Page 19 of The Heart of Midnight

Instead of saying that, I shrug. “The last guy to even ask me out was murdered last night so... yeah. I mean, I told him no and he was not happy about that. I don’t date people I work with, and he wasn’t my type anyway.”

“John or Angelo?”

“John,” I respond, then look at him curiously. “Wait, so you did see the news?”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew their names.” I can’t place the look on his face. “John and Angelo, I don’t remember ever bringing them up, and their names were on the news.”

Scar squeezes my knee. “You caught me. I Googled them when I went to the restroom so I’d be able to keep up the next time you wanted to talk about them.”

It sounds like a lie, but why would it be? It doesn’t make sense for him to lie, so I take his word for it and thank him anyway. “That’s sweet of you, thanks. Don’t really have much to say about them anyway. John said he liked me and tried to kiss me at a Christmas party, then got mad when I denied him. Angelo flirted a lot, but never said much about actually wanting anything with me. I think he was more into Janet, but she’s basically married so he never tried. Plus, I kind of lied to them both anyway.”

“Lied?” he asks. “About what?”

“I kind of told them all I had a boyfriend... you.”

I’d be blushing if my cheeks didn’t already hold the flush of liquor, but he’s staring at his glass anyway so it’s not like he’d notice. “Did you use my name because you thought I’d intimidate them, or because you wished it were true?”

Both, not that I have the guts to admit it. “Well, I didn’t give them your name. I don’t know why, I just told them it was none of their business, but I told them I was dating my neighbor... probably because I wish it were true.”

Or I guess I do. Cat’s out now, thanks tequila.

“We’ve talked about this, Avery.” He looks up to meet my eyes. “I’m not a good partner.”

Sighing, I plop backwards on the couch and stare up at the ceiling like it’s somehow interesting, but it definitely hurts less than his gorgeous brown eyes. “Yup.”

“The last girlfriend I had told me I was sick,” he admits. “She made me feel like I was fucked in the head for enjoying the things I do even though I never hurt her and never did anything she didn’t consent to. So when I say I’m not a good partner, I have references.”

“She sounds like a gem, can’t say I’m sorry you guys didn’t work out.” I sit up again and look him in the eyes, knowing deep down that I’m only brave enough to say these things right now because of the liquor. “Look, you don’t know what someone is into unless you truly get to know them, Scar. Someone out there is into the same shit you're into, but you’ll be alone forever if you never try. I mean, no guy has ever given me the things I crave and stuck around after, so you’re not the only one that’s been left for having preferences. Trust me.”

His eyes drop to my lips like they have a thousand times. “And whatareyour preferences, Avery Valentine?”

I snort instead. “Oh, no. I think I’ve overshared enough, don’t you? You’re five seconds from bolting as usual, so I’ll keep why people call me insane to myself, thank you. How about you share yours?”

“Fine. I’m a little bit of a control freak in the bedroom,” he admits. “Sometimes it gets a little rough, a little intense. But there’s nothing hotter in this world than a woman on her knees submitting to me.”

“Fuck,” I practically moan. This man has been keeping his distance from me because he’s exactly what I need? What kind of shit is that? “Who wouldn’t want that? I don’t get it.”

“People who value their independence, people with more dominant tendencies, and people who don’t appreciate having 6’2, 285 pound man pinning them to the mattress and telling them it doesn’t matter how much it hurts, they can take a little more. People who don’t appreciate being violently facefucked until their mascara is running and they’re gagging too hard to catch their breath. People who—”

“Got it,” I cut him off, holding my hand over his mouth before I do something stupid like straddle his lap and tell him to do his fucking worst. “That was... very informative.”

I squirm, making him chuckle under my hand and lean out of the way. “You asked. Your turn.”

“Well, now it’s going to sound like I’m saying it just to agree with you, but my preference is all of that and then some. I... I like a particular kink that literally no one I’ve met has ever seemed down to do. It’s to the point I feel embarrassed by it, but aside from that, my tastes align with yours, believe it or not. I don’t want control, I don’t want to think or even have an opinion in bed. I just want to be fucking owned.”

Scar turns to face me and takes my hand in his, squeezing lightly. “Do you trust me?”

I nod without any hesitation. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me enough to tell me this mysterious, embarrassing kink. I promise I won’t think any less of you, and I won’t laugh. Bottling up your desires will only create resentment toward yourself and sex in general.”

Biting my lip, I hug my knees to my chest and watch him closely before I speak. “Okay. So... um. Remember when I said I want zero control?”

“Yes.”

“Well...” Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. Why must we all feel shame when it comes to our sexual fantasies? If more people felt like it was okay to crave depravity, maybe lesspeople would secretly hurt others in the dark. With that in mind, I blurt it out for him in a way I can never take back. “Rape. I like feeling like I’m being raped.”

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