Chapter 10 #2
I tilted my head just enough to look at him, my hand coming up to smooth down the linen collar of his shirt that was slightly askew from our kiss.
“Next time, I want to try a different flavor. Coffee’s bitter.”
He laughed, the sound deep and fond, and his arms tightened around my waist. “A critique, little darling? Already a bossy thing, aren’t you?”
“Only when the subject is important,” I confirmed, settling back against his shoulder. "And that was definitely important.”
We sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, his thumb still stroking idle patterns on my side, my fingers playing with his hair. Then my gaze drifted to the ocean view, and reality came waltzing back.
"Wade?" My voice came out small; that playfulness I enjoyed was being washed over by my past.
"Yes, beautiful?”
I looked past him to the ocean beyond the glass walls that wrapped the upstairs living room.
"I want to see them," I said quietly, my gaze still fixed on the ocean. "My dad and Honey. I've been dreaming about it for five years." I paused, the familiar weight settling on my chest. "But I can't. Not yet. Not until after we save the girls."
His hand stilled on my waist. The circles stopped, and I felt his attention sharpen. "Why not?"
"Because—" I turned to look at him, watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Because I'm not the person they're waiting for. The Marie they knew wouldn't have managed a place like The Sanctuary. Wouldn't have made schedules that kept everything running smoothly."
His jaw tightened slightly, the only indication he was affected by what I was saying. Everything else about him stayed perfectly controlled—his posture relaxed, his expression calm, his hand steady on my waist.
"I didn't service the men myself the last few years,” I continued, needing him to understand.
"They moved me to management because I was more useful that way, but I put the girls on those schedules. I chose who went to which client. I knew Sophia would get hurt, and I sent her anyway because if I didn’t, something worse would happen. I made those choices every single day."
"To survive." Wade's free hand came up to cup my face, his palm warm against my cheek. "You made those choices to survive."
"But I still made them." My throat was tight. "The girls down there are the ones who suffered. They're the ones who deserve to be saved and welcomed home. Not me."
"Stop." His thumb pressed against my lips, warm and firm, silencing me. I stared at him, my breath catching on the sudden command.
Then, deliberately, he pushed it between them and into my mouth. "Suck."
I froze, my eyes going wide. His thumb rested against my tongue, warm, and he was watching me with an expression that was both commanding and patient.
"I need you quiet for a moment, darling," he instructed, voice low and steady. "I need you focused on something other than that voice in your head. So suck on my thumb and see how it makes you feel."
Heat flooded my face, and then my entire body. I don’t know why I wasn’t offended or uncomfortable, or anything other than what I actually felt, which was safe and cared for. He was taking control of something I couldn't manage on my own.
I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked gently, watching his eyes darken slightly in response. His other hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer against his chest. The position shifted me more fully into his lap, making me aware of how solid he was beneath me, how strong.
"Good girl," he murmured, and the praise made warmth pool in my stomach. "Just like that. Keep going."
I did, my mind going blissfully quiet as I focused on the simple task.
On the weight of his thumb against my tongue, him watching me like I was the only thing in the world, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my side.
My hands found their way to his shirt at some point, fingers twisting in the linen, holding on.
"This isn't going to be solved easily," Wade said after a moment, his voice still that same steady calm. "What you're carrying, this guilt. The belief that you don't deserve good things—that's not going away with one conversation. It's going to take time and work."
I made a small sound around his thumb, a mix of agreement and protest. He smiled slightly and stroked my cheek with his free hand.
"But I also know that this helps." His eyes tracked over my face, noting whatever changes he saw there. "That when I give you something to focus on, when I take some of that control away, your mind gets quieter. Am I right?"
I nodded, still suckling, heat burning in my cheeks at how right he was. At how much I liked this—being in his lap, following his instructions, and having his complete attention focused on me.
"Then here's what's going to happen." He slowly withdrew his thumb from my mouth and dragged it across my bottom lip before letting his hand fall back to my waist. Both arms were around me now, holding me secure against him.
"Whenever you start spiraling, whenever that voice gets too loud, you're going to come find me, and you're going to kiss me.
Not a peck or just a quick touch. You're going to kiss me like you need it, like you need me, and I'm going to kiss you back until that voice goes quiet and all you can think about is how good it feels. Understand?"
The command in his voice made my breath hitch. This wasn't a suggestion or an offer—this was an order from a man who expected to be obeyed. And crazy as it was, I wanted to obey. I wanted to do exactly what he was telling me to do.
"That seems like a lot,” I mumbled, but he quieted me with a look.
"Marie." My name was anchoring. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you that's what's going to happen. When you need me, you come to me, and you kiss me if it will help.”
Something in my chest loosened at the demand in his voice, at having the decision taken away. "Okay," I whispered.
"Good girl." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt the praise all the way to my toes. "Now, tell me honestly, do you actually want to wait until after the rescue to see your family, or are you punishing yourself?"
I squirmed slightly in his lap, uncomfortable with how clearly he could read me. The movement made him tighten his hold, keeping me still. Patient, waiting for an answer.
"I don't want them to see me like this," I admitted finally, my fingers still twisted in his shirt. "Broken and guilty, and not the person they remember. I need to fix it first and save the girls so I can look at my dad and tell him I did something good."
Wade's hand moved to my hair, stroking through the braids that Sylvia had cleaned. The touch was soothing, exactly what I’d needed even though I hadn't known to ask for it.
"We're going to save those women," he promised, his eyes steady on mine. "Tomorrow night, we move. And when they're safe, when you've seen them free, we'll talk about seeing your family. Does that work?"
It was a compromise. He was giving me what I'd asked for while making it clear he didn't agree with my reasoning.
"Yes," I breathed. "That works. How's the plan going? Do you have everything you need?"
"The plan is perfect." His hand continued its path through my hair, the motion hypnotic. "I'm using my best men. Everything's in place."
"What's the—" I started to ask for details, but he pressed his thumb against my lips again. Not pushing inside this time, just silencing me.
"I'll tell you everything in the morning.” His voice dropped lower. "Right now, your mind is too full, darling. Too busy with guilt and everything you think you should be doing. I need to empty it for you."
He leaned in and kissed me again, silencing my thoughts.