And Take #3
“Finally, if you talk about it in bed with me, or wherever, I’m not going to lose my shit.
Talk about it when you need to talk about it.
Anything related to sex is bound to bring up a lot of emotions and insecurities.
” His arms unbanded from her so a hand could curl around the nape of her neck.
He held her gently yet firmly, forcing her to remain looking at him.
“That’s what this is, right? And what the lock up earlier was about?
You’re worried I’ll judge you for the things you had to do as part of your job.
What you did to survive. I bet you even think that my attraction to you is because I think you’re up for anything because of it. ”
He was way too intuitive. “It’s difficult to believe otherwise. I just want a real life back. Something to be proud of. Something I don’t need to be ashamed of.”
He leaned in and kissed her with care. Not passion or lust. But she knew, if nothing else, that, in this moment, he meant everything he said and did. “What could you possibly have done that was so horrible you feel you should be ashamed of it?”
Could she share with him the nightmare she had lived for the past eight years?
And if she did share, would she ever be able to truly believe his honesty about not seeing her as the whore her target had treated her as?
He’d shared so much with her. His own vulnerability over Tilly. His inability to let go of the past and his responsibility for how things had ended.
Together, could they help one another get to the other side of their guilt?
Where did that idea come from? There was no guarantee that his presence in her life would go beyond getting her into the States. He told her it was okay to want this. That they couldn’t ignore it. But that didn’t mean it went anywhere beyond now.
Did he want something beyond these fraught-filled days, speeding across the continent?
Maybe his attraction lay in the danger aspect.
That seemed far more realistic to her than the idea that, from just a series of long-ago phone calls and her out-of-the-blue plea for help, he developed a deep and abiding attraction to her.
God, it felt real though. Then again, how would she know what was real and what was illusion? When was the last time she had something real in her life? Definitely not since her undercover assignment started. Probably not since discovering her passion in college. Possibly since Joey was born.
This was the moment of truth. Trust her instincts or pack her insecurities tightly away?
How could she tell him though? How could she make him see? She couldn’t bear to let him see her struggle. He already had enough guilt and trauma from others he was dealing with. Emotions would push him to feel an even greater need to protect her, and protection wasn’t love.
Jesus fucking Christ. She’d fallen in love. How was that even possible? It was a week’s worth of time.
Her best course of action was to let it all out.
Let him see the disaster she was, and whatever happened, happened.
She couldn’t control his reactions any more than she could control the weather.
If they had any hope of being something beyond these days of being chased across the continent, he needed to know where she stood.
He knew the facts, but he didn’t know the truth. And there was a difference.
What she was about to say? She couldn’t look at him while she did it.
Instead, she stared at the tattoo on his right pectoral muscle.
Her fingers itched to trace the script of Tilly’s name, braided into the vine.
Oddly, she felt no jealousy at the other woman’s name on his chest. It was his reminder.
His version of a cross he bore. She couldn’t deny him that token of respect for the girl he and his friends had lost.
She breathed in deep. She exhaled slow. Then she told him about her burden. “I fucked a cartel jefe. And there were times… there were times when I enjoyed it.”
He said nothing.
“Guillermo needed a power dynamic. One that placed him far superior to those around him. Preferably one that instilled fear. If I gave him that, he won. So I didn’t. I gave him my submission, and it kept me alive. But there were times when I craved it, and no one will ever understand that.”
She stopped. Her throat closed up, her chest tightened, and her head swam. She couldn’t do it.
Triumph slipped free of her touch to sit against the headboard. Gently, he tucked her under his arm, into his side, palming her head against his chest. Her arm naturally crossed over him, like she was anchoring herself to a safe harbor before a storm.
With his chin resting atop her head, one hand stroked up and down her arm while the thumb of his other hand stroked the surface of the one across him. He was giving her an out. If she didn’t want to talk anymore, he wasn’t going to force it.
How did she deserve this? In a million ways, since they spoke over the phone, he told her everything would be okay.
Now that she was no longer looking at him, all the anxiety eased. Somehow, he knew that looking at him was bringing about panic.
If he was going to reject her, it was better to know now than before she got further invested.
With another shaky breath, she plunged forward.