his expression concerned. “Everything we did was… I’m happy about that. For the first time ever, I felt free.”
“But?”
“But everything slipped away once we went outside. As soon as I was back in the real world, I felt exposed.” Noah closed his eyes. “We walked into that place, and I felt like what we had done was written all over my face. I felt them all looking at me. They knew. And my family was going to find out.”
And there it was. That was the crux of the matter. Noah didn’t want anyone to know he was gay, especially his family. Worse, it was sounding like he had a strong case of social anxiety to go with his indoctrinated homophobia. Suddenly, the idea of having the two separate halves of his life cross made Ronan think of merging oncoming traffic lanes. He had a feeling things were going to get very, very messy.
Chapter Eight
“When we left, I was on top of the world. I had this insight while on the table.” Even though he’d told Ronan about it, he wanted to share it again, mainly to remind himself, because he’d completely lost the feeling he’d had. Slowly, carefully, recalling the exact wording, Noah said, “No vicious word or cutting look could harm me unless I granted that person the power to do so.” He met Ronan’s concerned gaze. “I know it’s similar to what someone else said. A historical quote, I think.”
“Eleanor Roosevelt said, ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”
“That’s it.” Noah grasped that concept but couldn’t seem to apply the idea to himself, at least not for very long. “On the table, it just hit me, and it was like this glorious insight. I didn’t have to worry about what other people thought anymore. I wasn’t going to give them the power to hurt me, but then I walked into that place and that feeling was just gone.” Noah snapped his fingers. “I was left with all my same old fears. Did you know that while I was standing on the corner today, I thought if I looked at people, they would know what I was doing?”
“They would know you were going to a Dom?”
“Crazy, right? How would they know?” Noah was so frustrated by his own silly brain he didn’t know what to do. “It’s like a part of me knows that isn’t possible. Intellectually, I know other people can’t look at me and know things about me. But there’s this other part, this part I don’t even have a name for, that’s convinced all they need is one glance and they know everything.”
“You’re not alone, you know. In feeling that way.” Ronan placed his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “A lot of people have that same concern.”
“They do?”
“Yeah. I’m not an expert, but I think it’s called social anxiety.” Ronan reached out and took Noah’s hand. His touch was amazingly soothing. “I can help. If you want me to.”
“How?”
“Every time you have that insight during a session, chances are you’ll hang on to it longer.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying what we did is like therapy?”
“In a way. It’s unconventional, to say the least, but that doesn’t make BDSM any less valid.” Ronan kept on holding his hand, but he put his other hand on top and traced the back of Noah’s hand. The motion was arousing and soothing at the same time. “Part of this is therapeutic. You’ll discover things about yourself as we go along. The deeper we go, the more likely you are to keep having similar experiences.”
“I’m not the first?”
“Nope.” Ronan’s smile was warm and genuine. “It’s another reason why I kept myself distant. I thought a therapist—even a makeshift one—shouldn’t be too involved with his patient.”
“Sex as therapy?” It sounded unlikely, but then again, Noah had learned more about himself in an afternoon with Ronan than he had in a lifetime.
“It wasn’t sex. It seems that way at first, but most of what we did was happening in your head.”
“Your finger going
“But?”
“But everything slipped away once we went outside. As soon as I was back in the real world, I felt exposed.” Noah closed his eyes. “We walked into that place, and I felt like what we had done was written all over my face. I felt them all looking at me. They knew. And my family was going to find out.”
And there it was. That was the crux of the matter. Noah didn’t want anyone to know he was gay, especially his family. Worse, it was sounding like he had a strong case of social anxiety to go with his indoctrinated homophobia. Suddenly, the idea of having the two separate halves of his life cross made Ronan think of merging oncoming traffic lanes. He had a feeling things were going to get very, very messy.
Chapter Eight
“When we left, I was on top of the world. I had this insight while on the table.” Even though he’d told Ronan about it, he wanted to share it again, mainly to remind himself, because he’d completely lost the feeling he’d had. Slowly, carefully, recalling the exact wording, Noah said, “No vicious word or cutting look could harm me unless I granted that person the power to do so.” He met Ronan’s concerned gaze. “I know it’s similar to what someone else said. A historical quote, I think.”
“Eleanor Roosevelt said, ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”
“That’s it.” Noah grasped that concept but couldn’t seem to apply the idea to himself, at least not for very long. “On the table, it just hit me, and it was like this glorious insight. I didn’t have to worry about what other people thought anymore. I wasn’t going to give them the power to hurt me, but then I walked into that place and that feeling was just gone.” Noah snapped his fingers. “I was left with all my same old fears. Did you know that while I was standing on the corner today, I thought if I looked at people, they would know what I was doing?”
“They would know you were going to a Dom?”
“Crazy, right? How would they know?” Noah was so frustrated by his own silly brain he didn’t know what to do. “It’s like a part of me knows that isn’t possible. Intellectually, I know other people can’t look at me and know things about me. But there’s this other part, this part I don’t even have a name for, that’s convinced all they need is one glance and they know everything.”
“You’re not alone, you know. In feeling that way.” Ronan placed his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “A lot of people have that same concern.”
“They do?”
“Yeah. I’m not an expert, but I think it’s called social anxiety.” Ronan reached out and took Noah’s hand. His touch was amazingly soothing. “I can help. If you want me to.”
“How?”
“Every time you have that insight during a session, chances are you’ll hang on to it longer.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying what we did is like therapy?”
“In a way. It’s unconventional, to say the least, but that doesn’t make BDSM any less valid.” Ronan kept on holding his hand, but he put his other hand on top and traced the back of Noah’s hand. The motion was arousing and soothing at the same time. “Part of this is therapeutic. You’ll discover things about yourself as we go along. The deeper we go, the more likely you are to keep having similar experiences.”
“I’m not the first?”
“Nope.” Ronan’s smile was warm and genuine. “It’s another reason why I kept myself distant. I thought a therapist—even a makeshift one—shouldn’t be too involved with his patient.”
“Sex as therapy?” It sounded unlikely, but then again, Noah had learned more about himself in an afternoon with Ronan than he had in a lifetime.
“It wasn’t sex. It seems that way at first, but most of what we did was happening in your head.”
“Your finger going
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