Текст книги "Dangerously Bound"

Автор книги: Eden Bradley

Соавторы: Eden Bradley
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER Fifteen

MICK WOKE AT six out of habit, his limbs itching to go for a run, but the ER doctor—and Jamie—had made him promise he wouldn’t work out for a week. It had only been five days. Maybe he could push things a little?

He felt okay. The bruise was already clearing up, and he hadn’t had any nausea or dizziness since that first night. Physically, he was fine. The rest of him was pretty well fucked up.

He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top.

“Fuck it,” he muttered as he put on his running shoes. He was going to lose his shit if he had to hold still any longer.

The sky was dark and heavy with clouds when he stepped outside, and he could feel the damp air cool on his skin. Didn’t matter. He’d warm up fast enough.

He did a few quick leg stretches on the sidewalk in front of his house, then he took off at a slow jog to get his muscles warmed up.

He went down Dauphine to Canal Street, turned toward the water and let himself speed up, his legs and his lungs pumping. It felt good, even if the bad leg hurt. He didn’t care. It was good to be out, to be moving.

The last few days had been pure torture—constant thoughts of Allie with not enough to distract him, going back and forth with himself about whether to call her or to stay away. He had a great argument for keeping his distance. Logical reasons. But emotion was telling him something else.

He loved the girl.

There was no getting around it. And she loved him back. Despite her walking away from him at the hospital, despite their history. Despite everything. And maybe—just maybe—there was something to it, some reason.

She was scared, which he understood when he could get out of his own head long enough to let his own shit go—all the shit that had been holding him back his entire life. The shit that had been stirred up once more by the angry words she’d hurled at him in the emergency room. He’d let it get to him, he realized now, in a way that was . . . every bit as stupid as she’d accused him of being.

And he was if he couldn’t give up the Goddamn fighting to be with her. She was worth it. If he could have Allie, why would he need it anymore? What did he even have to be so pissed off about? Hell, weren’t there other reasons why he shouldn’t need to fight anymore? Wasn’t he stronger than that? Better than that?

It was time to fucking get over himself.

Heat flooded his body, a kind of release as years of tension and stubbornness drained from him.

Amazing what a good knock on the head could shake loose. That and the love of the most incredible woman he’d ever met.

He really was stubborn to have hung on to this image of himself all these years—even now, knowing she loved him. Was he really so in love with the idea of him being the bad seed that he hadn’t been able to let it go? Had he really been so damn stuck in that awful place inside his head where all the good things he’d done with his life counted for nothing?

His legs pumped, taking him down one block, then the next, past houses and stores, bars and restaurants, all of it a blur.

He’d been standing in his own way for most of his damn life. He hadn’t been able to stop until she’d come back into his life and made him feel worthwhile again.

They’d wasted so many years . . . he’d wasted so many years.

He had to tell Allie. Had to. He had to tell her what he’d just figured out. And he had to get her back.

“Fuck,” he puffed out, increasing his stride until he reached Magazine Street and made the turn to head toward Allie’s neighborhood just as the sky opened up and it started to rain, a light spring shower that felt good on his heated skin.

She made him feel amazing. No more letting this twisted shit inside his head talk him out of that. With her, he could believe it. Now it was time to learn to believe it on his own. Because if he didn’t, then he really didn’t deserve her.

He did, damn it. He was going to make her see that.

He concentrated on keeping his legs moving, breathing in, breathing out, until he turned the corner at Orange Street and ran toward her house.

The sun was beginning to break through the rain, lighting up the sky in shades of pale silver, bathing the old cottage in a watercolor wash. He had to stop on the sidewalk, bent over, hands braced on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. The leg throbbed, but he didn’t care. Allie was the only thing that mattered now.

He straightened up and went to her door.

*   *   *

A LLIE SKIPPED TOWARD the French doors that led into her father’s study.

“Papa! I have to go to school soon. Play something for me.”

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. So still. Slumped over the piano keys.

“Papa? What are you doing? Does your head hurt?”

The house was more silent than she’d ever heard it. She knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“Papa, why won’t you answer me?”

She stepped closer, put a hand on his arm, running her fingers over the crisp blue cotton of his shirt.

“Papa?” she whispered, her heart twisting in her chest.

She took a step back, terrified. Guilty for being scared of her own papa. Tears slipped down her cheek.

She woke to a loud pounding, clutching the sheet—and wiped the tears away.

The pounding continued.

She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even quite seven—who would be there so early? Allister wasn’t due to work on the kitchen until Monday.

She got up and padded barefoot down the hall in her pink cotton nightgown as the pounding came again, more insistent this time.

“Okay, I’m coming!”

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. And froze when she saw Mick standing on her porch.

His hair and his skin were wet, and it was only then she realized it was raining. He was panting hard, his expression grim.

He was so damn beautiful it made her heart ache.

“Allie, you’re crying.”

“What?” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It was . . . just a bad dream.”

The same one she’d had every night since she’d last seen Mick.

“I had to come,” he said.

“Why?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, her brain still half asleep yet churning a hundred miles an hour.

“Come on, baby. We have a lot to talk about.”

She bit her lip, trying to stay strong in her resolve even though every cell in her body wanted nothing more than to reach out for him. To feel the texture of his skin. The crush of his arms around her.

No.

“Can I at least have some water before you decide you won’t talk to me? I ran all the way here from my place. I’m a little dehydrated even with the rain.”

“Oh. I . . . yes, come on in, I guess.”

She turned and walked into the kitchen without looking at him, her pulse racing. She needed a moment to gather herself. She pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a breath before turning to hand it to him, along with a dish towel.

“Thanks.”

He popped open the bottle and drank, ran the towel over his face, his hair.

He seemed to fill up her small kitchen, and it was as much his presence as his height, his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin was slick with sweat and the New Orleans rain. There was rain caught on the tips of his dark lashes.

He wiped his mouth, looked at her. And as was his habit, it seemed as if he could see right through her. How the hell did he do that?

She put a hand on the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself. “So,” she started, looking at the floor. Anything to avoid that searching gray gaze. “What is it you think we have to say to each other?”

She looked up then, feeling the challenge of her own words.

“Plenty. At least, I have plenty to tell you. I need you to hear me out, Allie.”

“I—”

“Just do it,” he interrupted, his voice low. “Give me five minutes. If I can’t convince you I have a point, you’re free to ask me to go. And if you do, I won’t bother you ever again.”

There was an edge of command in his voice. And pain. That much was plain to see.

She chewed on her lip. This felt dangerous. Mick was dangerous. She’d always known that. But hadn’t that always been part of the allure? That and his purely masculine face, the features a little raw, yet beautiful to her all the same.

So beautiful his face alone broke her heart.

Stop it.

“Allie? Come on. Hear me out.”

She nodded and sat down slowly in the chair. Mick stayed on his feet.

“Okay.” He ran a hand over his damp hair. “I’m sorry. For every rotten asshole thing I’ve ever done to you. For every stupid thing I’ve done—and you were right back in the ER—I’ve been an idiot. I was punishing myself. I think you already know that much. You said as much.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. This was exactly what she wanted to hear from him. And everything she didn’t dare believe. “I think it’s what you’ve always done. You told me you’d stopped running, but that’s not true. It’s as if it’s almost habit for you. You create this self-fulfilling prophecy, Mick. Which one of us did you think you were punishing? Because frankly, I’m tired of it being me. And I don’t know why I convinced myself that it had just gone away. That’s what’s kept me in this with you, but I don’t have any reason to exist on blind faith anymore. There’s just been . . . too much has happened. I can’t take any more apologies. I can’t take any more worry that something horrible will happen to you because you invited it to.”

God, it hurt her to say it.

“I understand you feeling that way. I do. I’m not going to argue a single point. But we’ve built something together, Allie. Something important. And I refuse to walk away from it.”

“You don’t have to add yet another thing for you to feel responsible for destroying, Mick. You don’t have to walk away, because I already did. I did it because I had to. Why can’t you understand?”

“Because my life without you in it doesn’t make any sense. It never has. Don’t you see? It’s always been us. Mick and Allie. No matter how many years we spent apart. The ones who have to end up together if life is fair. Hell, even if it’s not. You were right about that, Allie.”

When all she could do was blink at him, he went on. “We were meant to be together. We both know it. You always have. I ran from it for years because I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I covered that up in excuses about you being so pure—and I don’t mean this as any kind of insult, but I knew damn well you weren’t some innocent virgin. I recognized your desires back when we were in high school, when you were a virgin. I saw a little of the darkness in you and I blamed myself for it. And the kink . . . back then I thought there was something wrong with me. But even now, knowing what I know about kink, what I know about you, the kink seems more pure for you.”

He started to pace then. She still had no idea what to say or where he was going with all this. All she knew was the staggering pain she felt at seeing him there, hearing that raw edge to his voice. But she didn’t know what she could trust in.

We were meant to be together.

Wasn’t that what she’d always believed?

He stopped and stared at her for several long moments.

“Are you letting me stay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “You have my attention.”

He leaned against the counter behind him. “It’s all fucked up, and I’m just now getting it. What played into the way I viewed myself, and the way I viewed you through those lenses that saw me as . . . defective.” She saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. “It wasn’t about you at all. Except for the part where I love you. I always have. I always will. That much was true from the start.” His tone lowered, his brows drawing together. “Do you love me at all, Allie girl?”

Her breath caught on a strangled sob. “Of course I do!”

He was at her side in an instant, but when he tried to take her in his arms, she pushed him away.

“Mick, I don’t know how to feel right now. So, you’ve had this epiphany. Now what?”

“Now I stop the fighting—the kind that’s anything more than a workout. The kind that comes from anger and frustration. The kind with that edge of need that bites into me. I don’t need it anymore. I thought I did. But Allie, if I have you . . .”

“I don’t understand, Mick.” Her head was spinning. “I don’t know how this all comes together.”

“I know I’m not making much sense. I’m trying.” He stopped, scrubbed at his goatee. “Okay. Let me try this again. I started having these thoughts about kink back in high school and I felt like they were wrong. Crazy, maybe. I didn’t want to pollute you with the dirt going on in my head. Those urges got stronger as I grew older. By the time I was getting ready to leave for college, I was convinced I would ruin you somehow. I was barely eighteen—what did I know? I didn’t understand myself what was happening to me.”

“But we were together that one time when we were in college. And after that night I never heard from you again.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “That tortured me, Mick! Because that night was . . . transcendent for me. I knew exactly what I wanted—what I’d fantasized about for such a long time. Things I could barely comprehend. I cried because it was so beautiful to me. Beautiful because it was with you. And then you took it all away from me.”

“I know. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust myself. And after that, I knew how much I’d hurt you by disappearing, and I felt even more like an asshole who could never deserve you. But things got even worse.”

“The accident,” she said, her chest going tight.

“Yeah. The accident. That pretty much ruined me. I’ve known it this whole time, when I’ve allowed myself to consciously think about it at all, which hasn’t been too often. And . . . well, I’m a guy, and I admit we’re not always the most enlightened of the species.”

“Agreed. Go on.”

She knew she wasn’t being very nice, with Mick laying his soul out on the table. But she was still as pissed off as she was hurt. Almost, anyway. The anger was helping her to keep a lid on her emotions. To keep her from throwing her arms around him and simply forgiving him everything because it damn well hurt to see that Mick having to say these things out loud—to say them to her—was tearing him apart.

“So,” he went on, “I need to talk to you about the accident, Allie. In a way I’ve never talked to anyone about it. Maybe not even to myself—and I swear I’m not saying this because I want pity or to scare you. I almost died that day. They told me I should have, given the speed of the impact and what happened to the bike. You asked me about my Latin tattoo? Non Timebo Mala—‘I will fear no evil.’ It’s about that. About having faced death. My own stupidity. And over the years it’s come to mean all kinds of things. Facing the dark place inside me that drives the kink. Trying to learn not to fear . . . anything. It’s a process. Life is a process. I didn’t know until you came back into my life that you—us being together—was a part of it. Not that we’re evil, of course, but that I perceived being close to you as an evil because I was afraid to do it. I don’t know, it doesn’t translate directly. Am I making any sense?”

“Yes. I think so.”

He went back to lean against the tile counter and closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Back to the accident. I don’t know if you understand what it’s like to have the reputation of generations before you to live up to. It’s not a conscious expectation, but it’s there all the same. It’s almost genetic in my family. We always knew exactly what we’d do with our lives, my brothers and I. There was no question. We were all a little bad, the Reid kids, but everyone fell into line when it was time to get serious about becoming a firefighter. Except me. I took it too far. Far enough that there was no coming back. And that ended everything for me.

“I was nothing but a walking—barely—black mood for a good year after. Jamie helped me with that. I think he was just glad not to have lost another friend. He was still pretty fucked up about Brandon when I went and wrapped my fucking motorcycle around that tree. It was a shitty thing to do to him. To my mother . . . Christ.” He shook his head, his gray eyes going dark. “I remember thinking I was glad you weren’t around to see it. By the time I saw you again, I’d convinced myself I was over it. Which really means I’d stuffed it way down deep. But it was always lurking under the surface, waiting to come out in some ugly way.”

She knew she should say something, murmur some words of encouragement, but all she could do was nod for him to continue. It hurt like hell to hear it all. To hear in detail what he’d gone through. Hadn’t she been asking him to tell her this? But it was almost too hard now, when it felt as if an ocean lay between them—a distance she felt she had to maintain. Her fingers flexed in her lap.

He ran a hand over his hair. “That’s when the fighting started. Just the sparring at the gym at first, but it wasn’t long before I found the underground fight circuit. Easy enough to find if you’re really looking for it, especially in a city like New Orleans. You came back to town after I’d had my first few fights, which is the only reason I even dared to be with you—because the fighting was there to help me burn off some of the anger and the guilt. The only reason I had to believe I could keep my shit together around you. But I couldn’t. Not with you. And I’ve always regretted it.”

“Mick, I wanted you so badly that night. I thought we might . . . I thought it could be a new start for us.”

“So did I.”

“But . . .” She was flabbergasted.

“I couldn’t control myself, Allie. I thought you were crying because I’d fucking hurt you. Because you thought I was some kind of monster. I couldn’t face you. I was a Goddamn coward. It’s taken me all these years to forgive myself for that. And the only way I could even begin to was the first time I had you under my hands when you came back to New Orleans. When you forced me to begin to see you as you were—the kink and the purity all wrapped up together. It’s slowly been forcing me to see these things we do as they should be seen. As I should have seen it all along—as something beautiful in itself. As something that’s only warped by our own motivation. Mine hasn’t been clean because I’ve been bringing in all this wreckage from my past. I haven’t come to it from the right place—from a clean place—until I came from a place of love. Don’t you see? You’re my redemption.”

“God, Mick, please don’t say that.” The tears welled again. One slipped down her cheek.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not. I manipulated you. I had no right—”

“You did. But you did it because you loved me.”

“Is love supposed to excuse anything?”

“Not anything, maybe. But sometimes. It was sure as hell the right reason to bulldog me into being with you.”

She had to smile a little through the tears then. “I did bulldog you, didn’t I?”

“You are not a woman to be messed with,” he told her, moving closer, one corner of his mouth quirking for a moment before sobering once more. “I’m sorry I ever did, Allie. I’m sorry I couldn’t just love you. But I do now. I love you so damn much I don’t know how to exist without you. These last few days have been hell.”

“For me, too, Mick. I was arguing with myself the whole time. Trying to stay away because I felt I had to. But knowing you were hurt . . .” She had to stop, a sob catching in her throat.

“Baby, don’t cry.”

His arms went around her, and he lifted her to her feet so he could hold her close. Nothing had ever felt better to her in her life. But she couldn’t stop the tears.

“Hey,” he said again, his voice gentle. “I’m right here, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. Is that why you’re crying? Because you want this over?”

Her heart was going to break. “Stop it, Mick. Don’t say that to me. I can’t take it.”

“Then tell me what this means,” he said quietly. “Tell me.”

She slipped her arms around his neck and looked up into his beautiful gray eyes—the eyes of the man she’d loved her whole life.

“It means I want to be with you. It means I love you so damn much I don’t even know where to begin. It means you can be an idiot sometimes, and I’m damn glad you see it, but if you ever end up in the hospital again I’m going to kill you, Mick Reid!”

He laughed as his arms tightened around her until she could barely breathe. “Remind me never to fuck with you.”

“Oh, I will.”

His face went still as he looked at her, as they both let love tremble through them, between them. He inched closer until she could feel his breath on her lips. She tilted her chin.

“I’m gonna kiss you, Allie,” he whispered against her mouth.

She nodded. “Yes you are.”

He pulled her up on her toes as he lowered his mouth to hers. Just a sweet press of his lush lips, then harder until she felt that familiar sense of command that was the Dom in him. She gave herself over to it, to him. She couldn’t help herself. Any remaining argument she might have had emptied from her mind. All that was left was what was in her heart, and the heat blazing between them.

Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, and she loved the hard muscle there. Then down his strong arms to where they were clasped behind her back.

He kept kissing her as their bodies went hot, then hotter, desire and emotion blending together. It was all one thing—it was all just need for him.

He pulled free and kissed her neck, working his way up until he kissed that tender spot just below her ear.

“I need you, baby,” he murmured. “I need to feel you. To taste you. To own you.”

“Yes, Mick. Please.”

He stroked her hair, kissed her cheek, her jaw, before pulling her nightgown over her head, leaving her naked before him.

“So beautiful,” he said, awe in his voice as his hands swept over her breasts. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She moaned when he bent to kiss her breasts, his lips brushing across her nipples. Desire heated her blood, her nipples going hard beneath his touch, her sex going wet. He filled his big hands with her breasts, kneading them, then slipping down over her ribs, her stomach.

“Mick . . . God, I need you.”

“You have me, my baby,” he told her softly. “You have me.”

He went down on his knees and her hands went into his hair. His breath was hot against her belly, then lower.

“Oh . . .”

He kissed her over and over at that sweet juncture of hip and thigh, then moved in until his mouth feathered over the tip of her clitoris. Using his fingers, he parted the swollen folds and kissed her there, quick, tender kisses. Slowly they became more lingering—just his soft mouth until she thought she’d go mad as need built inside her.

“Mick.”

“Shh.”

He bent once more and used his hot, wet tongue on her, licking at the lips of her sex, still holding her open with his fingers. Her fingers dug into his scalp as her legs went weak.

Oh, his mouth was good. He licked her, finally, and she arched her hips. He licked her again, one long, slow stroke from the top of her hood and all the way down. She parted her thighs and he slipped his thumbs inside her.

“Ah . . .”

He began a slow stroking cadence, his thumbs pushing in, sliding out, his tongue gliding over her flesh, making her crazy with the need to come. She bit her lip, held it back, knowing it would be all the better if she did.

Then suddenly he shifted, three fingers plunging into her soaking-wet sex as he sucked her hard clit into his mouth.

“Oh!”

She came all at once, pleasure surging into her. Lips and teeth and tongue and plunging fingers filling her, and God, she’d never come so hard in her life. Stars flashed behind her closed eyes, bursting into flame, dazzling her with their brilliance—with the brilliance of the sensation pouring into her body like white lightning.

Before she was done he was on his feet, kissing her again, pulling her into his arms, then lifting her and carrying her into her bedroom.

He set her on the bed and was on top of her in an instant, his big body pressing her into the mattress. She could feel his hard cock through his damp clothes. She scrabbled at the hem of his shirt with blind fingers until he pushed off her long enough to pull it over his head.

Her hands went to his tight abs, smoothed up to his chest—she had to touch him, to know he was real.

Her heart surged when she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes filled with love and desire so intense it made her squirm.

“So damn beautiful,” he told her.

“Mick, I need you. Now. Please.”

He slipped out of his sweats and laid his body over hers once more. He slid a hand down her thigh, paused to tickle at the back of her knee before moving down her calf.

“I love this body,” he said. “I’ve loved it all my life. I’ve loved you all my life. I’ll love you for the rest of it, Allie girl.”

“I love you, Mick. So much.”

His hands went to her hips and he lifted them. She spread her thighs wider and wrapped her legs around his back, needing him.

He paused at the entrance to her body, his gaze locking with hers, and she felt his love in that steady gaze. Felt it course through her, making her shiver. With love. With need. She reached for his hands and his fingers clasped hers, holding on tight, lifting her arms over her head as he slid into her.

“Ah, Allie . . . baby . . .”

She watched as his face went loose with pleasure, as the same pleasure coursed through her. He began to move and she moved with him, every lovely motion liquid, sinuous, as though they moved with one body. One desire.

He turned them both until she lay on top of him, their hands still clasped above their heads. He surged up into her, his cock instantly hitting her G-spot. Pleasure blazed, searing her as the need to come took her over once more. She paused at that keen, lovely edge.

“I can feel you, baby girl. So hot inside. I can feel you . . . clench around me. Come for me, baby. Come with me.”

“Yes . . .”

She let it happen as he bucked into her over and over, her climax flooding her until she was drunk with pleasure, drunk with him. And she felt the stinging current of his own climax inside her as he called her name.

“Allie . . . my baby . . . my girl.”

He let her hands free and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight. He kissed her hair, his breath rough against her cheek, then he took her face in his palms and kissed her hard. His sweet tongue slid into her mouth, and they were making out as they’d done in high school—everything that hot, that desperate even now, after they’d both come. But the need was more about the pure need to be together. To love each other.

Finally they slowed down, until it was simply one soft kiss after another. A press of lips, a slow delicious glide of tongues. Finally he held her head to his chest. His heart was a hammering beat against her cheek. Everything about the moment was exactly what she needed.

They lay together while the rain fell outside—she could hear the soft patter against the leaves in her garden. Could almost feel the rain and the clouds like a soft blanket holding them in the city’s arms. And knew, finally, she was home.

*   *   *

THEY’D HAD A glorious week together—or almost. Mick had been called away for work on Thursday night. It was Saturday night and Allie couldn’t wait to see him. But the anticipation of seeing him again wasn’t the only cause of the butterflies in her stomach, the breathlessness that was making her dizzy as she knelt on the floor at the foot of the big four-poster bed behind her.

He had told her he’d arrive at The Bastille at nine o’clock, and she knew it must be nearly nine. She glanced around the Victorian-themed room, where he’d instructed her to wait for him—the damask wallpaper, the carved furnishings, then down at the ornate red-and-gold Persian rug. She knew she’d done exactly as he’d asked—dressed in the ivory silk waist-cincher corset that had arrived at her house that morning, and nothing else. But in her hand she held the one surprise she had for him.

Her fingers stroked over the leather, and she inhaled, taking in the earthy scent.

If only he would hurry. But it was Mick, and she knew he wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, exhaled the way she’d been taught, trying to center herself. And had barely managed to get her pounding heart to calm when she heard the door open.

Mick.

“Good girl.”

Ah, the words that always made her melt, and he knew it. She felt her body yielding, her mind following. Her heart was already there.

She looked up and smiled at him as he drew her to her feet. He was so handsome in his dark jeans, his black shirt rolled up at the cuffs, revealing the strong muscles of his forearms. Then those arms were around her, and she was being crushed against the hard planes of his chest as his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her hard, bit her lip, drew it out between his teeth before letting it go to bury his head in her neck. He kissed the tender skin, bit her there, letting his teeth sink in just until she gasped.

He pulled back, smiling at her. “I missed you, baby girl.”

“I missed you.”

He stroked her hair. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“I can tell you’re sinking down already, Allie. I hear it in your voice. I see it in your eyes. In the flush of your pretty skin.”

“Yes, Mick.”

He ran his hands over her arms. “Hey. What have we here?” he asked as he found the leather blindfold.

“It’s my gift to you.”

His brows drew together, emotion in his intense gray gaze. “Allie, are you certain you want this?”

“I trust you, Mick. I needed to show you. This was the only way I could think of.”

“Baby, you know we don’t renegotiate once we’re in scene, once you’re subspaced.”

“I bought this the other day, a few hours after you left. I made the decision then. I love you so much. And I can’t really love you without the trust, can I? I have to believe we’re working together on whatever our future will become. I have to believe in you. And because I do, I don’t have anything to be afraid of, do I?”

“Not from me. I promise you that. Never again.”

“I know it. So please, Mick. Cover my eyes and let tonight be a mystery of sensation for me. I want to let go of this last boundary. With you. Only with you.”