Page 120 of The Keeper

“I have to be sure you aren’t using it as a way to cope with something.” His jaw flexed. “I’ve been in situations like that before and it doesn’t end well. For both people involved. When did you know you liked it this way?”

“Charlotte was still alive, if that’s what you’re getting at. My curiosities started in high school. I’d heard stories about some of the seniors and the stuff they’d do at parties. Paddles, rope, handcuffs. I was a teenager. Everything sounds adventurous when you’re young.”

“Curiosity is one thing,” he said in a low, tight voice. “When did you know?”

I inhaled a deep breath. “College. I dated this older guy freshman year. We’d play around with blindfolds and nipple clamps and stuff like that. One night, I let him tie my wrists together. I was on my knees bent forward with my ass in the air. He started running a feather tickler all over me until I thought I would explode. I was so turned on. And then he—”

Xavier’s expression stopped me cold. Jealousy and lust commandeered his face.

“He what?”

“Well, he, uh, he started fucking me hard without warning and,” I paused, consumed by the fierce, possessive energy radiating in my direction.

“Tell me.”

“I liked it. A lot. I orgasmed and told him to do it again.”

That last bit garnered a smile. I lifted my hand to stop him before he could ask me anything else.

“I like it rough, Xavier. I like it dirty and hot and very unladylike…and it has nothing to do with any deep emotional scarring. It gets me off. I know what I like. I know what I want. I’m not submissive…”

Another smile.

“…I’m not letting someone do these things to me because I’m punishing myself. I like it because it makes me feel strong. I’m choosing to play rough. I’m choosing to be used this way. The only thing I’ve ever denied myself is falling in love because I believed I didn’t deserve it.”

“Do you still believe you don’t deserve it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Do you think you don’t deserve me?”

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t admit I’d thought those very words to myself over and over. I couldn’t tell him I pushed him away because I believed I didn’t deserve him or his affection. And now we’re here again. Back to the thing I wasn’t ready to think about or say.

“Xavier I’m…even if I do think that it doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I feel when I’m with you.”

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds before he continued, “Is what happened with your sister the reason you pushed me away?”

“Not that singular act, no. I was afraid if I let you in, let you get close to me, you…not just you, anyone really, would blame me for it.”

His eyes widened. “Blame you for what?”

I didn’t like the way my lower lip trembled. I also didn’t like the way my eyes burned or the metallic taste in my mouth or how my throat squeezed itself. I did not want to cry in front of him. I’m not ready for this. Not yet. Not when I have the diary and so many confusing, unanswered questions.

A single tear fell down my cheek. I swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “Red.”

The questions stopped and I was engulfed in a hug. I clung to him like he was my only life source.

Having him comfort me felt incredible. Letting him comfort me broke through parts I thought I’d closed off for good.

“Did I use the color thing wrong?”

This is what I’m worried about? Pull it together.

Xavier kissed my forehead. I rested my hand on his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. It was strong and reassuring.

“It’s okay, love. It worked didn’t it?”

He held me tighter. Our bodies pressed together. I straddled him, wrapping my arms around him and trying to get as physically close as possible. He threaded his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp. I don’t know how long we stayed like this. I only know I never wanted it to end.

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