Chapter 14 #4
“Jesus. Did you get any care at all from your parents?
“Of course I had care,” Gin said indignantly.
“She was a wonderful mother. Loving and fun and…” Her voice trailed off.
And then, after the divorce, she hadn’t been.
Gin hardly existed to her…except when Mama had hysterics.
Clinging and sobbing and repeating over and over, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. ”
“And?” He was frowning.
After her father abandoned them, her mother had been…
gone. Ignoring the school papers Gin brought home to be signed, never showing up for any extracurricular activities, not asking about her daughter’s day or troubles or anything.
Their roles had reversed. “I grew up at eleven,” she whispered.
“They weren’t the best relationship role models, were they? ”
“Not hardly.” Atticus’s hard face showed his understanding.
Gin puckered her brow. Her glass was empty again. “You know, I tell my clients how knowledge is the first step on the road to change. Pretty easy to say to someone else. Not so easy to do.”
“We’ll work on that, pet.”
After pulling Gin out of the tub and into the living room, Atticus settled her on the fur-covered pad in front of the fireplace. Feeling as if he’d run a marathon, he waited for his second wind to kick in.
But he had an answer or two. Her father—actually both screwed-up parents—had taught Gin that she had to “do” to be seen. To be loved.
But, although he was finally getting answers, he couldn’t keep the little sub in a hot tub, especially the way she’d reacted to the alcohol. “What did you have for supper?” he asked as he lit the kindling under the logs.
The firelight picked up the red sparks in her hair and the fading color in her face. “Supper?” Her brow wrinkled. “I didn’t—”
“Right. Did you happen to eat lunch?” She’d mentioned her job wiped out her appetite.
The shrug answered his question. “I’ll get us some cheese, then.” When she started to rise, he stopped her with a stern stare. “Stay right there or there will be consequences.”
She wilted.
In the kitchen, he smiled. Considering her spirit, he could foresee a future where a threat would result in even brattier behavior, especially if she came to like “consequences.”
When he returned with a plate of cheese and crackers, she was staring into the fire.
Down on one knee, he set a glass of water to her lips. “Drink it all, babe.”
Unusually obedient—or exhausted—she complied. Then he hand-fed her until pink returned to her cheeks.
Good enough. He needed to continue before the alcohol wore off. Ignoring her protest, he pulled her robe off, then dropped down onto the pad and arranged her on top of him. When her softness covered him, his body untensed, as if something lost had been restored.
Her irritation already forgotten, she propped her arms up on his chest and smiled down at him. Her gaze was still unfocused. “Did I ever mention how much I love your living room?”
And he loved seeing her drunk. Next time, though, they’d drink for fun and not shit like this. “Thanks, sweetheart.” With his robe open in the front, they had hot-tub-heated skin against skin.
Despite her disapproving frown, he felt her hips wiggle. Yeah, chemistry was something they’d never lacked.
But he had a few remaining facts to get straight. “The breakup with Preston made you realize you were doing the same thing as your mother?”
“Mmmhmm.” Her lips turned down. “I’m just like her—trying to please a man past the bounds of reasonable. It’s like a sickness. This is why I can’t be with you.”
“You can’t be with me?” he asked carefully.
“Don’t you see? When I came over and tried to help you feel better, I got carried away. I’d have done anything for you. I still want to.”
Finally. Now he knew what had triggered her flight. In fact, he’d set her off himself by teasing her. “You must have worked your ass off.” “Cleaning and fucking and cooking?”
She’d seen her kindness as an indication she was losing herself.
He’d been an idiot. She’d tried to explain her reasoning in the parking lot, but he hadn’t listened. Had let his past lead him down a false track.
He rolled her over, pinned her beneath him, and saw the unhappiness in her eyes. “Baby, do you hear what you’re saying? Do you really believe you have to work your ass off for a guy to sustain a relationship?
“I—” She bit her lip. “That doesn’t sound right…does it?”
But she’d nodded before her brain had kicked in. Yep, that was her belief. “Don’t you think you’re lovable just because you’re you?”
Her baffled gaze made him smile.
Looks like he had his task cut out for him. But he had a feeling he’d enjoy teaching her this one.
“Atticus.” Some of her reasoning ability was returning, and she shook her head. “You’re a Dom; you expect to be served. And I’m more like a drug addict who can’t have a taste of her drug—serving you—or I go too far. This thing between us won’t work.”
“Li’l magnolia.” He twined his fingers with hers to pin her hands over her head. Her pupils dilated as her body responded to the vulnerable position. “I think your service has two opposing mindsets. One—you’re afraid a man won’t love you if you don’t. You with me, so far?”
She nodded. “Exactly. This is what I’m—”
“The second frame of mind is different. If you’re submissive, you serve because you love to meet someone’s needs. Especially your Dom’s.”
Her expression went blank.
He allowed her a minute, then asked gently, “When you were cooking for me, I saw no anxiety. I saw only pleasure that you could give something beautiful.” He remembered all too clearly, the happiness shining in her eyes as she offered herself in the shower, as she set food on the table and watched him eat.
Nothing based in fear could have brought the Dom in him such contentment. “What were you feeling that day, Gin?”
As she understood what he was saying, her eyes filled with tears, turning the color of a tree-shaded pond. “Joy. I felt joy.”