Authors: Cher Carson
He was trying not to come on too strong. After the story he’d told, he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to bail on him. He wondered whether she feared him now, questioning whether he may turn out like his old man when he lost the game he loved.
She linked her hand with his, smiling. “I’d like that.”
He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, like he’d been holding his breath for too long and could finally breathe again. “Great, let’s go.”
She gripped his arm. “Uh, do you have the keys to the guest house on you now?”
“I think so.” He reached into his pocket, holding up the gold key chain. “Yeah, here they are. Why?”
“Would you mind if I head on over there on my own while you say good-night to your friends?”
He knew she didn’t want his friends to know that she’d arrived with Morris, but was opting to spend the night with him instead. He wanted to push the issue; he wanted all of his single friends to know the deal so they’d back off, but he understood her need for discretion.
He pressed the keys into her palm. “Sure, just give me a minute. Do you need me to get you anything?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Just my handbag. I didn’t expect to spend the night, so I didn’t bring an overnight bag.”
He lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers. He felt inexplicably close to her after sharing his darkest secret with her. He fell just a little bit deeper when he looked into her eyes and realized she didn’t judge him for the sins of his father, as he feared she might. “The guest house is stocked with anything you might need. I’ll be there in a few.”
She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. “Don’t be too long.”
He wanted to make love to her, but even more than that, he wanted to get to know the woman beneath the beautiful façade. “I won’t. I promise. Why don’t you open a bottle of wine? I think there are a few under the cabinet in the kitchen.”
“That sounds perfect.”
He pointed to the stone walkway that led to the gravel drive. “Follow the path to the end of the drive. The guest house is tucked into the woods just across the street.”
“Okay.” She held onto his hand a moment longer, as though she wasn’t ready to let him go.
He watched her walk away and felt a physical ache in his chest that he couldn’t describe. He didn’t want to let her go either. He didn’t know what was happening between them, but he knew it was like nothing he’d experienced before. She made him want to let his guard down, to let her in, and that scared and intrigued him at the same time. He knew if he let her in, he’d be the one relinquishing control, giving her the power to hurt him, but letting her in may mean he wouldn’t have to feel so alone anymore. He shook his head, trying not to get too far ahead of himself. Walking into the house, his best friend approached him, looking wary.
“Is everything okay with you, man? You kinda snapped with Morris,” Chase said.
Steve looked around. “Did Atwell take him home?”
“Yeah, what the hell was that about?”
“That girl he came with, Brooklyn. He was being a prick to her; I didn’t like it, so I set him straight.”
Chase narrowed his eyes, looking at him carefully. “I got the feeling there was something going on with you and Brooklyn earlier. What was that about?”
“I like her. She’s too damn good for Morris.” He knew she was too good for him too, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
“I can’t argue with that.” Chase smiled. “Taylor and I had a chance to talk to her earlier. She’s somethin’ else, man. Not the kind of woman you usually go for though.”
Steve glared at him. He didn’t want anyone to tell him that Brooklyn wasn’t the right woman for him when every fibre of his being told him she was perfect, in every way. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“She’s smart, I mean really smart, and opinionated…”
“So, what’s your point?”
Chase looked uncomfortable, glancing around them to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. “Man, listen, I know you like submissive women. There’s no way that chick is going to let you call all the shots, in or out of the bedroom.”
He knew his friend was right. Brooklyn clearly enjoyed being in control almost as much as he did, but he believed there was a part of her who needed a strong shoulder to lean on once in a while, and he wanted to be that man. “You may be right; we’ll see what happens.”
“Steve, I think you should rethink this thing.”
“Why?” He didn’t want to question his relationship with Brooklyn. He wanted her, no matter the risk.
“Look, Taylor and I want you to be happy, man. We know what kind of woman it’s gonna take to make you happy. It’s not Brooklyn.” He held up his hands when Steve glared at him. “I know this may not be what you want to hear right now, but I’m only saying it because you need to hear it before you get in too deep.”
“Too late, I’m already in too deep.”
“What are you talking about? You just met the girl.”
“Remember the first night you met Taylor? Do you remember what you said to me?”
He shook his head, smiling at the memory. “Yeah, I said I’m gonna marry that girl someday.”
Steve looked at him pointedly, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
Brooklyn’s hand trembled on the corkscrew. She was terrified of what she was getting herself into with this man. She didn’t want someone who would try to control her, but he was right about one thing: she wanted to relinquish control sometimes, to let someone take care of her for a while.
She felt guilty even admitting that to herself. She was a well-educated woman who made a good living. The thought of needing to lean on a man for anything went against every fiber of her being. Yet she was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t describe, and she couldn’t walk away from that, not yet.
“Hey,” he said, opening the door. He set the lock and left his overnight bag by the door. “Your purse is inside the bag. I was trying to be discreet.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that, thanks.”
He walked toward the counter, looking somber. “I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, Brook.”
Her hand slipped and the corkscrew pierced her wrist. “Shit,” she cried, dropping the corkscrew into the sink.
He came around the counter, holding his hand out. “Here, let me see.” He turned the cold water on, running her wrist under the stream of water. He reached into a drawer and found a white cotton dish cloth. Pressing it to her wrist, he applied pressure, a frown marring his forehead.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to withdraw.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, holding her hand firmly in his.
She quickly recognized this for what it was: their first power struggle. The wound was insignificant, but she needed to let him know up front that she was capable of making her own decisions. “I said I’m fine. Please let go of me.” She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, but he released her.
“Fine, I get it. You don’t need me to take care of you.”
“No, I don’t,” she said quietly, wrapping the cloth around her wrist. “I’m not your mother. I don’t need someone to rescue me.” She knew she was treading into dangerous territory, confronting him with this issue when he was still so raw, but they had to settle it if they hoped to move forward.
He gripped the edge of the granite countertop, dropping his head. “Why would you say that to me? Do you even know what that feels like? It feels like you just stuck a knife in my back and twisted it.”
She dropped the rag and slipped under his arms, getting in his face. “Don’t you understand that you choose submissive women because you need to be the hero? You need to take care of them because it makes you feel as though you’re making up for the past in some small way.”
He rolled his eyes, taking a step back. “You sure you’re not a shrink?”
She fisted the front of his T-shirt, refusing to allow him to escape. “I’m not a weak woman, Steve. I don’t need some man to come along and rescue me from the big, bad world. I deal with hardened criminals every day, rapists, murderers, men who have no soul.” She felt a small shudder move through her when she thought about her interactions with some of those men.
He gripped the counter on either side of her, caging her in. “What’s that like?”
She swallowed, trying to avoid his intense scrutiny. She had intended to confront him with his issues, but he was somehow turning this around on her. “I’m not afraid of anything. I don’t have to be because I learned how to take care of myself.”
“What does that mean?”
She lowered her gaze. “Some of those men are vicious, disgusting human beings. The things they say to me…”
He held her face in his hands, kissing her lips gently. “Tell me about it.”
She tried to shake her head, but his hands restricted her movement. “No, I don’t want to talk about this, please.”
“Tell me what they say to you,” he whispered.
“They tell me what they’re going to do to me if they ever get me alone, how they want to tie me up and force me to…” Her voice broke. She couldn’t say it; she didn’t even want to think about it. “Suck…”
Steve kissed her, effectively silencing her. He couldn’t listen to any more of this. “Why would you subject yourself to that, baby?”
She stepped out of his arms, glaring at him. “It’s my job. So I go in there day after day, giving everything I have to assholes who would like nothing more than to…” The words sounded as though they were torn from her throat, as though she didn’t want to say them, but had lost the power to hold them back. “I trusted a man once, the wrong man, and he…” She sobbed, pressing her fist to her mouth. “He abused that trust.”
He needed to know, but was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”
She began to pace the floor, her fists clenched at her sides. “He was a client. We were alone together in an interrogation room. I believed in him, in his innocence. I’d worked tirelessly on his case, trying to get his conviction overturned, then he… turned on me.”
He wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms, let her cry on his shoulder, but he knew she needed to get this out before she lost her nerve. “Go on.”
“He attacked me, punched me a few times. He was trying to rape me, but I screamed, and thank God one of the guards heard me before it was too late.”
He clenched his hands into fists behind the counter. He wanted to hit something, hard. He wanted to inflict pain, the same kind of pain that bastard had inflicted on her.
She stopped pacing, braced her hands on the edge of the breakfast bar and looked him in the eye. “That changed me. I can’t be alone with a client now without wondering when or if he might try and hurt me.”
He closed his eyes, the bile rising in his throat. Steve wanted to break something, put his fist through the wall, pound on someone. He didn’t know what the hell to do with the rage eating him up inside. “What happened to that son of a bitch?”
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes pooling with unshed tears. “He’s in for life. He was convicted of first degree murder.” She looked him in the eye. “I almost helped that bastard walk free. He could have killed someone else. He could have raped an innocent woman.”
“When did this happen?” he asked, dropping his head.
“Four months ago.”
“Jesus,” he said, trying to suppress his rage. “How can you put yourself in that situation, knowing that at any moment another one of those sick bastards could turn on you?”
She climbed up on a stool at the breakfast bar. “I won’t let them beat me.” She smiled. “I’m not as fragile as I look.”
He shook his head, unable to believe she was able to smile in the face of such depravity. “You’re amazing. Do you know that?”
“No, I’m not. I’m like hundreds of thousands of other women, a survivor. What other choice did I have? I couldn’t let him win.”
The words were burning his lips, he had to say it. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
She laughed, her face falling when he didn’t share the joke. “Thank you, I think.”