Page 101 of Dark Notes

Frustration pummels through me, angry and vicious. And irrational. I force it back, breathing tightly, then deeply, desperate to understand.

Relaxing my arms at my sides, I try to soften my voice. “Be specific.”

“Not my…” She shoves her dress down her legs and turns toward me, eyes glassy and terrified. “Not back there.”

“Have you ever been touched there?”

Her face falls, and she curls in on herself.

Molten rage pours through my veins like lava. I haven’t examined her closely enough to see scarring, but it’s obvious someone sodomized her. Possibly several someones.

Horrific images cleave through my brain, kicking my heartbeat into a macabre orchestra of violence.

“No anal.” I clench my shaking hands and take a cautious step forward. “That’s your limit?”

“I can’t, Emeric.” She backs up and bumps against the counter, her expression pinched in torment. “Please, don’t do this.”

My stomach drops. She thinks I’d force her?

“Ivory.” Another step, my voice gravelly with heartache. “I won’t touch you there. I promise.”

She stares at the doorway, chin quivering and knees twitching. She looks like she’s going to run.

“Eyes on me,” I say gently and wait for her to obey. “Is that your only limit?”

Please say yes. I thought for sure she was willing to have sex. How the fuck did I misjudge this?

“I-I don’t know.”

My lungs tighten, laboring for air. I stand just out of arm’s reach, respecting her safe zone. But I’m not ready to back down. I’m sure as fuck not giving up.

She has all the power here, and goddammit, I’ll do whatever is needed to make sure she knows it.

I keep my voice level but firm. “You have two choices. One. Walk down the hall, sit behind the piano, and wait for me to begin your lesson. Two. Head upstairs to the bedroom, remove your clothes, and wait for me to fuck you.” I steel my gaze. “No anal, Ivory. You have my word.”

Arms wrapped around her chest, she rubs her biceps, still not looking at me.

I infuse my tone with conviction. “Whatever you choose, there will be no disappointment or shame. Not from me or you. Understand?”

“Yes.” A shaky whisper.

“Go.”

The second she’s out of sight, I spin toward the counter and grind my fist against the granite. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should’ve known she didn’t want to be touched there. I shouldn’t have pushed her.

No, that’s bullshit. If I could just think past my aching cock for a goddamn minute… Deep breath.

We just made a huge fucking step forward. She used her word and showed me one of her limits. Now I can trust her to use it again. I’ll wait for her for an eternity if I have to.

The pad of tiny feet draws my attention to the floor. Schubert prances around me and leans his body against my leg, covering my black slacks in orange hair.

I reach down and scoop him up.

“She’s going to shut down on me, isn’t she?” I press my lips against his head, holding him against my chest. “Fuck, I want to kill every fucking prick that’s ever touched her.”

He purrs like a motor and arches his neck for a scratch. Curling my fingers beneath his chin, I oblige. Soon, my pulse evens out, and my muscles loosen.

“Let’s go find our girl.”

I place him on the floor and follow him out of the kitchen, through the hearth room, and into the living room. He veers off toward the couches and stretches out on one of the cushions.

Straight ahead and down the hall is the music room. To the left and toward the—

A delicate black shoe sits on the rug in the foyer. My pulse jumps.

I head toward it, loosening the tie around my neck as I gaze up the staircase. The second shoe perches on the curve in the steps.

She chose the bedroom.

My cock twitches, and my breaths speed up. I launch forward, racing up the stairs and around the corner.

The sight of her black dress on the floor in the hallway spurs me faster, building a hungry pressure at the base of my spine. When I reach the bedroom door, I find it shut, the handle adorned with her black lacy bra.

Christ, she’s turning me inside out. I adjust the rigid ache in my slacks and drag in several calming breaths. Then I open the door.

The bedroom door swings open, and I release a sigh of relief.

I perch on the side of the bed, nude and vulnerable, as we stare at one another. Seeing him framed in the doorway and watching me with those stony eyes sweeps my breath away.

I’m so damn conflicted about why I used my word. How did I let one paralyzing moment of terror override every ounce of trust I have in him?

Not only did Emeric stop, he didn’t explode into a fit of anger. His patient reaction and dependable control proves my fear of him was unwarranted and weak. Am I so dysfunctional that I can’t have an intimate relationship with a man who would rather die than endanger me?