Joseph?”
She froze, bra dangling from her fingers as dread overtook her anger. “How… Where did you hear that name?” she rasped, stumbling back away from him.
Gabe sprawled on the luxurious bed, body at ease. But his eyes burned holes right through her. “You talk in your sleep, Hope. Well, ‘cry’ is probably a better description. There were more than a few nights where I woke to you begging this Master Joseph to stop. You were yelling ‘blue, blue’ as you curled up in a little ball.”
Nausea plunged through her stomach. “No…” She couldn’t breathe, needed to get the hell away from him, couldn’t stand seeing the revulsion in his eyes if he found out how stupid she’d been.
He nodded. “It left me with a ton of questions.” His mouth tightened. “Secrets have no place in a D/s relationship.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
He opened his mouth to speak then clamped it shut. She could see the tension in his arms, the tightened muscles distorting his tattoos.
“I have made my share of mistakes,” he said carefully.
“Mistakes, is that what you call it?” No answer, just those brown eyes boring into hers. “You disregarded one of my limits!” She hated that her voice cracked, her throat too swollen for her words to sound normal.
He sat up in anger, body vibrating with frustration. Another thing she’d been used to seeing. “I know. And I apologize. I’ve regretted my poor judgment, pushing you, since you left.” He groaned and shook his head. “But the issue isn’t me pushing your boundaries—it’s why they existed in the first place.”
“Typical hypocrite, shifting the topic. I think it is about that night. How you tied me up and dragged me into subspace. I was floating, loving it, until you decided that fucking face-to-face sounded like a good idea. I. Don’t. Do. That.” Her hands trembled so badly she dropped her shirt.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I know I fucked things up.” He stood, guilt and pain etched on his face. “And I know I don’t deserve an explanation.”
His fingers burned her skin. She pulled away to slip into her bra then looked around for her shirt.
The shirt that Gabe was holding it out like a peace offering.
“Thanks.” She held it against her chest, feeling ridiculous, wanting to cover up in front of a man who’d seen her naked countless times.
Never in her life had she spent so much time without clothes on as the six weeks she’d spent with Gabe.
“The ‘whys’ of it haven’t stopped bothering me. I don’t like not knowing.”
He closed the distance between them and Hope broke his hold, scrambling backward and feeling more trapped than a caged bird.
“So, you think having all those answers now will make you happy.” Her hands fumbled to get her shirt on as she edged to the door.
“I think they’ll let me move on.”
The words hit her like a stab to the heart. Distance, distance was the key, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet. The masochist that she was, any time with Gabe was better than no time.
Once her back hit the wall, he asked, “Did Master Joseph give you that scar?”
She didn’t remember all of that final night with that cruel man, which almost scared her more than what she did recall. She was bound, arms above her head. “My Liege, I can’t feel my wrists,” she pleaded, and he smacked her until her ears rang.
“Quiet, slave. I knew you’d be more trouble than you were worth.”
Gabe’s sock-covered feet filled her vision. Thank God. “Hope?”
She shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid she’d tell him everything about that time in her life, afraid she’d start crying and never stop. She’d been so stupidly naïve.
“Hope, sweetheart, talk to me.” He took one of her shaking hands in his own.
He’d broken down through her walls, and now he’d take down the rest with tenderness, damn him. She fisted her hands, letting her nails press into her palms. Why
She froze, bra dangling from her fingers as dread overtook her anger. “How… Where did you hear that name?” she rasped, stumbling back away from him.
Gabe sprawled on the luxurious bed, body at ease. But his eyes burned holes right through her. “You talk in your sleep, Hope. Well, ‘cry’ is probably a better description. There were more than a few nights where I woke to you begging this Master Joseph to stop. You were yelling ‘blue, blue’ as you curled up in a little ball.”
Nausea plunged through her stomach. “No…” She couldn’t breathe, needed to get the hell away from him, couldn’t stand seeing the revulsion in his eyes if he found out how stupid she’d been.
He nodded. “It left me with a ton of questions.” His mouth tightened. “Secrets have no place in a D/s relationship.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
He opened his mouth to speak then clamped it shut. She could see the tension in his arms, the tightened muscles distorting his tattoos.
“I have made my share of mistakes,” he said carefully.
“Mistakes, is that what you call it?” No answer, just those brown eyes boring into hers. “You disregarded one of my limits!” She hated that her voice cracked, her throat too swollen for her words to sound normal.
He sat up in anger, body vibrating with frustration. Another thing she’d been used to seeing. “I know. And I apologize. I’ve regretted my poor judgment, pushing you, since you left.” He groaned and shook his head. “But the issue isn’t me pushing your boundaries—it’s why they existed in the first place.”
“Typical hypocrite, shifting the topic. I think it is about that night. How you tied me up and dragged me into subspace. I was floating, loving it, until you decided that fucking face-to-face sounded like a good idea. I. Don’t. Do. That.” Her hands trembled so badly she dropped her shirt.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I know I fucked things up.” He stood, guilt and pain etched on his face. “And I know I don’t deserve an explanation.”
His fingers burned her skin. She pulled away to slip into her bra then looked around for her shirt.
The shirt that Gabe was holding it out like a peace offering.
“Thanks.” She held it against her chest, feeling ridiculous, wanting to cover up in front of a man who’d seen her naked countless times.
Never in her life had she spent so much time without clothes on as the six weeks she’d spent with Gabe.
“The ‘whys’ of it haven’t stopped bothering me. I don’t like not knowing.”
He closed the distance between them and Hope broke his hold, scrambling backward and feeling more trapped than a caged bird.
“So, you think having all those answers now will make you happy.” Her hands fumbled to get her shirt on as she edged to the door.
“I think they’ll let me move on.”
The words hit her like a stab to the heart. Distance, distance was the key, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet. The masochist that she was, any time with Gabe was better than no time.
Once her back hit the wall, he asked, “Did Master Joseph give you that scar?”
She didn’t remember all of that final night with that cruel man, which almost scared her more than what she did recall. She was bound, arms above her head. “My Liege, I can’t feel my wrists,” she pleaded, and he smacked her until her ears rang.
“Quiet, slave. I knew you’d be more trouble than you were worth.”
Gabe’s sock-covered feet filled her vision. Thank God. “Hope?”
She shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid she’d tell him everything about that time in her life, afraid she’d start crying and never stop. She’d been so stupidly naïve.
“Hope, sweetheart, talk to me.” He took one of her shaking hands in his own.
He’d broken down through her walls, and now he’d take down the rest with tenderness, damn him. She fisted her hands, letting her nails press into her palms. Why
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