More than anything I wanted to go to her, take her in my arms, but I suspected this would end very quickly if I moved from where I stood. ‘You’re not alone. You’re here. With me.’
‘For how long?’ She glanced out of the window. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, the storm is over.’
‘That doesn’t mean we have to be.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘That wasn’t what we agreed.’
I shrugged. ‘Agreements can change. Nothing is set in stone. The beauty of being adults is that we can change our minds. What’s to stop us from making a new one?’
A light glinted in her eyes, but a moment later she shook her head. ‘You’re deluded. Or probably suffering from cabin fever or some such nonsense.’
My gut churned harder. ‘Don’t trivialise my emotions.’
Her face hardened. ‘You’re disappointing me, Jensen.’
‘Am I? Why?’ I dared.
I could tell I’d stumped her. That made me smile. ‘I may be submissive, min elskerinde. But I’m not weak.’
She frowned. ‘I never thought you were.’
‘Are you sure? Were you not hoping to discover some flaw that would make it easier to end this?’
‘Is that what we’re doing right now? Ending this? Because I could’ve sworn you were pushing for more.’
‘While you’re simply trying to push me away.’
‘Stop it, Jensen. Just...stop.’
‘Is that an order, mistress?’
‘Yes,’ she snarled. ‘It’s an order.’
I moved then, reluctantly walked past her into the kitchen. ‘The coffee is just about ready. Would you like some?’
I could tell my obedience was throwing her. Heck, this morning wasn’t going quite how she had expected it to go.
Join the club.
I was feeling pretty damn raw and exposed myself. But what had I expected? In pushing her to accept a different version of herself, I’d bared my own needs. That I was way too invested in what was happening in this cabin.
Preparing coffee gave me something to do, and I gleefully ignored the yearnings rampaging through me as I grabbed the mugs and poured the beverage. Turning, I caught her gaze on the picture above the fireplace.
She presented me with her profile as I handed her the coffee, waves of displeasure emanating from her. But then, she surprised me by taking a seat on the sofa, right next to where her other picture lay face up on the coffee table.
Her gaze swept down to it for a moment before she sucked in a long breath and took a sip of coffee.
‘Would you like some breakfast?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry.’
My hands clenched around my mug.
The thought that I’d triggered an early end date for us slashed panic through me. I held it together, joining her on the sofa. I intended to sit next to her, but at the last-minute I sank lower to the floor.
My arm brushed her leg. Breath held, I waited for her move.
Seconds ticked into minutes. We drank our coffee. Then I felt her fingers, whisper-light against my temple. I stilled, barely breathing.
Her fingers slid deeper into my hair, brushing against my scalp in that firm, insistent way that sent shivers down my spine. As I predicted, she gathered the mass at the base of my skull, gripped it in her fist and used the pressure to tilt my head.
Our gazes met. Locked. She pushed. I parried.
She exhaled. ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s not going to work, you know.’
‘I disagree.’
Her grip eased a fraction and I was absurdly terrified she was about to let me go.
‘Tell me about the whales,’ she said.
The whales. My life-changing underwater experience. The most profound moment of my life thus far.
I denied the deliberate distraction, nudged my head at the picture. ‘Tell me about the last time you felt like that before two nights ago.’
Searing pain clouded her eyes and she shook her head.
‘Tell me,’ I insisted. ‘Lighten your burden by sharing it with me, Graciela.’
She stared at me for several seconds, her expression wavering. She released my hair. And a dark, thick hollow invaded my stomach. It lingered only for a moment because she touched me again, this time nudging my head onto her thigh.
I held myself stiff, instinctively sensing she needed the silence to delve beneath the surface of her pain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE WAS ASKING the impossible.
Demanding the forbidden. Asking me to rip my chest open, show him my shredded heart? When had that ever helped?
I had literal proof that it didn’t. Every effort I’d made to connect, to correct, had turned to dust.
His hand wrapped around my calf. Warm. Solid. Present. Grounding me for the first time since I came downstairs.
I’d woken up in a wild panic and before I could put my finger on why, my heart was racing. It’d taken half a second to realise the primary reason for my anxiety. It was because Jensen wasn’t beside me. The secondary because the snow had stopped. I was torn right down the middle between accepting that this wasn’t just a casual fling and grasping the out that Mother Nature was handing me.
The latter had diminished within seconds, leaving a searing sense of loss.
The weight of it had compelled me out of bed, the need to see Jensen driving me.
Only to come downstairs to this stomach-hollowing situation.
He gently massaged my muscles, intent on grounding me in the present when I wanted to flee both it and the pain-ridden past.
And go where? Into a future filled with uncertainty? God, when had my future become so bleak?
When he knelt at your feet and gifted you with possibilities you knew you’d have to walk away from.
The raw, soul-shaking admission turned my insides out even more than the last few minutes had. My gaze lifted to the picture propped up above the fireplace. My breath caught; I barely recognised the woman in the photo.
He wanted to know when I’d last experienced that kind of...joy?
‘It was the last time I saw my mother before she left me for good.’
I
