Yellow (The Safeword Series, #2) (7 page)

But I just stood there, watching her cry silently, breaking my heart because I could see hers pulsing and battered right in front of me.

“I know you love me,” she said hoarsely. “And I love you...but I feel like there's this wall you've built and I've got my rope and I want to scale it.” She shook her head furiously. “No, I want to tear it down, but you won't let me in. How can I marry someone that won't let me in?”

She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face and I opened my mouth. I saw the hope dangling and...I couldn't.

I cut the string.

“I don't know what you're talking about, baby.”

I didn't believe me. And from the way her tears stopped and her face was cleared of all emotion but rage, I knew she didn't either.

She shoved past me, looking at my hand like I was diseased when I grabbed her, trying to dig myself out of the hole I'd put us in.

“Go to hell, Desmond O'Connell.”

I let her go then, but I followed her from my mother's study, past my sister's room where she pretended like she was reading a book and hadn't heard the entire exchange. My mother was on the couch, wine glass in hand, engrossed in some game show.

“Ms. O'Connell,” Caity asked my mother, wiping her face and forcing a smile that just twisted the knife in my chest. “Do you mind running me home? I don't feel well.”

My mother turned her drowsy green eyes from the screen, to Caity, then me, then back to Caity. She finished her glass of wine in a single gulp and continued the O'Connell trend of pretending like everything was just peachy.

“Sure, sweetheart.” She nodded back at me and shuffled over to the door where her keys were waiting. She told me goodbye.

Caity said nothing.

I told myself that tonight, I'd go to Caity's apartment and I'd wait as long as it took.

I'd make this right.

****

I
t was the first time a submissive had summoned me to a dungeon...and the first time that
I
was the one doing the obeying.

I’d become a walking contradiction. I hadn’t given Kara any grief on set in days. I forgot I was supposed to be an asshole when the cameras were rolling, smiling at the contestants and giving out compliments when they wowed me with their dishes instead of my usual responses. Things like, ‘It doesn’t suck’, or, ‘It’s edible, but just barely’, and one better, ‘You may not be going home tonight’. I’d even agreed to meet some gossip columnist for lunch tomorrow, and those kinds of inquiries usually went directly to the trash.

Sophia made me smile; she made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I’d found someone that could embrace all the pieces of me. If she wasn’t frightened by the most taboo side of me, the Dominant, then the Desmond outside the bedroom would be a breeze.

Or, she could say that she likes you, but isn’t looking for more than Hush.

I swept into the elevator, adjusting my mask like some warrior preparing for battle. Fear had ruled my life and decisions for far too long. No more. What was the worst that could happen? She’d tell me to put my mask back on? Doubtful. There was no way I’d misread her so spectacularly. I could feel her reaching for more from the moment she told me that she liked me more than she was ready to admit. That was when I began to face the fact that I felt the same, and was reaching and hoping for more too.

“Well hello, stranger.”

I’d barely noticed the couple in the corner of the elevator, focused on my own mission and leaving them to theirs. It was the brunette sub from Submissive’s Choice, the woman who’d approached me and thanked me when I intervened before Colin got out of hand. Even without the collar and the feline-like movements from that night, I would have remembered her because of her Cheshire grin.

She hung on the arm of a Dom who gave me the customary nod of acknowledgement. This was a sex club after all, that prided itself on discretion. There wasn’t a whole lot of chit chat in the elevator.

“Good evening,” I answered, dipping my head as well. That more than sufficed and I turned back to the front.

The brunette was looking for conversation. “I’ve requested you several times since Sub Night, but the hostess always says you’re unavailable.”

I didn’t glance over at her, out of respect to her Dom. I didn’t recognize the man from the brief hello we’d just shared, but since I had a willful sub of my own, I knew it was up to me to remind her of how things worked. How I worked. I wasn’t sure what their dynamic was, but I
was
sure that I hadn’t shown interest then, and I was definitely uninterested now.

“That’s right,” I said, any sort of geniality scrubbed from my voice.

She didn’t get the hint. “If you ever want to-
ouch
!” The smack was audible and I didn’t need to make out the words he growled into her ear to know that she had crossed some line...and he didn’t approve.

“Apologize for disturbing his evening and disrespecting your Dom,” he barked, loud and clear.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” she said without hesitation, her low, timid voice a world away from the effusive, flirtatious lilt from a few moments ago. “And I’m sorry for disrespecting you, Sir.”

I had a feeling her apology was just the beginning of a night of atonement, but I forgot them both the moment the elevator hit my destination.

I moved down the hall with a purpose, tapping out the access code in a flurry. I opened the door and my jaw dropped.

Any sign of Sin had been left elsewhere. The woman in front of me had long, dark strands that dropped to her waist. She was wearing a emerald colored dress, the v neck cutting low in the front and giving me a tease of her milky skin, and the round curve of her lush breasts. But I didn't tarry in the erotic department. I was marveling over the fact that she wasn't wearing her usual costume of sex and secrets.

“You're not wearing a mask,” I whispered, more to myself than her. Her mask never covered all of her features, but now that there was nothing keeping my eyes from roaming over every inch of her face, it was clear to me just how beautiful she was, from her big blue eyes to her high cheekbones and her full lips. All of which didn't require a swipe of makeup to enhance or highlight or illuminate a thing. She glowed, heat racing across her cheeks when I took a step toward her.

“Sophia, you're gorgeous.”

She didn't preen like a woman that was used to being told that she was attractive and wore it like a beauty queen sash. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she fidgeted, picking at the side of her dress.

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat and slowly raised her eyes back up to me. “It's weird - you've seen me, like, every part of me and I feel more naked now than I ever did with all of my clothes tossed in a bundle on the floor.” She swept her hair behind her ear, making a face like she was already screwing up and she'd just begun. “Not my clothes. My roommate's clothes. This dress is mine though. One of like three. I wore it to my graduation a few years ago.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And now I'm doing that blabber mouth thing. Sorry.”

I shook my head, beckoning her with a finger. “No apologies. Well, if you want to apologize for telling me to meet you here tonight instead of requesting my presence, feel free,” I added on a wink, just to show her how okay this all was, but her sheen was changing from red with embarrassment to green like she felt sick. “Sophia—I'm not angry. You sharing yourself with me, it's a gift. And it means more to me than I can express.”

She didn't move any closer, her delicate features hardening to porcelain. “That's just it, D.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean, sure, I've worn a mask and a wig and itty bitty dresses, but you know more about me than I know about you. I even told you I liked you, and I'm pretty sure you like me too, but how do I know if it's because I'm a good lay or if it's because of me if we haven't done any more than this?” She gestured around us.

'This'.

Sex.

The sense of dejavu was enough to make me feel dizzy, lightheaded. There was some sick irony in the fact that I was standing here, with a woman I cared about, who was taking the first step and looking to me, hoping I'd take the next.

The void in my heart that was left when I lost Caity seemed big enough to swallow me whole. The old Desmond would have embraced that, made up some BS, and walked away from a woman I cared about, just to avoid the chance of being devastated. Vulnerable.

I knew that I was taking a risk. Telling her my story, letting her in, could very well blow up in my face. Hell, it could destroy my career if she decided to meet with one of the gossip mags that were constantly on the hunt to dig up juicy dirt on the famous and influential.

But I looked in her eyes and decided that falling for someone, letting them in, wasn't something you did halfway. You had to let go.

So I did.

The bed, and peeling off her clothes, seemed preferable to going back to that place, but I chose the couch in the sitting area instead. I gave no orders, but she followed me. I sat on one end, she sat on the other.

I thought sitting down would help the words come out, but they sat in my throat, choking me. I massaged the bridge of my nose, almost making some sort of joke. Prolonging the inevitable.

“A few years ago, I was engaged,” I began. “If I'm being honest, I wasn't ready to be engaged. Or married. But I loved her, so I was ready to take that leap with her.” I cut my eyes at Sophia, expecting her to have that wincing, taut expression like she was holding onto the urge to bolt, wishing she had some sort of fast forward button. But she was just listening, her lips slightly parted, just like she did right before she leaned in to kiss me.

I loosened the knot of my tie and kept going. “I wasn't nearly as good at keeping secrets back then as I am now. Well, I had a pretty big secret that I was holding onto like my life depended on it,” I edited. “She didn't know about my...
needs
in the bedroom.”

That arched both of Sophia's brows.

“I think I was ashamed,” I explained. “Afraid that she'd see those desires as perverted or archaic or just-” My throat closed when I remembered Caity's dark eyes that day, sure that even though she said she loved me, how could she love that part of me? A part of me that I was still discovering myself? “The thought of losing her over something that I believed I could contain, or maybe slowly warm her to, wasn't a risk I was willing to take.”

The next part was the thing I hadn't shared with anyone. I refused therapy, I barely saw my mother, and my sister knew that it was a place that no one, including her, including myself, dare venture.

I leaned back into the cushion and hoped that when I was done, Sophia wouldn't look at me differently.

“Caity and I had an argument. An ugly fight about the engagement and keeping secrets. We were at my mother's house and she clearly wanted out, and didn't want anything to do with me. She asked my mother to give her a ride home. My mother, who tends to start drinking around brunch and doesn't let up until she's passed out in front of the TV, was happy to oblige. She even chugged the last of her wine before she stumbled over to her keys and ushered Caity out to the car.” I shook my head bitterly. “Or maybe Caity ushered her. We didn't think, or maybe we didn't want to think...” I didn't finish.

When I looked to Sophia, the look on her face was one of such sorrow. She reached out and gripped my hand. I knew I didn't have to keep going. We both knew this story didn't have a happy ending, but I wanted her to know it all.

“I was on my way to check on Caity when I got the call. My mother had run into the divider on the highway and just like that, Caity was gone. And it was all my f-”

“Don't you dare,” Sophia hissed, her voice thick with tears. She didn't just slide closer, she straddled me, pulling my head to her chest. “It's not your fault. What happened was terrible and I'm so sorry it happened...but it was
not
your fault.”

I told myself that it was her tears that wet my cheek, her body that was shuddering with sobs, but I didn't dwell on the specifics. I just held her and let her hold me. I wasn't sure how long we stayed that way before I leaned back, staring up at her face with awe. Gratitude.

Another word popped in my head, but I snuffed it out, forcing a weary smile.

“Probably not the evening you had in mind. An emotional Dom spilling his sordid past and why I come here.”
All the truth
. I licked my lips and gave her the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “It’s why I started Hush.”

“Started?” she repeated, her bangs drifting into her eyes.

I gently weaved it back behind her ear, nodding. “Started. Because I convinced myself that I had to have two lives. The life in the public eye, and the Dom behind closed doors.” I leaned in, my eyes drinking in the curves of her lips and she followed suit, pressing her lips against mine. I held her face in my hands, physical proof that I could have more, that I could have it all. “Before you, I thought this was just an itch that I would scratch alone, that I'd never find someone that would-”
Don't say love
. “Like me. All of me.”

She smiled, the secret, naughty grin I was intimately familiar with. “I like you, D.”

She said the letter playfully, but I knew that there was a longing there. A longing I could satiate. After all, I'd just shared something huge, terrifying, and she was still here.

Before I lost my nerve, I pulled off my mask.

The shock on her face went from surprise, to wonder, to...

Horror?

She lurched from my lap, almost crashing into the glass coffee table.

She covered her mouth, shaking her head slowly.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice tortured and heavy. “You're Desmond O'Connell!”

~

T
he Safeword Series

Red (The Safeword Series: Book One) - November 6

Yellow (The Safeword Series: Book Two) - November 19

Green (The Safeword Series: Book Three) - December 3

A
va Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her e-reader, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and fantasizing about her favorite book boyfriends.