“Nasa said I was important to him, and not because of however I fit into solving the puzzle regarding Ghost.
“He claimed he didn't know why, called me 'Tiger Lily' for the tenth time, and the answer to all your, 'whys,' is he's taking care of me, and somehow he's doing it in a way that doesn't make me feel weak or inferior.
"But there is no universe in which I would be okay with being restrained in any way or whipped. It's not happening, and if that's what he needs to get off...”
Dillon left that an open-ended statement because there wasn't a snowball’s chance in hell she would ever allow anyone to take away her ability to escape, no matter how safe he made her feel.
“Would you consider allowing Nasa to give you a massage?”
“A massage? That's not...” Dillon waffled her hand in front of her. “You know.”
“Not kinky?” Dr. White laughed pleasantly. “Dominance and submission is more than just a sex game. In truth, it's what happens when the sex goes away that actually matters.
“Nasa is deeply fulfilled by being needed, and in doing things for others to make them feel safe, happy, and appreciated. Don't mistake me, he can be an overbearing prick when he doesn't get his way.
“He's driven by justice, and his world has very few shades of gray. If you wrong him or someone he loves, you will pay the price. He's opinionated, has no filter, and you will never be confused as to where you stand with him.
“He's unbelievably generous, observant of the small details—such as recognizing your favorite color is blue, and specifically getting your preferred toiletries—that are often more important than the larger details. He's thoughtful, kind, respectful, and the least judgmental person I've ever met.
“He is possessive and defends what he considers his with the ferocity of a dragon guarding his treasure, and if not for his extreme paranoia about the government, I'd say he's pretty damn close to perfect.
“You feel that deep, primal connection, or you wouldn't respond the way you do. You feel the sexual chemistry sparking between the two of you, and if you didn't, wearing that watch wouldn't mean anything beyond having another tool to protect yourself with.
“That tone of voice he uses on you when you're about to break down? That's the voice of a Dominant stepping in to assume authority when you falter and don't know where to turn.
"If you tell him no, he may ask you why you're saying no, but he will respect it and stop whatever it is that's making you uncomfortable, immediately. He'll respect you.
“If you tell him you will never be comfortable being tied up or tied down, he'll never bring it up again. The more transparent you are in your communication, the better. . I could tell you all day long what my definition of BDSM is, but I think you’ll fare better hearing it from Nasa, and hearing him tell you his definition.
“I hope you and I have established enough trust between us, that you’ll believe me when I tell you it’s worth at the very least, having an honest conversation about.”
Dillon did in fact trust Dr. White. She trusted the therapist more than she’d trusted anyone in the last ten years, and that trust came from several years worth of caution and struggle on Dillon’s part.
No lie, Dillon made Dr. White work hard for that trust.
She’d met Nasa less than a month ago, and he’d already done more than enough to prove to her he was worthy of trusting.
So, yeah. If Dr. White was bringing this whole BDSM thing up, if she trusted Nasa in that realm of weirdness, Dillon felt comfortable at least attempting to have a conversation with him about it.
Maybe.
"When was the last time you had sex?”
Dillon shook her head, plucking at a thread on her denim shorts while she tried to digest everything Dr. White had just thrown at her.
“Since before I was taken and interrogated. After they tortured me and threatened to rape me if I didn't tell them what they wanted to hear, my libido disappeared.
“You know how I struggled to trust men after that, how I panicked every time a man so much as glanced my way. In the last week, I've been flirted with, teased, smiled at, and I watched a bunch of seriously built shirtless guys flipping tires up and down their astro-turf football field, all without being triggered.
"Yesterday, I definitely flirted with Nasa, and I held his hand today. You say it's because I have a connection with him, but I feel like I'm just going crazy.”
“I assure you, you're not going crazy,” Dr. White told her firmly. “If you had gone off on your own, what would you be doing?”
That was an all too easy question to answer. “I'd be on the run, constantly looking over my shoulder, back to believing every man who looked at me sideways was out to get me. I'd be so hypervigilant there would be no safe place to rest, because I've isolated myself pretty damn well.”
“Yes,” Dr. White confirmed, reaching over for her tea-cup..
“When I ask if you're willing to let Nasa give you a massage, it's not about sex, kinky or otherwise. I'm asking if you're willing to be vulnerable and let him take a few more steps beyond your previously impenetrable emotional walls.
“I'm asking if you're willing to let him touch your scars, your body, and give him the chance to prove you can trust him to respect your boundaries. Could you do it?”
Dillon envisioned herself lying face down on a table, exposed, with Nasa looming over her, touching her. Part of her turned liquid at the thought of his hands on her, but a bigger part retreated in fear.
“I'm not sure,” Dillon finally answered.
“What part makes you most anxious? Being touched? Letting him see your scars?”
Dillon shook her head, her pulse starting to throb with enough force she could feel her veins pushing against the band of
