by Noelle Adams
So I show up at Chelsea’s just after nine thirty, and she opens a bottle of champagne (she always has a few stocked up for emergencies).
I’ve texted her the broad strokes before I come, but I fill her in on the details as we sip champagne on her pretty red sofa.
She’s often the center of attention, but she’s actually a really good listener. You always know she really hears you, which definitely isn’t true of everyone I know.
Hunter’s like that too.
Most of the time.
When I finish explaining everything—except the really intimate stuff—she thinks for a minute before she says, “What happened this afternoon was definitely his fault.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“But...”
“You’re kidding. There’s really a but?”
She flashes an irresistible smile. “There’s always a but. It’s just a matter of how big the but is.”
“And how big is the but this time?”
“Not that big. I’m just wondering if he has any reason to think you don’t trust him.”
“I promise I just showed up to say hi! I didn’t have any sort of agen—”
“No, no. I don’t mean today. I mean overall. Why would he be quick to assume that you don’t trust him?”
I glance away, hesitant to say too much of what Hunter has shared with me. He told me in confidence. I wasn’t going to betray it. “He has... I mean, he has family issues. They make it hard for him to trust.”
“Even to trust you?”
I give a helpless shrug, emotion tightening in my eyes again.
“Has he brought trust up with you before today?”
I hesitate again. For a different reason this time. “He’s... he’s told me a lot that I can trust him.”
“When did he say that?”
Usually during sex. “Different times. When he wanted me to... to try something new and I was nervous about it.”
She nods like she understands, although I’m not sure how she could understand fully. “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to him, but I wonder...”
“You wonder what?”
“I wonder if he has just a little, tiny bit of a point.”
I feel a rising of instinctive defensiveness, but I push it aside. “What point?”
“Do you really trust him?”
“I do. I trust him. I think he’s... he’s amazing. I always have.”
“But do you trust him not to hurt you?”
I stare at her, almost dazed by the question, by the realization.
She cocks her head at my expression. “What?” she asks. “Did I wow you with my brilliance?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Maybe I’m getting good at this. But seriously, you’ve been crazy about Hunter for ages, and he’s the only guy I’ve ever known you to have feelings like that for. You still do, don’t you?”
I swallow and nod. No sense in denying it.
“So tell me the truth. Do you really trust him not to break your heart?”
I shake my head again, admitting the truth this time.
Of course I didn’t trust him not to do that.
He wouldn’t mean to.
He’d never intend to hurt me.
But he could tear my heart apart anyway.
He always could.
Chelsea is quiet for a minute before she continues, “I’m assuming you haven’t told him how you feel.”
“Of course not! Who does that?”
“Not a Greyson. That’s for sure. So assuming he doesn’t know how you feel, what if he can sense that you’re always holding back on him, always afraid he’s going to hurt you. He’s not going to know the reason for it—just that you don’t trust him.”
“Shit, Chelsea. That sounds terrible. Do you really think that Hunter...”
“What the hell do I know? I’m just thinking out loud, trying to think of a reason for his blowup this afternoon. And that does kind of make sense, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. It does. I am always holding back. I think I have good reason, but Hunter doesn’t know what it is. I hate to think all this time he’s thought I...”
I stand up with a jerk, putting down my champagne glass. I’ve barely drunk a quarter of it, but I’m not planning to finish.
I’ve got to get back to Hunter.
I’ve got to make sure he knows I trust him for real.
Chelsea is getting up too, obviously knowing what’s going through my mind. When my phone buzzes just then, I grab it and look at the screen.
It’s Hunter.
I’m sorry.
Please come home.
I’m really sorry.
It’s all my fault.
I’ll do better.
Please come home.
Each line comes in as a separate text, one right after another. My eyes blur as I stare down at them.
“Is it him?” Chelsea asks.
I nod mutely.
“Is he sorry?”
“Yeah.”
“So go home and fix this.”
I’M HOME IN LESS THAN fifteen minutes.
As soon as I open the door, Hunter is there in the entry hall. He’s wearing a pair of ragged sweatpants and the white T-shirt he had on under his shirt all day.
He steps forward, like he’s going to reach for me, but he doesn’t. He scans my face urgently. “You came home.”
“Yeah. I came home.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“I did.” I let my bag slide to the floor, but I’m not sure what to do after that. I just stare at him, torn in so many ways all at once.
“I’m sorry,” he says. Gruff. Earnest.
“I am too.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It was all my fault, and I know it. I guess I still kind of feel like what happened with my dad is gonna happen again with—”
“It’s not going to happen with me, Hunter. It’s not!”
“I know. But I guess I still...” He takes a ragged breath. “I know. It’s my fault.”
“I do trust you, Hunter. I do.”
I see his shoulders rise and fall with another jerky breath. “I want you to.”
I can’t stand how vulnerable he looks, so I pull him into a tight hug.
He hugs me back—almost desperately—and we embrace like that in the entry hall for a long time.
I’m not sure how long we would have stood there like that had Hunter’s stomach not given an angry growl.
I giggle and pull away at the sound. “Did you not eat any dinner?”
“No. I was too upset.”
“Me too. Let’s eat something now.”
So we go into the kitchen, make ourselves sandwiches, and eat in companionable quiet at the kitchen bar.
When we’re done, we’re both so tired that we just get ready for bed. As soon as we get under the covers, Hunter pulls me into his arms.
“I’m sorry, angel,” he mumbles against my hair.
“I know. I am too.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, I did.”
He doesn’t argue with me. Just holds me against him. Eventually both of us doze off, still tangled together like that.
I wake up a couple of hours later to discover it’s just after midnight. I shift positions, realizing something has changed. I’m not pressed up against Hunter’s side anymore.
“Sorry,” he says from the other side of the bed. “My arm was asleep.”
I laugh softly and roll over to face him. “Was I sleeping on it?”
“Yeah.” He shakes out his arm, a dry, fond smile on his face that I can see even in the dark room. “As soon as I get some circulation goin’, you can cuddle again.”
“You were cuddling too!” I’m not sure why this is important to clarify, but it is.
He just chuckles.
Because he’s so warm and affectionate right now, I have the courage to ask, “Do you... do you think we should talk about what ha
ppened?”
“We can if you want,” he replies slowly.
Since the topic has been broached, I press on. “I really wasn’t checking up on you.”
“I know. I know that now. I...” He rolls over onto his back, relaxing his arms at his side but keeping his head turned toward me. “I’m trying to get myself together. I’m trying so hard. But it feels like I can barely keep my head above water. And I know you know.”
“I do not know! I don’t know anything of the kind! I think you’re doing great, truly amazing. I’m really proud of you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Yes, I should be. You’re the one who needs to see himself better. I see you just fine. I don’t have any reason to check up on you. I trust you.”
“I guess it’s just that I don’t trust myself. I don’t feel like I’m... ready yet. I don’t have it together enough to do... to have everything.”
I frown as I reach out to touch his bare chest, just over his beautiful tattoo. “What else do you want?”
He hesitates. Then shrugs. “Just... life. I don’t think I’m ready. I can’t be... all in... yet. The last time I was all in was back in college, when I was working so hard to impress my dad. I... I can’t do that again.”
“You don’t have to. There’s no one you have to impress like that now.”
“I guess. But there’s still so many things I’m still working on. I’m trying. I’m going to get there. But I guess, down deep, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me completely yet. And that’s why I totally overreacted earlier. I want you to trust me, but I also know you shouldn’t.”
This upsets me so much that I sit up straight in the bed. “I do. Hunter, I do.”
He stares up at me. “I want you to.”
That’s what he said to me earlier, when I first came home.
He means it. So much.
He wants me to trust him more than anything, and he doesn’t think I can.
But I know differently.
I know for sure.
And I suddenly realize what I want to do.
I reach over to stroke his beard. “I do trust you, Hunter. I want to... I want to show you.”
This gets his attention. He rears his head up with a short shake. “No, angel. I meant what I said before. You don’t have to prove anything to me. It’s my issue.”
“Yeah, but I think I might have contributed to it. Because I’m always so... so afraid of being helpless, being hurt.”
“Everyone is afraid of being hurt.”
“But it keeps me from doing things I want to do. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”
“But I want it to be because it’s what you want, not because you’re trying to prove something to me.”
“It is something I want. I do want this. I couldn’t do it before, but I want to do it now.”
“Do what?” His voice is barely a breath.
I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, but I am.
“I want you to tie me up.”
His whole body gives a jerk. A small one, but I don’t fail to notice it. “Sam.”
“I do. I want it. Can we... can we do it?”
“Yes. I’ll do anything you want. You know I will. But it has to be about you and not because you think you need to prove something to me. I’m not okay with that. Especially with something so... so...”
“Intimate,” I finish for him, knowing exactly the word he’s searching for.
He nods. “Intimate. This is not something for you to force yourself to do. I mean it, angel.”
“I’m not going to force myself. I’m a little nervous, but I want to do it. I want to do it with you. I want to do it right now.”
“Even after this afternoon, after I was such an asshole?”
“You’d never be an asshole in this. I know you. I trust you. Please, Hunter. Tie me up.”
He inhales hoarsely. “Okay. I will.”
We just stare at each other for a minute in the dark, neither one of us moving.
I have no idea what we’re supposed to do now.
I can’t believe this is really happening.
“You want to do it now?” Hunter asks at last.
“Yes.”
“On the bed?”
“Yeah.” I start to get up, trying to think of what we need to do this. It’s been a long day, but I’m not tired at all right now. I’m all wound up emotionally, and my body is starting to anticipate what’s about to happen. “I don’t know what we should use for ties.”
He's getting up too, wearing nothing but his underwear. He reaches over to turn on a bedside lamp. “We need something that’s not going to hurt you. I’m not going to use rope. If I had more ties, we could use those, but I only have two. I could tear up fabric if you have something old.”
I dig through the drawer of my dresser where I stuff all the clothes that get holes in them but I think I might find some use for. I find two pairs of leggings that I used to wear so much they got holes in the crotch seams. “You can use these, if they’ll work.”
“Perfect.” He finds the seam and starts to rip each pair in half so he’ll have four different ties.
I kind of like to watch him tear them up. He looks all manly and efficient.
“What?” he asks, glancing up and catching me staring.
“Nothing. Just impressed with your tearing abilities.”
He gives me a little smirk, but I can tell he’s not really in a teasing mood.
Neither am I.
“In books, there’s never all this preparatory stuff.”
“This isn’t a book, angel. It’s real life. And now you’re going to get tied up if it’s still what you want.”
“It is.”
“Then go lie on the bed.”
I’m shuddering—with both nerves and excitement—as I do what he says. “Is it going to work with the headboard?”
Hunter eyes the bed and then nods. “I can wrap the ties around the slats. It will be fine.” He pauses. “Do you want me to be like in that book?”
I know what he’s asking. The character in that sexy scene he read had been dominant, authoritative, almost cold.
I lay my head on the pillow. “No.”
“Then how do you want me to be?” He’s standing beside the bed in gray boxer briefs. His feet are bare. One of his tattoos is visible on his forearm and the other larger one on his chest. His beard is slightly ruffled, and his eyelids are heavier than usual.
He’s big and handsome and familiar. And vulnerable somehow. Human.
I say, “I want you to be like you.”
His face tightens for just a moment. So briefly I wonder if I imagine it.
Then he says, “Okay, angel. I’ll be me.” And he leans down to kiss me.
The kiss is soft, gentle, and it soothes some of the flutters in my belly. Then he slowly starts to take off my pajamas, kissing the skin he reveals.
He takes his time, and it’s a relief not to have to jump right into the bondage part of the evening. I’m more relaxed and definitely aroused when I’m finally naked, and I barely even notice when Hunter stretches out one of my arms toward the corner of the bed.
He runs his fingertips up and down the length and then reaches for the first tie he’d torn from my old leggings. “You ready?”
“Yes.” My voice sounds strange, stretched, but it’s from excitement now rather than fear. I’m still fluttering, but mostly in a good way.
I can’t believe we’re about to do this, and I don’t feel weird about it at all.
He ties my first arm, and I pull against the knot to test the strength. The fabric of the leggings is strong and stretchy. I’m not going anywhere.
He moves around the bed to tie my other arm and then down to the bottom to do both my legs.
I know what we’re doing is pretty vanilla in the scheme of things, but I’ve never done it before, and it feels very exciting, slightly dangerous.
Like a very real risk
.
But Hunter is both gentle and efficient as he ties off the knot, and he checks my face often to make sure I’m comfortable and enjoying it. He’s always taken good care of me in everything we’ve done.
He’s with me in this.
When I’m completely tied up, he climbs on the bed, moves over me, and kisses me again, deep and slow and tender.
It moves me so much I automatically try to raise my hands so I can wrap my arms around him, but my wrists catch on the ties. I open my mouth to his tongue and arch beneath him, pleasure and emotion crashing over me in waves.
“Do you like it?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yeah. Yeah. I think so.” I struggle against the knots in the fabric, not really trying to get free but to see how it feels. “I want you to kiss me again.”
He does, and it lasts for a long time.
Then his mouth finally starts to move down my body, trailing down my throat, lingering on my pulse point, following the line of my collarbones, flicking my nipples with his tongue.
I’m trying to arch my spine, pressing my breasts up toward his mouth. I need more, and there’s nothing I can do to make it happen.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, nuzzling between my breasts before he takes one nipple fully in his mouth.
I gasp and pull on the ties as my whole body clenches down around the sensation.
“I love to see you like this. So turned on. Not hiding anything from me.”
“I’m... not.” I’m so aroused now I can barely form a word. It’s hit me hard, intense, so quickly I’m still trying to adjust. “I’m not... hiding from you.”
“I know you’re not.” He’d released my nipple when he spoke, but now he moves to the other side and gives it equal attention.
I writhe beneath him, bound by the ties and trapped for his ministrations.
It goes on a long time—until I’m so turned on I’m afraid the sheet is wet beneath me. I’m whimpering and biting my lip and trying not to scream at the exquisite torture of it.
He’s moved down to my belly at last, kissing and stroking it, his beard tickling my skin. He’s so close to where I want him that I can’t hold back anymore.
“Please, Hunter,” I beg shamelessly, pressing my hips up toward him. “Please, I need to come so bad. Please make me come now.”
He raises his eyes to meet mine, and I’ve never seen anything like what I see in his eyes right now.
