Page 7 of Salacious Devotion

My mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips. “Dane…”

His nostrils flare, and he turns to the side, grabs the lamp off the end table next to the loveseat, and throws it across the room. It shatters into a million pieces.

I flinch and flatten myself to the door. Dane was never a violent man. I’ve never seen him this angry, but how can I blame him? He must be out of his mind.

He paces away from me and then comes back, hands on his hips. He meets my gaze again. “You better start talking, Paige. I swear to God.”

I wince. “Shannon.”

He leans slightly closer, his jaw tight, his words harsh. “I’m not fucking calling you Shannon. Start fucking talking.”

My legs won’t hold me upright any longer, and I’m not willing to step around him to sit on either the couch or the bed, or hell, even the spanking bench like a civilized human. Instead, I slide down the wall and drop onto my ass.

My skirt is too short for this to be decent, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not like Dane hasn’t seen my pussy before. At least I’m wearing black lace panties. I hug my knees and set my chin on them. I’m overwhelmed. Tears rush down my cheeks. I don’t know where to begin.

“Fuck!” Dane exclaims. It’s the main word both of us have used since he saw me. He sounds slightly calmer now—until he takes in another breath. “Are you going to fucking tell me what the hell is going on?”

I tip my head back and glare at him. “Yes, Dane. Fuck. Stop yelling at me.” A sob escapes me. I want to be able to control my emotions, but I can’t. The tears won’t stop. “I’m in shock. I never expected to run into you. So fucking cut me a fucking break for a minute.”

“Fuck,” he says again. He spins around and stomps over to a mini fridge. He opens it and grabs a bottle of water. After hesitating for a moment, he puts it back and switches to a Dr Pepper.

He remembers…

My heart is in my throat as the man I once expected to spend my life loving returns to me with my favorite beverage. He even twists off the top to loosen it before he hands it to me. He always did that.

I reach up and take it. “Thank you,” I whisper. I could use the liquid, the caffeine, and the sugar. I take a long drink and put the lid back on.

He holds out his hand again. “Come.” His voice is calmer. “I promise I’ll stop shouting.”

I’m not sure I trust that promise. He hasn’t heard what I have to say yet. He may very well start yelling again.

“You can’t be comfortable on the floor, Paige.” He shakes his hand.

I stare up at him. “Shannon.”

He inhales slowly and says nothing.

I tentatively take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He guides me to the loveseat, sits, and tugs me down beside him. He takes the Dr Pepper from me, twists off the top, and hands it back. “Drink some more. You’re shaking.”

I take a few more sips and hand it back. He always was bossy. He hasn’t changed. It’s one of the things I loved about him. He could figure out what my needs were and meet them without me saying a word. My needs included the fact that I might be thirsty or have low blood sugar, but they also included the desire to be dominated.

“So, you don’t have amnesia…” he says as he sets the Dr Pepper on the floor in front of him.

I shake my head. “No.”

He runs a hand through his hair, giving it that early-morning messy look I loved. It would certainly be tidier and easier if I could tell him I’ve had amnesia for three years. Easier to swallow.

“Dane… You, of all people, should have this figured out by now.”

He narrows his eyes. “I guess I’m a moron. You’re going to have to spell it out. You died in that bank robbery. I went to your funeral. I fucking lost it, Paige. I couldn’t even get out of bed or go to work or face my family and friends.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes, but they keep falling. “I’m so sorry.” It really hurts me to hear him say that. I knew we were close. I was in love with him. But we hadn’t said those words. We weren’t married or even engaged. I hadn’t been sure how serious we were. How serious he felt about us.

“Sorry?” His brows lift, and he smirks.

I sit up taller and lean closer. “Do you think I wanted to give up my entire fucking life that day? Do you think it’s been easy on me? I gave up my boyfriend, my friends, my father, and my fucking career. I had just graduated. I was about to start my dream job.” I’m shouting. I don’t care. It all needs to come out. It’s word vomit. Like a dam has opened and there’s no closing it.

He swallows.

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