Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Ashley
I feel awake for the first time in years.
I’m sitting across from Caleb at an outdoor café, an hour’s drive from our town. We must be careful to not be spotted, because I’m being unfaithful, but we don’t say that out loud. I don’t feel like I’m being untrue to anything. In fact, I think I’m finally being faithful to myself. Because I want to be here. I chose to be here. With him.
With this man who I’m already coming dangerously close to loving.
How could I avoid the feeling when he gives me options? At every turn. Even when he is clearly in sexual pain, he asks me if I want to be kissed. If he can press his body against mine. I’m breathing right now like I’ve miraculously grown a third lung. So much space to exist that I don’t know what to do with it all, but I also don’t feel any immediate pressure to decide. It’s exhilarating.
Caleb appears so staid now, compared to how frantic he was in the locker room, his thick hips shoving up between mine, his mouth plying me with pleasure I didn’t know was possible. I can still feel his big hands gripping my butt and I loved them there. I love his hands on me. Considering I abhorred human touch a couple of days ago, this revelation is astounding. All I can think about as I observe his polished, controlled exterior across the table is…what will his fingers feel like inside me? What will it be like to be touched there?
To say nothing of…sex. Intercourse.
My breath skips and I press my white napkin more firmly to my lap beneath the table. His eyes tick upward from the menu he’s perusing to scrutinize me.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Ashley?”
It should be unnerving to have a man be so attuned to my every movement, but it’s not. Not with Caleb. Which makes me wonder how he became this person. Someone who can liberate me with such skill, designed exactly for my experiences and insecurities. Where did he come from? Was he ever a young man or has he always been this distinguished and magnetic and…mysterious?
“I was thinking…I don’t know anything about you,” I say.
The waiter arrives then, but Caleb keeps his gaze trained on me while we place our order and the man leaves again. “I’d rather our sessions focus on you.”
“Is that really how you think of our time together?” I swallow the trepidation, but it sticks. “Sessions?”
“No.” A vein ticks in his temple. “That’s what I’m calling them for your benefit.”
Confusion prods me. “Why?”
His head tilts, ever so slightly. “You’re not ready to hear the answer to that, angel. As much as I’d love to tell you.”
“I am ready to hear it.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but he stops himself. Checks himself. Recognizes that I have a will, am expressing it and he should respect that. My God, this is what it’s like to be seen and understood. “The way I feel about you is rather intense, Ashley.”
My pulse scatters. “So…it’s not like this with all your clients?”
An incredulous laugh puffs from his mouth, followed by a longer and louder one. “No. My methods might be unconventional. Immersion or adventure therapy, for instance.” His amusement fades rapidly, something intense snapping in his blue gaze. “But I can confidently say it has never occurred to me, before now, to steal another man’s wife out from under his nose.”
My lungs labor for air. “Is that what you’re doing? Stealing me?”
“I’ll answer that when I’m positive you want to be stolen.”
I start to respond with I am. I am positive. But I can’t. I’m not free to make that decision yet. I’ve been caught up in this whirlwind of Caleb and his sensual methods of bringing me back to life, but…nothing has changed. Not really. Waylon still owns the farm on which my parents’ livelihood depends. The deed is done. I sealed myself to that monster and even if I could find a way to get my parents off the hook, I don’t think my husband would willingly let me go. Not without an ugly battle.
Caleb nods once, as if he’s read every frantic thought in my head. “Patience, angel.”
“Okay,” I breathe, feeling shaky. At least, until he presses his instep to mine beneath the table, grounding me. The way I feel about you is rather intense, Ashley. “Can I ask you more about yourself?”
His Adam’s apple lifts above his collar and disappears again, his gaze drawn down to the table. “I’ll do my best to answer. There are parts of my past I’d rather leave behind.”
“I’ll start easy. How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
Am I surprised he’s thirteen years my senior? Yes. But only because I hadn’t considered his age until now. Perhaps because he’s so timeless. Still…wow. I’m not only engaging in an intimate relationship with someone other than my husband, he’s a lot older than me. Unlike my age gap with Waylon, the one with Caleb only makes me feel more secure. More…sure of him. As though his experience only puts me in the surest hands, instead of primed to be taken advantage of.
He’s studying my face. “Does our age difference bother you?”
“No. I, um…”
“What?”
My face is hot. “I like it.”
“Do you?” his voice is like gravel. “For the same reason you like calling me Daddy?”
I don’t realize the tiny muscles of my sex are sore from orgasming until they slowly yank tight now, like zip ties, wetness dripping gently into my panties. This man is my Daddy. “Yes.”
An unholy light pools in his eyes. “Ask your next question, before I make another mess, angel.”
I press my palms to my knees to stop them shaking. “You’re new to Lunson, but you’re not from town originally. Where were you before?”
He exhales in a measured way. “Chicago.”
“Did you go to school there?”
After a brief hesitation, he says, “I went through the academy.”
“The academy. Were you a…cop?”
A line hops in his cheek. “Once upon a time, yes.” He pauses. “I was going to save the universe, but it didn’t want to be saved.” He forces a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Suffice it to say, I’m no longer suited for that line of work.”
I process everything he’s just revealed. Big city law enforcement. Of course. Since the beginning, my gut told he wasn’t an average, everyday therapist. His actions since we met have only bolstered that theory. My mind drifts back to Caleb looming over Waylon, as if interrogating him for murder. How safe I felt walking into the restaurant with his hand on my back, his eyes scanning the faces of customers, clocking the exits.
“What are you thinking about, Ashley?”
A slow wave of goosebumps travels down my arms. Over his attentiveness. The rasping way he says my name. “I…was, um.” I release the odd, pent-up giddiness building in my chest. “I was thinking that marrying Waylon made me feel like an adult for the wrong reasons. But knowing I’m on a date with someone who has already lived enough to be a former cop from Chicago…I guess I feel grown up tonight in a good way.”
Underneath the table, his warm hand slides onto my knee, massaging it firmly. “Why do you think that is?”
Tingles carry upward, targeting my sex, making it achy. Swollen. “You’ll use your age to our advantage, instead of against me.”
Lust flares in his face. “I’ll never use anything against you.”
“I know,” I whisper, wishing we were sitting on the same side of the table. I want to crawl into his lap and feel him everywhere. But I’m distracted by our unfinished conversation. “You left the force and moved all the way to Lunson. Something bad must have happened.”
After a full five seconds, he gives a barely perceptible nod.
I place my hand over his, where it sits high on my knee. “Will you tell me?”
“I’m worried it’ll trigger you, angel.”
“If I’m triggered, you’ll soothe me.”
After an intense moment, he nods. “Yes, I will.” Five seconds tick by. “My partner killed his wife,” he reveals in a tone that hints at a deeper agony. “I didn’t see it coming. He never displayed any of the classic hallmarks of a violent offender. Of the two of us, he was the easy-going one. Or so I thought. I thought their marriage was happy.” He rakes a hand down his face. “But knowing what I know now…there were signs. Signs I’ve committed myself to recognizing now, as a therapist.”
Pain is lancing me in the throat. “I’m so sorry that happened, Caleb.”
“Now I spend my life figuring out how men think. I have no delusions that I’ll be able to change people who are inclined to mistreat others, but…” He shakes his head. “The other option is to let the guilt over what happened consume me.”
A worry wiggles its way beneath my skin. “You’re not…interested in saving me out of guilt, are you? That’s not what attracted you to me, right?”
The intensity he emits from the other side of the table makes it impossible to breathe. “Your marriage is what brought you into my life, but it’s not what’s keeping you here. In my thirty-three fucking years, I’ve never felt anything close to what I feel for you.”
“Pity?” I challenge, swallowing.
“Admiration. Protectiveness. Wonder. Fascination. Need. My God, the fucking need ,” he breaks off, visibly trying to gather himself and the waiter picks that moment to appear, setting down our food, while another refreshes our glasses of wine. “That’s what I feel when I look at you. Not guilt or pity. The fact that you’re…”
“What?” I whisper, shaken.
“ Mine. Permanently. Or I burn it all down,” he says succinctly, leaning forward across the table. “Is that what you want to hear? That I’m fighting to appear civilized and patient, so I don’t scare you off, Ashley? No one has ever challenged those qualities in me. Ever. But God help me, I want the last thing your husband sees before he dies to be me fucking your brains out. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes,” I whisper, shivering so severely and with such a rush of heat, my teeth chatter a bit. “Believe me, I never expected to want to belong to any man, but you gave me the power of choice. And there’s no other choice but you.”
Hope is alive on his face, but he struggles to keep it from spreading. “As your therapist, I’m honor bound to point out…” His voice is a scrape. “There are other choices.”
“Such as?”
“Total freedom. From me. From any man.” He closes his eyes, his grip tightening on my knee. “I am trying not to let this possessiveness beat me, but I worry I will lose the battle. I’ll become everything I am fighting to keep you away from.”
My heart is hammering. “Maybe possessiveness is okay, as long as…”
Blue eyes impale me. “As long as what?”
“As long as it’s balanced with respect. Trust. Kindness.”
“I will give you those things,” he vows, his thumb swiping across my thigh, just beneath the hem of my dress. “Don’t forget about pleasure, angel.”
“I’d never forget that, Daddy,” I breathe. “Not when you give it to me so well.”
His jaw locks, his fist twisting in the material of my dress. “We haven’t even gotten started, little girl. Tonight, that changes. Eat.”