Page 5 of Always

My jawline tenses. She wants to talk about honesty? When she can’t tell me why she wants to punish herself? I love her, but in my lifestyle, you have to know who you are, what your limits are, and why. It’s dangerous, otherwise, and I’ll never again put a woman in danger.

“I’ll be honest with you the day you’re honest with me,” I say.

“I’ve been honest with you from the beginning. That’s not fair.”

“You think you’ve been honest with me, but you haven’t. You can’t even tell me why you wanted me to choke you tonight. You. Skye Manning. Queen of control. You wanted a man to put rope around your neck, to cut off your air. Do you have any idea what that means?”

“I just…” She wheezes as another sob erupts from her throat. “I just…”

I clench my jaw. “Say it, Skye! Fucking say it!”

She clenches her fist, and her cheeks flush with emotion. “I wanted to sink! Sink into nothingness! Give you the ultimate control over my life, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Does it make you feel like a big man to get me to admit that? Does it?”

To the contrary. Her words only sadden me. “It’s dangerous,” I say solemnly. “You’re an intelligent woman. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

She gasps back another sob. “I trust you.”

“I know you do. This is no longer about trust, Skye.”

“Then what is it about?”

I rub my temples. The thought of what happened with Addie happening to Skye… I can’t let myself go there. “What if something went wrong? What if you…”

“I said I trust you,” she says. “But if it’s so dangerous, why do you let other people at your club do it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

I pause a moment, rubbing my chin. “I’m insured. The club is insured. People go there to live out their ultimate fantasies, and I give them the latitude to do that.”

“Well, then?” She meets my gaze.

“It doesn’t mean I share all their fantasies. And breath control of any kind is my hard limit.”

She whips her hands to her hips. “Even if I want it?”

“Especially if you want it, Skye. I will not put you in danger. What if you had a fetish of being thrown in front of a moving vehicle? Do you want me to indulge that?”

“It’s different, and you know it.”

I glare at her. “Is it?”

“Of course it is. I don’t want to harm myself.”

“What do you want, then?”

“To—”

She stops abruptly, her mouth hanging open.

She drops her gaze to my bed, and she smooths out a wrinkle on my navy comforter.

I could push her. Insist that she answer.

But she doesn’t know.

She would have told me already if she did.

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