Page 164 of Reverie
“Sold,” I interject.
She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “What if we were to have sex, and instead of you being in the driver’s seat, I am?”
I search her face for clues as to what that would look like. “Give me a little more information, baby.”
She bites her lip, and I pull it from between her teeth. “Stop distracting me and say what you were going to say.”
She gives me a smile at that.
“How about when we fuck, you couldn’t touch me?” she says, her tone neutral.
“Like tying me up?” I ask, and she nods. The idea causes sweat to bloom on my back.
“I don’t know, baby,” I reply.
“You could safeword at any time, H, and I’ll stop. But I know your limits and I won’t do anything I know you won’t like,” she rushes to add.
“Why do you want this?” I ask, my voice a rasp.
She sits up, and the sheet drops from her chest. The moonlight shines on the tips of her breasts.
“I feel like this is something we need to balance our relationship,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it and as hot as it is when you go all caveman on me, I think there’s something really important that can happen when you trust me to take care of you.”
She pulls the sheet away from her waist and she’s completely naked, bare, before me.
“I think…when we first got together, so much of our sex life was about making sure that I was safe. You wantedmeto feel empowered and safe and in control. And after Adam?—”
I can’t suppress the growl that comes from my chest.
“After Adam,” she says, pressing her palm to my chest, over my heart, “it became your mission to make sure I found that safety again after it had been so violently wrenched from me. You were patient and made sure that I knew that I was in control of when and how we reconnected. And when we made love in the sitting room for the first time….”
She releases a shaky breath, before continuing, “People search their entire lives for the type of connection we experienced in that room.”
She’s right. She’s so fucking right. When she gave herself to me—gave me her raw, painful honesty—in that sitting room, everything shifted for us. We allowed ourselves to come home to each other. We were no longer Hunter and Winter, separate entities. We became one.
Maybe that’s why I was so dead set on calling her Mrs. Brigham way before we made it official.
“These past few weeks since the raid, though, things have been…” she pauses. “You know how things have been between us.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I clear my throat before saying, “Yes, I do know.”
Winter straightens, pulling herself to sit upright.
“You can say no, H. But if you want to know my goal with this, it’s to let you know it’s safe to trust me with everything. Even your fears.”
She puts her hands in her lap and waits.
My mind spins through the instances Idon’twant to think about—the times I don’t allow myself to entertain.
What would happen if I were to have new memories, safe memories to replace the ones I loathe?
“Okay,” I say, my voice low. She smiles and leans over to kiss me.
It’s a messy, heated kiss, and I drag my hand from her neck to over her nipple, where I bring the hard point between my index and middle finger. She shudders, moaning into my mouth. I skate my hand from her breast down to her pussy, groaning when I land on her soft, dripping folds.
“Sunbeam,” I growl, chasing her mouth when she pulls back.
“Wait here,” she whispers, leaving the bed.