“You don’t understand the things that James can do. That he would do. There’s no matter if I feel this ‘it’ you say.”
His eyes flared. “Bina, he’s only a man.”
She smiled sadly and took her hand from his. “You show me how much you don’t know. He is more than a man. He is a monster.”
“Then I really can’t let you go back to that.”
This time her hackles went up more. “It’s not a choice for you. There are too many men already who make choices for me.” She moved again to stand, but stopped when he laid his hand lightly on her leg.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He sighed and looked down at the bench between them. She had the sense that he was gathering his thoughts, and when he lifted his eyes again, she knew that was what he had done. “I told you last night that I was divorced—that my marriage was annulled. She left me. And Trey. For another man. I was blindsided and furious. I loved her. But I didn’t fight her, not after the first shock. I only asked that she didn’t fight the annulment. She gave me everything anyway. She didn’t want custody or visitation, she didn’t want anything but away from us. And I still don’t know why, except she loved someone else more than me or our son. It was the worst betrayal I’ve ever known. If someone would have told me last week that I would be sitting here having this conversation, thinking about being with a married woman, even imagining it, much less considering it, I likely would have punched him.”
What he was telling her, that a woman had willfully left her child—that beautiful, precious boy she’d met this morning—and this man, it shocked her too much to process. She had no words with which to form a response to that. So she landed on a precise detail of particular significance to her. “Is that a thing you do? Punch?” James had never used his fists. He was not a brute; he was a demon. His tortures were much more elaborate and sophisticated. But still the thought of a violent man gave her pause.
At her question, his brows drew together and then relaxed. “Not—not often.” He took her hand again. “And never a woman. Never.”
What were they doing? This was madness. But her fingers twined around his without her even willing it, and she felt a small peace in the way he reacted to her reciprocating his touch. His hand held hers a little more tightly, and his expression eased into something hopeful.
Still, what they seemed to be considering without actually discussing was not so easily done. “I’m not a married woman only. I am his married woman. There is risk, much risk, and we only know of each other a little. It would go harder for you, maybe, than for me.”
He shifted more closely to her. Now his knees pressed lightly against her leg. “You asked me if I knew your husband. Do you know my family?”
“Yes, a little. By reputation.”
He smiled. “I think that reputation has the soft focus.”
She heard her own words turned back to her, and she smiled a little. “You mock me, I think. My words.”
“Tease, not mock. And only a little. I like your words.” He leaned in; she could feel his breath. “Bina. This isn’t smart. I know. It doesn’t make sense. I know that, too. But I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’m worried about you. You don’t like it when I say I can’t let you go back. Is this better? I’m not a man who can turn my back.”
“Is that it, then? You wish to be my hero on the white horse?” Again, she pulled from his touch. This time, though, he held on.
“No. I wish to get to know you. I like the way I feel when I think about you. I wasn’t sure I’d feel it ever again. And I can’t just pretend you’re okay. Maybe I’m someone who can take him on.”
“You’re not. No one is.”
“Bina. Let me try.”
He was wrong. He would only hurt himself by trying; he would not help her. He could not. She should untangle her hand from his and go. It was the only wise move, the only possible way to mitigate suffering.
But her blood danced with him so close—and his words, his voice a deep caress, soothed her. As did his warm, large, rough hand holding hers. She felt more aroused than she had since James had dropped his pretense and she had become his toy more than his wife.
And, ironically, sitting here, with Carlo’s body nearly surrounding hers, she felt safe.
So she nodded, and when his head moved toward hers, she leaned into his kiss.