Bound to be Dirty (9 page)

Lily nodded. “You're wonderful parents. You're patient, encouraging. You focus on the positives, not the negatives.”

“It's not that we don't believe in rules and discipline, at least when Sophia's older. I think my mom and dad are—no insult intended to yours, Lily—terrific parents. They care about who each of their children is, our strengths and weaknesses, our dreams and goals. They motivate by example, encouragement, praise for achievements, not by criticism. They accept and love us for who we are, rather than trying to mold us into their idea of perfect kids.”

“They don't make you—” Lily broke off.

Dax gave her a curious look. “What?”

She shook her head, aware that the three other people in the room were all staring at her. “Nothing.”

“Say it,” he told her. “No one is going to tattle to your parents.”

He was right. Anthony might have, but Regina, Aldonza, and Dax never would. And she wanted to say it aloud, just one time. “They don't make you feel like you have to agree with them to be loved,” she said slowly.

Regina's greenish-gray eyes softened with sympathy. “No. And we'll never do that to Sophia.”

“I don't think my parents intend to be that way.” She wanted to believe that. “It's how they were raised.”

Regina bit her lip. “I should shut up. But instead I'll point out that Anthony was raised by your parents. That doesn't mean he has to repeat the pattern.”

“If my Filipe and I had been blessed with children,” Aldonza said softly, “I would treasure them. I would bring them up the way Miss Regina says.”

“So would I,” Lily said.

“Hmm,” Regina said teasingly, rising to place Sophia back in her bassinet, “does that mean you have news for us?”

“No! No, of course not.” She cast a quick glance at Dax, who studied her quizzically. Though she so badly wanted to have a baby, this was the worst time to do it, with the future so uncertain. “Just speaking hypothetically.”

Eight

D
ax closed the passenger door after Lily settled inside. Before walking around to the driver's side, he rotated his shoulders to loosen the knots and took a few deep breaths of rain-soaked air. When he climbed into the car, Lily had reclined her seat and closed her eyes.

“Your parents take the merry out of Christmas.”

“Let's not do a postmortem.” She touched his arm, then, as if her hand was too heavy to hold up, let it flop back into her lap. “I have a headache. I know we need to talk, but right now I just want to go home and lie down.”

He started the engine. “Radio on or off?”

“Off, please.”

He waved good-bye to Anthony and Regina, who were heading over to Regina's parents' house for another turkey dinner.

It occurred to him, as he pulled through the open gate, that if he and Lily broke up, he'd never see her parents again. That was a definite plus. They irked him, and he wasn't all that crazy about who she turned into around them. Still, as he glanced at her pale, strained face, he knew that he'd gladly—well, maybe not gladly—suffer through social occasions with her parents if he and she could recapture the feelings they'd once shared.

* * *

T
hree hours later, Dax, in the recliner by the gas fire with a half-empty bottle of Granville Island lager beside him, shut down Lily's Kindle. While she'd slept off her headache, he'd changed into jeans and the hawk tee and finished reading
Bound by Desire
. A few scenes were titillating, but others he found bizarre and degrading. He didn't like Neville. Seemed to him, the guy used his “I'm a dom” thing to legitimize disrespecting women and inflicting pain. But on the other hand, the relationship was consensual. Cassandra didn't use her safe word and Neville gave her what she seemed to want. So, Dax supposed, the two of them were well-matched.

People were different. That was what it came down to. As for Dax, while he could definitely get into some games and toys, he was no dom. If Lily had discovered that she was a true sexual submissive, he couldn't give her what she needed.

When the bathroom door closed and water ran, he went to the kitchen to mix her a martini. A few minutes later, she joined him there.

“Hey there.” He handed her the drink. “How are you feeling?” She looked fresh and lovely in a long, slim, silver-gray sweater and black yoga pants that clung to her legs. She wore the First Nations pendant and earrings.

“My headache's gone.” She took a long drink from the martini glass. “Thanks, this is perfect.” She studied him and smiled. “The T-shirt looks good on you.”

“I like it. Great gift.”

“I guess we need to think about dinner.”

“No thinking required. Aldonza has provided. She forgave me for that stupid comment.”

Humor sparkled in her eyes. “She'd forgive you anything. The woman's crazy about you. What did she give us?”

“Piri piri chicken and fried potatoes to microwave, green bean salad, and Portuguese buns. Leftover mince pie and, of course, bolo rei.” She made the traditional Portuguese Christmas dessert for her friends.

“A feast.” Then the light in her eyes faded. “We need to talk first.”

He read determination in her face, plus a trace of doubt or vulnerability. He could identify. “Yeah.”

When she turned and headed for the living room, he followed. He hadn't closed the blinds and Lily walked over to the window. With her back to him, she lifted her glass and took a drink.

Figuring this wasn't a side-by-side-on-the-couch conversation, he sat back down in the recliner and picked up his beer bottle.

Lily seated herself in an upholstered chair, setting her martini glass on a coaster on the table beside the chair.

“Where do we start?” he asked. Knowing Lily, she'd have her thoughts organized to present. As for him, all he knew was, he wanted their old life back, the way they'd been together when they first got married.

She crossed her legs, sitting neat and prim. “You said you thought I might be cheating because I asked you to use condoms. That's an awfully big leap.”

That wasn't what he'd expected her to say, but he responded. “There were other things. You seem different. You're never around. Always at work or—”

“The clinic is busy,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, I know, it's your baby. But even when you're here, you're not. You're distant.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “So are you. And talk about never being around. You've hardly been home in the past couple of years.”

He took a long swallow of beer. “Haven't felt like there's much here for me,” he said gruffly. “Or that you want me here. It's your home, not mine.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, and she glanced around the room. “If you were here more, you'd make it your home.”

“It's not so much the place, it's you. It doesn't feel like you want me in Vancouver.”

“I do, Dax. But yes, I have a life. I can't sit at home and wait for you to show up every now and then.” She sounded indignant.

He shook his head. “Jeez, Lily, I know that.” But couldn't she, once in a while, make time for him? Didn't she ever want to be together, the way they used to be? “What made you think I was cheating?” he asked quietly.

She glanced down at her folded arms, then up again. “You being away so much. Being distant when you were here, even when we . . .” Color stained her pale cheeks. Had sex, she was thinking, and she was right. “And then, last night, you were . . . It was so unlike you.”

Heat pulsed through his body at the memory. Testing, he said, “I thought you might like it.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“Are you saying you didn't?”

Her cheeks went a brighter pink, a sexy flush that made his groin tighten. “It was, uh, different.” She firmed her jaw. “And, obviously, I climaxed multiple times.”

She sure did, her body coming apart hard and hot and wet on his lips and around his cock. He shifted and crossed his legs, trying to control his arousal.

“But I feel strange about it,” she went on. “And you didn't answer my question. Why did you think I'd like it?”

“That book on your Kindle.”

“Oh,” she said on a note of revelation. “You picked up my Kindle instead of yours and found
Bound by Desire
.”

No need to admit he'd checked deliberately, after finding erotic novels before. “I thought if that's what you like reading, maybe it's what you want in bed.”

She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. Above her fingertips, her blue eyes danced with amusement. “Dax, I didn't choose that book. I haven't even started it. It's a book club selection.”

Likely, so were the previous ones. “You belong to a book club? What kind of club picks that kind of book?”

“Mine, apparently.” She reached for her martini glass. “When I joined the club, I was expecting literary fiction. But the other members have their own ideas about what we should read, so I've gone along. I did protest against
Bound by Desire
, but they, uh, made persuasive arguments.”

Not many people other than her parents could best Lily. Dax was really curious about the other members of this book club. “Persuasive arguments about BDSM?”

“About keeping an open mind and discovering why so many women are reading this kind of book.”

Yeah, Lily was big on research and analysis.

She gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “So last night was about what, exactly? You thought I got off on BDSM, so you decided to spank me and tie me up?”

“I didn't spank you. I gave you one light slap on your ass.” His hand tingled, remembering.

“It stung.” She probably meant it as a protest, but the breathiness in her voice told him she too was turned on.

He studied his wife. Legs neatly crossed; simple, tasteful clothes; hair cut short in a style that was attractive and practical; a touch of eye makeup but no lipstick, no nail polish. Beautiful, but so refined and controlled. Except for the flush on her cheeks. Wanting to rattle her a bit more, he said in a low, suggestive voice, “It made you wet.”

She drank the last mouthful of her martini in an undignified gulp.

“Why does that embarrass you?”

“I don't know.” She sounded annoyed, though he wasn't sure whether it was at him or at herself. “I'm a doctor, I spend a good part of my day examining naked genitals, female and male. I discuss sex with my patients. But this is . . . personal.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, yes, it was arousing. But not the pain so much as the, uh, unexpectedness. The fact that you were, well, definitely
not
being distant. You took charge. You
saw
me, from suggesting a bath, to massaging me, to the passionate sex. You were more like the way we used to be, back when—”

“When what?” Did she feel the same way, that things had been perfect when they first got together? Could they find their way back?

Nine

B
ack when we loved each other.
That was what Lily'd been thinking. So far, they'd beaten around the bush and avoided the fundamental questions.

She summoned courage and pushed herself to her feet, curling her bare toes into the short nap of the area rug with its nutmeg, taupe, and cream geometric pattern. Facing her husband from six feet away, she said, “Dax, do you still want to be married to me? Do you still l-love me?” Her voice quavered and pain lanced her heart. What if he said no? Yet their marriage had foundered so badly, perhaps the only sensible thing to do was cut their losses.

His storm-cloud eyes darkened and for what seemed like forever, he didn't say anything. Finally, voice grating, he said, “I don't know.”

Lily realized she'd been holding her breath. Now she released it. He didn't know if he loved her. It hurt, yet she also felt relief. He wasn't calling it quits. Indecision meant there might be hope for them.

“Do you?” It sounded like he forced the words out.

She studied his face, the face she had loved for so long. “I don't know either, Dax. You're the only man I've ever loved, but I'm so confused. I do know I don't want the kind of relationship we've had for the last year or two.”

“Agreed.” He gazed at her solemnly for long, silent moments. Then he rose and held out his hand. “Let's have dinner, drink some wine, and talk.”

She gazed at him, not taking his hand. “Just a minute. We need to agree on what we're trying to achieve.”

“Achieve?” He drew his hand back.

“I don't mean just now, at dinner. You're home until New Year's. What's our goal for that time period? I don't think it's to save our marriage, because neither of us is sure we want that.” Her heart gave a painful throb, but she forced herself to go on. “So is our goal to find out how we feel about each other, and about our marriage?” Would they mark the new year by deciding to get a divorce? It was a horrible thought, but nothing could be worse than the past months.

“That sounds right.” He swallowed. “We're in this together, Lily.” Again, he held out his hand.

“Together.” There was a mountain in front of them, but they'd taken the first steps and were at long last moving forward. She grasped his hand. Holding Dax's hand had always been one of her favorite things in the world, her small, slim, often cool fingers linking with his big, strong, always warm ones. It made her feel as if she belonged somewhere, with someone.

Hand in hand, they went to the kitchen and worked quietly, bumping into each other in the small space. Lily heated up the spicy chicken and potatoes while Dax dished out bean salad and opened a bottle of malbec. When she rinsed her hands, she said, “The tap's stopped dripping.”

“Needed a new washer.”

“I know.” Did he think she was a ditz? “I would have done it, but I hadn't had a chance.”

“Lily, you don't have to do everything yourself. I saw the problem; I fixed it.”

Had she sounded defensive? “Thank you, Dax.”

She set the small dining table and he poured wine. How rare this had become, having dinner together. If only it could be a relaxed, even romantic evening, but that wasn't in the cards. They both tasted the food. The spicy flavors burst on Lily's tongue, a pleasant contrast to this cold winter day.

“Aldonza's a great cook,” Dax said.

“She is. And a generous woman.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Anxiety fluttered through Lily, making it hard to breathe, much less eat. She put down her fork and toyed with her wineglass. “Why is this so hard? After fifteen years, we should be able to talk about something that's so important.”

His lips kinked up ruefully. “It's easier to talk about things that don't matter.”

She nodded at the wisdom of that. “Where do we start?”

He broke open a Portuguese bun and buttered it, but didn't lift it to his mouth. “This probably isn't the right place, but I'm curious. Why did you pick Skookumchuck for your safe word?”

“In the bath, the scent of lavender brought back memories. Remember Mrs. B's garden?”

A smile flashed. “Deer-resistant plants.”

She smiled back. “Such a gentle, kind woman, but it was all-out war when it came to the deer.” For a moment, she enjoyed the simple pleasure of smiling with her husband over a shared memory. “Anyhow, I was thinking about camp, and the evening we met.”

“When I saw you, I barely recognized you. The flawless princess from high school, in rumpled shorts and a stained camp T-shirt, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.”

“Hardly flawless.”

“Seemed that way to me.” He dragged a chunk of bun through the sauce from the chicken.

“Maybe compared to you,” she teased. “The guy who got suspended for corrupting two cheerleaders with beer, pot, and sex under the bleachers.” More relaxed now, she began to eat again, enjoying the bite of peppers in the piri piri, the subtle yeastiness of the bun, the tanginess of the green beans.

“Those girls weren't exactly innocent.”

“No, and I'm sure they were dying to get it on with the school bad boy, just like every other girl.”

“Except you, who never gave me a second glance.”

“Like you ever glanced at me either.”

“Why waste time gazing in the store window at something you'll never be able to afford?”

“Or gazing across the fence at the sexy bad boy surrounded by a crowd of far prettier, sexier girls?”

He shook his head. “Not prettier or sexier. Never, Lily.”

The unexpected compliment brought a quick rush of moisture to her eyes. To hide her reaction, she dipped her head and busied herself buttering a crusty bun until she'd regained control. “It was a real attraction of opposites. And yet, it
was
real. Wasn't it, Dax?”

“Seemed that way to me.”

“You made me feel . . .” She trailed off, remembering skinny-dipping at midnight, making love in a starlit meadow filled with daisies. “Alive and uninhibited. Sexy, even though I was so inexperienced.” Long talks as they held hands beside a beach fire. “Grown up, like I could plan my own future and follow through. Listened to, like my opinions and my desires mattered.”

He swallowed. “You made me feel like
I
mattered. You made me want to be a better person, a person who deserved to be with you.”

“Deserved to be with me?” Was he serious? “Like I was such a prize.” She hated to think about the prissy girl she'd been before meeting Dax. “That summer sure changed me.” It gave her more confidence, more of a sense of who she was, or might become, as a woman. “Talk about the cliché uptight virgin.”

“You were a little naïve.” A sparkle danced in his gray eyes.

“Inhibited, insecure. I was a science student, planning on being a doctor, so I knew the anatomical and physiological facts, but the real thing's very different.” Her lips curved. “Good thing I had an excellent teacher.”

“Oh hell, Lily, I wasn't that great. Yeah, I was far from a virgin, but I was an eighteen-year-old boy. Finesse wasn't my strong suit.”

No, bad boys weren't supposed to have finesse. “Passion, though . . .”

“Oh, yeah. There was passion. But in the beginning, you didn't even climax half the time.”

She shook her head. “Lots of women don't, especially when they're still learning about their sexuality. Even when I didn't, it felt wonderful to be naked with you, to explore each other's bodies. You helped me learn what worked for me.” And for years it had worked beautifully.

If there was any hope for the two of them, she had to be honest. “The past year or two, I climax but it feels like”—she bit her lip—“we're going through the motions.”

“The passion is gone.” He stated it as a fact, with no inflection.

Tears threatened to surface, but she forced them back. “The passion, the trust. We've lost so much. The love . . .” She had to swallow before she could go on. “We had it all, Dax. I loved how we were together.”

“Me too. If we could get that back . . .”

Yes, if they could get that back, then surely they'd find a route forward, one that included children. “Things need to change, but I'm not sure how we do that.”

Dax refilled their wineglasses. “Last night was a change.”

Her sex throbbed at the memory. “That's for sure.”

“Neither of us was going through the motions.”

A laugh spluttered out. “No. It was . . . new, almost like that first summer.”

“There was
passion, Lily.”

“Yes. Somehow, last night, you made me stop thinking, stop worrying, and just . . . experience. Though I'm embarrassed about being turned on by some of the things you did.”

“We've always been pretty, uh, conservative in bed. I thought, well . . .”

“What?”

“That you wouldn't be into kinky stuff.”

“Dax, I'm really not a prissy princess.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean, uh . . .”

“Did you want to try other things? Were you bored with our sex life?” Why hadn't it occurred to her that a guy like Dax wouldn't be satisfied with a conventional sex life?

“I thought our sex life was great, until we lost the passion.” He picked up his wineglass, took a sip, and then said, with a wicked grin, “As for kinky stuff, hell, I'm a guy. Sure, I think about that stuff.”

“What kind of things appeal to you?” she asked, curious but almost afraid what he might say.

“I dunno.”

“Of course you do.” She narrowed her eyes. “May I remind you, I'm a doctor and I volunteer in the Downtown Eastside? I doubt you'll come up with anything I've never heard of.”

“Aw hell, I'm gonna disappoint you, my ideas are so tame.” Another sexy grin.

“Try me.”

“Okay, tying you up and seeing you spread out like that, just for me, was pretty cool. A blindfold might be fun. Games, role play. Going out with you to some nice restaurant, you wearing a dress and no panties, and me playing with you under the tablecloth and making you come.”

Imagining that scenario, her eyes widened and the heat of arousal thrummed in her blood and pulsed between her legs. She took a hurried gulp of wine.

“Some toys,” he went on. “Not the heavy BDSM stuff like spreader bars and ball gags and butt plugs, but—”

“You know about those things?” she broke in. She was only aware of them because of her job. To think that her husband spent time thinking about ball gags and butt plugs . . . That definitely did
not
turn her on.

“I'm a guy,” he said again. “Plus, that book of yours is enlightening.”

“You're not making me want to read it. But I need to get through the first part before tomorrow's book club.” Everyone had to read a third of the book, no more than that, before each Monday meeting, so they could have a meaningful discussion.

“Those things don't turn you on?”

She shook her head vigorously.

“Any of the other stuff I mentioned?”

Knowing her cheeks were pink, she said, “Maybe.”

“Cool.”

The very male comment made her chuckle. “You're saying I shouldn't be embarrassed, I should embrace my, uh . . .”

“Down-and-dirty side?” he filled in. “Wouldn't hear me object. Hell, Lily, there shouldn't be anything wrong or embarrassing in sex if it's what both partners want.”

“And consent to, with full information and from equal positions of power.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She knew he meant it. Dax didn't have a sexist bone in his body. She'd been pleasantly surprised, that first summer, when she discovered that fact about her bad-boy lover. “We learned a lot about each other at Camp Skookumchuck.”

“Camp's for learning and exploring,” he joked. Then he said reflectively, “Hmm. That summer was about exploring, discovery, passion. Right?”

“And falling in love.”

He nodded. “Last night, we explored different things and that rekindled our passion.”

“True.”

“So maybe we could do more of it. See where it takes us.”

Lily liked having a clear, logical course of action. But there was no formula for finding out if two people wanted to save their marriage. Counseling worked for some couples, but she was a private person, and she couldn't imagine tough-guy Dax spilling intimate secrets to a stranger.

She stared across the table at her husband. Did she still love him? Sometimes she thought yes, but then wondered if it was just history, habit, maybe insecurity. Other times she thought no, and then questioned whether she was only erecting defenses to guard against a broken heart.

If they did love each other, could they change their marriage into one that they were both happy to recommit to? Was the mountain in front of them climbable, or impassable? To find out, they had to pick a path to start down. He'd just proposed one.

Their jobs and lifestyles were a huge issue, but she couldn't see an easy solution. Fifteen years ago, passion had developed into a deep emotional connection, a commitment to share their lives. Perhaps there was a strange logic, now, to choosing their sex life as the path to follow in rebuilding their love. If that worked, surely they'd have the motivation to figure out the rest of their lives.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Let's explore. Where do we start?” The question made her nervous, so she rose abruptly. “Let's deal with the leftovers and the dishes and then . . .” And then, what?

Dax cocked an eyebrow. After a long moment, he said, “Get one of the scarves I tied you up with and wait for me in the living room.” His voice had the same commanding tone as last night.

Would he tie her up again? But with only a single scarf? Excitement pulsed through her, along with nerves. “What are you going to do?”