Chapter 14
Dane
Ipreceded Lindsey up the stairs. I felt her behind me, felt her gaze, her attention, her tumultuous emotions.
I was feeling a pretty wild variety of shit myself—sorrow for all that she'd been through, fury and rage and hate for everyone in her life who had victimized her, whether through simple neglect or active, outright violation; I felt an upwelling of love that made me so intensely protective that if the Cohen motherfucker wasn't dead already I'd be tempted to go take care of him myself.
I felt a deep, driving desire to make sure she never felt pain ever again.
I knew I couldn't protect her from the vagaries of life, but I could sure as hell try.
"I can feel you brooding up there," Lindsey said, a few steps below me. "Stop it."
"I'm not brooding," I muttered as we entered the apartment over the bar.
I carried her stuff into the spare room, set it down, and moved to reach for Lindsey. She was already in my space, tugging at my tie.
"You were hating. It was palpable," she said.
"You had no one to protect you. Everyone in your life failed you. It makes me angry." I toyed with the strings of her oversized Eeyore hoodie.
She looked up at me with wet, wide eyes.
"You don't know how it makes me feel, Dane, hearing you say that.
But I refuse to waste any more of my life, my time, or my energy on hate, especially now that he's dead.
And I won't have you hating him either. He's not worth it.
" She unknotted my tie, tugged it free, and let it flutter to the floor at my feet.
"Instead of being angry and hating, spend that energy on me.
Please?"I sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I can do that.
I just needed to be angry for a minute. You've had your whole life to come to terms with what happened, Linz, I just found out an hour ago.
"She gave a head-tilted nod. "I suppose that makes sense.
I just…I want to put it all behind me. I want to be all in on you—on us. "
I dipped to kiss her—a soft, dry kiss, a quick touch of the lips. "That sounds pretty nice to me."
“You know what sounds nice to me?" she whispered, pushing my jacket off my shoulders and letting it, too, hit the floor at my feet. "You, naked."
"Just me naked? Or us naked together?"
She bit her lip, smirking. "Let's start with just you. I'll let you get me naked after I've had my fun."
I smoothed my hands over her hips as she unbuttoned my shirt. "Just don't do anything that will trigger you. Don't ask, don't try, don't even think about it." I palmed her ass, feeling my zipper tighten just from the soft weight of her glorious ass in my hands. "You are all I need."
“You have me." She had my shirt undone, and it hit the floor too; my white tank top was next, leaving me in slacks, shoes, and socks. "You have all of me, Dane. I promise. I won't run again. I won't push you away again."
"No freakouts from pushing yourself into sex stuff that's gonna set you off."
"I promise." She swallowed hard. "Won't you miss blow jobs?"
I shrugged, shook my head. "Not really." I gazed down at her, tugging at her lower lip with my thumb.
"Just a hypothetical situation, okay? Let's say you had no issues with giving oral, and let's say you were feeling generous, you wanted to do something that makes me feel good.
If you were to tell me I could pick a blow job or sex with you, there wouldn't be a decision to make.
I'd always, always pick connecting with you, being intimate with you, whatever you want to say.
A blow job feels great, yes. We've talked about that.
If you could do that without it causing you any problems, I'd be all for you giving me that once in a while, or as often or seldom as you wanted.
But if you can't ever do that again, I won't be trudging through life all heartbroken or whatever because you can't nom my knob. "
She snickered. "Nom your knob? That's a new one." She sighed, tugging at my belt. “I want to, though. I want to be able to. For myself, not just for you. I want my life back. I want my sexuality to be my own, not held hostage."
She opened my slacks, and they slid down my legs, pooling on the floor at my feet. My cock pulsed in my underwear, thickening, unfurling, tenting the front of my black boxer briefs.
I toed off my loafers, stepped on the fronts of each sock in turn, and stepped out of them, hissing as Lindsey palmed my package. "Linz, I'm here for you, okay?"
"I know that," she murmured. "I don't wanna be all gooey and emotional anymore, though."
I cupped her chin, tugged her face up so she had to look at me.
"No, what I mean is that I'm here for whatever you want, whatever you need.
You just have to honestly tell me what you're feeling and what you want, what you need.
" I searched her trembling, shimmery blue eyes.
"And as for being gooey and emotional? Linz, that's not something to avoid.
It's okay to be…soft…with me. Vulnerable. Emotional."
She dipped her chin, looking down and away. "There's nothing sexy about a weepy woman."
I pulled her focus back to me. "I don't need this to be sexy, sweetheart."
This got her eyes flicking up to mine in surprise.
"But…but…Dane, we haven't…I haven't—" she shook her head.
"This is our big reunion, though. We've been avoiding each other—or I've been avoiding you, I should say, if I'm being honest—for months.
I've dreamed of you. Of us. I've…" she swallowed hard.
"I've fantasized about this moment—finally getting to be alone with you, all my cards on the table, all my fucking baggage out in the open…
hoping you'd…" her eyes misted, dripped.
"You'd still want me, even after knowing how much fucking work I'll be. "
My throat closed, hearing her grit out these fearful truths, seeing the depth of her fear, the power of her insecurities.
"I just want to feel sexy,” she whispered, “I want to feel…
desired. I don't want to be a fucking basket case or a charity case, where you give me sweet little kisses because I'm so fucked up you don't—you don't see me as…
as…" a gruff growl of frustration escaped her.
“Fuck! See? This! This is exactly what I didn't want!
" She turned away from me, pacing angrily toward the window.
I followed her, sliding my arms around her waist, locking my fingers together at her belly as I murmured in her ear. "There's something you're missing in this scenario, sweetheart."
She stiffened. "There is?"
"Yup."
"What would that be?"
"I'm not in this just for the sex."
Already tensed, she turned into a statue. "I know that, Dane."
"I don't think you do. I think you think you do, I think you want to believe that, but deep down, you don't trust it."
"Dammit, Dane." She sniffled. "I'm trying to seduce you!"
"I know that. I don't need seduction." I cut over her protest. "Don't misunderstand me. I want you to seduce me all the fucking time."
"Then I don't understand the problem?"
I turned her in place, tipping her face up to mine. "Do you want to be with me?" I asked. "Do you want to live life with me? Explore what a real, lasting, long-term, committed, monogamous relationship with me looks like. One with no escape clauses or secret ways out just in case it doesn't work."
"Yes," she whispered. "You've had that modeled for you your whole life by literally dozens of people. I, on the other hand, have only ever seen one positive relationship in my life. So I just…I don't know what that looks like."
I smiled. Whispered my lips across hers in a ghost of a kiss. "That's what I'm talking about, sweetheart. You haven't seen what I have, so I know something you don't."
"Then enlighten me, please."
"You've had to be strong for so long, Lindsey," I said, holding her eyes as she tried to look away.
"Don't look away. Stay with me, honey. You don't have to be strong.
You don't have to have it all figured out.
You don't have to be sexy. You can be messy.
You can be emotional. I'm not scared of or threatened by your emotions or by tears.
I don't just want you when you're all made up and wearing sexy lingerie and feeling hot.
I want you when you're down, when you're scared, when you're pissed off, when you're…
I dunno, whatever you're feeling. And right now, baby, what you're feeling may not be sexy, but it's real.
If that's gooey and emotional, that's okay. Be that. Show me that."
"You're saying you can get hard for me even if I'm all weepy and sad?" she said, arching an eyebrow at me.
I laughed. "The funny answer is yes, I can always get hard for you. The real answer is that I love you, and sometimes, that may not look like seduction and heavy breathing and drawn-out foreplay. I can feel a desire for you that's not just hot, sexy passion. It can be something else."
"Like what?" she whispered.
I danced my mouth against hers. "Like this." I kissed her, slowly, softly. "It can be a love that's gentle and sweet. It's not less than, honey, it's just different."
"I'm not good with that kinda stuff, though," she muttered, resting her fingertips on my waist.
"That's fine. We can figure it out together." I pulled her hood up onto her head, laughing when she glared up at me from beneath the hood. "Fuck, you're cute."
"I don't want to feel cute," she grumped. "I want to feel sexy."
I lifted the hoodie up and off, leaving her in a white baby doll tee and tight black leggings; she wasn't wearing a bra, and her heavy tits bulged against the confines of the shirt, her erect nipples standing out hard.
"No bra, huh?"
"Nope," she whispered. "I like wearing baggy hoodies so I can go braless."
"Can't you just…I dunno…not wear a bra and fuck what other people think?"