Buttons and Grace (Buttons 6)
Cane’s expression didn’t change. He hardly blinked as he listened to me describe my opinion of our relationship.
“I thought I was fond of you because you were nice to me. But then I realized I loved the way you touched my hand, the way you looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. You wanted to be with me, but you always let me have the final say in the matter. You told me I had no control, but you had given me all of it. I knew in the beginning that you were a good man. I knew you weren’t like the others. You weren’t exactly a saint, but you weren’t a demon either. And when we had sex the first time…I really liked it.” I remembered how good it felt, how he made me come so easily. It was my first orgasm during intercourse, and it was phenomenal. It was how every woman should feel during sex. “I wanted more. I wanted it every night. I wanted to sleep beside you because I hated being alone. You protected me, chased away all the nightmares.”
He moved his arm over the back of the couch, and his hand slid into my hair, gently touching me behind the ear.
“And then you did the unthinkable…you rescued me. I never expected you to do that. When you dropped me off, I thought that was the last time I would ever see you. I pictured your face during the most difficult times because it made things easier. When you took me away from there, I had no words to describe your heroism. You gave up everything just to free me. You killed all his men and broke the chains around my ankle. You gave me a new start when I didn’t think I’d ever have one. I thought I would die in that place, but you gave me new life. I’ll never be able to thank you for doing that for me. I’m not sure what I did to deserve your affection. I’m a victim of rape and kidnapping—”
“You aren’t a victim. You’re a survivor. Don’t look at yourself that way—I don’t.”
My eyes softened at the sweet words. “But still…I’m not exactly the ideal woman.”
“I’ve never wanted ideal. I never knew what I wanted until I found you.”
Now my heart softened, wilting like a plucked rose.
“What do you feel now?” he pressed. “After what I’ve done to you.” It was the first time he looked away, like he was ashamed.
“I don’t think less of you. I knew that wasn’t the real you. I’ve seen your soul before, and that wasn’t it.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds before he opened them again.
“I know I’ll miss you when I leave, Cane. I know I’ll think about you all the time. But I can’t give up my life to stay here. Everything I’ve ever known has been left behind. If I do stay…Tristan wins. I was happy in South Carolina. I had my parents, friends, school…”
He shifted his gaze to the floor.
“I can’t give all that up when I was never meant to leave. I was supposed to have a different destiny.”
He didn’t get angry like he did last time. He stayed exactly the same, quiet and somber. “You’re sure you don’t love me?”
The question hung in the air between us, making me feel sick all the way to my stomach. Something was burning at me from the inside, making me feel faint and weak. My lips could barely move. I wasn’t sure if I could answer. “If I let myself love you, I’ll never go back…and I have to go back.”
He turned back to me, his eyes narrowing. “So you do love me…you just don’t want to.”
I refused to answer the question, to let the words fill the space between us. Once I did, there was no going back. If I stayed with Cane, I would never know what my life would have been like. Would I have met a nice guy who would be soft and gentle with me? Would I finally teach in a classroom and make an impact on young minds? If I hadn’t been taken, where would I be right now? “As comfortable as it is here, I know it’s not where I belong.”
* * *
I washed my face in the bathroom then retreated to my private room where all my things were. I had my own TV, a fireplace, and more space than necessary. Cane and I hadn’t spoken since our intense conversation, and I’d stayed away from him. I couldn’t tell if he was mad, hurt, or simply indifferent.
He came down the hall and knocked on my open door. He was in just his boxers, over six feet of muscle and man. He was barefoot and bare-chested, sexy and chiseled. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if his face was more handsome than his body, or if it was the other way around. He was perfect. “You’re welcome to sleep with me…if you’d like.”