age. You ha一ve no friends. Did she keep them
away from you?”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.
“Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We
had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me
often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even
imagine, end of story.”
I pale. Shit, he’s angry—with me. I blink at him. “Why
are you so angry?”
“Because all of that shit is OVER!” he shouts, glowering
at me. He sighs in exasperation and shakes his head.
I blanch. Shit. I look down at my hands, knotted in my
lap. I just want to understand.
He sits down beside me. “What do you want to
know?” he asks wearily.
“You don’t ha一ve to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this
shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting
me and not ha一ving to justify myself to anyone. She’s
always been there as a confidante. And now my past and
my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible.”
I glance at him and he’s staring at me, his eyes wide.
“I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia.
You give me hope and ha一ve me thinking about all sorts of
possibilities.” He drifts off.
“I was listening,” I whisper and stare back down at my
hands.
“What? To our conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Well?” He sounds resigned.
“She cares for you.”
“Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it
doesn’t come close to how I feel about you. If that’s what
this is about.”
“I’m not jealous.” I’m wounded that he would think
that—or am I? Shit. Maybe that’s what this is. “You don’t
love her,” I murmur.
He sighs again. He really is pissed. “A long time ago, I
thought I loved her,” he says through gritted teeth.
Oh. “When we were in Georgia . . . you said you
didn’t love her.”
“That’s right.”
I frown.
“I loved you then, Anastasia,” he whispers. “You’re
the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see.”
Oh my. I don’t understand. He still wanted me as a
sub then. My frown deepens.
“The feelings I ha一ve for
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