Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“I thought perhaps if they held remorse, I could forgive them.” She shakes her head.
“I think of all the women who are abused every day, and in every way imaginable. I admire their strength to go on and put a smile on their face. Many continue on, have families, find love, and have fulfilling lives. I feel for the ones who can’t.
The ones who live in their nightmare. I didn’t think I was one of them, but I was wrong.
It’s been years, so I was expected to be alright.
It wasn’t anyone else who set that expectation, but me.
” She releases me, pressing her hand to her heart.
“Shouldn’t I be okay? They are dead, and I have a good life now.
There are people who love me, call me a friend, and like being around me.
But what face am I showing them? The person I am or who I wish to be.
” She drops her hand. “Does anyone know all the ugly things I had to do to survive? Can they see through the fake smile?
“After I healed from the bad guy beating me up, I didn’t sleep for days,” she says, swallowing hard, and my heart aches.
“Does a strong woman do that? I’ve been coping for so long, I didn’t know who I was anymore.
Was I the bubbly, smart ass I portray sometimes, or the quiet introvert who plays over and over in my head the movie of the night I was taken all day, every day, reading stories about men who will walk through fire to rescue me wishing it was my life?
Perhaps I am the sexy fox who still enjoys dressing up and seeing a man look at me with interest. Is it wrong that part of me wants someone to pamper me and take care of me?
Yet, I can get in the ring, face my opponent, and know how to make them bleed, and I enjoy it.
Some nights, I would cry in bed and be so mad at myself for feeling so broken.
“We are told to be strong. Wipe our tears and get up. Perhaps we did the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, wore the wrong thing. We asked for it without knowing the rules. Emotions are weak, and so are we if we show them. Some men want us to be the perfect imitation of a doll. Our opinions, feelings, and needs just don’t matter.
” She exhales slowly and tilts her head.
“I met you. My world tilted for a moment when you looked at me. A part of me wanted to deny it because I had a storm inside me, and doubts of my worth that I never voiced. You stared at me, and something clicked. You didn’t treat me as if something inside me was broken, yet you knew something had happened to me.
Yes, you were cautious, but not in a demeaning way.
Seeing you work was a revelation. You are fighting for those who need someone on their side, but you never doubt them.
Helping you was empowering. You gave me your trust, and it made me trust you even more.
“Every time I revealed more about myself, I waited for some sign of condemnation, and it never came. I’ve laid my heart in your hands, and you’ve held it with care.
You give so much of yourself to others, your mom, Issy, and now me.
I love your need to protect me. For someone who never had that, it’s alluring to allow you to do it forever.
” She moves closer, draping her legs over mine.
“I want to protect you, too. Your heart is safe with me, and I’ll never hurt you.
You’ve helped me realize I can be all of these things.
I can show my emotions, cry, be sad, strong, weak, an introvert, bold, sexy, sassy, enjoy your attention, and still be loved.
A woman is never just one thing. I’ve been too hard on myself and have tried to fit into a box that the world has shoved me in. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“You never have to hide from me,” I say gruffly. “I see you, and I would never try to suppress you.”
“I know,” she rasps, grasping the back of my neck.
“I know, and that's why I love you so fucking much. I want to build a family with you. We can continue hunting bad guys and traveling the world. This is my home, your home now, and we will always come back here. I would love to spend days locked inside with you.” She moves away and stands. “Come with me.” She holds out her hand, and I grasp it. “I never thought I could depend on a man, trust a man, ever again.” She leads me toward the bedroom. As we step over the threshold, she releases me and walks into the closet. “I swore I would never allow anyone to bind me again,” she says, returning. “I’ve changed my mind. I want you to.” She grips the cuffs, and I stare at them.
“Baby, you don’t have to,” I say roughly, looking at her. The image of her under my control is enticing, but I don’t want her to do anything that she doesn’t want. “I don’t need you to prove anything to me.”
“I know.” She smiles and caresses the leather. “Between us, the past doesn’t matter. You don’t scare me. Being bound to you makes me feel safe.”
“Be sure. Don’t do this to please me,” I say firmly. “I don’t need you to submit to me.”
“Ezra, mate…” She steps closer. “Tie me up.”
I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth, searching her face for any hesitation. Her open, excited expression gives me the reassurance I need to proceed.
“Oh, Foxy,” I hum, cupping her neck. “You want my control.” Trailing my hand down the center of her body, I grab the cuffs and throw them onto the bed. “I want my shirt back.” I tilt my head. “Take it off.”
I cross my arms and grin. Her scent fills with desire, and she bites her lip.
But she doesn’t hesitate.