Page 56 of Reckless Vow

You can take it. Those words. Said with a different, kinder voice, but still those words. My body acts before my brain registers.

With my foot, I push at his chest. It catches him off guard and he stumbles back. I jump from the counter and run.

“What the fuck?” It’s pure surprise in his voice, but I leave it behind me and dash upstairs to my room.

“Brook.” Baldo’s voice hits my frayed nerves, and I swallow a sob. “Are you okay?”

I lock my door, the click obscenely loud, and slide to the floor. Taking three deep breaths, I try to parse this unexpected outcome.

A soft knock startles me. Jesus, of course he wants to understand what just happened.

A lot of wonderful things, as evidenced by the arousal still glistening on my thighs. Plus one very embarrassing reaction to his amazing ministrations.

“Brook, are you okay?” he repeats, his voice laced with concern and confusion.

Another deep breath in, and a long breath out. “Yes, I just need a moment alone. I’m fine.”

A beat of silence stretches, and I know I should just open the door and explain. But this is one of those moments where I need to sort out my thoughts and feelings before sharing them with anyone else.

“Okay, I’ll be in my room if you need anything, Tokyo,” he rasps.

My breath hitches and I fail to stifle the sob this time. Lowering my head, I hug my knees and cry.

Because of course, after delivering the best orgasm of my life, he would use his personal nickname for me.

It’s official—I’ll have to stay in this room forever. There is no way I can face the man again and not die of embarrassment, or combust from desire.

His footsteps finally retreat and I slip down to lie on my side, letting the tears roll down my cheeks.

I’d call my therapist, but it’s past midnight in London. And my phone is downstairs. So I cry.

Alone. Deserted. Isolated.

Just like I always end up.

Time moves while I lie suspended in my sadness and confusion. Until I have no tears left.

I push up on to all fours and eventually stand up.

God, this is such a clusterfuck of a situation. To explain why my brain shut this down would require other explanations and confessions, and I’m just not ready to go there yet.

Why not?

I can tell myself it’s because I don’t trust him, but that would be a lie. I’m scared.

I’m worried that once he learns how broken I am, he’ll feel sorry for me. Once he understands the baggage I carry, he’ll run. Why wouldn’t he?

I shuffle to my bathroom and wash my face. I need a shower, but some perverse part of me doesn’t want to wash away what happened. What could have been, before I freaked out.

Hoping Baldo is asleep by now, I venture outside.

Tiptoeing, I get to the landing and take one step at a time, trying to recall and avoid the creaky spots.

I make it downstairs and dash to the kitchen. In the absence of my therapist, I need to call Saar or Celeste.

I snatch my phone from the counter.

“Brook?”

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