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.I got my purse and the keys.“I’ll try not to stay out too late,” I told Jill.“I’ll keep my phone on, so if anything happens or you need the car, call me.”“I will.But, hey, KayKay,” Jill said as I opened the door to leave.“One of the ways you know you found the right one is not that you don’t argue.It’s that after you argue, things get better instead of worse.”“I’ll keep that in mind.”While I drove, it was nice feeling like there was someone on my side.For the longest time, no one had known about James except Becky.It was as if he was someone I’d made up.But he was real.He was here.My mother even wanted to meet him.It struck me then that he was even willing to meet her.James was ready to take off the mask I’d been trying to pry off him all this time.Was I really going to tell him, Never mind.Go back to England.Go back to your cave of anonymity.I’m done with you?Only if he kept up the bullshit.I made a resolution.If he tried to dom me into listening, if he held back anything, if he demurred or guarded himself, I was done.When I arrived in the lobby of the hotel, there wasn’t anyone at the front desk, so I breezed past to the elevator, checking the room number Stefan had given me.The room was all the way at the end of the hall, and I wondered if that made it special, or larger.I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I saw there was an envelope on the door.I tore it open, thinking if this turned out to be some cheesy “strip and kneel” set of instructions, I was going to cry, rip it to shreds, and leave.It wasn’t a cheesy set of instructions.Inside the envelope was the door key, as well as a handwritten note in firm, elegant script.Forgive me.Forgive me for my anger.You rouse such passion in me.Forgive me for my irrationality.You distract me and make me forget logic.Forgive me for ever questioning whether I love myself more, or you.I am truly naked before you.JamesI stood there a moment, my breath shaky.That was what he had said at the ball, when I’d insisted he tell me his real name.He’d thrown the condom away and said it was time I learned that he was truly naked before me.I’d thought he was merely making a play on words of some kind, his way of poetically saying that he wanted to come inside me, to be as close as possible.I had been so high on endorphins, pleasure, and the newness and intensity of it all that I hadn’t heard the edge in his voice, hadn’t realized that the entire time he had been fucking me he was in a downward spiral of panic and fear.Something clicked.That woman, Ferrara, had been trying to blackmail him into marriage, or something, all along.That made him wary of sex or relationships with anyone who knew who he was.Add to that how vulnerable his feelings for me had made him… No wonder he bolted when I forced his name out of him!That didn’t justify his actions, but at least I felt I was starting to understand them.I slid the key into the lock and opened the door.The room was dim.“James?” He was sitting on the corner of the bed, facing the window.The curtains were drawn and only one light on the far side of him was on.My breath caught as I realized what I was seeing.He was naked.A blindfold covered his eyes and his hands were bound behind his back.His feet were flat on the floor, knees spread, his balls enticingly exposed.His cock appeared to be rising.He looked like a statue, one of those Greek sculptures with perfectly muscled chest and abs, his cheekbones emphasized by the edge of the cloth over his eyes and his lips barely parted.I slid my sandals off and tiptoed until I was directly in front of him.“James,” I said, louder.He startled, his shoulders giving a tiny jerk, his spine stiffening.“James,” I said more softly, drawing the “a” out longer.“I thought we were going to talk things over like real people.”He moistened his lips with his tongue before he began to speak.“If this isn’t real for you, Karina…” He swallowed and drew a shaky breath.Afraid.“Then I should go back to New York without you.”He’s afraid of sex itself, I realized.Each time we’d had it—full intercourse, I mean—he’d gotten angry at me and tried to run away.Because he was afraid of being so exposed? Or so connected?That he was presenting himself to me this way, vulnerable and bound, made my breath catch in my throat.“You’re saying I’m in control?”He swallowed.“I’m showing you.”“And if all I want to do is talk to you?”“Then I’ll listen.”“And if I want to interrogate you?” The idea, I admit, had appeal.“Then I’ll talk.”“Hmm.”I reached out and cupped his balls, then drew my fingers upward along his shaft, which quivered expectantly.A dewy droplet gathered at the tip [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]