Chapter 8 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
I’m not sure how I feel.
After we’d finished and mystery man disposed of the condom, he helped me back into my dress.
He.
I just had sex with this man, and I don’t have the first clue what his name is. Despite that… I feel like I know him.
Should I just ask? Would that be awkward?
Thanks for the absolutely mind-blowing orgasms, maybe we should exchange first names. Or maybe numbers?
Because I would definitely like a repeat performance.
That was… I don’t even know how to explain what that was. I’ve never allowed myself to surrender like that. To be that free, in the moment. Not worrying about how I looked or how I sounded, or pretending to feel something I don’t to spare his feelings.
That hadn’t been necessary. Mystery man is gifted.
But it was more than that. The things I admitted, were things I haven’t been brave enough to admit even to myself. And he accepted them, as if a stranger baring her soul and weaknesses was perfectly normal. Strangely… I feel relieved that they are out. That I told him.
“Thank you.” The words slip free, but I don’t regret them.
He kisses the side of my head with an affection that strangely doesn’t feel out of place.
I’m sitting sideways across his lap in the leather desk chair, legs tucked loosely over his. His shirt is unbuttoned beneath his jacket, and I rest my cheek against his warm skin. Any minute now he’s going to get up and this surreal interlude will be over.
Back to the real world.
He hums low in his chest, then shifts under me until I meet his eyes.
“No,” he says with a slow smile that makes something curl deep in my belly. “Thank you.”
He toys with my hair, stroking it gently. It had mostly fallen out of its updo, and without a mirror to fix it, I settled for pulling the pins out.
My laugh is a little shaky. “I mean it. I…”
It’s hard to put into words the feelings rushing through me, but he waits quietly for me to continue.
I study his face. He trusted me by taking off his mask, and I want to return the favor. Make him understand what he did for me.
“Everything that’s happened in the last few years… It chipped away at me. Bit by bit.”
I glance at his mask still lying on the desk beside us and think about the fact that I’ve already let him see more of me than anyone else.
“I tried so hard to be what I thought I was supposed to be, only to realize life turned out nothing like I thought it would.” I shake my head. “This isn’t coming out right.”
He gives me a small smile. “I understand.”
“Do you?” I search his eyes.
“I’ve lost myself in my job, too. Didn’t even realize how it was changing me… and not in a good way.”
I nod vigorously. “Exactly. I was terrified that after what happened with my ex, and the greed and dishonesty I encounter with my job, that this is just who I am now. Cold. Closed off. Suspicious of everyone.” I meet his eyes.
“You reminded me that some of that fire might still be inside me. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to find it again. ”
“You don’t need to be afraid, Firefly. That spark is just below the surface. Give it some room to breathe, and then you can burn bright whenever you want.” He smiles. “Like they say in the ring, ‘It’s not whether you get knocked down. It’s whether you get back up.’”
My head lifts, startled by the metaphor and how well it fits. “That is oddly profound. Do you moonlight as a therapist when you’re not providing sexual escapades to random women?”
His grin is crooked. “No. Just a man who knows what it feels like to stand exactly where you are. But I can’t take credit for that one. Muhammed Ali.”
Our eyes lock, and something flickers between us.
“Are you a boxer?” I ask, thinking of his tattoo and the metaphor. With his body, it would be easy to believe.
He chuckles. “Not professionally. But good try.”
“Will you tell me your name? I’ll tell you mine.” I add hurriedly when his eyes shutter. I know the answer before he even says it.
“It’s not a good idea.” He sighs.
Embarrassed, I push to my feet and hate that he doesn’t stop me. “I should probably call for a car.”
He catches my hand. “It’s the timing, Firefly. I swear that’s all it is.”
“Right.” I force a smile, the glow I’ve been basking in turning to ice. “I understand.” Stopping before I get to the door, I turn back to face him, because I’ll hate myself if I don’t say it—if I leave things on this heavy note.
“Well, mystery man, thank you again for tonight. I don’t know if you dropped truth serum in the scotch, but I said things to you I’ve never said to anyone. And it felt wonderful.” I smirk to cover the ache in my chest. “The other felt pretty incredible, too.”
He doesn’t laugh. If I knew him better, I might think he looked sad. “No truth serum. Tonight, we could be whoever we wanted. Even if it was our true selves.”
His gaze burns into me across the room, and my heart stutters because he’s right. I was more open with him in every way than I ever was with Keith, and his words make me wonder if it was true for him as well.
“Anonymity making us bold?”
“Something like that.”
“I think you might be right.” I keep a smile on my face though it’s killing me.
“I think,” he says, his voice more serious than I’d heard it, “that you’re a remarkable woman and stronger than you believe.” He lets out a heavy breath. “And I wish I’d met you anywhere but here.”
My breath catches. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know what I see,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine.
I swallow hard. “What do you see?”
“Someone who is going to get off the mat and take her power back.”