Apparently, Dallas decided that the best way to find out was to host a party, invite Darcy, and chat the man up. He wanted a sexy woman beside him as a visual diversion, so that whatever questions he asked or conversations he started would come off as simple chatter, not the interrogation of a man who masterminds an elite international vigilante group.
I draw in a breath. “I understand why you need a woman by your side,” I repeat. “But understanding it and liking it are two different things.”
“I know, baby. I do.” I can see the pain on his face as he looks at me. “But I’m not willing to give it up. I can’t give it up. Not Deliverance as a whole, and not the women I use as camouflage.”
His words are blunt and brutally honest, and I want to cry out, Not even for me? But I can’t manage to force the words out. How can I ask him to be someone other than who he is? The leader of Deliverance. A man with a mission.
Maybe I don’t entirely understand or agree with what he does, but it’s part of who he is. It’s there at his core.
And, dammit, I want the man. The full man, with all of his hopes and dreams and flaws. Not half the man. Not a man who compromised for anyone. Not even for me.
With a sigh, I shake my head. “I’m not asking you to. Really. I didn’t even mean to open the Deliverance door. It’s just that I—well, I didn’t like you touching them. The blonde. The chick with the tattoos. And I didn’t like that you’ve fucked Christine.”
“I haven’t fu—”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I do.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Not that long ago, you liked it a lot. So did I. You watched another woman take my cock in her mouth and it got you off.”
I nod, because he’s right. Hell, just the memory of the game we played that night—the pictures he sent me, the things he demanded of me—make my body thrum. I lower my eyes to the ground, and softly admit, “I think I came harder than I had in a very long time.”
He sits beside me once more, then puts his hand lightly on my thigh. He moves his thumb lightly back and forth, stroking me. “But?”
“But that was then. That was before we were together.” I look up and meet his eyes. “That was when I had even less claim on you than they did.”
“That was never the case.”
I shrug. “Maybe not, but it felt like it.” I press my hand on top of his. “It doesn’t feel that way anymore. You’re mine, Dallas, but you can’t touch me like that. I love you, and we’re not victims anymore, but we’re still trapped. We’re still held captive by this huge secret that we have to keep. And sometimes I think we’re never really going to be free. We’re always going to be trapped together in the dark. Maybe it’s not a cement cell, but it’s still a prison.”
I squeeze his hand as I look imploringly at his face. “We deserve better,” I say. “And I want better.”
“So do I.” He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “Oh, baby, so do I.”
For a moment he says nothing else. Then he tilts his head slightly to the side. “Do you want to go public? Just be us, together, out there in the open?”
Yes. Oh, god, yes.
The words are wild and dangerous in my head. But they’re not true. There are too many obstacles. Too many horrors. Our parents’ reaction and the tabloid attention leap to mind. Just thinking of the way the cameras would inevitably focus on us makes me want to shrink into a ball and cry.
And oh, god, what would Grams or Poppy say? At eighty and one hundred, respectively, the revelation about me and Dallas would probably put our grandmother and great-grandfather in their graves.
I shake my head. “No. No, the idea terrifies me. I want it—I want so badly to be with you one hundred percent—but going public scares the crap out of me even more than I hate all the secrets.”
He nods, and I think it’s relief I see in his eyes. “I know,” he says. “Eventually we’ll figure out a way, but until then, going public stays tabled. Just as well. Better to deal with one obstacle to happily ever after at a time.”
I frown, wondering what other obstacles he’s worried about. “You mean the women on your arm?”
For a moment he looks confused, and he doesn’t quite look at me when he nods and says, “Of course.”
“Dallas?”
He looks straight at me, and I see no shadows on his face. No deception. Mentally, I roll my eyes at myself. I’m on edge—looking for secrets and obfuscation where none exists.
“Jane? Are we okay?”
I manage to conjure a smile. “I just don’t like sharing you.”
“You’re not. Whatever I do—whoever they are—those women don’t have a claim on me.”
I nod, then close my eyes for a moment to gather my strength. “I get that you need them for appearances. That you need to touch them and put on a show. But I don’t want—”
“To play our game anymore. I understand.” He shifts so that he is facing me more directly, then strokes my cheek as he slides his hand back to cup my head. He pulls me toward him, then captures my mouth in a kiss. It’s hot and deep and I feel my body start to melt.