Page 104 of Reverie

I hear what he doesn’t say: He needs to channel his pain and give it to someone else.

Give it to me.

My brain spins on overdrive when I let his words settle. He’s so still around me, as if he knows that what he just confessed is so much—maybe too much. And with my history, the thought of sex and pain combining should be terrifying.

Completely off limits.

But as I take in the fullness of his brokenness, I want to give him everything he needs.

I want tobeeverything he needs.

…so I silence the alarms.

As if someone shut me into a safe house in the middle of a tornado, the violent whirlwind of my thoughts and emotions calm.

I can be here for him. Iwillbe here for him.

“I’m yours, Hunter.” I grab his face with a cheek in each of my palms. “Take what you need from me.”

He shudders and closes his eyes, hugging me to him for long moments. We’re close, in sync, breathing in each other as the tension between us thickens.

But when he pulls back to face me, another person stands before me.

The shuttered darkness in his eyes makes the blue of them look icy. I shiver.

But I don’t have long to think about anything else.

“If it gets to be too much, say ‘Paris,’” he growls.

I nod and he puts a thumb on my chin in a firm, nearly painful grip.

“Say it back, Sunbeam.”

My jaw drops from the pressure and anticipation.

“Paris. If it gets to be too much. What do you need, H?”

He rests his forehead against mine for a gentle second, but then he says, “Strip naked and get on the bed on your back. Keep your legs spread wide open.”

I stare at him for several seconds until he spins me around and shoves me out the door.

“Strip. Back. Legs spread,” he commands and shuts the bathroom door.

It takes me several moments for the command to register, but when it does, I hurry to comply, stripping out of my clothes. I’m a mess of confused emotions right now.

Now that I’ve had a moment to breathe—a moment to be by myself, all of the voices that come from years of schooling and therapy start to converge.

This is maladaptive.

This isn’t healthy.

This is a betrayal of myself.

You’re obsessing. You’re obsessing over this man.

But then, there’s one voice that’s louder than all of them. I love Hunter Brigham. And I want to do whatever he needs to keep him here with me.

The bathroom door claps open, slamming on the opposite wall with a mightythwack.