Ignited
Page 30
“That doesn’t make you bad,” Cole said. “You were a little girl.”
“I know. I do. But . . .” I trailed off with a shrug.
“I’m guessing he didn’t keep his hands off you.”
“You guessed right,” I said. “The next night he got into my bed again. And he touched me and teased me, and this time my fear was less. And that meant I felt more of what he was doing to me. And it felt pretty amazing, you know? All this incredible sensation that just flowed through me, building and building like roses climbing the wall of a sensual garden.”
I looked at Cole, but he said nothing.
“I liked the way it felt,” I admitted. “And I liked that this was what grown-ups did. And I liked that it made me feel special. But I also knew that it was bad. Shameful. And that he was bad. But that I was worse for liking it.”
“Jesus, Kat,” Cole said when I confessed that.
I shook my head. “I was a kid. I was just figuring stuff out. I’m telling how it was, not how it is.” I clutched tight to his hand. “But thank you.”
I slid back into the memories. Back into the story. Whether by plan or luck, Roger never got me so worked up that I reached orgasm. But the nights became a ritual, and damned if I didn’t look forward to it.
“And then there was this one night. I don’t know why, but he touched me longer, and it all kept rising up, the way it does when you’re building, you know? And I was right there, and I could tell that it was different this time. And part of me was terrified and wanted it to back off. But another part of me wanted the feeling, because I could tell something was happening, and I wanted to know. I wanted to feel.”
“You came,” Cole said, and I nodded.
“I tried to hold it in, but there was no way. I cried out, and my body shook, and when I opened my eyes, Roger was staring down at me.” I squeezed my eyes shut in defense against the memory. “He looked horrified. Disgusted. And I swear I’m surprised that his look didn’t reduce me to dust right then.”
“Kat,” Cole said, then raised my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. That was all he did, but it was enough. It gave me the strength to finish.
“That was the last time he touched me,” I said. “If we hadn’t been traveling together, it would probably have been the last time he spoke to me. As it was, they were only with us for a few more months. I’ve never seen him again. I don’t even know his last name. But I guess technically, before you, I did come once with a guy. Thank you, Roger.” I shrugged, as if to suggest that this was all in the past and had no more effect on my day-to-day life than the price of Oreos in China.
Naturally, Cole wasn’t buying it. “Baby,” he said, then pulled me to him. He stroked me, telling me he was sorry. Making me feel cherished and special.
And, damn me, I started crying again.
“Sorry. Sorry,” I repeated, wiping the tears away. “I get weird when someone takes care of me. It’s not something I ever got used to.”
“Your dad?”
“I love him, but he was more of the self-sufficient variety.”
“I’ve got you now,” he said, and made the tears start to flow all over again.
“It’s fear, I think,” I said, thinking about Roger and how he messed me up. “Fear that if I come, whoever I’m with will leave. Except maybe not,” I amended. “Because you’re the only one I’ve ever truly cared about staying.”
“I’m flattered.”
I met his eyes. “It’s true,” I said, because I was going all in and putting my heart on the line.
“I’m right here,” he said, stroking my cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, then turned my face so that I could kiss his palm. I felt warm and safe, and for the first time I was glad to be talking about all this junk in my life.
“Part of it’s guilt, too, I think,” I said.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“But I do,” I countered. “Because I liked it. I liked the way it felt when he touched me. I even . . .” I trailed off, then gathered my courage. I wanted this out. I wanted to slay these demons once and for all.
I sucked in a breath. “There were even nights when I told him I was afraid of nightmares and asked if I could crawl into his bed. He always said yes, and I always went because I hoped—”
“You wanted the feeling because it’s a good feeling. But you knew he was doing something wrong, taking something without permission and taking it from a child who had no business consenting anyway.”
He stroked my hair, twirling a blond curl around his finger. “You were a little girl whose body was awakening, and I know that you understand that. I know you don’t really think you have anything to feel guilty about.”
“I do know that,” I said. “But knowing and feeling are two completely different things. And my body hasn’t really caught up with the program. It doesn’t matter, though,” I continued. “Not anymore. You’ve got me past it over and over. That’s pretty amazing.”
“You humble me, Kat. But don’t lift me too high. I assure you, I’m fucked up in some extraordinary ways.”
“So maybe we’re both broken,” I said. “Maybe we make each other whole.”
He looked at me for so long, I thought he was going to stay silent—and I started to get scared. Those were relationship words, and I wasn’t entirely sure where they came from.
Except that was a lie. Maybe I’d told myself and Sloane that Cole was simply an itch to be scratched, but I’d never really believed it. Who’s better at lying to herself than someone who’s spent her entire life spinning lies?
And that particular lie had been a balm against a broken heart.
But Cole hadn’t broken my heart. Just the opposite. And now I was waiting—and not too patiently—to find out if he felt the same way.
“Cole,” I said. “Please say something.”
“I don’t need to,” he said, then wrapped me in the circle of his arms. “You’ve already said it all.”
We held on to each other like that for a while, and I think I would have liked to have stayed that way forever. But I couldn’t escape the one nagging thought. “Why was it so easy for me before, but when you woke me up just now, I was all bottled up?”
“Because I was taking,” he said matter-of-factly, “and earlier, you were giving.”
I shifted in his arms so that I could see his face—and so that he could see the confusion on mine. “Come again?”
His mouth curved into an ironic smile. “You’re a submissive, Kat.”
I blinked at him, trying to wrap my head around both the word and the concept.
“I don’t like labels,” he continued, “but I think the idea is true. Whether you always would have been or whether what happened to you as a kid shifted something inside of you, it’s true now. It’s part of you. Someone takes, and you close up. But if you give yourself to someone, then you’ve not only freed yourself but given them the best gift possible: all of you.”
“You’re saying I relinquish control? I don’t think so. Even with you I was always—”
“I know. I do. But . . .” I trailed off with a shrug.
“I’m guessing he didn’t keep his hands off you.”
“You guessed right,” I said. “The next night he got into my bed again. And he touched me and teased me, and this time my fear was less. And that meant I felt more of what he was doing to me. And it felt pretty amazing, you know? All this incredible sensation that just flowed through me, building and building like roses climbing the wall of a sensual garden.”
I looked at Cole, but he said nothing.
“I liked the way it felt,” I admitted. “And I liked that this was what grown-ups did. And I liked that it made me feel special. But I also knew that it was bad. Shameful. And that he was bad. But that I was worse for liking it.”
“Jesus, Kat,” Cole said when I confessed that.
I shook my head. “I was a kid. I was just figuring stuff out. I’m telling how it was, not how it is.” I clutched tight to his hand. “But thank you.”
I slid back into the memories. Back into the story. Whether by plan or luck, Roger never got me so worked up that I reached orgasm. But the nights became a ritual, and damned if I didn’t look forward to it.
“And then there was this one night. I don’t know why, but he touched me longer, and it all kept rising up, the way it does when you’re building, you know? And I was right there, and I could tell that it was different this time. And part of me was terrified and wanted it to back off. But another part of me wanted the feeling, because I could tell something was happening, and I wanted to know. I wanted to feel.”
“You came,” Cole said, and I nodded.
“I tried to hold it in, but there was no way. I cried out, and my body shook, and when I opened my eyes, Roger was staring down at me.” I squeezed my eyes shut in defense against the memory. “He looked horrified. Disgusted. And I swear I’m surprised that his look didn’t reduce me to dust right then.”
“Kat,” Cole said, then raised my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. That was all he did, but it was enough. It gave me the strength to finish.
“That was the last time he touched me,” I said. “If we hadn’t been traveling together, it would probably have been the last time he spoke to me. As it was, they were only with us for a few more months. I’ve never seen him again. I don’t even know his last name. But I guess technically, before you, I did come once with a guy. Thank you, Roger.” I shrugged, as if to suggest that this was all in the past and had no more effect on my day-to-day life than the price of Oreos in China.
Naturally, Cole wasn’t buying it. “Baby,” he said, then pulled me to him. He stroked me, telling me he was sorry. Making me feel cherished and special.
And, damn me, I started crying again.
“Sorry. Sorry,” I repeated, wiping the tears away. “I get weird when someone takes care of me. It’s not something I ever got used to.”
“Your dad?”
“I love him, but he was more of the self-sufficient variety.”
“I’ve got you now,” he said, and made the tears start to flow all over again.
“It’s fear, I think,” I said, thinking about Roger and how he messed me up. “Fear that if I come, whoever I’m with will leave. Except maybe not,” I amended. “Because you’re the only one I’ve ever truly cared about staying.”
“I’m flattered.”
I met his eyes. “It’s true,” I said, because I was going all in and putting my heart on the line.
“I’m right here,” he said, stroking my cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, then turned my face so that I could kiss his palm. I felt warm and safe, and for the first time I was glad to be talking about all this junk in my life.
“Part of it’s guilt, too, I think,” I said.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“But I do,” I countered. “Because I liked it. I liked the way it felt when he touched me. I even . . .” I trailed off, then gathered my courage. I wanted this out. I wanted to slay these demons once and for all.
I sucked in a breath. “There were even nights when I told him I was afraid of nightmares and asked if I could crawl into his bed. He always said yes, and I always went because I hoped—”
“You wanted the feeling because it’s a good feeling. But you knew he was doing something wrong, taking something without permission and taking it from a child who had no business consenting anyway.”
He stroked my hair, twirling a blond curl around his finger. “You were a little girl whose body was awakening, and I know that you understand that. I know you don’t really think you have anything to feel guilty about.”
“I do know that,” I said. “But knowing and feeling are two completely different things. And my body hasn’t really caught up with the program. It doesn’t matter, though,” I continued. “Not anymore. You’ve got me past it over and over. That’s pretty amazing.”
“You humble me, Kat. But don’t lift me too high. I assure you, I’m fucked up in some extraordinary ways.”
“So maybe we’re both broken,” I said. “Maybe we make each other whole.”
He looked at me for so long, I thought he was going to stay silent—and I started to get scared. Those were relationship words, and I wasn’t entirely sure where they came from.
Except that was a lie. Maybe I’d told myself and Sloane that Cole was simply an itch to be scratched, but I’d never really believed it. Who’s better at lying to herself than someone who’s spent her entire life spinning lies?
And that particular lie had been a balm against a broken heart.
But Cole hadn’t broken my heart. Just the opposite. And now I was waiting—and not too patiently—to find out if he felt the same way.
“Cole,” I said. “Please say something.”
“I don’t need to,” he said, then wrapped me in the circle of his arms. “You’ve already said it all.”
We held on to each other like that for a while, and I think I would have liked to have stayed that way forever. But I couldn’t escape the one nagging thought. “Why was it so easy for me before, but when you woke me up just now, I was all bottled up?”
“Because I was taking,” he said matter-of-factly, “and earlier, you were giving.”
I shifted in his arms so that I could see his face—and so that he could see the confusion on mine. “Come again?”
His mouth curved into an ironic smile. “You’re a submissive, Kat.”
I blinked at him, trying to wrap my head around both the word and the concept.
“I don’t like labels,” he continued, “but I think the idea is true. Whether you always would have been or whether what happened to you as a kid shifted something inside of you, it’s true now. It’s part of you. Someone takes, and you close up. But if you give yourself to someone, then you’ve not only freed yourself but given them the best gift possible: all of you.”
“You’re saying I relinquish control? I don’t think so. Even with you I was always—”
