Asking about one’s exes was uncool on a first date. Every girl was born with this knowledge, and Lane was no exception. And yet...she had done it anyway, had been unable to stop herself from doing so.
She had asked because something inside her demanded it, almost as if her heart had craved – anticipated – the twinge that would come.
Angelo watched Lane reach for her milkshake, and as she stirred it aimlessly with her straw, he heard her mumble, “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”
And so the moment had come, he thought.
He could choose to tell her to forget it, and she would stay as she was: innocent and undefiled. But he also knew that this decision would mean turning back on what they really were, and even if they did end up together, it would eventually run its course. People who could not accept the truth about their selves could never be happy, on their own...or with each other.
He had learned this the hard way.
“Angelo?” Lane’s caramel brown eyes pleaded with him for the truth. “Were you lying when you told me I was a m-masochist? Was it just a prank or something?”
On the other hand, he could throw caution to the wind and allow them to do what they had both needed – what they had both hungered for – since the very first day they met.
He heard himself say, “No.”
Lane jerked in her seat.
“You are a masochist, and I’m a sadist.”
She visibly trembled, and her lips parted as if the words had made her thirsty. The sight fed the hunger inside him, and he knew, just by the way she was looking at him, that he didn’t even have to seduce her into submitting to him.
She was already seduced.
His jaw clenched.
Not again, Angelo thought grimly.
The last time he allowed his desires to overrule his mind, he had ended up falling for the wrong girl.
And that girl had eventually left him.
“Angelo?”
Lane’s trembling voice pulled him out of the past. “What is it, tesoro?”
“Thanks for being patient with me, but I think I’m ready now.”
Her self-sacrificing tone made his lips twitch. “You sound like a soldier about to go to war.”
“It sort of feels that way,” Lane confessed almost guiltily. “Just thinking about it...” She took a deep breath. Keep it together, Lane. You’re just going to talk about it, that’s all. It’s not like you’re making a lifelong commitment.
She heard Angelo say, “You can ask me anything. I promise to answer everything with complete honesty.”
She nodded, mumbling pedantically, “Thank you.” She took another deep breath. “First...”
Angelo raised a brow.
“Is this legal?”
He absolutely hadn’t seen that coming. “Err, yes.’ He had to sternly repress his smile as he answered her.
“Right.” She tried not to show her dismay. She had been hoping it would be illegal, which would then be her way out. Clearing her throat, she lied, “That’s, um, good.”
Liar, Angelo thought, and he had to fight back another smile.
“My next question is...” She avoided looking at him as she asked, “Is this...a sin?”
He almost laughed. “Are you worried you’d go to Hell for it?”
She nodded.
“Obviously, I’m not expert on religion but if you want my truthful answer, I’d say...no. Sadism and masochism are not sins. Instead of thinking about it that way, you should merely see them as another form of experiencing pleasure.”
“I see.”
Seeing her anxiously gnaw at her lip, he said softly, “There is nothing for you to worry about, my Lane.”
She found herself nodding, her worries fading as her mind zeroed in on those last two words.
My Lane.
He thought of her as his.
She bit her lip and tried not to be gauche with her thoughts, but it was impossible.
My Lane, he had said.
Gosh.
“I will never force or coerce you to say or do anything that you don’t want to. Nor should you see it as something that would change who you are, because it doesn’t. It’s not something that defines you—-” He paused meaningfully. “Just like your clothes do not define who you are.”
A nervous giggle escaped her. “Is that a jibe about my taste in fashion?”
“Those are your words,” he pointed out smoothly, “not mine.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Any more questions, my Lane?”
Right. Her mind went back to la-la land at the endearment. She should have more questions, she knew, but now all she could think of was she wanted to hear him say that again and again. That she was his—-
“Maybe if you look away,” she suggested hesitantly, “I could maybe think of more questions.”
“Or maybe deep down inside you already know there’s nothing to question.” The smile he gave her was pure iniquity, almost like it was telling her to simply seize the day and forget about worrying.
Trust me, that immorally beautiful smile said. You will love being a masochist because I’ll be the one to torture you.