by Lynda Aicher
“The one on stage with you?”
She refused to answer him.
He took in her silence before he finally said, “No.”
“No?” Jake was innocent. She’d been wrong. Unable to deal with that, she tackled the issue she could. “Then why’d you follow me there?” She pressed her hands onto the hard marble, leaning forward as she pushed for an answer. “To gather dirt? To collect information to use against me?”
His face paled, his mouth gaping wide. “Is that really what you think of me? After all we’ve shared? That I would sink so low and have nothing better to do with my life than to follow you around, collecting dirt to...what? Shame you? Embarrass you? God, Cali. Listen to yourself.” He shook his head in disgust—the first she’d seen since she’d arrived—before he tossed back the rest of his scotch.
“Then why where you there?”
“Why were you there?” His voice rose and he glared at her in challenge. His hands flexed on the counter, his jaw tight and stiff.
“You saw why I was there,” she fired back before she could give into the urge to flee. “Every embarrassing inch of why.”
“So, think. Think about why I might have been there.”
Cali stepped back, her eyes going wide. Could it be? Peter’s lips were thinned, his nostrils flaring with each breath he took. But he held her gaze, almost daring her to make the connection. One she didn’t want to stumble over.
“Say it,” she whispered, the softness almost eerie after the volume of their voices just seconds ago. “I need you to say it.”
He held his anger for a moment longer before it deflated. His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropped and he pushed the air from his lungs in one long, extended breath. “Why? So you can wallow in your victory and my shame?”
“This is too important for guesses. It has nothing to do with shame or victory, Peter. This is about us. About all the things you would never tell me.”
“Well, we’re done now. So it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
She sighed and took a fortifying breath. “Because maybe, if we finally talk about it, we can get past this elephant that has plagued our entire relationship. Maybe, just once, I’d like you to speak to me honestly.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching tightly on the counter. “I was there...at the club...to get what you had.” He dropped his head into his hands and leaned on the counter. “It was my first night there. I’d finally found the courage to seek out what I’d always been too afraid to admit I wanted. And there you were, displayed on stage, getting everything I’d only fantasized about. And you looked so...beautiful.” His voice cracked. “So fucking beautiful, and I was jealous. Mad and jealous because, once again, you got what you wanted while I was stuck watching and wishing it was me.”
Stunned, Cali couldn’t move. It explained so much. She swallowed back the slightly hysterical laugher threatening to bubble out—completely inappropriate for the moment, but so appropriate for the jumbled emotions of disbelief, confusion and amazement churning within her. Peter hadn’t moved; his confession seemed to take the life from him.
“So that was it all along,” she ventured, tiptoeing cautiously into the muck between them. “You’re a submissive and wanted me to be the Dominant?”
Peter groaned, his hands scouring his face. “Hell. It sounds so pathetic when you say it like that.” He dropped his hands and straightened but refused to face her, instead choosing to stare at the marble counter. “It’s embarrassing for a forty-five-year-old man to admit he has no fucking idea what to do in the bedroom. The man is supposed to be the Dominant. Supposed to be in control and know what to do when it comes to sex. Not be some pansy-ass who wants the woman to control it all. For her to dominate and take away the stress so he can just enjoy it for once.”
Cali stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. It took a moment for her mind to catch up to his words. “Sex with me stressed you out?”
“Yes, Cali. It always stressed me out. Knowing I never did enough or satisfied you or knew what to do to make you happy stressed the hell out of me. How manly is it to admit you suck at sex? That the one thing all men are supposed to excel at is the one thing I fucking suck at?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Her voice rose with her frustration. “Why, in all the times I tried to talk to you about our sex life, did you never, ever say anything even close to this? You always blamed it on me. On something I did or didn’t do, until I finally gave up.”
“Because I was the man,” he yelled at her. “I was the man and if I sucked at sex, then I’m really not much of man.” His body was stiff and defiant and he glared at her, almost daring her to contradict him.
Cali took a chance and moved around the island to stand next to him. For as much as his shunning of her had hurt, overall he was still a good person. “I hope you realize that’s not true. Being a man has way more to do with who you are as a person than how you perform in bed.”
He looked away. “Tell that to society.”
“No, tell that to yourself.”
He flinched, almost as if she’d hit him.
“I had no idea you felt this way,” Cali continued gently, amazed at the revelation. “I wished I’d known. I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me when we were married. I wish we could go back and take away all the hurt and pain this has caused. But I can’t. We can’t.”
“It’s not like you shared either.” He shook his head—an act of dismissal or remorse, she wasn’t sure. “I never had a clue what you wanted, least of all what I saw the other night.”
Cali hung her head, conceding to his point. She couldn’t hold it against Peter when she’d been just as chicken as him at voicing her sexual desires. “If you think about it,” she ventured, “this explains a lot. Here we are, two submissives wanting the other to be the Dominant but both of us incapable of being that for each other.”
A short bark of irony left his mouth. “Right. Pathetic, huh? I should have been able to be your Dom.”
“No, Peter. That’s not what I’m saying.” She leaned down, trying to meet his gaze but failed. “We can’t change who we are or what we want. I’m trying to accept that about myself. I have no bad feelings or thoughts about who and what you want. For as compatible as we were in life, we were never going to be compatible in bed.”
He exhaled and finally faced her. “You make it sound so practical. So easy to accept. I can’t say I’m quite there yet.”
There was fear in his eyes. Fear and hesitation. She understood those feelings. It hadn’t been easy for her to admit her needs. Hell, it still wasn’t, which was why she continued to hide from them. But somehow, seeing Peter struggle with the same emotions made it easier for her to accept her own.
“Well, neither am I,” Cali admitted. “I was so ashamed and embarrassed when you saw me like that...at the club. I’ve been a ball of nerves since then, wondering what you thought of me. Wondering what you were going to do with what you saw. Who you’d tell.” Cali closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep the feelings tucked inside. It was hard to confess those things to him. The man she’d spent over half of her life with but no longer trusted with her emotions.
“And here I was, worried you were telling everyone about your pathetic ex-husband who could never give you what you needed.”
He poured himself another glass of scotch then offered it to her. She accepted the glass and took a drink, feeling the liquid burn the entire way down her throat. She handed the glass back to him and he took a large swallow.
“So where does this leave us now?”
He laughed. “Two embarrassed, bumbling, mild-aged conservatives who are more repressed than a couple of virgins. Hell if I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, exposing some of the gray. “Did that man mean something to you? The Dom who gave you the collar?”
Cali glanced away. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”
“Why?” he demanded, forcing her to look at him again. “We’re f
inally talking to each other. For once in our goddamn lives, we’re talking to each other. Why stop now?”
“Because this won’t fix us. It won’t bring us back together.”
He lifted the glass to take a drink then paused halfway before setting it down. “It would be nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff.”
“I can’t be that person for you, Peter. It’s too awkward.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He scanned her face, a half smile curving his lips. “Are you going back? To the club?”
It was Cali’s turn to fidget. “I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
Oh, to explain all of the reasons behind that. “Too much has happened.”
“Because of me? Of my being there?”
She debated on what to say then finally said, “Yes. Your appearance kind of shocked me back to reality.”
“I wish it hadn’t,” he said, his eyes conveying the truth of his words. “I wish I hadn’t ruined it for you.”
The honesty in his voice struck at her. “Why?”
“Because I want to see you happy. Is that so hard to believe? And if that’s what makes you happy, then don’t let me stop you.” He swore. “I’ve fucked up your happiness enough. I don’t want to be the cause of it once again.”
“There’s a lot more involved for me than simply going back.”
“So the collaring was significant.”
She closed her eyes, trying to block the emotions, to keep them from her voice and not think about all that she’d thrown away so brashly. “Yes.” Then she quickly deferred the subject to him. “What about you? You going back?”
“No,” he said emphatically. “Barely got myself there once and after what happened with you, I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed back in.”
“You should go. Or at least find another club or something. You deserve to be happy too. And like you, I don’t want to be the cause of your unhappiness any longer.”
“We’ll see.”
They stared around the room for a moment, studiously avoiding each other’s gaze. Finally, Cali shifted. “I should go.”
He studied her. “Are we good? No secret-sharing with the world?”
She smiled, a stiff but honest gesture. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For understanding.”
“Same to you.”
She walked to the front door and he followed, both of them silent. She opened the door and stepped into the cold.
“Cali.”
She paused and turned back to him.
“I hope you get what you want.”
She smiled, nodded, then moved down the walkway to her car. When she drove away, Peter stood in the open doorway, watching her leave. The bizarre nature of the entire conversation finally sunk in. It was hard to believe she’d just had an honest conversation about sex with her ex-husband. Something they hadn’t managed while they were married.
But there was an understanding within her now. A peace she’d never felt before. There was no one to blame for their failures. Well, maybe it was equal blame, but it wasn’t something she’d done. It wasn’t her fault, just like Jake had tried to get her to accept.
Just like she’d tried to tell herself and never quite believed.
But finally, she felt it. She got it.
Which left the other truth she couldn’t hide from. The one she’d pushed away and was now terribly afraid she’d never get back.
She turned the corner and pulled over as soon as she was out of Peter’s sight. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel and she leaned forward until her forehead rested on it, the cool leather biting into her skin. Only then did she let the tears fall. A quiet mix of relief, exhaustion and fear.
She’d been so wrong about everything. Jake, Peter...her life. Was it possible to fix it all? Things with Peter seemed to be okay, but would Jake be as understanding? He hadn’t betrayed her like she’d thought. If she’d only trusted him. Believed him when he said he loved her then showed her that love by giving her the collar. She’d been so afraid and acted so stupid.
Sitting back, she wiped away the tears chilling on her cheeks. She found her phone and once again dialed Jake’s number. Her hands shook and her pulse increased as she waited for him to answer. He didn’t. Voicemail picked up and she released the breath she’d been holding before disconnecting from the call. She couldn’t apologize via voicemail. Not if she wanted him to listen.
And she did. Desperately.
She wanted him back. Not just what he did to her, but him. The man who knew she organized her closet by color and season and was ticklish behind her knees. Who held her all night and laughed at stories about her children. The man who demanded she give him everything and treasured everything he received.
She loved Jake and wanted him back.
Chapter Twenty-Six
His gaze cruised over the dark corners of the club, the scent of sex and leather lingering in the air to blend with the background din of the music. The sharp slap of a paddle hitting skin, followed by the cry of a sub, rocked through the air. In the center of the room, a female stood bent at the waist, naked and exposed, her head and arms locked in a stockade, her ass and pussy bared to all. Her Dom wheeled a whip with a precision that left a striped pattern of red across her back and legs.
Doug’s club, Bound and Determined—also known as the B & D—was on the hard edge of the BDSM scene. Everyone was welcomed as long as you didn’t abuse the unwritten rules within the community. Even then, if you could find someone who wanted to play, the door was opened to you.
“You gonna play tonight?”
The deep voice caught him from behind, but Jake didn’t flinch. He shrugged in reply, not willing to commit to an action. He’d spent the previous night watching with no desire to partake in the activities. He’d received plenty of inquiries from both men and woman, but he’d declined them all.
“Never known you to watch when you could play,” Doug said as he stepped up next to Jake. The man’s eyes were on the club floor, his acute scrutiny catching everything. After more than twenty-five years in the business, there wasn’t much that got by the respected owner. One of the reasons his club was still around after so many years.
Jake’s attention strayed to the line of available subs kneeling in submission along the side wall, waiting for a Dom. Some were naked, others barely clothed, all with their heads bowed in respect. All of them perfectly posed. And none of them interested him.
“Maybe later,” Jake said, even though he knew it wasn’t likely.
Doug grunted, a deep rumble that conveyed his understanding of exactly how unlikely that was. “You gonna tell me why you’re here then?”
The other man hadn’t pried since Jake had arrived unexpectedly on his doorstep. Then again, Doug had never pried, which is why Jake had grown to trust him when he was younger. Doug had offered the lost youth a safe place to work and be without intrusion or expectations of confessions.
Jake had started out cleaning the club after hours, mopping the floors and sanitizing the equipment. Over time, Doug taught him how to maintain the various piece on the floor, making sure everything was safe and operational for the next night. The simple tasks had given him a purpose. When he’d brought Deklan and Seth around, Doug had nodded and handed over another mop and broom without question.
He owed the man an answer.
“Need a place to start again,” he finally said, keeping his focus on the Scene playing out in the center of the room. A crowd had gathered around the couple, but Doug and he had an unobstructed view from their elevated balcony position.
Doug lifted his chin, face remaining neutral. “What happened to The Den?”
“Still there. Left it to Winters and Matthews.”
“Looking to start another one?”
“No,” Jake said too quickly. He paused, swallowed then tried to sound casual. “Need a break.”
“But here you are.” Doug n
odded toward the open room. “Smack in the middle of the world. So what do you need a break from?”
Fuck. Jake looked away, his hands clenching as he grappled for an answer. He obviously didn’t want this. He had no desire to find a random sub and run a Scene that would end up leaving him feeling empty and wanting. Which is how he’d felt before Cali, even though he’d continued to play his role and see to the needs of his clients. The ache for more had been there.
Despite his reluctance to admit it.
So what did he want to admit to now?
The silence stretched between them, the sounds of their world filling in when words didn’t. Doug didn’t push and Jake knew he wouldn’t. Giving up, he turned away and strode out of the club area, finding his way to the back storage room. He shut the door behind him and absorbed the calming scents of oil, leather, lemon and wood.
He flicked on the light and looked around the cramped room. His gaze settled on a St. Andrew’s Cross lying on its side against the wall and stuffed behind a broken spanking bench. Moving the equipment around, he pulled the cross into the open space in the middle. He let his hands run over the smooth wood, his mind already working with it. Eying the broken chains, the splintered wood on the top, the lack of arm supports.
This would work. He could lose himself in this project.
Without questions. Without intrusions.
Jake dug through the room, collecting the items he’d need. With luck, his mind would blank as he fell into the familiarity of the task and put a halt to the non-stop replay of the last Scene with Cali. The cross would be spectacular when he finished and until then, he didn’t want to think about anything but the job before him.
He didn’t want to think about her or all the mistakes he’d made. He’d pushed her but he’d thought she was ready. That she was right there with him. Obviously, she hadn’t been. Cursing, he tightened his hand around a hammer before tossing it aside. He’d already caused enough damage; he didn’t need to make more.
Picking up a rag, he attacked the cross, scrubbing off the dirt and dust in an ineffective attempt to rub away his thoughts. How could Cali think he’d hurt her like that? He’d given her more than he’d ever given anyone. Hadn’t he proven she could trust him? Not if she could jump to the instant conclusion that he’d brought her ex to the club.
