So now, here we are, ready to have our first real conversation. To finally come out with the truth and see where we landed. Because this would change us. I just didn’t know in what direction.
I wait for her to speak but when nothing comes, I shake my head. “Do you see now? Why? If I could change for any woman, I’d change for you. I’d love nothing better than to become the man you’ve got locked away in that fantasy of yours, but it’s not the truth. This is a part of who I am, Jillian¸ and I can’t turn it off. Even for you. Especially with you. Just like I’d never ask you to change who you are for me. It’s not fair. And in the end, it will ruin us. As much as I want you, and as much as you tempt every part of me, I care about you too much to do that to you.”
When she still remains silent, I raise a brow. “Are you okay?”
She nods, but her gaze slides away.
The hard edge of adrenaline drains away and is replaced with resignation as I confront the truth. My hidden reasons for avoiding this conversation for so long.
In the end, I’m not different from Jillian. I lived with my own twisted, buried fantasy. One I hadn’t allowed myself to think about. The fantasy that she’d welcome this news with open arms.
One look at her face dashes that hope. It’s true what they say—knowledge is power. But ignorance, sweet ignorance is bliss.
I raise a hand, wanting to reach for her, but instead of touching her like I want to, I let it fall to my side. There’s nothing I can do about this. No way to fix it. The only thing I can do is give her space, and see what she does with the information. “Did you drive here?”
She shakes her head.
“Let me drive you home.”
“All right.” Her voice is shaky and calls to that part of me that wants to protect her.
In silence, I take her elbow and lead her to the parking lot a block away from the bar. As we get in the car and pull out onto the road, we don’t speak and Jillian doesn’t seem inclined to fill in the spaces.
I let her be. I don’t demand she talk to me. I don’t insist she tell me what she feels. It’s an effort, not pushing the way my nature wants me to, but I keep quiet so she can think.
As I drive, she stares out the window, seeming engrossed in watching the people crawl through the streets.
Finally, she clears her throat. “I don’t want to go home.”
I let several beats of silence pass. “Where do you want to go?”
I ignore the way my heartbeat kicks in my chest. How much I don’t want to let her go. It makes me all the more determined to do the right thing.
“Can we go to your place?” Her tone is hesitant.
Jillian, in my place, alone with no buffer, is a recipe for disaster. I have a lot of self-control, but I’ve been exercising it with her for years and she’s wearing that goddamn dress. I have to be smart here. She might not be mine, but I still need to be responsible. She doesn’t understand her temptation.
I give her a sharp glance as my grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her hazel eyes narrow. “Don’t we at least owe this a conversation?”
“It’s not that, Jillian.” How do I explain? I take a deep breath. “I’m willing to answer any questions you have. But I’ve been denying you for so many years, I’ve watched you down far too many shots tonight, and I’m not sure being alone together is a good idea. I don’t want to do anything we regret in the morning.”
She doesn’t understand how easy it would be for me. The one thing I know is my way around a woman’s body. All men think this, because we’re all arrogant pricks who think we’re gods, but in my case it’s true. It would be so easy to overtake her. I can make Jillian want what I can give her. Use our chemistry and lust against her, make her so mindless she’ll do nothing but beg for deliverance. But that isn’t an option here. It’s not responsible, and I care too much about her to take away her choices.
She clenches her hands into fists. “Please don’t make me have to deal with this in public. Is privacy really too much to ask?”
Goddamn her. She knows just where to hit. Knows exactly the right thing to say so I can’t refuse. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No, it’s not.”
I turn the corner, heading the car in the direction of my condo in Bucktown. Fifteen minutes later we pull into the parking garage and when I turn off the ignition I look at her. Time for her to start understanding exactly who she’s dealing with. “Before we go in there, here are the ground rules and they are nonnegotiable.”
She raises a brow and says slowly, “All right.”
“We will go up there, we will talk, but there will be no sex. Understood?”
She lifts her hand and toys with the thin silver chain at her neck before she licks her lips. “I just want to talk.”
She’s nervous. Well good. I decide to hone in the point, injecting the dominance I keep hidden from her into my voice. “I know, but I’m making myself clear and giving you one less thing to worry about.”
In the dim glow of the garage lights, her pupils contract. Christ. Could Brandon be right? No. I wouldn’t have missed it.
She takes a stuttery little breath. “I’m not worried.”
“Well, Jillian, you should be.”
I’ll just let her think on that for a while.
Jillian
Nerves crawl through me as we make our way up the four floors and to Leo’s condo. He’s said all the words I’ve been waiting to hear. That he wants me. That he cares. That this pull and chemistry is not one sided. Not something I’ve concocted out of thin air.
But like all things in life, the confirmation comes with a price.
I search my mind, trying to process through my emotions. It’s not that I haven’t heard of domination before, I’d have to be living under a rock not to, but it’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought. I don’t have any experience, nor do I know anyone who’s engaged in those types of activities.
It’s the last thing I expected Leo to say. Although I suppose in retrospect it makes a certain type of sense. He’s always been an alpha badass. He’s always dripped in confidence.
We reach his front door and nerves give way to curiosity. I’ve picked Michael up from here, but I’ve never seen it and I drink it all in, finally able to appease my curiosity while he deals with our stuff and flicking on lights. It’s not huge, but it’s nice and well maintained. The kitchen is updated with granite countertops, dark modern cabinets, and stainless steel. His furniture is all sleek and industrial looking, and I find I’m kind of surprised it doesn’t look like a bachelor pad. Somehow I’d been expecting something messy and thrown together, which really makes no sense, Leo’s not like that at all.
I smile a bit. It’s how I am, but unlike me, Leo has his life together. He’s successful, well respected on the force and intelligent. I walk over to a console against one wall and that’s filled with pictures of him and his big Italian family. There’s a picture of his mom and dad. His sisters. Some of them together in groups, some young, some old, all full of smiles. My attention falls on one in the back and I pick it up, running my finger over it.
It’s Leo and his identical twin brother. They’re probably eighteen years old, still long and lanky with youth, most likely taken shortly before he died. I could only imagine the terror they would have instilled in mothers’ hearts across the neighborhood, all those devastating good looks and swagger heading toward their teenage daughters.
As far as I know, Leo never discusses his twin with anyone. Michael always told me that it’s an off-limits topic. It should keep me from asking, but doesn’t. I run my hand over the image. “Do you miss him?”
I can feel Leo standing behind me, the strength of his presence. “Every day.”
His twin had been murdered at nineteen. Although I don’t know the particulars, I do know he’d been a victim of gang violence. That he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. From my understanding, it’s why
Leo became a cop in the first place. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have met him.”
“Me too.”
I swallow the sudden tightness in my throat. “You’re hard to tell apart.”
Leo’s body warms my back and he’s close, looking over my shoulder. “Yeah, we were. We’d drive everyone crazy making them guess. Only our mother never got it wrong. Can you tell which one is me?”
It’s hard, and the difference is slight, but it’s the expression on Leo’s face that gives him away. I point to the boy on the right. “This is you.”
“Very good.” His voice is a whisper across my skin, sending a shiver racing across my skin.
I use this small moment of stillness, this suspended space between what we were and what we’ll become, to ask a question I’d always wondered about. “Once your mom told me you were choir boys. That can’t possibly be true.”
There’s a beat of silence before he answers. “It’s true.”
“She said you have the voice of an angel.” I turn to look up at him over my shoulder. His gaze is on the picture of his brother and not me.
“She’s exaggerating.”
I turn back to the photo, running my fingertip over their images. “Maybe I should hear for myself.”
“Never going to happen.” His voice is full and heavy, like he’s fighting back some emotion.
“Never?”
“Never.” He clears his throat. “I haven’t sung in a million years.”
I don’t remember how the subject had come up, but his mom had said, with tears in her eyes, that Leo sang “Amazing Grace” at his brother’s funeral and never sang again.
“That’s too bad.” I put the frame down and he moves away, walking over to a kitchen island that separates the two spaces. I turn to survey the rest of the room. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” He fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them on the counter before moving to sit on a chair. After he’s settled in, he puts his elbows on his knees, studying me.
I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know, I guess I’m surprised it looks like a home.”
He smiles. “I blame it on growing up Italian, where your home is the center of your life. But in fairness of full disclosure, my mom and sisters did come over the day I moved to add all the decorative touches.” He pointed to a throw on his couch that looked soft and decadent. “I wouldn’t have thought to buy that fancy throw they all swooned over and kept making me touch to feel how soft it was.”
I laugh at the image, able to picture it perfectly. His sisters move as a unit and I can just see them gushing and talking all over each other.
As my laughter trails off an uncomfortable silence fills the air between us. My chest is tight, and my stomach suddenly dances with nerves.
This is exactly the—be careful what you wish for—type of situation my mother has been warning me about since I was a child, that Gwen had warned me about this very night. As much as I wanted this, pushed for it until I got my way, I find I’m reluctant now. Somehow unwilling to give up my fantasies and face the reality.
He points to his couch. “Why don’t you sit down, kick off those heels and curl under it so you can see how soft it is.”
It’s the corner farthest away from him, which suits me just fine, so I do as he suggested. I kick off my shoes, and I wiggle my toes, relieved to be rid of the impossible heels. When I pull the blanket over my legs, I moan. The softness is incredible, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I want to be naked, the fabric wrapped tight around me. It would be pure heaven. I run my hands over it and tuck my legs under me. “Where did they get this? I must have one.”
Leo smiles. “I’ll have to ask them.”
“Please do, I think I’m in love.” My customary sass perks up and I grin. “Or maybe I’ll just steal it from you.”
He raises a brow. “Remember, girl, I know where you live.”
Something about the way he says girl pricks awareness along my skin. Our gazes lock, and tension creeps between us.
His attention skirts down to my mouth then back up again. “Do you want to tell me your questions?”
So this is it. No more stalling. I lick my dry lips. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Pick one and see where it leads you.” He laces his fingers between his splayed knees.
I fiddle with the edge of the blanket, letting my fingers stroke through the fluffy fabric. “Is this what you and Brandon were talking about? Out on the street.”
“Yes.” The word is simple, yet not simple at all.
“So does that mean…Brandon?”
Leo nods. “Yes, Brandon is dominant too.”
I search over the scene on the street, trying to pick out all my questions. “And he thought it was strange that I singled him out?”
There’s a whitening of his knuckles and he nods again. “I hadn’t thought about it, probably because I was too busy being furious and dealing with unjustified jealousy. I’ll admit it is peculiar that besides me, there were only two other men in the room that I know of with those tendencies, one you’d never pick in a million years, and the other you honed in on.”
I’m trying to puzzle out what that might mean about me, but since I can’t see it, I focus on the insignificant question. “Who’s the third one?”
He raises a brow. “Think about it, isn’t it obvious?”
I mentally scan though the room cataloging through all the men that I talked to, that I knew, and when I hit on the answer it comes rushing over me. I gasp, my gaze flying to his. “Michael.”
“Yes.”
All this time, that was the missing piece to why Leo was so absolute. I mean, I could understand not wanting to ruin a friendship by dating your buddy’s little sister, but now with this new understanding it made so much more sense. I blink. Not wanting to think about Michael that way, because yuck. I blurt, “But… But… But…he’s so nice.”
Leo laughs. “Do you think they are mutually exclusive?”
“Well, no.” I press two fingers to my temple. “I don’t really know. I don’t know much about…that.”
“I can assure you they are not.”
I blow out a long breath. “I guess this explains a lot.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“So if we got together, he’d know.”
“Obviously, since you’re his sister, I wouldn’t discuss the particulars with him, but yes, he’d know the gist of our relationship, as would Brandon.” He cocks a good-natured grin, making my chest squeeze. “If we ever got far enough for me to take you to Brandon’s club, I’d have to make sure Michael wasn’t going to show up that night.”
The notion makes my pulse kick into high gear. I ignore the flair of heat and snap my fingers. “So that’s why he laughed when I asked if I’d ever been to his club.”
Leo chuckles. “That’s why.”
I look past him, staring at a black-and-white abstract print on the wall. “I don’t know what this all means.”
“Honestly, neither do I,” Leo says, in a soft voice. “I’m very conscious not to coerce you in any way, even unintentionally. It’s part of why I’ve been very careful to never touch you. Our chemistry, it would be so easy to let it take over, but I refuse to cloud your judgment. Because I know you want me, how much I want you, and just how convincing I can be.”
I swallow hard, past the scratchiness in my throat. “So what’s the hard way?”
“Well, let’s not put the cart before the horse. First, explain to me what you know about it?”
Heat rushes to my face, I shrug, as though the subject matter is not a big deal. “Not much, it’s not something I’ve ever paid much attention to.”
“So we’re starting at square one?”
I nod.
His gaze narrows, and he pauses, as if to gather his thoughts. “If you ask people, everyone has their own definition, so I’ll give you mine. Since that’s what matters here. Basically, when it comes to sex,
I lay down the law. Yes, there’s established boundaries but within those boundaries I have complete control.”
I bite my lip. “Can you give me an example? Because I don’t really know what that means.”
He sits back in his chair and crosses his foot over his knee in typical guy fashion. “All right. For example, say I came home from work and you’re watching Real Housewives of Montana. I might walk in and without even saying hello, I’d tell you to strip, get on your knees and suck my cock. In that case, I’d expect you to do so without question. ‘No’ is not an option on the table. Neither is, ‘wait until the end of this show’, or ‘I’ve got dinner cooking’, or ‘I don’t feel like it’.”
So this is some sex-on-demand type of thing? No wonder he’s so gung ho. If word ever gets out, there isn’t a man alive that wouldn’t sign up. I shake my head. “You can’t be serious.”
He smirks. “Deadly.”
I nibble on my lower lip. Okay, I have no idea where to go with this, so I focus on the next question that pops into my head. “And if I said no? Then what?”
He narrows his gaze, as though trying to learn my expressions. “That would depend on a lot of different factors, but the consequences would range from a talking about it to turning you over my knee. To other, more creative, punishments to be defined.”
An image of him turning me over his knee fills my mind and I push it away. Sure I’ve had guys slap me on the ass before, but somehow I don’t think Leo is talking about the same thing. Uneasy, I laugh. “So I’d, what, have to do what you say, regardless of how I feel about it?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“But what if I don’t like something?”
“There are limits, and we’d discuss those, but after those limits are established I’d be in control of when, where and how.”
I frown. “And I’d get no say?”
“Correct.”
This whole thing confuses me. I don’t get it. Nor can I imagine wanting that. I like my say. I’m by no means a control freak, but I don’t want to be voiceless. I shake my head. “I don’t understand why anyone would want that.”
Sinful (Undone) Page 5
