Chapter 26
twenty-six
EDEN
He knows I spilled the beans.
I can tell by the way there’s no kiss at the end of the message. By the way he doesn’t answer when I call him.
“Um, I need to go,” I say, standing.
“Is everything okay?” Autumn asks, a frown pulling at her lips.
“Everything’s fine. I just have an early morning and West offered me a ride home. Thank you for tonight.”
Autumn studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to read between the lines, but I force a smile and hug her and the others before I gather my bag. By the time we’ve all said our goodbyes, my phone buzzes again.
I’m outside. – West
A shiver runs through me. God, he’s going to be furious. I’m stuck somewhere between fear and being stupidly turned on by that. I know why he’s angry. I’m almost certain Parker’s spilled all my secrets to him.
And I didn’t warn him. Because I’m way too much of a coward for that.
When I step out of The Salty Dog, he’s leaning against the black car, arms folded, eyes dark. He doesn’t say a word, just opens the passenger door like it’s a command instead of a courtesy.
I hover for a second, my pride pricking at the way he treats me like a disobedient child. “You know, most people say hello,” I point out. “And yes, I had a lovely time. Thank you for not asking.”
His eyes cut to mine, hard and unyielding. “Get in the car, Eden.”
For a heartbeat, I think about walking away, proving he doesn’t get to order me around. But I let him walk into Parker’s lighthouse unarmed. It’s time to talk. So I get in the car and wait for him to get in.
He climbs in, puts on his belt, and stares straight out of the windshield as the engine starts up.
“Did you have a nice time?” I ask.
His hands tighten on the wheel. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I fold my arms across my chest, turning in my seat to glare at him.
His voice is low, controlled, the kind of quiet that’s far more dangerous than shouting. “You went to Autumn and didn’t tell me.” He puts his foot on the gas.
“I needed somebody to talk to,” I say, my voice small.
His jaw tics. “You could have talked to me. I would have listened.”
There’s the guilt again. “Would you have?” I ask him. Because I’m not sure.
Truth is, the sex, the intimacy, it’s everything. But I have no idea how he feels and I’m too scared to ask.
God, I really am a coward.
“At least give me a damn heads up next time, will you? Before I end up with your brother’s fist in my face.”
“Did Hudson say something?”
He shakes his head. “He doesn’t know. But it’s just a matter of time.”
He drives along the coastal road faster than he should.
And I stare out of the window at the dark ocean ahead.
I messed up. I know. But the silent treatment is worse than him being angry.
When he parks outside the North House, I climb out of the car and run to the door, only realizing when I get there that I can’t remember the code.
He brushes past me, his body hard and tense, stabbing the numbers into the lock.
“Get in.”
“So we’re doing the whole dominant thing now?” I ask him. “I guess it beats the silent treatment.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. His voice cracks. “Please.”
I walk in, feeling him close behind. The slam of the door makes me jump. I start to storm upstairs, fully intending to sleep anywhere but in his bedroom, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“Don’t ever go to Autumn first again,” he says. His thumb presses into my pulse like he knows how fast it’s racing.
“She’s my sister. I’ll talk to her about anything I want.” I wrench my arm from his. “And if that pisses you off, you’ll just have to live with it. You don’t own me.”
“You cried.”
“What?” My mouth drops open. “She told Parker that?”
“You went to her and you cried. You never even told me you were upset. You should have cried to me.”
Oh. My. God. “Is that what this is about?” I whisper.
“I’m your husband. If you’re upset, it’s my job to make things better. I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me.”
“Well, this has taken a turn I didn’t expect,” I mutter. God, I really thought he was angry because I kept him in the dark. This is so much… worse.
Because he’s killing me here.
“Don’t make a joke out of this. I’m serious.” His eyes lock on mine. “I hate the thought of you being upset.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I tell him. “You were at work.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“And I needed to talk to somebody about you. Somebody who wasn’t you,” I admit, pulling my lip between my teeth.
He reaches up, cups my face, his palm gentle on my skin. “If you’re upset with me, I can take it. If you have questions, I can answer them. But I can’t do anything if you pretend everything is okay.”
I take a breath, remembering that photograph. And dammit, I’m not okay. If he wants my emotions, then he can have them all.
“There’s a picture of a woman in your dresser drawer. And it makes me uncomfortable because I don’t know who she is. I don’t know if you’re attached to somebody else while having sex with me. It makes me feel…” I let out a sigh. “Less, I guess.”
For a second he says nothing. His brows furrow, like he’s trying to understand.
“A woman?”
“Her picture was on your dresser until I moved into your room. It feels like you’re hiding something.” God, I hate feeling like this. Like I’m unworthy. Standing naked and exposed while he keeps himself fully clothed, protected.
“The photo is of Leona,” he tells me, and I blink because he’s actually opening up.
“Who’s Leona?” I whisper.
“The babysitter I had when I was a kid. She was more of a mom to me than my own mom ever was. And you don’t have to worry about her, because she’s dead.” His mouth tightens, like he doesn’t want to talk about this.
Oh my God. I feel like a prize idiot.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”
He nods but says nothing else. His hand is still on my face, his body pressing mine against the wall.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I whisper. “I just…”
His long lashes sweep down. “You didn’t. I upset you. I just wish you’d asked me before you jumped to conclusions.” His thumb grazes the corner of my eye, where a tear is starting to form. Then he pushes it between his lips, tasting my sadness.
“This is mine,” he tells me, his voice thick. “Your tears, they’re mine. Nobody gets them but me. You have a problem, you tell me. You shout at me. You scream if you need to. Hell, I’ll let you beat on my chest if you’re feeling physical.”
My mouth twitches. Beating on him sounds fun right now.
“Okay.” I nod. Because it’s not asking too much. I did blindside him. I could have talked to him, but I was afraid. “But you have to do the same.”
“Hitting you?”
I smile widely. “No, talk to me.”
He nods, his expression serious. “Okay. It’s a deal.” He runs his hand down my side, to my thigh, then hitches it around his hip. I lift my head up, and his stare is dark. Needy.
“Maybe we should have kept arguing,” I murmur. “Angry sex is always good sex.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t still angry.”
My heart thuds hard against my ribcage “You want to punish me?” I murmur, tracing his lips with my finger.
He captures my hand with his. Kisses my palm. “You wouldn’t like it if I punished you.”
“But do you want to?” I ask, breathily. Because right now, I think I’d do anything for him.
“I want nothing more,” he admits. Oh, he’s definitely still pissed. My thighs clench.
“Then do it,” I whisper. “Punish me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” There’s a break in his voice.
“It’ll hurt me more if you hold back.”
His jaw flexes. For a minute he says nothing, just stares at me, his breathing heavy. His eyes so dark he looks otherworldly.
Then he leans forward, his lips brushing mine. Oh god, I’m already halfway there. I don’t know what it is about this man, but it’s like his body sings to mine. Like he can control my desire with nothing more than a look.
“Get the hell upstairs and get naked,” he says softly against my mouth. “I want you waiting for me on the bed. Legs splayed open, arms stretched out.”
My breath catches. I don’t argue, I don’t throw his words back at him. Instead I stride to the stairs, feeling his eyes on me as my hips sway. Feeling the heat of desire pooling deep in my belly.
He doesn’t say a word as I walk up the stairs, fighting against the instinct to run. He doesn’t move as I open the bedroom door and walk inside, closing it softly behind me.
I’m so turned on and scared at the same time. I know he won’t hurt me.
But I still want it. Just a little bit.
I take my clothes off, putting them in the laundry hamper because I want him to think I’m a good girl. I shake my head at myself. I’m a grown up. A feminist. Yet, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive than I feel now, knowing that West Abbott is going to punish me.
Like he instructed, I lie down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with my arms stretched out and my legs splay out.
Exposing everything.
And I lie there for ten minutes. Ten. Whole. Minutes. Oh god, is this the punishment? Is he going to leave me like this, all hot and aching and needing his body on mine?
I swear it feels like hours before I hear the creak of his footsteps on the floor outside. The soft click of the handle as he pushes it open.
“Bennett is staying with Jesse tonight,” he murmurs as he steps inside. “There’s nobody to hear you scream.”
The way he says it, so calmly. So matter of fact. It sends a tingle of fear through my body.
“Good scream or bad scream?” I ask, aware of the tremble in my voice.
He laughs softly. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Oh he likes this. I do too. I turn my head to look at him.
“No. Eyes to the ceiling,” he instructs. I hear the opening of a drawer. “In fact, I think I want you blindfolded.” He looms over the bed, a black scrap of silk in his hands. Wait, he keeps that in his drawer? Jesus. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
And I know he’s asking permission.
“Yes.” The word slips out before I can gather my thoughts. It’s true though. I do trust him.