Victorious (5 page)

“Start at the beginning. I want to know you, Flynn. I want to know
all
of you, even the parts you think will scare or unsettle me. I want everything with you.”

Caressing my cheek, he says, “You’ve already had more of me—more of the parts that truly matter—than anyone else ever has.”

“Then give me the rest, too.”

His deep sigh lets me know this isn’t easy for him. He turns us so we’re on our sides, facing each other, sharing the same pillow. Then he tugs the comforter up and over us.
 

Fluff jumps up on the bed and settles in a huff behind me, her back pressed against mine. The relief at having our little family back together almost makes me forget we are far from out of the woods, despite our passionate reunion.

“I want to tell you everything. I want to tell you because you deserve to know, and you have to believe I trust you with my life. But what I’m going to tell you involves other people, too, and it’s imperative that you never speak of it to anyone. Ever.”

“You have my word, Flynn. You can trust me to keep your secrets the same way I trust you to keep mine.”

His face lifts into a small half smile, but his eyes are still troubled. “The summer we were twenty-one, Hayden went with his dad to make a movie in Amsterdam. They were there the whole summer, and Hayden became friends with the lead actor on the film, a hotshot young star whose name you’d recognize. He introduced Hayden to a whole new world neither of us knew existed. I got cryptic texts from him that I wouldn’t believe the shit he was doing. When he finally got home to LA, he was a different person. Like any young guy who’s had the ultimate sexual experiences, he wanted to talk about it. And like any young guy whose friend has done crazy shit, I wanted to hear about it. Rather than tell me, though, he showed me. He took me to some clubs in LA where I got an eyeful, to say the least. It wasn’t just the sex, even though that was incredible—both to watch and to participate in. I was equally fascinated by the exchange of power, the emotion, the connection.
 

“I was brought up to respect women, and I always have. I was raised by a mother who blazed her own successful path in show business, and I was heavily influenced by three strong-willed older sisters. So to discover there were women who were willingly submissive was eye-opening to say the least. But it was more than that… I felt like a part of myself that had lain dormant my entire life was awaking to discover who I was really meant to be. I’m not sure if that makes any sense at all.”

“It makes a lot of sense. I’ve felt that way since I met you.”

“I’ve felt the same way, Nat. Even though there were things I kept from you, I’ve felt more alive and more settled since I met you than ever before.”

“How is that possible if you were also denying this huge part of yourself to be with me?”

Chapter 3

This is excruciating. I can’t bear to see her doubting our connection or thinking I’ve been finding fault in her when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
 

“It’s possible because I love you so much.”

“I believe you when you say that, I honestly do. But I still don’t understand how you can love me so much if that means you can’t be yourself with me.”

I stare at the wall behind her for a long time, trying to find a way to explain something I’ve had a hard time understanding myself. “After we first met, and you told me how you felt about sex, I sensed pretty early on that something awful had happened to you. I had to resist the overwhelming temptation to have someone find out what. I decided I wanted to let you tell me when you were ready. After what happened on our wedding night and then when I heard the whole story… I just knew I could never let you see the dominant side of me because it would scare the hell out of you.”

“So you were prepared to live without that for the rest of your life?”

“If that’s what it took to make you happy.”

“But what about
you
and what
you
need?”

“I was willing to live without it if it meant I got to have you.”

“Flynn… You shouldn’t have to do that.”

I reach over to run my finger over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “I spent one day without you and felt like I was going to die. Trust me, if the alternative is to lose you, I can live without anything—except for you.”

She looks up at me with eyes gone liquid with emotions she doesn’t try to hide. “While I was gone, I relived every minute we’ve spent together, every second, every touch, every kiss, every time we made love. I thought about all the things you did for me when my story went public, how you helped Aileen and brought my kids to see me before we left New York… You made me feel so safe and loved, even when my life was falling apart.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Natalie. Nothing at all.”

“Then you’ll show me what you want from me? You’ll let me see your darkest desires?”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just no?”

I curl a strand of her long hair around my finger. “You’ve given me a priceless gift by trusting me enough, after what you endured at such a young age, to let me make love to you, to take me into your body and allow me to be with you this way. It would kill me, and I mean literally
kill
me, if I did anything to ruin that trust or to scare you so badly you wouldn’t be able to stand my touch.”

“How will we know if I can stand it if we never try?”

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me! Show me. Educate me. But don’t leave me in the dark wondering what you really want and making me wonder, every time we make love, if you’re unsatisfied.”

I stare at her, incredulous. “I’m not unsatisfied.”

“But you want more.”

“Yes, I want more! I’ll always want more with you. But I’m satisfied with what I have, and that’s enough.”

“How long will it be enough? How long will it be before you’re having fantasies about doing things with me that you’ve done with other women?”

I divert my gaze because that’s already happened, but in dreams over which I have no control.

“Flynn?”

I’ve promised to be honest with her, and I intend to keep that promise. “I’ve already had those fantasies. I’ve had dreams about being at the club and in the dungeon with you.”

“That day in LA… When I asked you what was wrong and I thought I’d said something in my sleep that had upset you…”

“I’d had a dream that left me out of sorts, but I worked it out.”

She is quiet for a very long, unsettling moment.

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Her words strike fear in my heart that ricochets through my entire body. “What can’t you do?”

“This. Us. Any of it.”

“Natalie, come on. This is only one part of our relationship. The rest of it is fucking perfect. You’d really throw all that away because of this?”

“I can’t possibly answer that question without knowing what
this
entails.”

“So, what? You want details?”

“That would be a good place to start.”

I can almost feel my blood pressure inching into the danger zone at the thought of detailing my kink to her. My sweet, beautiful Natalie hasn’t the first clue what she’s asking for. She’ll never look at me the same way again if I tell her, and I can’t risk that.

I get out of bed and pull on a pair of sweats.
 

“Where’re you going?”

“I need a drink.” I leave the bedroom and go into the kitchen, where I pour myself a couple of shots of Bowmore, my favorite Scottish single malt. It burns all the way through me, reminding me I haven’t eaten much of anything in the last twenty-four miserable hours.

Natalie appears, wearing my robe, which is huge on her. She’s like my conscience, putting me on notice that she’s not going to let this go.

I feel cornered, trapped, unable to escape from the mess I’ve created for myself. I’ve promised her the truth. But how do I give her that and still preserve our precious bond, which has been made fragile by my lies?

After pouring another half glass of whisky, I bring it with me into the living room, brushing past her as I leave the kitchen.

She follows me.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask her in defeat. There’s nowhere to run from her or this conversation she’s insisting we have, even if I’m certain it will ruin everything between us.

“Tell me about your dreams, the ones you had about me.”

I shudder as a chill runs through me, and the whisky threatens to come back up. Turning away from her, I focus on breathing my way through the nausea. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”

“Why not? They were about me, weren’t they? Don’t I have the right to know?”

I want to argue with her. No, she doesn’t have the right to my every private thought, just as I don’t have the right to all of hers. But I’m on a slippery slope here, well aware that despite our passionate reunion and her words of love, I still have a long way to go to fully repair the damage I’ve done.

“When I was married before,” I say reluctantly, as the thought of Valerie still infuriates me, “it took me two years to tell her what I really wanted. In bed… She… She said I was depraved and disgusting and sick. Then she cheated on me and made sure I caught them in the act so I’d know just how disgusting she found me. I had to threaten her with lawsuits up the ass to keep her from going public with what she’d found out about me. I’ve actually been afraid ever since that she would give in to temptation and tell the real story behind our split, and my career would be irreparably harmed by her version of the truth.”

Natalie comes to me and lays her hands on my chest, the heat of her hands warming the part of me that’s gone cold. “I would never, could never,
will
never tell anyone what goes on between us.
Ever
.”

“You say that now when you’re wildly in love with me. What happens if that changes? If you’re so turned off by me that you don’t love me anymore?”

“Flynn… I’m not Valerie. Even if everything were to go bad, and I can’t see that happening, I will never speak of our private life to anyone.”

“What about when I scare you so badly you feel like you don’t know me at all?”

“Even then.” She tips her head adorably. “You want me to sign something to that effect?”

“No.”

“Then how can I make you believe you can trust me with
everything
? Every single part of you?”

The same sweetness that has slayed me from the beginning brings me to my knees once again. I’m helpless to resist her, even when she’s asking me for things I never intended to give her. I recognize defeat when I’m staring into its sweet face.
 

“In my dream,” I begin haltingly, wishing for more liquid courage, “you’re not a rape survivor.”

“In my dreams, I’m not either.”

“Nat…”

“It’s okay,” she says with a wry smile. She takes me by the hand and brings me to sit next to her on the sofa, wrapping a cashmere throw around us.

I’d prefer to stand and pace the room for this conversation, but she’s craving the closeness, so I give her what she needs.

“We’re at Club Quantum in New York.”

“There’s a club?”