Temptation’s Edge (36 page)

“Neither did you.”

“God, men can be so dense!” she exploded, then glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

“Don’t toss me in with the rest of them, Mischa. I’m not your father or Raine’s father or any of the men who treated you carelessly.”

“I’ve never
allowed
a man to treat me carelessly.”

“Maybe because you never let anyone matter. You never let anyone close enough. You never open yourself to the possibilities, good or bad.”

“You’re one to talk!”

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation while dancing. She could barely believe they were having this conversation at all.

“That’s true enough. True even about Ginny.” He paused, and they stopped dancing. He looked down at her, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it. She thought her heart would break. He went on, his voice low, husky. “I want to change that. Hell, Mischa, you
have
changed that. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Look, can we go find someplace quiet?”

She nodded, too stunned by the sudden change in his attitude, by what he’d just said, to argue. To think straight.

Half-numb, she let him lead her from the dance floor, through the Garden Court and back down the stairs to the entryway, which was empty now. He took her up another short flight of stairs to the left and into a gallery that was dimly lit, filled with Meiji woodblock prints behind glass. In the center of the room was a long, narrow bench, and they sat down.

“So?” he asked, one dark brow raised. He was close enough that she could inhale his scent: the dark earth and the rain that was his skin. She closed her eyes, letting it mix with the pain for a moment before opening them to look at him once more.

“You never let anyone in, either, Connor. You said it yourself.
Not even the woman you were married to. How could I have possibly changed anything for you?”

“Ah, but there’s the catch. You got in, anyway. I’ll admit I fought it. Almost as hard as you’re fighting it. But you got in, Mischa.” He took her hand, and when she would have pulled away he only gripped it tighter. “Right under my skin. Into my heart.”

She shook her head, tears burning again, so fiercely this time she didn’t know if she could hold them back. “Stop it, Connor.” She pulled her hand away then. It hurt too much to feel his fingers wrapped around hers.

“Why? Because it’s uncomfortable to hear? Believe me, this is way out of my comfort zone, too. But I have to say it.”

She shook her head again. “Not because it’s so hard to hear, but because it’s difficult to believe.”

“I’m no liar.” His tone was low, dangerous.

“It’s not that I think you’re lying. It’s the…believing part that’s hard for me.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he said softly.

A small smile crept through the pain and tension that had drawn her lips into a hard line. “Yes.”

“What if we just threw caution to the wind and risked it, Mischa? What if we tried it? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m going fucking mad without you. I don’t think things could be much worse for me.”

Her heart wanted to soar. She couldn’t let it. What if she soared, only to come crashing back to earth?

“And if we try it and it doesn’t work?” she asked, her throat thick with emotion as she voiced one of her worst fears.

“Then at least we’ll have tried. What do you think will happen if it doesn’t work?”

“I don’t know. Something…awful. All I know is what I’ve seen.”

“Are you referring to your mother? Because it seems from all you’ve told me that you’re a hell of a lot stronger than she is. You’ve already done so much with your life. I don’t see me—or anyone—causing you to give all that up.”

“It feels that way. I
know
I’m stronger than Evie ever was. But I’m just as certain there’s some fatal hidden flaw. That there’s some inevitable disaster underneath. And frankly, Connor, making myself vulnerable enough to be in a relationship with someone who’s…Well, you’re every bit as tightly controlled as I am. As closed off. I’m sure you have your reasons, and you’ve shared some of them with me. But you haven’t shared enough. And in my world, men always leave. My father, Raine’s father, every man my mother’s ever fallen for—and there have been more than a handful. The only reason I haven’t been left is because I’ve protected myself from it. I’ve never gotten involved enough that it ever came up. How do I know you’ll stick around?”

“How do you know I won’t?”

He reached for her, but she shook her head, warning him off.

“How do
you
know, Connor?”

He blinked, as though it took him a moment to understand what she was asking. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

He lowered his long, dark lashes for a moment, let out a sighing breath before he looked up, focused on her again. “I’ll admit, this is something I’ve struggled with. But let me tell you some things. It’ll take a few minutes. Will you listen?”

She nodded, her insides still coiled up tight.

“I never told you why I got divorced, did I? It’s not something I tell people often. Alec knows. Maybe no one else. And maybe me telling you now will only make things worse, but I have to say it to get to the next point. So…It was Ginny’s choice, the divorce.” He stopped, pulled in a deep, sighing breath, scrubbed
at his jaw. “I don’t blame her for it. She left in large part because of my temper. The one I inherited from my asshole of a father. Not that I blame him entirely. Because once we’re adults, we have a choice, don’t we? And I chose to indulge in my temper until after Ginny left. I never hit her. But I hit the wall a few times.”

He stopped, watching for her reaction.

“I’ve never seen you lose control, Connor. Not like that. You obviously have a handle on it.”

Why was he telling her this? This wasn’t what they needed to talk about.

“It was a long road to get here,” he admitted. “I’ve always thought the temper was a part of me, just as my father’s genes are: his dark hair. His height. I’ve been damn careful, always mindful of it. I’m telling you this now so you understand what the need for control is about for me. And that need extends beyond the BDSM dynamic.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she demanded, getting up to pace the polished floors. “You think that’s what holds you together, but it also holds you back. And even though I see the same control issues in myself, it still pisses me off that you
never
let it go. That you can’t open up. It makes it pretty damn scary to even consider getting into some sort of relationship with you when we’re both so…damaged.”

He said quietly, “I know. I do. Please sit down, Mischa.”

She looked at him, wanting to rebel, but she went back to the bench and sat down, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that things have changed for me. At some point there was a shift between you and I. Or maybe how I felt about you caused me to see things differently. But one day it just fucking hit me like a blow to the gut. I’d always felt that way. Damaged. And I designed my life around fighting against what I thought was inevitable. But it hasn’t come to pass.
Oh, I have some temper still, it’s true. But it hasn’t gotten the best of me the way it did my old man. And what I finally realized was, I may have some of my father in me, but I’m not
him
. And what made me realize it was you.”

“Me? I don’t understand.”

“Everything you told me about your mother. You’re so afraid you’ll end up like her—that inevitable disaster—but that’s not even a remote possibility. I think everyone but you can see it. It made me think. Because it’s not remotely possible I’ll end up like my father. The drinking, the violence—it’s something I’ve always rejected. That stupid punching the wall crap was just me being young. Being an idiot. I’ve known it for a while. But the need for control, that wasn’t so easy to get rid of. It’s habit, maybe. Programmed in by now.” He ran a hand over his hair, mussing it a little, making her want to reach out and smooth it down. “Lord, I haven’t talked this much my whole life.”

“Maybe it’s time you started,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. It is. I’m trying here, Mischa.” There was so much in his green eyes. Emotion. Fear, maybe. Hope.

“I’m sorry. I know you are.” She took a breath, giving herself a moment to take it all in. And she still had questions.

“Connor, tell me about Ginny. You were married, went through a divorce. But you’ve never said anything about how you felt about it, about what happened other than you being grumpy, having those wall-punching asshole moments a lot of young guys have.”

“No…” He gave a small shake of his head. “Look, this is something I’m frankly a bit ashamed of. But I’ll tell you now. I was never in love with her. Which is a pretty rotten thing to say of a girl I married.”

“Why did you marry her, then?”

“She was a good girl—a nice girl. She’d come to Dublin to
study for a semester. That’s how we met. She loved me, though God knows why. And you have to understand, in Ireland people get married young, so it seemed the thing to do, especially when she pushed for it. I thought I’d come to love her. But soon after the wedding reality set in, and it was just two people who weren’t really suited trying to live together. So even though she was the one who chose to leave, it would have come to that one way or another. We stayed together for nearly two years, and by the end all I felt was relief. Which only makes me feel like more of an asshole. But I’m trying to get over kicking myself for it, to recognize that at twenty we all make stupid mistakes. I only wish she hadn’t had to pay for it. I swore I’d never do that to another woman. So there hasn’t been anyone else, not beyond a temporary play partner.”

“But now…?” She couldn’t help it; she had to ask.

“Now there’s you. And I can’t turn away from you. From what you make me feel for the first time in my sordid life.”

The ice in her veins was beginning to melt as she began to understand what Connor was telling her. He was saying he’d made some discoveries about himself. So had she. She was starting to truly believe in herself. Maybe, if she could do that, she could believe in him, too.

“Connor, I want to be with you. I want to try…”

“But?”

“But…” Her head was spinning with a million thoughts. “If we’re going to do this…relationship thing…You’re not going to boss me around all the time. Just to be clear.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He paused, caught her gaze with his. His green and gold eyes were twinkling. “All right, I
will
think of it. But you won’t let me do it. Because you’re your own person, Mischa. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

She was desperate suddenly to hear it—that he wanted her.
That his need for her was anything close to the yearning she’d felt for him almost from the start. The need that had made her run from him. But she couldn’t run anymore. She wasn’t sure any longer that she had to.

“Tell me more, Connor.”

He moved in closer, touched his fingers to her hair, making her body go warm and liquid. “I love your blond hair, the silk of it. How you keep it so perfectly. And your lips. The wicked scarlet of your lipstick, how red they are even bare of it.” He traced his fingertips over her lower lip, making her shiver. “I love the art you created on my skin, that your creativity is so much a part of you, that you’re able to understand that in me—how important it is. I love your motivation and drive. I love that you have this need to conquer the whole damn world. Your passion. Your fire.”

He paused, and she couldn’t stop the tears pooling in her eyes. That any man—but especially
this
man—would say such things to her!

“I need that,” he went on. “I need a woman who’s strong enough to stand up to me when necessary. Someone who isn’t afraid to do that. Because even though all of my partners have been submissive women—and I won’t pretend I don’t want that, too—what I’ve really needed is a woman who can submit to me in the bedroom or at the club, and who, when all the role play is over and done, is as strong as I am. An equal. Because you can’t have a partnership if it’s not between equals. That’s the mistake I’ve been making over and over for years. But you are my equal, in every way. I’ve never doubted that for a moment.”

He was so damn beautiful, this man. She could see him so clearly in the dim lighting of the closed gallery. Every perfect line and plane of his features. The scar below his eye. The raw emotion on his face. It scared her.
He
scared her. She was trying hard to fight it, but the fear still lingered “This is crazy, Connor.”

“Yeah. Probably. We have some shit to work out, the both of us. But I don’t see why we can’t do it together. Are you willing, Mischa? Tell me you are before I lose my mind for good.”

“Connor, I want to. I do. I’m still trying to understand it all and it’s…overwhelming, trying so hard to trust that this could work. There’s the distance issue—”

“You’ll be here half the time. You’ve said so yourself. We can handle it.”

“And there’s the issue of your stubbornness.” She went on when his brow furrowed, “And mine, I know.”

“Stubbornness can get you through the hard times, too. You know it as well as I do.”

“But Connor…” She had to stop, her heart a small, fluttering hammer, her pulse hot and thready. But she had to ask. “What else is there to hold things together? To hold
us
together?”

He took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “There’s love, my darlin’ girl. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. And would have if you’d stopped trying to argue your way out of it. There’s love.”