and took some deep breaths to calm down. That dream had been something else. It had been so real. It was exactly what he wanted their sex life to be.
Uninhibited. Raw.
But they weren’t there yet; not even close. They were still tiptoeing around the problem and he had no real idea how to take them where they needed to be.
She had to want it. Want
With a sinking heart, Connor threw his sheets in the wash and went to take a shower.
Chapter Eighteen
Connor walked to Bridget’s townhouse, all the while struggling to find some peace. His mind was full of possibilities and daydreams – erotic fantasies that lingered after that dream of his – and that wasn’t his usual way.
But then he wasn’t used to walking such a fine line with a woman either. Usually, the women he dated were just as eager as he was to jump into bed and explore the sensual aspects of sex outside of the accepted “norms”. And they were just as eager to keep it light.
He was in uncharted territory with Bridget.
Connor was doing his best to be patient. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off, but he was finding it hard to hold back. He wanted no boundaries between them. He wanted to know that she was as committed as he was.
It was early days yet, and he wasn’t the kind to fall so hard so fast. Hell, he wasn’t even willing to use the “L” word at this point, but he already cared. That he could say for sure. He definitely wanted to see if they could make anything out of the chemistry between them. He wanted more than casual with Bridget. It surprised him, but he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
He couldn’t say the same of Bridget.
If he was a rock, she was like an ocean wave – unable to be pinned down. She flitted on the edges of their relationship; there but not fully present. It was as if there was a piece of the puzzle he just couldn’t see and if he could see it, everything would finally make sense.
Her rape was an obvious obstacle. She had internalised that event in a way that had scarred her deeply and he was walking on eggshells around that. He couldn’t just tie her up and spank her and say, ‘There now do you see?’ She had to want to go there with him. Had to give her consent and understand that anything two mature people consented to during sex was worthwhile in the communion and bond that it forged.
He’d heard all the arguments about “deviant and abnormal”, etc., yawn, freaking etc. He wasn’t a religious guy, but he honestly didn’t believe that God set people up to fail. There were entirely too many people who had these urges and who had healthy relationships exploring them for it to be wrong. Consent was the key to everything. So long as you found someone who wanted to do it too, then it was all good in his book.
Bridget hadn’t consented to what Trent had done to her. The fact that she’d experienced pleasure at any level had done a real number on her head. It was no different than children who were molested and found themselves unable to reconcile their natural sexual response with the betrayal of their innocence. They internalised and judged themselves just like Bridget was doing.
But that understanding did nothing to illuminate what he could do to get Bridget to face that fact. She had to
And therein lay the rub. He wasn’t at all sure she wanted to. Oftentimes, it was much safer to stay in a box even if it was an uncomfortable or painful one. That she’d given him her address was a huge step, but it wasn’t her physical safety that was at issue. She was smart enough to know it too.
No, it was her emotional safety that she had to be willing both to risk and to take responsibility for. So far, she’d done neither. She shared with him only to a point. She revealed nothing beyond the superficial. And she resisted all his efforts to take their sexual relationship beyond the traditional. The closest they’d come to “dark” was doggie style the last time they’d made love.
Connor was no psychotherapist and he damn sure wasn’t in the business of saving people who didn’t want to be saved. That was futile.
Bridget was different. She made him want more. Inspired him to reach farther, push harder than he ever had, and he wanted her to do the same. He didn’t want to be in this alone.
That was what people who cared for one another did: pushed each other to reach outside themselves and be more. Together they could be synergistic; the sum more than the individual parts.
Connor snorted. Enough existentialism. It was going to be what it was.
Period.
Bridget stared at her reflection and wondered for the millionth time if she was doing the right thing. So far, everything with Connor had been going great. He’d lived up to everything he’d promised. He wasn’t rushing her. He wasn’t pressuring her in any way. In all things, he’d been a man of his word. So much so, that she’d called him up and volunteered her address.
In truth, she’d begun to feel guilty. He’d put himself out so much for her she’d felt like she had to give him something. He could be trusted. She believed that. And, she felt safe with him.
Well, physically safe at any rate. Emotionally … not so much. Which was why she still had a hard time opening up to him fully. Logically, she understood that if they were going to have a relationship, there should be no secrets, but Dean Whittier’s harassment wasn’t a secret really. It didn’t have anything to do with their relationship. It was more of a private matter that she wanted to handle herself. Connor worked at the university too and she couldn’t risk him doing something rash if he went all testosterone-male on her.
No, it was better this way. She would find a way to deal with the dean and leave Connor out of it.
They hadn’t discussed her revelations about her rape again either, which suited her just fine. She still hadn’t come to grips with everything Connor had said. If she’d been wrong all these years, where did that leave her now? How did she cope with the decisions and choices she’d made based on the premise that the rape was a punishment?
Her heart squeezed at the thought.
It was something she wasn’t at all comfortable with, and until she was, she didn’t want to discuss it. She and Connor were taking it slow. Very slow. And that was as it should be. They were getting to know each other and so far proving to be very compatible. Even sexually.
Well, she was at least. Connor, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure about. He’d seemed disappointed at one point the last time they’d had sex. He’d been playing with her breasts, frankly driving her out of her mind, and she’d almost lost it and asked him to spank her breasts. She’d reacted immediately and shut that down, taking his hands and moving them away from her nipples. She’d said they were too sensitive. Which was true.
Technically.
She just wasn’t ready to put Connor’s theory to the test. She’d gone for too long one way and she couldn’t afford to be wrong. The consequences were too dire if she was.
She squared her shoulders. There. See. She was right to take this as slow as she was. That didn’t mean she couldn’t bend a little – for Connor’s sake.
But not too much.
Which was exactly why she was in this particular dress. Connor hadn’t said anything, and she was comfortable with what she wore, but she figured he’d appreciate the dress she had on. A creation of delicate gold silk, all the support she needed was built in, so no bra. She was uncomfortable as hell, but she wanted tonight to be special. To show Connor she was willing to take a step in the right direction even if it was just a baby step.
A final glance in the mirror said she was ready. Her hair was piled on top of her head in ringlets that framed her face. Light make-up accentuated her features and simple gold jewellery set off the peach undertones in her skin. A quick spritz of perfume and she was good to go.
Just as she set the bottle down on the dresser, the doorbell rang.
