scrubbed at his jaw. “Fuck, I’m not,” he admitted.
“Want to tell me about it?’
Where to start? “You know when you met Devin how screwed up your head was for a while?”
His friend laughed. “As clear as day. I almost lost her. Keeps me in line now.”
He picked up a pen and tapped it on his desk. “Yeah. I’m…in the same shape at the moment.”
“Who is it?”
“Her name is Skye. And…she is this amazing woman, I’m telling you. New to the scene, but took to it like she’d been born to it. I have to be with her, Shaye. Fucking have to. But I fucked up and now she’s gone.”
“Is it fixable? Because if it is, it sounds like you need to try.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if she’ll even see me.”
“Okay…” Shaye drew out the last syllable. “That doesn’t sound great. But if she’s the one, Adam, you should think about it. Think hard. It’s worth it. I had no idea until I met Devin.”
“I know. I’ve seen you two together.”
“You could have that, too.”
“Maybe. Maybe.”
“So?” Shaye asked.
He scratched at his goatee. “So I’m thinking.”
“Don’t let it go on too long. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“Food for thought.”
“Do you need to meet up? Talk it out?” Shaye offered.
“That’s not my style.”
“Yeah, not mine, either. But sometimes this kind of shit can just eat at you.”
“It’s doing that. But I need to…figure it out on my own from here.”
“Okay. Call if you want to, bro.”
“Thanks. Good of you to offer.”
They hung up and he pushed back from his desk, stood and moved into the living room, but once he was there he realized he didn’t know what to do with himself. He shook his head, grabbed his keys and went down to the garage, got into his car and backed into the street. He had no idea where he was going. He only knew he had to drive. To think. Or not think.
Damn it.
He down-shifted as he rounded a corner, the tires squealing a little as he took the turn too fast.
Skye had gotten under his skin, climbed right in and curled up somewhere deep in his system. He didn’t know if she would ever go. If he could ever let her go. He didn’t like it one damn bit.
But he didn’t want to stop feeling the way he did about her. It felt too good, even if it hurt like hell at the moment. Even if it made him crazy. He didn’t want to shut it off, for the first time in his life. He knew that on some very deep level.
What he didn’t know was what the hell he was going to do about it.
* * *
More than a week had gone by and Skye hadn’t heard from him. She’d mostly holed up in her apartment, alone and miserable, other than when Esme had dragged her out for coffee. Not that she’d been able to drink any coffee—her stomach had been in knots since the night she’d left Adam’s house. She’d been living on tea and old black and white movies, going through boxes of Kleenex.
Why couldn’t she seem to stop crying? She was supposed to be mad, not sad. Wasn’t she?
Of course, he had every right to be angry with her after she’d run out on him like that. Terrible manners, she knew, especially in the more formal realm of the BDSM life, but she’d had to get out of there.
Curled up on her old, overstuffed velvet sofa with a soft afghan over her lap, as she was now, she’d spent most of the week going over their conversation, dissecting it from every angle. But she always came to the same conclusion—that Adam was incapable of real intimacy. He’d pretty much told her so himself, had even told her why. And he resented that she’d made him do it, made him feel something for her.
What sort of transformation would he have to go through before he could break through those old walls? If he was even willing to try.
No, he would have dumped her sooner or later, and the longer it took, the more attached she would have become, until his rejection would have been unbearable.
It was nearly unbearable
“Want to tell me about it?’
Where to start? “You know when you met Devin how screwed up your head was for a while?”
His friend laughed. “As clear as day. I almost lost her. Keeps me in line now.”
He picked up a pen and tapped it on his desk. “Yeah. I’m…in the same shape at the moment.”
“Who is it?”
“Her name is Skye. And…she is this amazing woman, I’m telling you. New to the scene, but took to it like she’d been born to it. I have to be with her, Shaye. Fucking have to. But I fucked up and now she’s gone.”
“Is it fixable? Because if it is, it sounds like you need to try.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if she’ll even see me.”
“Okay…” Shaye drew out the last syllable. “That doesn’t sound great. But if she’s the one, Adam, you should think about it. Think hard. It’s worth it. I had no idea until I met Devin.”
“I know. I’ve seen you two together.”
“You could have that, too.”
“Maybe. Maybe.”
“So?” Shaye asked.
He scratched at his goatee. “So I’m thinking.”
“Don’t let it go on too long. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“Food for thought.”
“Do you need to meet up? Talk it out?” Shaye offered.
“That’s not my style.”
“Yeah, not mine, either. But sometimes this kind of shit can just eat at you.”
“It’s doing that. But I need to…figure it out on my own from here.”
“Okay. Call if you want to, bro.”
“Thanks. Good of you to offer.”
They hung up and he pushed back from his desk, stood and moved into the living room, but once he was there he realized he didn’t know what to do with himself. He shook his head, grabbed his keys and went down to the garage, got into his car and backed into the street. He had no idea where he was going. He only knew he had to drive. To think. Or not think.
Damn it.
He down-shifted as he rounded a corner, the tires squealing a little as he took the turn too fast.
Skye had gotten under his skin, climbed right in and curled up somewhere deep in his system. He didn’t know if she would ever go. If he could ever let her go. He didn’t like it one damn bit.
But he didn’t want to stop feeling the way he did about her. It felt too good, even if it hurt like hell at the moment. Even if it made him crazy. He didn’t want to shut it off, for the first time in his life. He knew that on some very deep level.
What he didn’t know was what the hell he was going to do about it.
* * *
More than a week had gone by and Skye hadn’t heard from him. She’d mostly holed up in her apartment, alone and miserable, other than when Esme had dragged her out for coffee. Not that she’d been able to drink any coffee—her stomach had been in knots since the night she’d left Adam’s house. She’d been living on tea and old black and white movies, going through boxes of Kleenex.
Why couldn’t she seem to stop crying? She was supposed to be mad, not sad. Wasn’t she?
Of course, he had every right to be angry with her after she’d run out on him like that. Terrible manners, she knew, especially in the more formal realm of the BDSM life, but she’d had to get out of there.
Curled up on her old, overstuffed velvet sofa with a soft afghan over her lap, as she was now, she’d spent most of the week going over their conversation, dissecting it from every angle. But she always came to the same conclusion—that Adam was incapable of real intimacy. He’d pretty much told her so himself, had even told her why. And he resented that she’d made him do it, made him feel something for her.
What sort of transformation would he have to go through before he could break through those old walls? If he was even willing to try.
No, he would have dumped her sooner or later, and the longer it took, the more attached she would have become, until his rejection would have been unbearable.
It was nearly unbearable
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