I placed my hands on his chest, assuring him. “And so far you haven’t.”
His hands stayed at my hips when I wanted him to draw me closer, wanted him to wrap me up in him. “How am I supposed to know when that changes?” he asked, his brow pinched.
I inspected my nails, ragged from horseback riding and the campfire and rough sex. “I don’t know, Reeve. I’m sick. I told you.”
He pushed away from me. Gently, but pushed away all the same.
My lip quivered. “You are mad at me.”
He spun back toward me. “Yes! I am.”
“What can I do to change that?” I’d do anything. Not just because I was a pleaser, but because if we had any chance at a relationship, this would have to be resolved. “Tell me what to do.”
“Stop blaming yourself for your rape. Stop blaming yourself for your friend. Stop calling yourself sick. Stop letting men —”
I cut him off, choosing this point to defend. “I’m not ‘letting men’ anymore. I’m letting you.”
He let a beat go by and his expression transformed, easing. With the slightest hesitation he asked, “Because you trust me?”
Hope flickered in his eyes, and I understood the basis of his question. I’d said that trust was equivalent to love. He was asking if I loved him.
I twisted away from him and placed my hands on the dresser for support. “I didn’t say that.” I wanted to say that. More than anything. But it was complicated, and I was confused.
“Then you don’t trust me.” He’d come up behind me. I could feel his body heat rolling off of him, tugging at me like gravity pulling at the moon.
He deserved honesty. As much as I could give him.
I met his eyes in the mirror above the drawers. “I’m not sure you’ve opened up enough for me to know that I can for sure.”
His hands settled on my hips and he pressed in closer. “You’ve seen what I am. How I’ve been with you – that’s how I’ll always be. I won’t ever hurt you more than you like. I won’t ever do any real damage. I won’t fuck around on you. I’ll allow people to watch you and hear you, but they won’t ever get to have you.”
“Those could just be words, though.”
“If you trusted me, they wouldn’t be.” He nuzzled his chin against the top of my head. “Is it odd that I want you to so badly?”
My throat ached and my stomach knotted. “Only if it’s odd that I want to as well.”
“Then what’s stopping you? Give me your trust, Emily.” His hands circled my waist and he laid kisses on my neck.
I let my head fall, giving him access to my skin. He could have my body. He could have my pleasure. He could have my desire.
But I couldn’t give him my trust. Not yet. Not only because of the lingering questions about Amber but also because I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t asking just to satisfy some selfish need to be important. Wanting my love when he hadn’t given me his. While reciprocity wasn’t a requirement of the emotion, I already felt unequal in my relationship to him. This was the only card I had left.
Reeve moved to nip at the shell of my ear. “What do I have to do to earn it from you?”
Steeling myself, I answered him. “Tell me what came between you and the woman you loved.”
He stilled.
After a few seconds, he stroked his hands down and back up over the curve of my hips. “What does it matter, Emily? That’s another relationship. It isn’t relative to you.”
My hands balled into fists against the wood of the dresser. “It matters because it’s a piece of you. Trust isn’t just about sex, you know. It’s about opening up. You want my trust and you won’t give me yours? It doesn’t work that way.”
He dropped his hands and I saw his expression tighten in our reflection.
His withdrawal stung. “Hey, you asked,” I snipped.
He backed away. Turned away completely. “I told you before, I don’t want you to know the worst of me.”
I spun around, keeping my hands behind me, still needing to lean on the furniture for strength. “But it’s okay that you know the worst of me?”
He perched on the edge of the bed, still strong, but with just the barest hint of defeat. “Your story was the worst people had done to you. Not the worst you’d done.”
Yet it had still had an impact on him. Still created a trench between us. “And why do you think that’s different? Because you think I might run? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been good at running. Even when I should be.”
I took a shaky breath in as I realized what I’d said. Realized I meant it. No matter what I found out about Amber, I wouldn’t run.
As if to prove it, I went to him.
He opened his arms to me as I stepped between his legs. “Maybe I’m afraid that you should run from me.”
“If I should, would you let me?” God, I was pathetic. I was begging for a sign of his affection as blatantly as he was begging for mine.
“I said I wasn’t going to keep anyone again.” He placed a kiss at my cleavage. “But honestly, Emily” – he lifted his eyes toward mine – “I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself if you really tried.”
I cupped his face with my hands. “I’m not going to run, Reeve. And I hope that doesn’t get me hurt in the end. So my trust isn’t really even a big deal, is it? It’s still win/win for you.” Maybe it was manipulative, because I still wanted him to confess his secret. Because I really did want to trust him.