But, largely, I feel neither, especially not the disinterest. If anything, I want to further explore Samantha and all her fascinating facets. Knowing I can make her feel things she’s never felt, knowing that I can make her open to me like she’s never opened up makes me feel gratified. And possessive. And hungry.
She’s so much more than I ever expected. And I feel so much more than I ever expected.
That doesn’t, however, erase this…other thing that niggles at me. This thing that still feels like guilt over Alyssa.
I don’t know how to overcome it. And, after all this time, I’m not sure I ever can.
********
When I take my slacks from the back of the chair and slip them on, Samantha stirs. I stop moving, hoping not to wake her. My mind is troubled and I don’t want to ruin her victory. She’s on cloud nine that she was able to both overcome her fear and satisfy me. I don’t want her to think any different. At least not right yet.
“Can’t you sleep?” comes her hoarse question. I love her voice when she’s been asleep for a while. It’s deep and scratchy and makes me want to do vile things to her. And, while she definitely made some progress tonight, I doubt she’s up for anything and everything.
“No. Go back to sleep,” I whisper, making my way to the door.
I ease out of the bedroom and close the door quietly behind me. I wish I’d taken Samantha back to my place, rather than opting for close proximity. But I wasn’t nearly finished after that first episode. I wanted to get her back and see just how…compliant she was willing to be.
And now here I am, stuck in her house, unable to sleep. I need the comfortable, the familiar. I need to relax my mind. But that will be next to impossible here.
I make myself a drink and recline on the sofa. I lean my head back against the full cushion and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my head. When I hear the soft shuffle of bare feet on hardwood, I crack my lids. Samantha is walking slowly toward me, wrapped only in one of the sheets we mangled and tore off the bed.
I raise my arm and she slides onto the couch and settles her head on my chest.
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You never actually sleep in the bed with me, do you? Every time I wake up, you’re gone.”
I shrug. “I don’t need much sleep.”
She gets quietly thoughtful for a few minutes before she speaks again. “Can I ask you a question?”
I feel like sighing. She gets introspective and inquisitive when we’re up late at night like this. I’m sure she’ll ask something that I’d really rather not answer.
When I don’t respond, she just asks anyway. That makes me want to smile. I’m sure she has no idea how adorably annoying she is.
“Why were you so fascinated by Laura Drake? I feel sure you don’t visit all your clients on the down-low in their place of business.”
“I didn’t visit you in your place of business.”
She slaps my chest. “You know what I mean. Just answer the question.”
“I told you I’ve become quite obsessed with people like Alyssa. People like me. I thought you were like me. I wanted to know what brought you to where you are. I wanted to know the hows and the whys. I wanted to know if your stories were a result of something broken. Or something fixed.”
“And what did you decide?”
I glance down at her. Her soft eyes are half-lidded and sleepy, but still focused on my words.
“I don’t know that I’ve ‘decided’ anything. You are very much your own puzzle. I think your writing was your way of coming to terms with what happened, with trying to understand it. Maybe even to forgive your mother. But I also think there’s a lot of you in your characters. I think, in many ways, you’re Daire. And I think, in some ways, I’m your Mason.”
Her voice is small when she asks, “Does that bother you?”
“No. I’m not Mason. And you know that. I think you see things in me that you find desirable. You’ve found a dominant person to trust, much like Daire found Mason. I think that’s what you’ve been searching for all along—someone to trust, someone to be strong and let you be you and not crush you in the process.”
“And what is it that you’re searching for?”
The million dollar question.
“I used to think it was control. That I wanted someone to break, someone to bend to my will. But anymore…I’m not so sure.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“No.”
When she rests her cheek back onto my chest, I can’t help feeling like I just lied to her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - Samantha
I’d hoped that, in following through with that one night at the club, I could fix everything. I thought that Alec and I could move forward in our relationship and all would be well. But it seems I’m missing something. Something important. Something…crucial.
With every day that passes, and certainly every night, I feel Alec drawing further and further away from me, emotionally. We make love and it’s raw and satisfying, and it seems to get better each time. And yet, something’s missing. I can feel it in Alec’s restlessness. I can see it in his frown, in his distracted green eyes.
I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve submitted to everything he wants to do—whether to me, with me or something he wants me do to him—and it has all been wonderful. Without the fear of the past, I’ve found that Alec and I can enjoy a sexual playground that’s limited only by our imagination. And Alec has one hell of an imagination!
But still, there’s something that’s not clicking, some way in which he’s never quite with me. Not one hundred percent.
I’m almost positive it has something to do with Alyssa. I know guilt can be a powerful motivator. But it can also be very destructive.
Today makes the fourth time he’s gone back to Portland for “business.” At first, he was only gone a day or two. The last time he went, he was gone for almost two weeks. I know he has a business there, but I also know that he conducts many of his sessions online, the same way in which we began talking. Yet he goes to Portland anyway. And his trips are getting longer and longer.
CHAPTER FORTY - Alec
I’m running. I know I’m running. I’m running from having to make some tough decisions with regard to Samantha. I don’t really want to, even though I know I should.