Beautiful Scars (18 page)

Silence reigned.

Turning around, he stared at her. “What the hell does
genetically predisposed
mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Marc,” she warned quietly. “I don’t much care to have people yelling at me unless I did something to warrant it. And guess what?
I didn’t
.”

“I can’t help it,” he bit off. “Would you just fucking answer me? What does that mean?” Was he going to lose her right when he’d just found her? Is that what she was saying?

Long, tense moments ticked by before she finally looked away. “My genes are a little screwy. It’s complicated, and if you want a better explanation, you’d be better off asking my doctor. But I was born with genes that make me a higher risk for breast cancer—which we didn’t know about until they found it. Drinking a lot of alcohol can increase the risk. So I keep it to a glass of wine every once in a while.”

“Will it come back?”

She glanced down, then shrugged and smiled. “There’s not much for it to come back to. It’s not
likely
. But cancer is an ugly, brutal bitch. We never know when she’ll come back to give you a nice little sucker punch. That’s why I don’t tempt fate.”

He sucked in a breath, blew it back out. A brutal, ugly bitch. Damn it. That was wording it mildly. Okay. He was trying to level out. Although it was damn hard, considering he kept getting one hit after another. It was like every time he thought he’d heard the hardest thing, seen the hardest thing, accepted the roughest thing, he was given another slap that sent him spinning, careening out of control.

Grabbing the lasagna pan, he went over to the stove and let it drop down on it with a clatter as he turned the oven on.

“You keep banging that thing around, we won’t be eating it. The pan’s going to break,” Chaili said from behind him.

“Nah. I bought stuff that’s supposed to be pretty resistant,” he said, striving for some light, easy ground.

“Resistant to you slamming them around? Designed with Marc in mind?”

He smiled, but it was half-hearted at best.

Turning around, leaning against the counter, he stared at her. “I’m having a hard time finding level ground here, just so you know. I’m probably going to hit my asshole level at some point soon tonight,” he warned her.

She shrugged, toying with the fringe on her skirt. “You probably weren’t expecting such a mess when you decided you wanted to…hell. What
are
we doing here, Marc?” The thick strands of her hair fell into her eyes and she brushed them back impatiently as she studied him. “What is this? Are you just looking for somebody to keep you company while you’re on a break? Is…”

Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

But he saw the way her shoulders rose, fell, erratic, in time with the harsh sounds of her breathing before she steadied it out.

“You’re asking me questions I don’t have answers for,” he said quietly. He pushed off the counter and moved to stand in front of her. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he stared down at her. “Relationships and me have about as much luck as a junkie trying to quit cold turkey. But then again, I haven’t ever met a single woman who made me
want
any sort of real relationship.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, watched as her pupils flared. “Until you. You drive me crazy in so many ways.”

The oven beeped and he sighed, turned away and headed over to the oven, put the lasagna in.

“So.”

He decided he’d stay just where he was for now. It was safer. “So.”

They stared at each other and finally, Chaili slid off the stool and went over to the fridge, tugged it open, studied the contests before pulling out a can of Diet Coke. “Is that what we’re doing, Marc? Going to try and have a relationship?”

“I thought we already were.” He slid a hand into his pocket, rubbed a finger over the picture he had tucked in there. All those years he’d spent wasted on women who’d left him empty and the one he needed was right there. Right here. “Is that what you want?”

“Well…” She slanted a look at him, a wicked smile curving her lips. “I guess we can do a relationship. The sex is pretty fucking awesome.”

Marc pulled the picture out, tapped his finger with it. Wondered maybe if he should try to press. She had a habit of doing that, he noticed. He’d try to push for deeper things, a deeper connection and she’d make it all light and easy.

Nothing he felt about her was light and easy.

But if she needed to keep it that way for now, that was fine. He glanced down at the picture and then slipped it back in his pocket. “I’m here to please you,” he murmured. “And speaking of which…” He checked the timer.

Plenty of time.

“About that talk.”

Chaili’s heart stuttered in her chest as he caught her wrist and led her out of the kitchen. They went into the living room, but instead of stopping at the couch, he led her over to the upright Steinway he had against one wall.

“What, do I get one of those private concerts now?”

He just smiled and sat down, resting his hands on the keys. “You said you like to watch…is this a regular thing for you?”

Chaili groaned, blood creeping up her neck to turn her cheeks hot. “Yeah, sure. It’s regular. I’ve got weekly dates at the local sex club just so I can watch people screw.”

“I’m asking serious questions,” he said quietly. “Serious answers would be nice.”

A soft, easy piece started to fill the room and she sighed as she settled down next to him. If only she had something to do with
her
hands while he played. “No. It’s not a regular thing. Hell, I don’t
have
a regular thing, okay? It’s not like I can only climax if you’re giving me orders or holding me down or spanking me. It’s just something…” She shrugged. “Hell, it’s not even a thing I’m into anymore.” Twisting the ring she wore around on her finger, she stared off into the distance. “I’m not the person I used to be. The things I used to think about, want…they’ve changed. I haven’t thought about that in years.”

“So it’s not anything you need anymore?”

She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands.

“It’s not a hard question,” he murmured.

Wasn’t it
? “Hell, Marc. I never
needed
it. It was just…a thing. Yeah, I liked it, but I didn’t
need
it. The other stuff…” She licked her lips. “I think it would depend. Tim started trying to do the hardcore dom stuff. He’d bark out orders during sex and I loved that, loved being spanked and tied up. I’m inclined to submit during sex. That’s just me. But he tried to take more than I wanted to give…wanted me to call him Master, and he’d tried to do the dom shit all the time…”

Marc gave a derisive snort. “He’s been watching too many bad movies or reading too many bad books. If he’s a real dominant, he’ll take his cues from what his woman needs.” He slid her a look. “I don’t want to be called anything but my name.”

“So I can’t call you baby? Sweetheart?” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his arm, whispered, “Sugar…lover…”

He laughed. “That’s not so much a problem. But I don’t want to hear Master or any of that.”

“Not your thing?”

Marc shrugged. “Not so much. I like what I like, but that doesn’t mean I want to be anybody’s master.” He glanced at her, his hands still moving over the keys. “How deep did you go with it?”

“Tim wanted to go pretty damn deep.” She shrugged. “He couldn’t ever get me involved as much as he wanted, though. And with that kind of thing, it’s got to be mutual. He wanted a devoted slave, and I’m not ever going to be that. I’ll never call a man Master. He was getting seriously into it too. Was trying to talk me into doing contracts and shit, said we should have done a
collaring
ceremony instead of getting married.” She paused and reached for his beer, lifted it to her lips. “Son of a bitch.”

Marc laughed. “I guess you don’t want to wear a collar.”

“No.” She thunked the bottle down on the seat and got up. “I’ve got a kinky streak and it’s pretty damn wide. He started to yap about how he just needed to take a firmer hand with me. That if we’d just establish some ground rules, things would become more…
natural
. I was testing my limits and I just needed a master who understood me and that once I was taken in hand…” She curled her lip. “I told him the day he tried to take me in hand was the day I’d
break
his hands.”

Tim had thought she was joking. She hadn’t been. She’d play the punishment game, and damn well any other game…on her terms. Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked back at him. “If you’re that far into the lifestyle, we probably need to call it quits here, Marc. I play at it. But I won’t ever do more than dance around the edges of it and I’ll admit that. I don’t
want
to live it and heaven help the man who thinks I’ll address him as Master just because I prefer to get topped during sex.”

“That happened?”

“Shit, what is this, twenty questions?” Scooping her hair out of her face, she shrugged. “Yes. We went to the club and Tim made the mistake of introducing me as his slave. His first mistake. Because I never
agreed
to be anybody’s slave. A few of the guys he knew seemed to think that meant I’d call
them
Master. I informed them otherwise. I think…” She paused, remembering back to the way a few of them had looked at Tim. “I think some realized he was trying to take things in a direction I didn’t like. One guy even suggested I have a talk with my husband, make sure we had clear-cut rules. We never got around to it. We had a fabulous fight that night. A few days later, I found the lump. And that’s all she wrote.”

Absently, she twisted the ring on her finger.
Remade…
She’d remade herself. Scarred, stronger. And better, she realized. The woman she was wouldn’t have even bothered going to that club with Tim. The woman she was
now
wouldn’t have bothered with
Tim
.

“I don’t tend to do the club scene,” he said, his voice cutting into the silence.

Staring at his bowed head as he continued to play, Chaili said, “I can’t say that bothers me. But if you don’t do the club scene, how do you know about Blue’s?”

“Well…” He slanted a look up at her. “If you’re looking to find a certain sort of…partner, discreetly, Blue’s got the right place for you.” Shrugging, he said, “It’s not what I’d prefer but it does the job. Some of the people who use the club… Well, it’s everything. They live it, breathe it. It’s their life. Not just in the bedroom, but everywhere. If that’s what works for you, then that’s fine. I’ve found what works for me. I’m not living any sort of lifestyle but my own. Trying to fit into somebody else’s version of a lifestyle interests me about as much as what my neighbors had for dinner last night.”

The knot that had been tightening in her gut started to ease a little. “So what did they have for dinner?”

He shot her a wide grin. “What the fuck…ah, what the hell do I care?” Shifting his attention back to the piano, he said, “I tend to want to be in control in the bedroom. That’s just who I am. I’m bossy, I’m pushy and I don’t plan on changing who I am. It wouldn’t work anyway.”

“I don’t want to change you.” She settled back down on the bench and leaned against him for a moment.

The music stilled for a moment. “I know that. I’m kind of amazed by it. But I know.” The music resumed. “There are things that I find…useful from the lifestyle that I use. Safe words. Makes it easier, especially when I don’t know limits. Then there’s the fun stuff…”

“Fun stuff?”

“Hmmm. What are your limits, Chaili? What don’t you like?”

“Ah…” She licked her lips. Her heart bumped against her ribs and she could feel the slow crawl of blood creeping up her neck, staining her face red. Tugging at the neckline of her shirt, she squirmed around on the seat, trying to figure what to say, how much to say. If she even knew
what
to say…

This was a lot harder than she would have thought. A more personal discussion, she’d never had. “I’m not into group stuff. No threesomes, foursomes, moresomes.”

“Moresomes?” He paused for a minute and started to laugh. “Nah. Don’t worry. Moresomes aren’t an issue and I’ll beat the shit out of the man who even suggests it. Just you and me, Chaili. As long as we’re together, it’s just you, just me. I won’t have another woman, you won’t have another man.”

“What if I want another woman?” she asked teasingly, although that was something else that had been pushed at her.

“Don’t.” He shot her a look. “If you decide you want somebody else, anybody else, let me know and we end it. I don’t share, Chaili. At all.”

“I don’t either.” She held his gaze, watched as the hot, pleased little smile curled his lips before he went back to playing, like his entire life was wrapped up in that piano. She understood, though. Marc’s mind just functioned better when he played. He’d always been like that. He’d even studied better when he played the piano. If he could find a way to cook and play the piano, he’d do it. Bathe. Shop. Sleep. Everything.

“So there’s that ground rule established. The watching thing…” He shrugged. “If you get the need to watch we can always head over to Blue’s. I don’t much mind that. You can wear a skirt, even. I’ll yank it up and show you things that pussy you married couldn’t even begin to think of.”

She laughed, the sound more than a little breathless. More than a little nervous. “Okay.”