My throat cinches up like I’m being choked.
“Then what?” Byron prompts me, stroking a hand down the back of my hair.
“One bad decision,” I breathe, feeling like a fraud. A liar. Oh God, I have no right to be sitting on this man’s lap, being treated to this thoughtful lunch. How did it get this far? How did I get so close to Byron? I never expected my affection to be returned, not in the slightest. Every moment I spend with him now is a deception and he deserves so much better than that. If he knew what I’d done, he’d hate me. I’m terrified to see that hatred on his face. Petrified of how it would ruin me. Break me.
I’ll never be able to leave him alone completely, but I need to go back to the shadows, where I belong.
“I have to go,” I say.
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me back more fully against his chest, bringing my feet up off the floor. “You don’t have to tell me about your bad decision, Jane. Not until you’re ready.” He kisses my neck. “I’m sure your bad decision has nothing to do with how we make love and that is what we’re here to untangle first.”
Oh, but my bad decision has a lot to do with how we make love.
Byron worries that calling me names and shaming me is unhealthy. Or that he’s encouraging something damaged inside of me to grow. And he is. But it feels so good. It feels like exactly what I deserve and need. It’s like going to confession and receiving my penance, leaving with a sense of temporary relief. The difference is that I’ll never truly be absolved of the sin I’ve committed. Not even if I go to confession by partaking in Byron’s body every day for a million years. And I’m pulling him into this black despair with me. Making him an unwitting part of my self-loathing. It’s wrong. I can’t do it.
Giving in to physical desire with Byron was one thing.
Being spoiled at a private club is another.
This is relationship stuff. This is building to something serious.
He wants to know me.
I’m dying to know every tiny thing about him in return, but if I let this courting phase continue, I’ll subject him to a relationship with a passenger in the car that killed his sister.
Unforgiveable.
If I’m going to walk away from this, the man of my dreams, he deserves some version of the truth, though, doesn’t he? “Byron…” I pick up the glass of wine in front of me and take a deep gulp for courage. “The truth is…there is a reason I need you to shame me. I’m not ready to talk about why, but…it isn’t healthy. And I’m sorry I made you do it. I’m sorry.” His breath releases unsteadily beside my ear, his heart speeding against my back. “But it’s all I have to offer you. Messed up, secretive little me.”
“No. I want all of you, Jane. Trust me with all of you. The truth.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I have to go.” Taking advantage of his guard being down, I push to my feet and spin to face him, my breath catching at the stricken expression on his face. Knowing him, he’s horrified that he spoke to me that way during sex now that he knows it fed something bad inside of me. And I find I cannot—cannot—walk away completely. Even though I should. I owe him freedom. But the wild obsession inside of me can’t look him in the face and say goodbye forever. I need a breadcrumb. Something. “I can’t give you a commitment, Byron. You’ll thank me for that one day.” Slowly, I lift the hem of my dress, drawing his hungry gaze to the wet material of my panties. “This is all I can offer you. I can give you twisted and wrong…and that isn’t going to change. Nor will my decision to keep this thing between us…physical only.” My voice cracks. “Call me if you can be okay with it, all right?”
Byron shoves a hand through his hair, nearly upsetting his glasses. He’s the picture of frustration. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to be my girlfriend. You just want more…of what we did in your office. And on the patio of the coffee shop.”
“You can’t even say it,” I whisper, heat pressing to the backs of my eyes. “You can’t even say out loud what we do together.”
He takes a step in my direction. “Because you deserve more. Better. Everything.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then inform me.”
I’m already turning to leave. This conversation is tunneling closer and closer to the truth. My greatest shame. And I can’t see his face when he finds out. I can’t live through that. “You have my number. Goodbye, Byron.”