Chapter 23
KEELY
I’m not going to tell him. Of course I’m not.
If anyone deserves to know what happened to me six years ago, what shaped my life, it should be Bethany. Maybe she doesn’t know it, but while she’s been leaning on me through the shit in her life, I’ve been leaning on her.
Her needing me has saved me more times than I can ever tell her.
Because while I concentrated on her, helping her get over the super-douche ex who left her for another man, and the tribulations of dealing with Zach Savage’s life before he met her, I’ve efficiently distanced myself from dealing with my own shit.
Now she’s found her rock-steady happy, she’s more than strong enough to deal with whatever issues I bring to her.
So, by rights, she deserves first spot at my confession table.
But the moment we walk into Mason’s suite, the weight of burden is suddenly too much to bear.
I want relief from that weight. I want to ball it up and dump it, even if it’s into a near stranger’s lap.
He might judge me, most likely condemn me.
But I’ll be selfishly lighter, less of a festering wound.
“Keely?”
His tone is a cattle prod that demands a reaction.
I put my clutch down, minus my phone, which he has in his pocket, and turn.
I raise my hand to push back my hair, and I smell him on me.
He’s imprinted on me as indelibly as the welts I can feel on my ass.
He’ll fade with time, just like the marks on my skin.
But for now, he’s a reality I can’t ignore.
And I don’t want to.
“You want me to tell you something I’ve never told another human being, not even the people who brought me into this world. Why?”
He watches me as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it slowly over the back of the sofa. “Because you’ve given me control over you, and you wouldn’t have unless a part of you trusts me not to hurt you or use anything you say against you.”
The naked, raw truth in that staggers me for a moment. “And am I right? Can I trust you?”
“To a point. We don’t know each other well enough to demand unquestioning trust. We have it where it matters most, but you probably don’t want to lose sight of the fact that a bastard lives beneath this skin.
Trust me with what you need to unburden, and I promise I’ll think long and hard before I let it influence our interaction any more than it’s doing right now. ”
My mouth gapes for a moment, before I recover from that. “Can I have a second to think about that?”
He smiles and strides to where I’m standing. He cups my jaw and tilts my head up until I look into his eyes. “No. We promised each other the truth, Keely. I’ll never waver from that, even if it’s not what you want to hear.”
“What if what I tell you isn’t what you want to hear?”
His thumbs brush my cheek as hazel gold eyes probe mine, and I glimpse a wasteland of weary regret in his gaze before he blinks it away.
“Firstly, I’ve seen and done things that give me very little right to judge what other people do.
Secondly, and this is very important, so listen closely.
” He pauses to suck my lower lip into his mouth.
His tongue rolls over it, once, twice, before he releases me.
The tingle he starts radiates throughout my body, and I lean closer to him.
“I’ve never been surer in my life that nothing you tell me will diminish my need to fuck this stunning body, for as long and as often as it’s available to me. And Keely…?”
“Yes?” I expel the word in a hushed whisper.
“The sooner you get to telling me, the sooner I can get to fucking you. I’ve been dying to take that ass again since you made me turn it raw and pink back at the club.
The longer you make me wait, the harder I’ll take you.
” He steps back, catches my hand and leads me to the sofa. “So, shall we get to it?”
Shall we get to it?
Five small words that lie between my protective fortress and the wrecking ball poised to bring it down.
My breath shudders out, and I decide that I’ll start with the skinny version instead of the whole bloated, worm-infested carrion.
He sits and pats his lap. My ass still stings from my earlier punishment, so I crawl onto him with my knees on either side of his lean hips.
His hands immediately settle on my waist, and he holds me in place.
It’s a perfect position for fucking, especially with me being minus panties and the fragrance of my come wafting up between us.
His nostrils flare and his eyes darken as he breathes in deep. The atmosphere becomes charged, but I know there will be no fucking until words are said and naked, ravaged souls—mine at least—are bared.
He captures my wrists and runs his mouth over my knuckles as he stares at me. “Let’s start with the emails. Who’s sending them, and why?” he asks.
“I don’t know who’s sending them. But I know why. I’m… I think the end game is blackmail.”
He freezes for a moment, then presses his mouth against my skin one last time before he lowers my hands to his chest. “The end game…”
“Yes.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks.”
His thumbs massage my hip bones, and I melt into his touch. “And why would anyone want to blackmail you?” he asks softly.
“I don’t know.”
He stares at me, and this time I don’t resent his silence. My answer demands elaboration, and I give it.
“What I mean is, I haven’t done anything worth being blackmailed over.” My mind screams at the un-wholeness of that answer, but I smother the rant. “Unless you call being at the wrong place at the wrong time a crime.”
My words are flippant, nothing like the barbed wires of resistance digging into my soul, as memories, which I only allow to roam free in the dark apocalypse of my mind, break free into the light of day.
“Where and when was this?” Mason asks.
Reality drowns me.
I’m doing this. I’m really doing this .
I take a deep and useless breath as my gaze clouds and I’m back in that cold, horrid underground suite of rooms.
Ice drenches me until I can’t feel the tips of my fingers. Maybe I react to the cold, or maybe I just look frozen. Peripherally, I feel Mason take my hands in his and warm them with his breath.
“Six years ago, I went to a party, hosted by someone I believed to be my friend. I had no idea what sort of party it was. I was young and wanted to fit in, and everyone was talking about the party to end all parties. I charmed my way into an invitation and on the day, I was driven from my campus at UCLA to a house somewhere in the Hollywood Hills. I have no idea whose house it was. I was taken to a part of the house named east wing on Friday night. I woke up in hospital on Monday morning.”
Mason may have tensed. Or he may have sprouted a halo and turned into Angel Gabriel. I don’t know because I’m sucked violently into the past.