The Darker Side of Pleasure (37 page)

They had been together for one week—the longest relationship Damien had had with a woman in years. Hell, he never had a woman at his house for more than a night or two. But everything with Maggie was different.

He leaned into the kitchen counter, a coffee mug in his hand. She was in the shower upstairs. Too tempting, to go up there and slip beneath the hot water with her. To run his hands over that smooth, wet skin, to take her up against the cool tiles, push into her hot, eager body…

A lovely image. Even better to know he really could do it. The idea was luxurious, somehow.

Don’t get too used to it.

He shook his head, took a long sip of the steaming, black coffee. For the first time in his life, he found himself intimidated by another human being. He didn’t care for the feeling. He frankly hated it. But every time he began to think about how damn much he wanted her, how vulnerable he was with this woman, she was right there, and he fell for her all over again.

He knew that’s what it was. And he spent most of his days denying it. Easy enough to get lost in her, in the things they did together. It was only when he found himself alone like this, when she was showering, when he tore himself away to work at his desk for a few hours, that his mind latched onto these thoughts.

He did not want to think about it. But sooner or later he’d have to. Their time was coming to an end. He had another week to figure out how to shut himself down again. He would have to do it, no question about it. When the time came, he would find a way. Because the truth was, he couldn’t handle the alternative.

CHAPTER NINE

S
HE MOVED LANGUIDLY BENEATH THE WEIGHT
of the heavy down comforter, his unique scent the first thing she breathed in. Her eyes opened to another new day, their twelfth day together. During that time he had tied her up, spanked her, flogged her, paddled her, made love to her. They’d talked about art, films, international politics, all of the interests they shared. He’d taken her to the best restaurants the city had to offer. They’d even spent an evening at the theater together. And every day he kissed her like no other man ever had. But they did not once talk about the fact that at the end of the week she was due to return to New York.

She was afraid if they talked about the situation it would ruin the moments they had left together. She had no idea what his excuse was, but she was grateful for it.

Her body had never been so sated. She’d never felt so cared for, so treasured. But was this reality? Could a relationship ever be this wonderful, this utterly satisfying and exciting at the same time? Or was this only dream time because they both knew it would soon end? She didn’t know, couldn’t even guess.

She’d spent most of her life understanding the impermanence of things. Of everything. She’d never believed in forever. Why did she want to now, despite everything she knew? Foolish of her.

She didn’t want to think about the fact that they had only two days left.

Maybe it would be better to end things now, to get it over with? But she couldn’t stand to have one less moment with him than was possible. The idea of it made her heart twist in her chest until she could barely breathe. But sometimes, so did the idea of staying. Of giving their connection a chance to strengthen, to pull her in even deeper.

She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. The early morning light shone through the sheer curtains. The air was dense with fog outside. She could see the floating wisps of gray and white through the paned glass, the way it mixed with the pale sunlight to cast a shadowy stillness in the room.

She often woke before he did, and watched him as he slept. In sleep his strong face looked so peaceful, almost innocent. It was only when he opened his eyes that he took command. But she loved these quiet moments when she could simply study him, appreciate the translucent lids of his eyes, the way his dark hair swept back from the smooth skin of his forehead. And it was during these moments she realized she didn’t really know anything about him, nothing beyond the surface. Even though when they were together, in bed, while scening, it felt as though she knew everything she needed to know.

In the dim light of a new day, she understood that finally, it was time to face reality about who he was, who she was. Who they might be together. But no, what she really needed was to deepen her understanding of why, at the end of these two weeks, she should go back to New York and leave him behind forever.

His eyes fluttered open and she was greeted with a smile. His strong, white teeth always dazzled her. But this morning she ignored the surge of lust between her thighs.

“Damien, I want to talk. Need to talk.”

“Mmm…okay. What about?” He sat up, pulled his pillows up behind him. The sheet fell away from his bare chest and she had to steel herself against the sight of all that beautiful skin.

“I want to know about you. Who you are, where you come from. Everything.”

He was quiet a moment. “I don’t talk much about my past. That mention of my mother last week was unusual for me.”

“Aren’t D/s relationships, however brief, supposed to be based on mutual trust?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Do you trust me?”

“More than I’ve trusted anyone in a very long time.”

“Then tell me.”

“Is this more of your unfinished interview?”

She felt a quick stab of guilt at having sacrificed doing her job to her own needs. But she’d have plenty of material to write her article on the plane on the way back to New York.

Too awful to think about leaving here, leaving him.

Don’t think about it now.

“The interview is over. This is about you and me.”

He nodded, his face serious.

“I want to know why you haven’t trusted anyone in so long, as you said. And there are other things…What are you not telling me?”

“You are too perceptive for your own good.”

“Maybe. Are you going to tell me?”

He ran a hand over his dark hair, closed his eyes, leaned his head back into the pillows. If she hadn’t known they were having a serious discussion, she’d have almost thought he’d fallen asleep. Finally he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“I was married once.”

He paused, as though waiting for her reaction. But she didn’t know yet what to think of that bit of information. She waited for him to continue.

“I met her in college. Julia. We got very serious very quickly. We married after only three months. I was twenty-one. I’d already experimented with domination and sadomasochism. She knew about it, knew I was into it. She went along with it. Even derived some pleasure from it. But she never quite got it. I was too young to understand how that works.”

“So you had a marriage that wasn’t entirely built on truth?”

“Yes. But I didn’t know to what extent until we’d been married for a year, when I found her in bed with a friend of ours.”

“Oh, God.”

“It was as traumatic as these things always are. She told me it was because of my ‘perversions,’ as she called it. She said she couldn’t take it, didn’t want to do it. But she hadn’t felt able to tell me that. She was afraid I wouldn’t hear her, that I loved it too much, loved it more than her. Well, she was probably right about that.”

“But you did love her?” Why did it seem so important that she know that? That he was capable of love?

He was quiet a long time. She watched his face harden, his mouth tighten into a thin line. “Yes. In the way I was able to at that age. But the thing is, at that moment I came to understand I could not indulge my desires and have a relationship, as well.”

“But aren’t there people in this lifestyle who have successful, long-term relationships?” A stab of panic made her stomach knot up.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why should you be any different?”

“I failed miserably, didn’t I?”

“You were young. Practically a kid. How could you possibly expect to make intelligent decisions at that age?”

“I always had before. I’ve always been hyperresponsible, I suppose you’d call it. Nothing less was expected in my family. My father was in the military, a colonel. I’m sure you know the type. And I’ve already mentioned my mother to you.”

“Yes.” She was quiet, absorbing everything he’d told her. In the end, it sounded like a bunch of excuses to her, frankly. Or was that just because she didn’t want to hear these things from him?

She looked down at the suede comforter and rolled the edge between her fingers. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

She glanced up again to see him shrug. “I suppose I am.”

“That you’re not relationship material?”

He paused. His eyes were absolutely blank, all life gone from them as though an opaque curtain had been drawn down. His voice held a flat tone that made her feel as though she’d been tied to a rock, then thrown in a river. All emotion gone. All warmth. This was a different person sitting here and talking to her.

“This conversation has reminded me of why I don’t get serious with any woman. Why in two days you will go back to New York and we will both get on with our lives.”

The knot that had formed earlier in her stomach twisted painfully. “Haven’t things changed for you at all this last week? Because I could swear I saw…I saw something in your eyes. Felt it from you.”

He didn’t say a word, just sat there and stared at the bed as though he were carved from stone.

Her eyes stung with tears. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t felt something for me, Damien. That’s bullshit. That’s just you making excuses.”

God, she hated that she sounded so weak, so needy. She would not beg this man to love her.

Love? When had that happened?

She wiped at her face as the tears spilled onto her cheeks. God, she was pathetic.

“I do feel something for you. But I shouldn’t. I’m not constructed that way. My apologies if I made you hope for something more—”

“Don’t you dare apologize for this, for what we’ve had!”

“We both knew you’d be returning to New York at the end of this week. Had you really thought to change those plans? To stay here?”

“I hadn’t thought anything through. I haven’t had time to think.” She hadn’t wanted to think. But it all amounted to the same thing.

“Neither have I. Perhaps that’s the problem. I should have thought about this.” He paused, ran one hand through his hair. “I should have been more realistic, more honest with you about what you could expect from me.”

“You were honest enough in that the subject didn’t need to be discussed initially. And it’s been as much my fault the last few days. I was putting it off. Maybe on some level I knew that when I did bring it up, this is exactly what would happen.”

He was quiet again. His eyes were so shadowed, so guarded, she couldn’t tell what was going on in his head. But she couldn’t stand that he could sit there and give her nothing. His indifference made her furious, all the more because she knew it was a lie. She’d expected more from him.

She threw back the covers and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“If that’s an invitation to stay, it’s not terribly effective. Perhaps you need to work on your technique, Damien.”

She spent a few moments gathering her clothes, dressed as quickly as she could, picked up her purse, and left. He didn’t bother to follow. She didn’t look back.