Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

by Kristen Proby

  “She’s my mother.”

  I laugh and rub his arm. “She’s a woman, Ben. You can’t tell me she’s never had a man in her life.”

  He stops and stares down at me for a moment.

  “You’ve never considered this?”

  “No.”

  “She’s a beautiful, lovely person. Of course there must have been men interested in her.”

  “She never said,” he says and shakes his head. “Great, now I’m going to have to have this conversation with her.”

  “Why?” I can’t stop laughing now.

  “Because it’s going to bug me, and I’ll eventually blurt it out anyway.”

  We turn a corner and there it is, my favorite tree. It’s at least four hundred years old, with branches so big and heavy that they rest on the ground.

  And under it is a portable swing with a red blanket spread in front of it.

  “Oh, my.”

  He smiles down at me and leads me to the swing. I sit and kick my flip flops off, and Ben sets the basket in the middle of the blanket and joins me on the swing.

  “This is lovely.”

  “It’s a good day for it,” he says and rests his arm on the back of the swing, behind my shoulders. His fingertips brush the bare skin on my shoulder. I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “We spent countless summers out here,” he says quietly, as if speaking too loud will disrupt the perfect spring day.

  “We did.”

  “And as a teenager, I would see you sitting out here, under this tree, with a book. Your knees pulled up to your chest, and your bare feet dirty as can be. You took my breath away even then.”

  I glance up at him in surprise.

  “I can’t tell you how often I’d watch you—not in a creepy way, I might add—I’d watch you reading and enjoying this tree, and I wanted so badly to sit with you and kiss you senseless.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” he says with a gentle smile. “But now you do.”

  He nudges my chin up with his fingers and lowers his lips to mine, covering them softly. I cup his face in my hand and let myself simply soak in this moment, in my favorite place, with this man.

  He slowly takes the kiss from sweet to hot, and to my delight, drags his hand from my hip to my breast, his thumb dancing over my already tight nipple.

  Good God, he’s like a drug that I’ll never get tired of.

  After what seems like an hour, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.

  “I have been waiting for that for a very long time,” he whispers.

  “I think this was probably way better than anything you might have done as a teenager.”

  He chuckles. “True. So, it’s a win-win.”

  I let my fingertips glide down his cheeks to his neck.

  “Savannah.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you,” he says and closes his eyes tightly. “I don’t say that to rush you into anything, and this isn’t the time or place anyway, but I need you to know that I want you.”

  I cover his lips with mine, watching his eyes. “I want you too, Ben.”

  He inhales and kisses me again, moving straight into hot as fuck.

  Finally, he pulls back, clears his throat, and smiles at me.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I laugh and push my hair off my face. “So hungry.”

  “I think Gabby made fried chicken.”

  “That sounds good too.”

  He glances at me in surprise and then begins to laugh in earnest. You could cut the sexual chemistry with a knife.

  But, he’s a perfect gentleman as he opens the basket and we dig in.

  The food, and the company, are delicious.

  Chapter Eight

  ~Van~

  “So, quite a bit has happened since I last saw you.”

  My therapist, Violet, is sitting across from me in her office. When I first started coming here, I thought she’d make me lie down and spill my guts about my whole life, starting with my childhood, but according to her, that’s just for movies and TV shows.

  I’m sitting in a deep, soft loveseat, and she’s across from me on a matching over-sized chair. Violet is also a friend of the family. I don’t think I could have told a complete stranger about all of the horrible things that happened when I was married.

  “Awesome. Spill it.” She grins. Violet is about fifty, with stark-grey hair that she always keeps in a braid. She never wears makeup, and she’s thin as a rail. She’s also kind and soft spoken, but she can get tough when she needs to.

  “I’m officially dating Ben.”

  Her eyes widen and she makes a note on her legal pad.

  “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard already.”

  “I’ve been on vacation with Lucy in the Bahamas, and we turned our phones off.”

  “Did you two finally take a honeymoon?”

  She smiles like a young girl, her face radiating happiness.

  “We did.”

  “That’s awesome. Congratulations again, Violet.”

  “Thank you.” She clears her throat and shifts in the chair. “But let’s get back to you. Tell me more about Ben. How did this come about?”

  I explain about the day at the hospital, and how he finally shared how he feels, and gave me the choice. I tell her everything, leading up to our amazing day under my favorite tree yesterday.

  “Oh, Van, this is wonderful. I’m just ecstatic for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you been intimate?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head no. “We’ve done some fun making out, but no. He hasn’t pushed me, and I haven’t initiated it, mostly because I don’t know how.”

  “When you think about having sex with Ben, how do you feel?”

  “Scared,” I whisper and look at Violet with tears in my eyes. “Why am I so afraid of this?”

  “Why do you think you’re afraid?”

  “Oh, that’s right, I’m talking to my shrink. She doesn’t answer questions; she asks them.”

  Violet smirks and waits patiently for me to answer.

  “Well, let’s be honest. Lance didn’t make sex nice or even comfortable for me. He used sex to terrorize me.”

  The smile falls from her face and she scribbles on her pad.

  “What about men before Lance?”

  “I’d only been with two guys before him,” I reply and trace the pattern in the couch with my fingertip. “And they were nice, but I was young.”

  “But those were good experiences?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She shifts in the chair again and sets her pad on the table before her. I can see that she wrote terrorized and circled it twice. “I don’t know if you’ve ever gone into detail with me about what sex was like with Lance.”

  I shake my head and look her in the eyes. “No.”

  “Would you please share that with me now?”

  I swallow hard, then take the cap off the water she set out for me and take a long drink. I’m just procrastinating, but I don’t care.

  Maybe the hour will run out before I have to answer.

  I glance at my watch. No such luck.

  “In the very beginning, like right after we met and began dating, the sex was good. I’d say normal for lack of a better word.”

  “I understand,” she says with a nod, urging me to continue.

  “As time progressed, especially after we married, it got rougher. And not in a oh, this is fun and new kind of way. I realized that he liked to hit me during sex.”

  “Hard?”

  “Sometimes. He never hit me in the face hard enough to give me bruises. But he would slap my face, or my boobs, or my ass. The funny thing is, Ben slapped my butt yesterday, playfully, and I liked it.”

  She smiles now.

  “That’s good. It means you trust him, and you know he won’t hurt you.”

  “Ben wouldn’t hurt me.”<
br />
  “No, ma’am. Never.”

  I clear my throat, surprised to feel tears threaten. I’ve never cried during therapy before.

  “So,” I continue, trying to distance myself, so it’s like I’m just retelling a story that someone else told to me. “He gradually added things like floggers or a whip. He’d only use the whip when I’d misbehaved.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but her face loses all of the happy color she had before.

  “He liked to go to these festival-type parties that are put on once a year. People wear costumes, usually sexy ones, and there are displays of different fetishes that you can try out. Like, if you’ve always wanted to be tied up, a guy will do that to you for fun.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” Violet says.

  “I hated going to them, mostly because he’d insist I wear the skimpiest costume that I didn’t feel comfortable in, and frankly, I’m more of a traditional girl. The fetish stuff doesn’t really interest me.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  I look at her like she’s just suggested I jump off of a bridge. “No.”

  She nods and I continue.

  “It was mostly like that for the majority of our marriage. He would have said he was being a Dominant. But I’ve read enough to know that a Dominant would never make a submissive do anything against her will.”

  “You’re right. While that community is difficult for some to understand, the core of it is consent.”

  “I can honestly say that I had little say over my life for the better part of six years.”

  “Savannah,” Violet says and comes to sit next to me for a moment, folding me into a hug.

  “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

  She chuckles, then lets go and returns to her seat. “No, but I needed that.”

  “He taught me that sex was control, and pain, and everything horrible.”

  “And a real man would have shown you that it’s the exact opposite. Being intimate with someone is about affection and connection.”

  “I wouldn’t say that Lance and I were ever intimate,” I reply.

  “No, you’re right.” She picks her pad up and writes a few more notes. “Are you worried that the sex would be the same with Ben?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you physically attracted to him?”

  “Hell, yes.” I grin. “I didn’t know I could be physically turned on ever again, but he doesn’t even have to touch me to turn me on.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Violet replies. “It’s truly miraculous, Savannah. For many women who have been through the trauma that you have, they never recover enough to have a healthy sex life.”

  “Well, we haven’t had sex yet, so the jury is still out on that.”

  “Has Ben said anything?”

  “He’s said he wants me,” I reply. “Just yesterday, actually. The chemistry is there. We both feel it. And I want to have sex with him.”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  “Well, yesterday he mentioned something about kids, and how good I am with them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you think that means that he wants kids?”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Jesus, Violet, will you just answer one question?”

  Her lips twitch. “You know Ben better than I do.”

  I blow out a gusty breath. “I don’t know if he wants kids. I would guess so.”

  “And why does that bother you?”

  “Because I can’t have children.”

  She pauses. “Have you always been infertile?”

  “No.”

  “I see. Have you talked to Ben about it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I think that’s where you should start.”

  “What should I say? And when? Like, we’re about to do the deed and I blurt out, Oh, by the way, if you want kids we need to stop now.”

  “Clearly, that’s not the case.” She tilts her head to the side. “I know Ben well enough to know that he would listen to you and have an adult conversation with you.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “It’s just an awkward conversation, and frankly, I’m sick to death of having to talk about Lance and all the ways he fucked me up. I want it in the past.”

  “I think opening up to Ben is the best way to put it squarely in your past, Van.”

  “I’ve been feeling so much better.”

  “You are not the same woman who walked into this office two years ago,” she confirms. “You’re confident and happy. You have yourself back, and that’s the result of all of your hard work. I love your hair, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” I run my fingers through the shorter strands of hair. “It was time.”

  “And maybe it’s time for this conversation with Ben as well,” she says with a kind smile. “I think you’ll be relieved, and his reaction will pleasantly surprise you.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.”

  I nod and rub my hands on my legs, already nervous. “Probably best to do it sooner, rather than later, right?”

  “I agree, yes.”

  I reach out and take Violet’s hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  ***

  I just kicked the shit out of someone in Krav Maga class. It was almost as therapeutic as my chat with Violet earlier today. Now I want to go home, take a long hot shower, and curl up with a book by the fire.

  I’ve been with Ben every night since we started this official relationship. Not through the night, aside from the night he was sick. But we have made a point of spending evenings together after work.

  I think I should give him a night off from me. I’m always moody after therapy, and I’m tired tonight.

  I’m probably not good company.

  Besides, I need to have the talk with him, and I’m avoiding that like the freaking plague.

  I hurry home and, after locking myself in, I hurry upstairs to take my shower. Once out, I reach for my perfume on my vanity, but it’s gone. I always keep it in the same place, but it’s not here.

  I glance around in confusion, but I don’t see it anywhere.

  Huh. Who would have taken it? Surely Ben doesn’t need it.

  I shrug and mentally add new perfume to my list. I love the scent I use. It’s light and pretty, and you have to get close to me to smell it.

  Lance used to insist I wear Chanel No. 5, and to this day, if I smell it on someone as they pass by, I get nauseated. I hate it.

  But I don’t have to wear it anymore. I’ll pick up another bottle of my fave.

  I finish getting dressed and Ben calls.

  “Hi there,” I say with a smile.

  “How are you, beautiful?”

  “Tired. It’s been a crazy day. How are you?”

  “Lonely.”

  I smirk. “I was thinking about staying home this evening.”

  “That’s fine, I can come there.”

  I bite my lip. “You don’t want a night away from me?”

  He’s silent for a moment. “Is that what you want?”

  I think it over, and it occurs to me that no, that’s not what I want.

  “I just don’t want you to get sick of me.”

  “Savannah, that’s one thing you don’t ever have to worry about. Besides I realized that you never spilled the beans about what you’ve learned about me.”

  “That’s a long list,” I say, my inner flirt on full-blast. “I’ll come over, if it’s okay.”

  “It’s always okay,” he says. “Drive carefully.”

  “I will.”

  I hang up and gather my things, and am headed to Ben’s house within two minutes. My hands are sweaty. My stomach is rolling.

  It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten anything yet. I’d just upchuck it.

  “Hey,” he says as he swings the door open. “The code to this door is eight-eight-nine-nine.”

  I c
ock a brow. “That’s pretty simple.”

  “I like simple,” he says with a shrug. As soon as the door is closed, he pulls me in for a tight hug and a long kiss.

  “Is it possible to miss you after less than a day?” I ask.

  “I guess so,” he replies and leads me up to his rec room. He has a big pool table, a big TV, a big wet bar.

  Basically, everything is just oversized in this room. If you were to look up man cave in the dictionary, this would be there.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever brought me up here,” I say and wander around the room, setting my bag on the table behind an enormous sectional couch.

  “This is where I usually hang out when I’m home.”

  He sits on the couch and watches me prowl about.

  “You seem tense.”

  “Me?” I shake my head. “Never.”

  “Right. Come here.” He holds his hand out for mine and I take it, letting him pull me into his lap. “Spill it.”

  “What?”

  “What you’ve learned.”

  I kiss his cheek. “I always knew you were kind. But I’ve learned that you’re way more mushy and affectionate than I expected.”

  “Did you just call me a wuss?” he asks with a frown.

  “No.” I laugh and kiss his cheek again. “I said you’re sensitive.”

  “Can we keep this our secret?”

  “Yes. If other women knew, I’d have to kick their asses to keep them off of you.”

  “You’re the only woman I want.”

  “See? You say the sweetest things.”

  He grins and runs his fingers through my hair, making me wish I could purr.

  “What else is on your mind?”

  I sigh. “I guess I should talk to you about something. This also has to remain a secret between us.”

  “Okay.”

  I can’t talk about this while in his lap. I just can’t. I stand and pace away from him, trying to decide how to tell him this.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asks. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not anymore,” I murmur. “I guess I can start this with a question for you.”

  “Shoot.” He’s still sitting casually, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, his arm along the back of the couch.

  “Do you want children one day?”

  His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t move otherwise.