could escape with a flick of her wrists. Only when she’d asked had he given her the rest of it. He’d helped her confront her fear, and the experience had been one of the most intense, beautiful, incredible ones of her life.
She’d been afraid of having him in her life without having him by her side.
But he was the kind of man worth facing fears over. Worth leaping after.
Worth trusting.
And believing that—at the end of the day—he’d still be there.
chapter THIRTY-TWO
Dane held his breath through the first couple of rings. He’d been putting this off too long, but it was time.
His mother still hadn’t talked to him since he’d dropped his bombshell on her. None of the guys from the adventure club had been in touch—not that they really ever were, outside of arranging a trip. Lexie sure as hell hadn’t called.
He hadn’t expected her to, and yet . . . He was still so convinced he was in the right. He’d made a decision about his life, and she’d rejected it and him. There’d been this part of him that had been sure she’d come to her senses.
Then again, he’d done a pretty good job of burning that bridge. He could have handled it better, or told her what he was thinking earlier, or made any effort at all to talk it through with her. Instead, he’d pretended everything was fine until he’d exploded.
He’d said some awful things on his way out the door—things that had felt true at the time, but now the memory of them was etched like the shadow of a bomb into his brain.
He could have conducted himself better. She could have, too.
But that was over now. He was starting something new.
Only to do that, he had to go back.
When the third ring came, he sighed out a long breath, and by the fourth, he was mentally composing a voicemail in his head. But before it could click over, the line picked up.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
There was a brief pause. “Dane?”
“Yeah. It’s me. How are you?”
“Fine enough. Didn’t expect to hear from you.”
That hurt. Dane had been awful about staying in touch. Every call was a reminder of a life he didn’t live anymore and a place he’d rather be. “Yeah.” He cupped the nape of his neck. “Sorry. Work’s been crazy.”
“Yeah, your mom tells me you’re some hotshot exec type now.”
Interesting. So Mom hadn’t gone running to him after Dane’s revelation. Well, good. That meant he got to tell him himself.
“I was.”
“Was?”
“I quit. This week. I . . . I think it’s time I go into the family business.”
The line crackled with static, and for a second, he worried the call had dropped. Then, finally, his dad asked, “Really? Now?”
“What better time?”
It all came spilling out of him then. The realization he’d had and the change he’d decided to make. In just the last few days, he’d already taken the first steps. He was living off savings, and he’d have to pick up something part-time, but things were in motion now.
He hadn’t felt so free in years.
“That’s good, son. That’s real good. I’m proud of you.”
Dane’s eyes stung. “That means a lot.”
He hadn’t been expecting his dad to say anything bad about it or anything, but after Lexie and his mom . . . Well, he hadn’t been sure.
Having someone in his corner was like his rib cage finally expanding. Like taking his first breath of good clean air in years.
But his father hadn’t finished saying his piece yet. “It ain’t an easy business, though. You know that. It’s got risks.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“I suppose you would. Well, good. As long as you’re getting in it for the right reasons.”
“I think I am.” He wanted to honor his brother’s memory and make him proud. He wanted his work to mean something. He wanted to help. Huffing out a breath, he scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Listen, I want to talk about it more. But I’m thinking. How about I head on out there? I got some time on my hands now.”
His father’s voice was rolling and slow. “Well, I think that’d be just fine.”
“It’s been a long time.” Too long.
“Yeah, it has. You’re welcome anytime, you know. Gracie’ll be over the moon to see you, if nothing else.”
Oh, hell. His dad’s old mutt. He missed the girl. “It’d be good to see her, too.”
This was verging into dangerously mushy territory, by their standards, anyway. He swiped at a stray bit of dampness around his eyes.
Fortunately, before he could get any sappier and actually express an emotion out loud, knocking sounded at his door. He frowned, crossing the room toward it.
He peered through the peephole and just about dropped the phone.
Closing his eyes, he let his head thump against the wood. It’d be signal enough that he was there and planning to answer.
“Hey, Dad,” he said, voice still just a little bit raw. “I gotta go. I’ll look at flights for heading out there and let you know what I find, okay?”
“Sure, son. Thanks for the call.”
They said their good-byes, and he hung up. Still gripping his phone tight enough to shatter the case, he opened his eyes again and lifted his head, standing up straight and taking a deep breath.
He undid the locks and tugged at the door.
And it didn’t even matter that he’d given himself that minute or so to prepare for it. The shock of seeing Lexie in the flesh and standing at his door still hit like a hammer to his heart. Hadn’t he just been thinking to himself how much he missed her, how disappointed he was that she’d felt no need to apologize at all?
Now she was here, and the very sight of her staggered him. She just looked so good—this weird, gorgeous, perfect in-between sort of Lexie. She wore her hair half down and her lipstick muted, and her outfit would take her to the office, sure, but it would take her just about anywhere else, too. She wasn’t quite the girl he’d talked into letting it all hang out, but she wasn’t the ice queen she’d tried so hard to come across as the first few months he’d known her. She looked like she was making someone new out of all those pieces, and he loved what he saw so much.
He loved it even more when he looked down.
In her hands was a length of . . . bungee cord.
His breath went shallow. He was trying not
to jump to conclusions here. Even in his wildest fantasies where she had come to him naked and already bound, he’d never imagined this. It was better. It was real.
“Lexie.” Her name fell out of his mouth like it had been hanging there, unspoken for days, and who knew—maybe it had.
“Dane. Sir. I . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me. But I am so, so sorry.”
The length of cord bit into Lexie’s hands as she stood there. Everything in her was stretched so tight right now, the ache between her shoulder blades sharp enough it could cut through her clothes. She wanted to go to her knees, and she wanted to run. She wanted him to forgive her.
But that wasn’t something she could force. She’d tried to manipulate him last time, throwing down ultimatums and walking away with nothing, but she’d learned her lesson. It was like Evan had reminded her. She could love someone who wasn’t like her. She could respect another person’s choices.
She could trust a bond to stretch and give, while still holding tight.
Fingers shaking, she held out the rope. “It’s—it’s a symbol, I guess. I trust you. You can tie me up with it, or you can tell me to jump off a mountain with it. Whatever you want.” And this was the important part. “Whoever you want to be. I won’t hold you back, or ask you to stay where you don’t want to be, or—”
Her voice spun higher and higher, the invisible knots she’d tied herself in winding tighter until she couldn’t breathe. She was babbling and making a fool of herself, talking about symbolism when—
“I know you’re leaving.” And wasn’t that just a stab to the heart? She’d overheard it through the door while she’d been waiting. “To—to your dad’s, or—” It made sense, didn’t it? Nothing held him to New York anymore, and he loved the life he’d had out West. She didn’t know how far a cord would stretch, but she would let it. She’d give him as much slack as he wanted, if he was only willing to come back sometimes or let her come to him. “And I won’t fight you, I swear. Whatever you need or want. I support you. Only—”
Her vision blurred. She was losing it. She’d come here prepared to beg, and she was getting there all right. The worst kind of pathetic, needy tears threatened her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. She stood her ground, as vulnerable as she could be before this man who had taught her that was something she was allowed to be at all.
And then his hands were on hers, gently nudging, prying, taking the rope from her white-knuckled grip. Her heart threw itself against her rib cage, and for a second she swore it would literally break through.
He set the cord aside, but then he didn’t move away. He cupped both her hands in his own, the rough warmth of callused skin rubbing life into her bones, and she didn’t dare to hope.
Except she did.
“Lexie. Sweetheart. Look at me.”
She met the calm blue-gray of his eyes, and the world stopped spinning quite so hard. The tangle of her chest loosened until she could breathe again.
When his lips parted, the edges of them curling into the softest, most genuine smile, it was as if the empty place he’d left inside of her these past few days suddenly filled up, up, up.
And then those lips were on hers. Fuck, how she’d missed kissing this man. His mouth was hot and wet, the kiss instantly claiming. She opened for him, her body sagging into his support. He could have anything—she’d give it all to him.
With a yank at her arms, he pulled her inside. From behind closed eyes, she couldn’t see the change in scenery, but it didn’t matter. The door slammed closed behind her, and a second later, her spine hit the wood. He pressed her into the door with all that strength she’d admired in him since their very first meeting, the weight and power of him sinking into her. He still had both her hands in one of his, and it was the most secure thing she’d ever known. Except—
Except—
“Does this mean—” She was mumbling into his mouth, barely sneaking words in between the slick intrusions of his tongue.
He tore himself away. He stared down at her with eyes blown wide and dark with need, and no, no, she wanted to talk, but this whole not-kissing thing was unacceptable. She fought to free her hands, to pull him in again.
He refused to be budged, though.
When he spoke, his voice came out husky, wrecked. “Just so we’re clear. I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”
“Okay.” That was fine. Whatever he decided, she’d work through it and support him.
“I’m not going back to Bellamy.”
“I know.”
“I already started the process. I’ll be a blue-collar schmo, risking my life every goddamn day.”
That one was a little harder—not the color of his collar, but the risk. But she could work with it. She nodded as if she were a bobblehead. “I know.”
“The hours will be crazy. Late-night on-calls and weekends.”
She swallowed hard. He’d always hated working weekends when he’d worked for her.
But this was different. Everything about it was going to be different. Already, she could see a gleam in his eyes that had never been there before.
He cared. He didn’t mind working all the time, because he’d be doing what he loved. And who was she to begrudge him that? It wasn’t about her or her company. It was about him.
And she loved him. So she had to love every part of him.
“I know.”
The intensity to his gaze popped and flared. “I’m going to do what I want with my life. I want to do it with your support—”
“Then you will,” she broke in. “You’ll have it. Every step of the way.”
“And I’ll find every way I can to be there for you. I never wanted to abandon you.”
How could she have failed to see that? It was written so clearly in every line of him, etched in every perfect furrow of his face.
“I know.” Why was this so damn hard to admit? “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
The sun could have lit his face. “Then I forgive you.” His smile cracked wide open. “I love you.”
And it was like all the light poured right inside. “I love you.”
In an instant, his mouth was on hers again, and she could have drowned in how perfect it felt. There were good kisses and there were bad kisses in this world, sexy ones and sweet ones, but she’d never known they could speak so deeply. She felt his forgiveness and his need, felt who he was and the power in him, the euphoria, and she gave in to it.
God, how she had missed giving in.
“Needed this,” she mumbled, “missed this so much.”
“You have no idea.” When he pulled away this time, it was scarcely by inches, his lips still almost brushing hers as the heat of his stare burned her through. “You have to tell me what you want.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Everything. Tie me up, fuck me, take me. Whatever you want—”
But he was already shaking his head. “If we never do that again . . .” He trailed off, gritting his teeth. The point of his jaw went sharp. “It’s fine. I want it, but I don’t need it. I’ll never push you to—”
“I pushed myself.” The truth of it rang out in her. “I asked for it. I— Please. I need it. I never knew.”
How could she have? In which of her wildest dreams would she ever have imagined that letting a man put her on her knees would make everything in her head go easy and right? That release made her better; surrender made her stronger. That she could have both. Be both?
The fire in his eyes flared hotter. “Oh, baby. We barely even scratched the surface. There’s so much more I can’t wait to show you.”
With that, he leaned right in, planting both hands on her hips, lifting her. She squealed, flailing out to get a grip on him. Locking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she held on for the ride. He turned her around, took one single step, then paused.
Her breath got stuck in her throat when it turned out that what he’d stopped for was the rope she’d brought.
She didn’t have time to think about anything else. As he carried her through his space, it was with his mouth on hers. The place itself rushed by, leaving only the vague impression of gray walls and lots of navy and wood. Masculine. Strong.
His bedroom was even more so. She landed on her back in the center of a giant mattress, bouncing off its firmness. Dark sheets gave beneath her hands as she swept her arms out to the sides, gathering them above her head.
For a long moment, Dane stood at the foot of the bed, staring.
Her confidence faltered. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just. Didn’t think I’d ever see you here.” He shook it off, reaching for the back of his neck to tug at the collar of his shirt. He tossed it aside, revealing those muscles she’d missed so much, that solid bulk of him. Placing a hand behind each of her knees, he hauled her legs open, then placed himself between. He dropped onto all fours over her, surrounding her, gaze searing. “I wanted you here, to have you in my bed. Make you mine.”
The possessiveness poured over her. She shivered even as she was burning alive. Mine.
“Yes. Yours. If you’ll have me, I’m—”
“Never, ever going to let you go again.”
Something in her chest panged. “And I won’t try to push you away.”
He came up short. “What I said, that night—”
She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t exactly shrug it off. “It’s okay, you weren’t entirely wrong.”
“I was. I was cruel, and I didn’t have to be.”
“I’d hurt you.”
“That’s no excuse.” Because for her, in her world, it always had been. “You—you don’t push people away. You just want so bad for them to stay.”
It was a knife sliding right between her ribs. “I—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Too many of them let you down. You thought I was one of them.”
“But you aren’t.” Her words were stronger this time. Every repetition ground the belief in deeper.
“Hell, no, I’m not.”
He bypassed her mouth this time, going for her jaw instead. She gasped at the wet heat of his mouth, the rough glide of his hand as it slipped beneath her shirt. All her nerves came alive, sparks dancing along her spine. Her pussy, untouched since he’d walked out her door, was an inferno.
Nine Kinds of Naughty Page 32
