Afterlife (38 page)

hoping the right man wil pry open

those doors.”

“I know that. I almost wish you were,

because that would

make this easier. But you wouldn’t be

the woman I want if

there was anything artificial about

your feelings.” Gently, he

pushed her head back so she could

look up, meet his gaze.

“You’ve wal ed up so many

wonderful things about yourself,

things you think no one wants. To me

they’re treasure,

Rachel. And I plan on opening every

one of those things.”

How could she believe that? How

could any woman,

especial y one who’d seen enough of

life to know that such

things didn’t exist?

“I don’t believe in happily-ever-

afters either,” he

continued, giving her a mild look of

reproof. “That suggests

the story has an end. Life is always

going to have ups and

downs, chal enges and bad moments.

That’s what life is.

What I do believe in is finding the

person to share it with. Al

of it.”

He shifted, bringing her even closer.

With his arm

wrapped around her waist and her

turned into his body like

this, one leg now over his thigh, the

other foot braced on top

of his, she couldn’t imagine anything

that would look more

intimate to passersby. “Now,” he

said quietly, holding her in

his gaze in that way that made it

impossible for her to look

away. “You’ve as much as said it.

The age stuff is bul shit,

so we won’t go there again. Instead,

you tel me what’s

real y happening here.”

She swal owed. Like last night, when

he’d pul ed her

deepest possible pain from her,

Kyle’s loss, she couldn’t

not tel him. He was like a priest and

lover at once…but only

one label truly fit, didn’t it? That one

word that said why he

could open up so much in her, the

word she had so much

trouble saying. So she told him this

instead.

“I married my husband at nineteen

and had Kyle shortly

after. I believed Cole was my prince.

That’s not a slur

against him. I’m sure he thought I was

his princess, the way

we al do in the beginning. There

were a lot of things that

went wrong with our relationship.

Though my son never

knew the underlying…issues, he

eventual y viewed me with

a similar impatience, because a boy

learns how to treat his

mother from watching his father.”

She swal owed. “Kyle’s death came

after our divorce. I

could have stood next to a stranger at

his funeral and felt

more connection. He brought his new

wife. Stood with her. I

stood alone, but I told myself to take

strength from that. I

stood
alone.”

Right now, she was taking strength

from Jon’s arms

around her, and that seemed far more

real and substantial.

“Later, that thought mocked me. What

does it mean? That

you’re strong enough to stand

alone…against what? Being

alone means you’re alone. No more,

no less. We attach

significance because it makes us feel

justified, important.

And it means nothing.”

She shook her head, frustrated with

herself. “I have no

idea what I’m trying to say, Jon. I

should be saying it better,

but… I look at you and al I do is feel,

not think. And my

feelings are taking over everything. I

don’t want to be alone,

but I’ve done it for so long, I don’t

know how to handle
not

being alone. I had to box al of it up in

my heart, and I’m

afraid of what wil happen when you

open it up, because I

know you wil . And I don’t think I’l

survive you turning your

back on it, once it’s al pul ed out and

turned upside down.”

“Then believe that I won’t. Because

it’s not going to

happen.”

His expression was compassionate

but also measuring,

intent. As his knee pressed into the

give of her buttock, her

foot slid further over his, twining

ankles.

“When a submissive like you loves,

Rachel, she puts

everything into that love. Every scrap

of pride, every bit of

who and what she is and wants, and

as such, her identity

becomes that love. She’s lost when it

turns out to be not

what she expected, or even worse,

it’s betrayed or

rejected. So the best way to deal with

it is to pretend it

wasn’t, to go on as long as you can

until there’s no denying

that it no longer exists, and then

something gets broken

inside of you.”

He framed her face, taking away the

tears his words

were evoking. She cried so much

around him. When she

hitched over a silent sob, his mouth

tightened, reacting to

her anguish, though his hands

remained soothing. “You can

go with al the therapy mumbo-jumbo

bul shit that says

you’re merely a woman who needs to

stand alone, who

needs to learn self-esteem or self-

confidence, but when

you’re the type of person you are,

that’s not where the

problem lies. The truth of it is, you

had a gift to give, and

you gave it to the wrong guy. End of

story. The gift is stil

there, if you’re brave enough to give

it again. And I think

you’re exceedingly brave.”

She tried for a wry smile, hurting stil

. “Is bravery the

reason I bolted from perfectly good

bagels and tea?”

He answered the smile, though his

eyes remained

serious, heartbreakingly tender as he

stroked her face.

“They caught up with you. They’re

right here.”

“I didn’t expect you to give chase.”

“One day you’l know when you’re

hurting like this, the first

thing you should do is run to me, not

away from me. Until

then, you won’t ever outrun me,

Rachel. I’l never permit

that.”

Her hand fel on his thigh and she put

her forehead on his

cheek, closing her eyes as he slid his

hand under her hair,

a slow stroke of movement along her

neck. He kept doing

it, waiting her out, letting her think

about what he said,

letting other things rise to the top,

slip from her lips.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “As

much as it hurts, it
was

real y simple, when al was said and

done. Almost tedious.

My husband and I were one thing

when we got married and

time changed us both. Maybe the

seeds of those

differences were there in the

beginning and we didn’t see

it, didn’t anticipate those changes. He

was… overbearing

and I…mistook it, subconsciously,

for something else. In

hindsight, I also think we brought out

the worst parts of each

other. I baffled him, and the

unhappier I seemed, the more

frustrated and angry he got. I don’t

blame him…and I guess

I don’t blame me, but it happened,

and it hurt… He’d

already left me when our son was kil

ed, but if anything, that

drove us further apart.”

She closed her eyes then. He

remained silent, breathing

with her, being with her as that

turmoil settled, as she got

her breath back. He didn’t offer her

platitudes. He didn’t say

he understood, because of course he

couldn’t, not real y. It

didn’t mean she couldn’t lean on his

strength, feel his

sympathy and care. His heart and

arms were open. That

was the message she heard in his

silence, and it helped

deepen her calm. She might be

feeling more foolish as she

composed herself, but his silence

wasn’t condemning or

judging. It was support, pure and

simple.

“The bagels smel good,” she said at

length.

“You smel better.” He nudged her

hair aside, dipped his

head to nuzzle her throat, his hair

brushing her face. “Or it

could be the two together. Fresh

baked bread and female.

My female.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Exactly. You might as wel give in

now.” Reaching past

her to the bag, he kept holding her,

such that he pushed her

backward in his arm span. The

stretch made her chuckle

and hold tighter to him for balance as

he pul ed out the

blueberry bagel she’d wanted.

When he straightened, he released

her to pul off a piece

of the bagel. The heat steaming out of

it brought her the

yeast smel , awakening taste buds.

Before she thought to

reach for it, he held it up to her

mouth. “From my fingers,

Rachel.”

Those blue eyes had so many ranges

of expression.

Compassion was now replaced by

that steady expectation

that put everything inside her on high

alert, al of her senses

focused on what he might demand.

As she took the bite, closing her lips

briefly on those

digits, she did it without a single

self-conscious look around

her.

“Good.” He handed her the rest, then

took out his own

bagel and passed her the organic

green tea she’d wanted,

though he laid an arm over her thigh,

crossed over his,

keeping them in the intimate position

of lovers.

“Wil you…tel me more about

yourself?” She was

honestly sick of thinking about herself

and the fears a

relationship with him could provoke.

She was ready for a

break, no matter how hazardous that

might be. “What kind

of kid were you?”

“Gawky limbs and thick glasses, a

hundred percent

science geek. Even had a stutter for a

while. Don’t let the

boyish good looks and charm fool

you.”

“I actual y don’t find you boyish at al

,” she admitted. “I’ve

never met a man who made me feel

so safe…and cared

for. I doubt myself, Jon. Not you.”

“It comes out to one and the same,

because it affects

both of us.” He put the bagel aside

and slid both arms

around her again, only this time he

brought her up tight

against him, her hip pressed against

his groin, both legs

hooked tight over his thigh as he

kissed her, long and

deep, until she was leaning into him

again. His hand

dropped down to her hip, gave her

ass a squeeze that

made her flinch.

“Stil tender,” he noted against her

lips, a sexy gleam in

his eye.

“Inside and out.” Daring, she added,

“And al I want is

more.”

“That’s good. Because you’re going

to get plenty more,

sweet slave. You already earned a

punishment for not

taking my hand at the table and an

even worse one for

trying to run away.”

The fingers she threaded through his

dark hair trembled

a bit in response. “Do you have to

work today?”

“Not this Saturday. I plan on

spending the morning with

you. This afternoon, we’l go to my

place for a few hours,

and tonight, I’m taking you out to a

proper club.”

She stopped in mid-motion, gaze

darting up to him. “Oh

Jon. I don’t know.”

“I do. After breakfast, we’l go pick

out something you’d

like to wear. With my approval, of

course.” He put his hand

over hers, already anticipating her

next thought. “You won’t

be hedging about money. I have

plenty of it, and what I

spend on you is my business, not

yours. Understood?”

That was clearly his Master’s voice,

stern and

uncompromising. She nodded, a little

uncertain, but trying

to take things in stride better than she

had when they were

at the table.

“I’m a little freaked out,” she

confessed. “Can we talk

about something else for a little bit,

so I can process?

Something that helps me…I don’t

know, feel more

balanced. What’s the worst thing that

happened to you as a

child?”

He curled his hand over hers now on

his shoulder, slid his

thumb into the cup of her palm to rub,

then tugged her hair

with the other hand. “My job is not

always to make you feel

more comfortable, Rachel. Especial

y when I know you

need to be off-balance. But I’l

answer your question, if you

ask me with the proper address.”

That was exactly what she’d been

attempting to do, she

realized. Assert some kind of control

with the personal