10

When I thought of Michael during those days with Tom, it was either with sadness and acceptance, or with a feeling of sheer panic, as though I was waiting for him to call. During those times, I didn’t want him to find out what I was doing with Tom. My heart and my mind would go back to a time when Michael and I were happy, and the remembrance of that would bring all my hopes for the future to a screeching halt. I would wonder where he was, and especially if he was with her, and the jealousy would flood me until I could hardly breathe.

It made no sense. During our conversations in the months after the breakup it became obvious that a friendship with me was something he wanted very badly; however, a relationship with me was something he didn’t want at all. Michael was moving on with his life and, though he swore he wasn’t dating anyone, I knew it wouldn’t be long until he did. I dreaded that day, because I knew it would bring back every feeling of inadequacy I had tried so hard to overcome.

It spoke volumes about my psyche that I felt I was the one who was inadequate. Somehow I believed I should have been enough to hold him, enough to make him forget the woman who had gotten so deeply into his heart. But she had become like a cancer, destroying him a little at a time and destroying us, too. It wasn’t my fault, so why did I feel like it was?

The worst part was the unpredictability of the pain. It would slam me at the moments I least expected it and, even when I did anticipate it, it never seemed to come in the way I thought it should. I could now look at Tom’s weight bench, even work out on it myself, and not feel a twinge of jealousy. I could look at certain things, read books that used to bother me, see something on television that reminded me of Michael, and not get upset.

It was the simplest things that rose up to attack me, like calm water turned into a tsunami from a deep underground tremor. I didn’t know it was coming until it washed over me.

It was like that when I walked into the salon.

Premier Day Spa was in the heart of town. The building was so new the paint still smelled fresh. It offered massages of all kinds, yoga classes from beginner to advanced, and a full-scale gym with a cardio room and lap pool. The true appeal of the spa was the beauty treatments, a full menu of everything that exfoliated, toned, cleansed and beautified a body.

I was there for a massage. It had been years since I had one and, when Tom found out, he gave me a massage of his own, right there on his big bed, lying on towels and slathered with massage oil. But, even as he worked his magic, he insisted I go to a professional.

‘Every woman deserves a massage,’ he said. ‘There should be a law.’

The pretty woman behind the counter directed me to a waiting room in the depths of the building. The furniture was opulent and comfortable. I sank onto a brocade sofa and picked up a fitness magazine from a polished table.

The door in front of me opened. A woman stepped out, looking rather warm in her white dress. She had a high color to her cheeks and smelled deliciously of tanning oil.

I watched her walk out. The door swung on silent hinges. Before it closed, I caught a glimpse of the glow of the tanning beds.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

I had to get out of there. Panic rose up, a complete surprise. I hurried to the front door, pushed it open and almost ran into a man who was on his way in. I stood outside against the wall, right in front of traffic and passersby and God and everybody, and took deep breaths.

I burst into tears.

The pretty receptionist ran out of the building and found me. ‘Ma’am? Are you all right? What happened in there?’

I let out a few more sobs before pulling myself under control. She handed me a tissue. It was wrinkled from her pocket. I dried my eyes.

‘My ex-boyfriend,’ I said. ‘He has a thing for tanning beds.’

She nodded with the light of understanding in her eyes. ‘You took one look at them and remembered all sorts of things you didn’t want to remember?’

‘Yeah.’

She nodded again. ‘For me, it was cantaloupes.’

Despite my tears, I smiled at that. ‘Cantaloupes?’

‘Going to the grocery store was a bitch,’ she said sagely.

My laughter sounded foreign and forced.

‘Thanks for checking up on me,’ I said.

‘It goes away, you know,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it takes a long time. But once you realize what he really was, not who you wish he had been, then it will start to go away.’

I stared at her. She couldn’t be more than twenty, if that. She smiled and went back into the building, and I skipped out on the massage by getting in my car and driving out to the lake.

Once you realize who he really was, not who you wish he had been, then the pain will start to go away.

I stared at the water. I hadn’t considered that I didn’t know who Michael really was. But if a man could be so loving and so open with me, and then suddenly turn on a dime and announce he wanted someone else, was it really possible that I knew him at all?

I thought about things that had bothered me back then. Now that I was looking at those things in a different light – all the long nights at work, all the phone calls not answered, all the dodging of questions and the fights for no reason – I started to feel the sneaking suspicion that maybe not everything was OK after all. It was easy to look at what was on the surface and be happy with that. Was I so happy that I didn’t bother to look deeper?

What else had Michael hidden?

I watched the water and thought about Tom.

How well do you ever really know someone?

Jet skis kicked up tails of water behind them. Men in swim trunks and women in tiny bikinis sat on the top of boats, letting the sun bake their skin. Kids played happily in the water near the shore. It was a world of families and couples, and I was sitting here in my car, alone, watching them.

What else was there? What else didn’t I know?

I started the car and squealed out of the parking lot. Families, content in their togetherness, looked up in annoyance at my show of disrespect.

There were so many things I didn’t know. There were so many questions rising to the surface. The things I didn’t know would drive me insane if I let them, so instead I just drove. My speedometer hit sixty, then went far past it. I didn’t care if I got pulled over. It would give me something else to focus on, something other than the horrible images in my head and the questions that kept my heart pounding just as hard as that engine under my hood.

I cried the whole way.

I almost ran out of gas. I finally pulled into a little service station, miles and miles away from where I should have been. I filled up and turned around, heading back for Tom.

By the time I got there, darkness was settling in. Tom was sitting on the front porch, waiting for me. As soon as he saw my car, he vaulted down the stairs and came running. He pulled the door open before I stopped the engine.

‘Where the hell were you?’ he asked, his voice barely on the sane side of panic. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried!’

I looked at Tom helplessly.

‘I needed to take a drive,’ I said, knowing it was the absolute truth and knowing it also wasn’t nearly enough.

Tom stared at me. He wasn’t sure what to think and I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure what to think, either.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.

Tom knelt beside me and touched my thigh. ‘What is happening, Kelley?’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘I want to help you, Kelley. But if you don’t let me in, there’s nothing I can do to help you. You have to meet me halfway.’

The sudden flare of anger was completely unexpected and entirely out of place. He was simply trying to help me. What was my problem, anyway? Why did I expect him to put up with my emotional bullshit without any input from me? Was he supposed to read my mind or something?

I took a deep breath and said all I could say. ‘I’m sorry, Tom.’

‘Get yourself together and come in the house. We need to talk.’

I sat in the car for a long while. Tom went around the side of the house, then inside the kitchen – I saw the lights flicker on. He waited for a long time, then came back out to the car. His concern had transformed into anger. Tom pulled the door open again. This time he wasn’t nearly as nice as he had been earlier.

‘Get out.’

I climbed out of the car, both sheepish at what I had done and angry for reasons I couldn’t name. I was furious at Tom for being so solicitous towards me. I was furious with myself for letting Michael elbow his way into my life without even trying. I was angry with myself and sad over the whole situation.

I walked into the house. Tom was right on my heels. The remnants of dinner were all over the kitchen. I grabbed a plate and scraped the last bits of steak into the garbage disposal. I turned it on and listened to the grinding sound. It kept Tom from talking to me.

He watched from his place near the counter as I cleaned the kitchen. With each small chore, my anger dissipated a bit more. I tried desperately to hold onto it.

‘Talk to me,’ Tom finally said.

I dropped a plate. It shattered on the floor at my feet. Tom flinched hard, and I covered my face with my hands.

‘Michael,’ I said, and then the tears came.

Tom came towards me. Fine china crunched under his shoes. He took my arms.

‘Walk this way,’ he said. ‘Careful. You’ve got a cut on your foot.’

I looked down and saw the blood. The world went hazy. Tom caught me before I fell, and then lifted me into his arms. His jaw was set in a hard line, but his eyes were filled with worry. He carried me through the house and set me down on the couch.

The sun had gone down long ago, and the living room was dark. I lay there while Tom went into the bathroom and came back with the things he needed to clean the cut. He spread a towel over his lap and pulled my foot onto it. We looked at each other from our opposite ends of the couch.

‘Talk,’ he said.

The peroxide was cold and made me jump. The bubbles made a white foam across my foot.

‘I went to the spa today. There were tanning beds there. I took one look at them and I got sick, Tom. Physically sick. I thought about him and that woman, and the fact that he wanted her more than he wanted me, and I got sick.’

Tom patted my foot dry. He looked at it closely, then poured on more peroxide.

‘What else?’

‘I got in the car and went to the lake. Then I drove. I just drove.’

Tom looked up at me for a moment. He patted my foot dry again, then picked up a band-aid.

‘I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t think, Tom. I just went, and then I came back, and now I don’t even know where I am.’

‘You don’t know where you are?’ He opened the band-aid with a tiny ripping sound.

‘Emotionally.’

‘Oh.’

‘I want to be free of him, Tom. But I don’t know how.’ Tom flicked on the lamp on the table. It was just enough of a glow to see each other clearly.

‘You’re not ready for this, are you? For you and me,’ he said.

‘I want to be.’

‘What can I do to help you?’ he asked. There was an edge of desperation to his voice, a fear that was barely in check. ‘Tell me what I can do, Kelley.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You need to talk to him,’ Tom said. ‘You need to ask him all those questions that are tearing you apart, Kelley. You won’t move on until you have the answers.’

I shook my head. ‘He won’t give me a straight answer to anything,’ I said.

Tom cupped my face in his hands. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I know now isn’t the most romantic time to say that to you. But you have to know how far it’s gone for me, Kelley. I love you, and I’m here for the long haul.’

I kissed him, as trusting as I had always been. Try as I might, there was nothing nagging in the back of my mind, no reasons not to trust Tom. I was ashamed of myself for trying to find anything amiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

Tom kissed me for a long, long time. I pushed him to his back on the couch. When I reached for the buttons of his shirt, he stopped me.

‘Not now, Kelley.’

I was floored. Sex was what we enjoyed and used generously at times like this. His rejection of the act felt like a rejection of me. Hadn’t he just told me he loved me? And now he didn’t want me?

I knew that wasn’t the case, but it was the excuse I needed to find the anger again. I climbed off the couch. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t move. I tramped down the stairs into the basement. I slammed the door so hard, the hinges rattled.

Tom didn’t come after me.

I punched at the bag that hung in the corner. It hardly moved. I hit it again, harder this time. It moved even less. The force of my anger felt dangerously impotent, as though, if I didn’t get it out, it would turn on me and tear me apart from the inside out.

I was so fucking tired of this.

I slammed into the bag with my full weight. It was like hitting a brick wall. I wrapped my arms around it and tried to move it, but nothing happened. I settled for punching it as hard as I could, over and over, until sweat was running down my body and my breasts hurt from bouncing with every punch. A thin line of fire ran up and down my spine. My arms burned from the pounding I was giving the bag, but still I didn’t stop until the pain was too much for me to handle.

I slumped on the weight bench. The leather immediately grabbed at my wet buttocks, making a sucking sound as I shifted. The room smelled like leather and sweat and hard work. I looked at the weights on the bench and the bolts on the floor, and remembered all the times Tom and I had made love – or simply fucked – on that bench.

I hated that bench tonight.

I kicked the weights with my foot. The flare of pain shot through my toe and I was grateful for it. It took away the attention from the pain in my heart.

I limped over to the mirror and stared at myself. I looked for so long that it began to seem as though I wasn’t looking at a reflection at all, but another person, someone I didn’t know. How audacious I had been, to believe Tom was the one with the serious issues.

The guilt finally swamped me, replacing the anger with a slow, sinking rush. Tom had just told me he loved me, and I had taken it all the wrong way. I shouldn’t be down here, berating myself; I should be up there in the bedroom, making it all up to him.

The staircase seemed to be longer and steeper than it had been before. I expected to find Tom on the couch where I had left him, but he wasn’t there.

I looked out the window. Both vehicles were out in the driveway. The four-wheeler was parked in the backyard. Moonlight glinted from the handlebars. The broken plate was still scattered on the kitchen floor. I ignored it and walked back to the office. The door was closed and no light was showing through the small space underneath.

I finally found him on the porch, standing at the corner of it and looking down into the yard. He took a long pensive drink from the stoneware mug in his hand.

‘I think I’m going to build this porch further out,’ he said. ‘I know you like wrap-around porches. I could do that.’

I smiled. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve been reading your books.’

I sat down on the swing. The chains made a comforting squeak as I moved back and forth. It was the sound of pure country, harking back to a time when life was simple.

‘You’re very observant,’ I said. ‘To know which parts are true and which parts are not.’

He glanced back at me suspiciously, as though he expected a punch line.

‘Do you feel better?’ he asked.

I shook my head. ‘I feel horrible. For more reasons than you can imagine. I’m sorry, Tom.’

He waved my apology away.

I watched him as he watched the yard. From somewhere in the woods a bobwhite quail called, and Tom whistled back. After a puzzled silence, the bird answered, and Tom proceeded to carry on a conversation with him. The bantering back and forth was comforting.

I thought about how lucky I was to have a man who was willing to share so much with me, who had opened his home and his heart and laid them all out for my inspection. There were so many things about him I didn’t know, but what could he really hide? When I was with Michael it was a long-distance relationship, and he had more than ample opportunity to hide things from me. Tom had no such luxury. So why was I lumping him into the same category as Michael when it came to honesty?

‘I had no idea,’ I said, ‘how badly he damaged me.’

Tom surprised me when he answered: ‘I didn’t know, either.’

He came to sit next to me on the swing. Our thighs touched. He leaned forwards with the mug in his hands and stared at the liquid inside it. The bobwhite whistled again, puzzled now that his singing partner had suddenly fallen silent.

‘You know what you need?’ Tom asked quietly.

‘Do tell.’

‘You need a good, hard, savage fuck.’

I looked at him, but he didn’t move. The swing gently rocked, the bobwhite called, and nothing seemed to have changed – but the electricity was there, in the air, practically crackling with heat. I almost expected to see fingers of lightning flash down from the sky.

How was it possible to go from such anger and despair to this thrill of anticipation?

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I do need that from you.’

‘From me?’ Tom asked. Even as the sharp edge of his doubt cut into my heart, the excitement surged, stronger than ever.

‘I don’t want anyone but you,’ I reassured him.

Tom stood up. The swing moved more easily without his weight. He tossed the remainder of his drink off the railing. Moonlight flashed through the liquid as it flew in a gentle arc.

‘I think it’s time for something special,’ Tom said.

He reached out a hand. I took it and followed him into the house. He led me through the living room, down the hallway, to the basement stairs. Tom flicked on the small light over by the whirlpool. It cast a dim light over the exercise equipment, threw shadows on the walls and made the basement look more like a medieval dungeon than a gym.

He looked at me. Without a word, I removed my clothes.

‘Get on the bench,’ Tom said.

I was trembling with anticipation by the time I reached the bench. The leather seemed to glow in the pale light from the corner. I touched the bar for a moment, looking down at the place where Tom wanted me. I slowly straddled the bench.

Tom carefully tied each ankle to the lower bar. Then he tied my hands to the support bars on either side of the bench. In that position my ass was up in the air, and I was entirely exposed for whatever he might choose to do to me.

‘Do you remember our safe word?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered.

‘Good. You don’t say a word unless it’s that one. Understand?’

I started to say yes, but then realized what he had just told me. I nodded instead. I looked up at Tom and he gave me a smile.

‘Good girl,’ he praised.

He stood over me for a long time. I thought he would touch me, but the pressure of his hand never came. He simply stood there, breathing deep and even, his eyes taking in every inch of me. Goosebumps rose on my skin and then went away. I blushed like fire, then that went away, too. I squirmed a little against my bonds, but eventually found a comfortable place where I simply resigned myself to the way I was bound. I closed my eyes and let my head hang down.

Only then did Tom move. I didn’t open my eyes or look up. I concentrated on my breathing. I heard the cabinet door open, and I knew he was pulling something out of there – or many things – but I still did not move. Tom’s calmness had infused me.

‘You are so beautiful like that,’ he murmured from right in front of me. ‘You have no idea how you look now, Kelley. Trust is so damn beautiful.’

He trailed something made of leather down my spine. It was cool against my skin. I didn’t even flinch; I just arched into it, welcoming it, feeling it grow warm.

Then the paddle followed the same trail. I knew what it was from the shape and the hard edge. It touched every inch of my spine, almost as if Tom were counting the vertebrae. Then came what had to be the cane, a springy thing that was surprisingly warm already. Tom rolled it down my spine and back up, eventually using it to massage the back of my neck. I relaxed even further.

The first blow of the cane was surprisingly soft. My mind and body instantly focused on this strange new sensation. The touch was feather light, and the thought of what the cane could do versus what it was doing was a contradiction that kept my attention narrowed to a thin corridor of pleasure. The touch of it fluttered down my spine, tapping lightly on either side, never actually touching the center. There was a difference between the taps with the end of the cane and the ones that came from further up the shaft; those were harder, heavier, but still not hard enough to hurt. The small taps were like punctuation marks, illustrating the differences.

Tom went up and down, moving the cane slightly with every stroke. My back began to hum with warmth. I wanted to arch into it, to take more of what he was giving me, but a bigger part of me demanded that I stay very still and savor it all at his pace.

I was suspended in a place between being completely turned on and feeling completely comfortable. I couldn’t stop smiling. Once I even giggled out loud, and Tom chuckled with me but didn’t pause. The feather-light touches were harder now, and the tip of the cane was tickling at my sides, but still there was no pain.

The warmth slowly turned to a tingle. When the blows began to edge into the slightest pain, I took deep breaths and hung my head. I relaxed as much as I could. Even though the blows came harder, the pain began to edge away again, leaving only pleasure.

I was moaning quietly, a rhythmic sound that matched the strokes of the cane. Tom was breathing harder from the exercise he was getting. The muscles in his arms were tense as steel bands. I watched him through half-open eyes and realized with a jolt that this was all about me. It had nothing to do with him. He was giving me the gift of trust in the face of all the emotional upheaval.

The moaning began to sound like his name, but Tom didn’t reprimand me. He was entirely focused on what he was doing. Finally the blows were hard, almost overlapping and creating the illusion of a rough waterfall rolling down my skin. The giggles came without much warning, and Tom seemed to like those. He also brought the cane down a little harder, and what should have been pain was instead something very welcome.

By the time the blows did begin to hurt, I was too far gone in a sea of satisfaction to protest. It felt good to have the searing heat instead of the warmth. It felt good to watch Tom’s muscles tighten as he brought the cane down harder and harder. It felt good to feel the stripes the cane was leaving, the tiny raised welts that heralded where it had been. By the time he had worked his way down either side of my spine and was focusing on my buttocks, I was so lost in the sensation that I broke the rules and spoke: ‘Please, Tom. Please. More.’

Tom didn’t respond with words. He worked the cane over my ass, leaving marks that burned so sweetly I wanted to cry with the pleasure of it.

In that moment, Tom had all of me, and he knew it.

The touches of the cane became stronger and, for the first time, I cried out with the pain. Tom lashed across my buttocks, each stroke barely overlapping the last. By the time he paused, my cheeks were on fire, there were tears in my eyes and I was gasping for air. But the deep trust and thrill of it all surpassed everything else.

Tom went over my body again, this time with strokes that became gentler. It was the reverse of what he had just done. He had built me up to a crescendo, and now he was slowly bringing me down.

The last touches of the cane were so light, they tickled all the way through me. Though it was my back he was touching, I could feel the jumps of pleasure all through me, especially in my belly. I laughed out loud.

Tom laughed with me.

Then the cane was gone and, in the absence of it, I drifted with my eyes closed. Tom straddled the bench behind me. He didn’t touch me, didn’t make a sound, but he was there.

Waiting.

I didn’t move, breathing hard, my mind slowly starting to move again. I was aware of him behind me, and of what he must be seeing – the redness of my back and my buttocks, the way I was tied down to the weight bench, entirely vulnerable and ready for anything he might do.

And then I was ready, because the warmth of the rest of me had settled between my legs. I needed Tom to work me over the inside just like he had worked me over on the outside.

The hunger was immediate and almost desperate. I had to feel the kindness of him tempered with the wild passion I knew he was capable of showing. I wanted the two extremes. I wanted every contradiction that defined the man.

Tom slowly worked his way in, even though he could have slammed me with all his strength. He kept it slow and steady, driving me to a crescendo of need. I was swollen. I was dripping. I was on the verge of begging. My nipples were hard and my legs were trembling and my moans were automatic, something I could no longer control. I was entirely at Tom’s mercy, and he knew it.

By the time he did push all the way home, I was thrusting back against him, trying to take as much of him as I could. Tom held my hips steady and rocked deep, sometimes moving in circles, but never letting up with the pressure. He shifted just a bit and pushed harder, stroking me from another angle, trying hard to touch every part of me.

He slowly pulled out after long minutes of sweet torture. He held very still, his dick pointed right at the entrance of my pussy. He caressed me with slow circles. A drop of desire dripped down my thigh.

I gasped at the sudden shock of lube dripping between my cheeks.

Tom slid into my pussy slowly, all the while caressing between my cheeks with a finger, working the lube into me. Words sprang to my lips, things I was dying to say, but the only rule he had given me was to keep my silence. All I wanted to do was break into a litany of begging. By the time Tom was all the way in and his finger was teasing that tight little hole, I was biting down hard on my bottom lip, trying to keep the words from spilling out.

Then came the surprise of something pressing against the base of my spine: It was cold, and smooth, and obviously metal of some sort. I knew exactly what that was. Tom flipped a switch and the low hum rocketed through me.

‘Remember what you told me you wanted? When we first became lovers?’

Tom slipped the vibrator through the wetness of the lube and teased my ass with it. He pulled his cock slowly out of me, until he was teasing both holes – one with himself, one with the toy. I caught my breath as he slowly slid the tip of the vibrator inside. He moved it around, stretching me with it, before he slowly pushed. Every slow inch was accompanied by an equal inch of himself. He was filling both holes, and I was delirious with the pleasure.

He pushed all the way in with one final thrust. I shouted as the first orgasm gripped me. My whole body throbbed. Tom held very still until the sensation began to fade.

Then he drew back, pushed the speed on the vibrator up and began to fuck me with long hard strokes. The gentleness in him was rapidly disappearing. He could feel the vibrations of that toy all through his dick. He was closely watching what he was doing to me. I knew he wasn’t going to let up.

Tom began to thrust harder. One hand dug into my hip, holding me steady – the other pressed against my ass, holding that toy in, moving it around whenever he got the urge. Soon Tom’s thrusts were hard enough to rock my whole body. The ropes that bound my ankles and wrists began to tighten, to strain with the effort.

Suddenly, the whole bench rocked. The momentum of his thrusts was moving it underneath us. Soon the bench was straining against the bolts in the floor, protesting at the pressure that kept it in one place. Tom paused long enough to move closer to me, to brace himself – and then the next thrust came, and I couldn’t even moan. It was hard enough to take my breath away.

Tom fucked me harder than he ever had.

I don’t know how many times I came. Each one of them was a sudden burst of pleasure with no buildup before it. It was an endless stream of peaks and valleys, over and over. Tom thrust so hard the weight bench was letting out groans of its own.

Tom slowly pulled out of my pussy. He pulled the toy out as well. Another toy – some sort of dildo – slipped into the place Tom had been.

Tom pressed his cock against my ass and pushed. He slid straight in. The small flicker of pain barely registered before Tom was fucking me again.

This was what I had asked for weeks ago, while I rode him on this bench and asked him to replace all the negative memories with ones of our own making.

He held the toy in my pussy while he rode me. The weight bench rocked with every thrust. My ass burned. My pussy burned, too. My breasts bounced. The weights chimed merrily with the rhythm. My wrists and ankles were chafed from the ropes. Tom was completely lost in his own world even as he fucked me, and for the first time I wondered: if I used the safe word, would he even hear me?

Tom’s final thrust was deep and solid. The bolts on the floor squealed in protest. Tom came without a sound, but I felt him – it was hot and wet and almost burned deep within me. He ground against me for a long moment, then slumped down on the bench with startling suddenness. I called his name.

‘Tom? Are you OK?’

‘I’m OK,’ he whispered. He slowly slipped the toy out of me. His hand came up to caress my thigh. My whole being was focused on the gentleness of his fingertips. Tom lazily reached forwards and loosened the bonds around my wrists until I could slip out of them myself.

There was no hurry. What we had done was deserving of patience, now that it was all over. I pulled my wrists free and, instead of untying my ankles, I lay down on the bench, pushing back against Tom. He rested his head on the small of my back. Together we lay there in the dim light, breathing hard, our hearts pounding.

‘I love you,’ I said softly.

Tom chuckled against my back. ‘You had better,’ he said.

Now that the adrenaline was ebbing away, the aches and pains were evident. I thought about the first time he tied me to it, the things he did then, and how sore I was when we were finished. I was becoming accustomed to his body, to the things he liked. Things felt different now; I knew Tom better, and I knew my own body even better than that.

‘Bullet for your thoughts?’ he asked.

‘I was just thinking that I might be able to handle this hard-core submission thing.’

Tom laughed then, a weak sound that told me just how tired he was. ‘You’ve always been able to handle it. You just needed somebody to show you.’

I slowly untied my ankles. Tom kissed my spine, one inch at a time, until he was hovering over me. He kissed my neck slowly, lingering, until I was tingling from head to toe.

‘You are full of contradictions,’ I whispered. ‘You can be so gentle and then you can be almost violent. I love that about you.’

He kissed the back of my head. ‘You just love me for the sex.’

‘That, too.’

He stood and wrapped his arms around my middle to help me up. I was shaking and my knees were weak, but I was more than able to stand up under my own power. Tom looked down at me for a long time.

‘You’ve changed,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s your fault.’

He snickered as he kissed my forehead.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ I said.

Up there in the bedroom, I curled into him. He stroked my hair. We both slipped into sleep, and the last thought on my mind – the only thought on my mind at all – was that I was a very lucky woman.