22. I am Icarus
Chapter 22
I am Icarus
LETTIE
M aybe I’m Icarus.
I flew too close to the sun.
Quite possibly, this was a colossal mistake.
Yet I’m too damn stubborn to quit.
I need this.
I can fucking do it. I am not broken.
Once upon a time, I loved doing this with him. Craved it
When he first tied my hands together, I was fine. He talked to me the whole time, and I watched his face as he worked, relying on his presence to soothe me. He suggested stopping at that point, but I’m a damn mule. A persuasive one.
So I coaxed him into adding my forearms into the mix instead of just my wrists, then told him I wanted to do a standing suspension with only my upper body attached to the rig.
Like a dumb donkey.
And here I am, a breath away from bursting into tears or blacking out.
Tomer finishes attaching my bound wrists over my head to the apparatus in his room. Or rather, our bedroom.
The realization sets in that I’m bound to something. Panic explodes inside me like a bomb is detonated.
I try breathing normally, but it’s taking all my concentration to prevent my body from trembling. To fix my breathing, I’ll have to redirect my focus away from my other efforts, and the shudders will overpower me.
Then he’ll stop, which is the opposite of what my stubborn ass wants him to do.
My heart slams wildly in my chest, and my legs wobble. Shit . I might pass out.
Breathe, Lettie, breathe.
To push past this fear, I need to be strong.
Well, strong er .
Tomer’s back in front of me, my other senses tracking his movement. I keep my eyes closed to shield my rising panic.
He places his warm palms on my cheek. “Talk to me, Lettie baby.”
A serrated exhale forces its way out of my chest, and an involuntary shake rolls through my shoulders.
“That’s it. I’m taking you out, sweetness. Just focus on my voice. You’ll be free in a few seconds.”
My right eye attempts to pop open, but my irrational fears over being restrained—even by the man I love and trust most in the world—are too numerous to let my vision focus, so I slam it shut again.
“Why are you stopping? I’m f-f-fine,” I lie like a rug.
Not sure why I even bother fudging the truth. He can see through me like a pane of glass.
“You’re panicking. I’m almost done with the last knot. Count to three with me, and your hands will be down. One. Two. Three.” As promised, the rope falls to the floor, and he lowers both my hands, leaving them in front of my waist.
Immediately, he goes to work unwrapping my forearms while placating me in soft whispers. “I’m here with you. You’re safe. Your wrists and hands will be free in a few more seconds. Just count for me. I’m so proud of you, Lettie. You’re doing so well.”
“No, I’m not,” I cough through a rapidly brewing sob. “I’m not doing well. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Fuck this. I’m gonna cut you free, sugar bear. Just breathe with me. I’m right here with you. Not going anywhere.” He grabs his safety sheers off the dresser and begins slicing through the remaining bands from the middle of my forearms up to my elbows. “Count with me, sugar. One. Two. Three...”
I try to count along, but I’m sobbing too much. My hands spring apart by the time he gets to seven.
“There you go, Lettie baby. All free.” He rubs his palms along the length of my forearms briskly, then opens my arms to the sides, showing me that I’m no longer restrained. “You’re fine. See? Nothing holding you. I’m here, and you’re safe. Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me hear your voice.”
Shaking my hands free, I collapse into his chest and throw my arms around his torso. Shudders run through me with a jarring intensity. I’m powerless to stop them, completely unable to control the twitching.
“Can I pick you up?” he asks, voice low and supple like leather.
I nod three times. Or at least I think I do. “Y-y-yes,” I force out in case my movements aren’t aligned with my wishes.
As soon as he has my verbal consent, he scoops me up and lays me on the bed, immediately tossing the blanket over me and spooning me from behind. With one hand skimming my hip lovingly, he presses his chest to my back, letting his warmth seep into my flesh. His other hand combs through my hair in soothing strokes.
I’m glad I didn’t let him do a chest harness like he normally would. That would have taken far too long to get out of. He was right to protest that.
Not that we needed it anyhow. It’s not like we were going for a full-body suspension, which we agreed wasn’t a good idea during pregnancy. This was just a little test that I’d convinced him to try. All I wanted was to be standing with my arms attached overhead. I picked the position because I figured it would be the furthest thing from how I woke up in that house. For the same reason, I kept my bra and panties on.
In retrospect, it was foolish of me to think that standing or having my legs and feet free would be less traumatic for me.
I can’t do it anymore.
No more comforting ropes holding me secure like a hug. No more escape to shut off my mind. No more pleasing him in this way, bonding with him through something so comforting for us both.
It’s gone. Taken from me.
Tears stream down my cheeks, falling onto my pillow.
For a long time, we stay in bed. He never stops whispering words of devotion. Never stops comforting me. Or touching me with hands that have never been raised at me in anger. Only love.
Once I’m all cried out and my wits return, I grab his hand from where it’s making soothing circles on my hip and bring it to my lips. I kiss his knuckles, same as he’s done to mine so many times. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, sugar. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to it.”
“Of course you should have. What type of partner would you be if you didn’t listen to my words? You did everything I asked. I needed to know if I could do it.” My chin wobbles as I release a lingering sob. “And now we know I can’t.”
He grabs a cup of ice water from the bedside table and offers it to me. “Here, sweetness. Drink up.”
As I gulp it eagerly and let the cold liquid coat my hoarse vocal cords, he flays me with a mournful expression. Every inch of his face is pulled down. It’s as if he’s burdened by more gravity than everyone else.
“Lettie, I never know the right call for things like this. I’m sorry I’m not better at that. Especially now when I need to be.”
Pulling the cup away from my mouth, I suck in a raspy breath to refill my lungs. “What do you mean?”
“Normally, when I think you can’t do something or it wouldn’t be a good idea, you prove me wrong. You’re constantly surprising me. I’ve learned to trust your judgment. Tonight, this still felt wrong, but I convinced myself that you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t think you could handle it. Now, I’m wondering if I fucked that up.”
I pass him the water to free up my hands. While he sets it down, I square my body with his. “Tomer, listen to me. I promise you did exactly the right thing. This was all on me. And I’m so damn sorry I can’t give you...” Tears overtake me again.
He tries to hug me, but we’re in an awkward position for this, so he runs his hands along my outer arms. “What are you apologizing for? And what do you mean you can’t give me something?” He kisses my forehead, thentugs my upper body so I’m lying on my side, facing him.“You’re perfect, Lettie. You give me everything just by breathing the same air as me.”
Unable to censor my words, my fears come gushing out. “I don’t think you’ll ever be able to tie me up again. I can’t imagine ever tolerating it. I’ll certainly never love it like I used to.”
“Then we don’t do that anymore. It changes nothing between us. Where is this coming from, sugar bear?”
“Because you need it. And I can’t give it to you,” I blurt out.
His face falls, but not with sadness. It’s more like shock or disgust.
“I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying,” I blubber through renewing tears.
“Stop it. No, you won’t. And that’s fine. Who the hell said I needed it?”
I press my finger to his lips to halt his objections. “You don’t have to say it for it to be true. I know bondage is something you need.”
He mumbles around my finger. “But it’s not true.”
I lower my hand. “It’s in your top two.”
Without missing a beat, he insists, “Not anymore.”
My neck jerks back, and I blink rapidly as if I could see through his saccharine attempt to make me feel better. “Since when?”
Some of the indignation melts away from his features, leaving room for the beginnings of a smile. “The moment I first kissed you was when you became my top two kinks. In fact, you’re all of them.”
“You can’t mean that.” My voice quakes, and my eyes mist over. “Don’t try to make me feel better by fudging the truth. That’s sweet and all, but I’m being honest here.”
“I am too. I swear. I’ll burn all my fucking ropes right now. And I never need to walk back into Bask unless I’m going there for or with you. Because you are the only thing I need. Ever. Period.”
I’m nearly speechless, but manage to get out one word, hoping it conveys some measure of my emotion. “Tomer.”
“I love you, Violet Anastasia Holt. You are all I need. Please believe that.”
Voice wobbling, I admit, “I do believe it.”
When my tears fall this time, it’s not from sadness but in response to his overwhelming love.
His lips meet mine, giving me sweet kisses through my salty, raining tears. Every swipe of his tongue on mine erases more insecurities. Each subtle moan soothes my worry that I’m no longer enough for him.
And as he whispers he loves me, he erases more memories of the days and nights I spent without him, both in forced bondage and when I walked away.
For the first time that I can recall, our kisses don’t turn into burning lust. They stay sweet and passionate, more of a connection and soothing balm than leading us to sex. I want to stay wrapped up in him this way, reveling in his gentle caresses, soft kisses, and whispered confessions.
It’s perfection.
When we break for air, we gaze at each other with hearts and stars in our eyes. A pair of twitterpated saps.
When the dopey smiles on our faces start to grow stale, I say, “I was thinking about something you said the other day.”
“What?”
“Remember when you said you wanted the house, the picket fence, the dog, and all that stuff?”
He laces his fingers with mine on my left hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the spot where his ring will go one day. “Yes. What about it?”
“I sort of want to shop for a new house with you, but I’ve felt guilty about asking.”
“Why?”
“Because this is your house, and it’s lovely. There’s nothing wrong with it. And it’s not like I come to the relationship with all this money and good credit or anything. I’m so poor I can hardly pay attention. It feels weird to ask for a new place. Yet I want something that’s only been ours.”
“Lettie, first of all, I’ll gladly sit down with you and show you all my finances. We won’t be worrying about money for a long time. And I’ll give you everything I have. In fact, I called the bank the other day to get a credit and debit card issued with your name on it, both tied to my accounts. That way you don’t have to ask me if you need to buy something. Once things settle, we’ll go to the bank and add you to my account.”
Oh, my heavens. This man.
“Really?”
He nods. “As for the house thing, I’m glad you’re being honest with me. I wouldn’t have put it out there if I wasn’t willing to follow through. I want you to be happy in every way. If making a new house into a home with me brings you joy, that’s what we’ll do. I can afford it, so we can afford it.”
“How do you have so much money?”
Naturally, that’s the part my squirrel brain decides to focus on after that beautiful profession. I’m a major doofus.
Heh. Major doofus, reporting for duty.
Tomer recaptures my errant focus. “I’ve spent very little of the money I’ve made, and I’m paid very well at Redleg. My military career was more profitable than some of my peers because of all my special skills. When I first got out of the Army, I bought a duplex in cash. I rented out one side and lived in the other. For three years, I stockpiled the rent I received while not paying any mortgage out. It helped me build up my savings. I sold it and used the profits and my savings to buy this. The market is good right now, so I imagine we’ll make a nice profit on this that we can use to buy something you’ll love.”
He kisses the tip of my nose before continuing. “Plus, Big Al set me up with profit sharing since I helped him form the company. He wanted me to be a co-owner, like a partnership, but I wasn’t interested. It would have required too much time out of the office. Or with people. Employees reporting to me.”
“People? Yuck. That’s almost as bad as phone calls,” I quip.
His chuckle caresses my ears like plush velvet. “That’s a good point. Your feelings on phone calls align with mine on dealing with people.” His face softens. “At least, that’s how it was before one person came into my life and taught me how amazing some people can be.”
We kiss again, rapidly getting swept away in each other. But I’ve got another thing I want to ask. Before my hormones take over, I pull back. “Why did you say a black dog?”
“What?”
“Sorry for being so random. You know how I am.”
“I love you that way.” His sigh is tender and brimming over with contentment. “Do you mean, why do I want a dog?”
“Yes. But specifically a black one. You said that the other day, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about dogs.”
As soon as the words clear my lips, I reach for them, anxious to shove them back into my trap. Not because I don’t want to know. But I’d do anything to prevent his face from falling the way it just did.
I snuggle close, hoping I can infuse love into my touch. “Oh, babe. What’s that face for?”
He forces his features to brighten, but it’s unnatural and only makes me hurt worse.
“What do you mean?” he asks, faux happiness in his tone.
“A second ago, you were all relaxed and peaceful. Now, you’re all sad.” I fling my leg over his outer thigh, shimmying our lower halves closer. I want no space between us. “I’m sorry for asking about the dog. You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you unhappy or triggers something.”
Lord knows I wrote the book on being easily triggered. Last thing I want to do is set off the man I love into a trauma spiral, which I suspect is what’s happening.
Instead of answering my question, he changes the subject, “Can you call the therapist for me tomorrow?”
Relentlessly, my tongue dabs at my suddenly dry lips. “Um. Yeah. I can do that. Are you ready?”
“Yes. I want to be able to talk to you about stuff like this. But I-I can’t do it yet. Normally, I wouldn’t ask you for help making an appointment, but this is something I haven’t been able to do on my own.”
A yawn slips free. “Okay. I’ll call for you tomorrow. And we don’t have to talk about that stuff tonight. As much as I’d love to know every detail about your life, you take your time. I’m very patient.”
Buzz.
A game show buzzer in the back of my mind signals my lie. Let’s face the facts;I’m as impulsive and impatient as they come.
Then again... for Tomer, I’ll wait as long as he needs.
He doesn’t call me out on my lie. “Thank you, sugar bear.”
I give him a sleepy smile, fatigue slowly wearing me down. “I love you. Should we sleep now?”
“Yeah. I’m tired.”
Our lips come together for a quick good night kiss.
“Lettie, tomorrow you’ll talk to Simone about what happened today at work, right? And then you can tell me what set you off?”
My face pinches tight, and my lip glides between my teeth.
Sensing my trepidation, he adds, “The only reason I want to know so badly is to ensure I avoid setting you off accidentally. I want to protect you. That’s all.”
Oh shit cakes.
His sweetness reminds me I was supposed to talk to him tonight about amending my statement with the cops to include the hideous monster who emailed me today. And also the email.
Hell, that was partially why I was so damned determined to try the bondage tonight. In my deluded mind, I was attempting to prove I am not broken. The pictures I saw today don’t define me. I thought I could prove I’m stronger than I was before he hurt me.
Turns out, I wasn’t.
I could bring up those heavy topics now, but I’m not strong enough for that either.
Then again, I’m also exhausted. It’s been a hell of a day.
I nod slowly, agreeing with him. “Yes, babe. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her, then explain everything to you.”
He places a series of kisses down the center of my face. One on my forehead, another between my brows, one on the tip of my nose and another on my lips.
And I feel so loved. So cherished.
Protected.
“Goodnight, Lettie.”
I give him the biggest sleepy grin I can manage. “Sweet dreams, my love.”
Tomorrow, I’ll try to figure out how to protect him in return.