“But I want to,” I cry, wishing he could understand. Understand my frustration, my need, my fear. He has no idea how badly I wanted to be with him tonight. To feel his hands all over me, his mouth, his cock. I wanted it all.

  I wanted to be normal.

  A girl falling for a guy and being intimate with him.

  “Baby Girl,” he whispers soothingly. “Come here,” he says as he pulls me into a hug. For a split second, my body tightens, but then relaxes into his embrace. We lie like that for a long time, him holding me close, running his fingers through my hair while I cry silent tears and try to get my shit together.

  Neither of us speaks until my tears have long dried up. I’m working up the nerve to break the silence when he speaks first.

  “Is it because I was on top of you?”

  “It started when we came in the room, but when you got on top of me it felt like my body completely locked up and someone poured ice water over me at the same time.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “What if you had all the control?”

  I rotate my head to look up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you willing to try something? I don’t want to trigger you, but I have an idea that might help.”

  “What is it?”

  At this point, I’ll try anything.

  19

  Miles gets off the bed and bends down, fiddling with something underneath. When he stands back up, he’s holding a black strap in his hand. He places it on the bed and then moves down to the foot of the bed. I watch him pull out three more straps as he moves around the bed, and it becomes clear pretty quickly that it’s an under-the-bed restraint system.

  My heart starts to beat frantically. He said he thought this would help, but the idea of being restrained makes me want to puke.

  With a shaky voice I say, “Miles, I don’t think I can do this.”

  He pulls the last strap up and places it on the bed. “Hear me out first. If you don’t want to use these, we can think of something else.”

  “I just don’t think me being restrained is going to help my anxiety.”

  “They’re not for you,” he says matter-of-factly.

  Confused, I say, “Then who are they for?”

  “Me.”

  Shocked, I’m grateful I’m already lying on the bed or else that one word would’ve bowled me over completely. “You? As in, you’re going to be restrained?”

  He sits on the side of the bed. “You said it got worse when I was on top of you, but also based on things you’ve said in previous conversations, not having control is a potential trigger for you.” He grabs the nearest restraint and holds it up. “This kills two birds with one stone. You get to be on top and you’ll have total control.”

  I stare at the black material in his hand like it’s a snake about to strike. When I look at Miles, he’s not looking at me like I’m a freak or defective; He’s not laughing at me either. His patience is unwavering as he waits for me to decide what I want to do.

  I want to try, but I’m also scared this won’t work.

  “Do you want to touch it?” he asks, holding the material closer to me.

  It seems inappropriate that my first response is that’s what she said so I keep it to myself. Nodding, I reach out and take the strap from him. I’m surprised by how silky smooth it is. The black cuffs have some type of padded lining and soft fabric covering, while the restraint itself is a sturdy but flexible fabric.

  Can I do this? I nibble the inside of my lip while my gaze analyzes every inch of the material in my hands. I can’t make eye contact with Miles until I know what I’ve decided, and I’m still unsure. Mainly, I’m afraid. If it doesn’t work, then what will we do? Call it a night and I’ll go home?

  I don’t want to leave him, but can I be enough for him if I can’t give him the physical aspect of our relationship?

  “What’s on your mind, Tam?”

  “How important is this stuff to you?”

  “What do you mean? How important is sex?”

  Yes and no. I know sex is an important part of a relationship, and I hope that someday I’ll finally be able to have it. But Miles is no ordinary guy. He just pulled a restraint system out from under his bed. He likes kink, although we’ve never talked specifics. Maybe we need to.

  “How important is this kind of stuff?” I ask, grabbing the restraint closest to me.

  He sits back on his heels. “I like control in the bedroom. I know that’s not something you’re entirely comfortable with right now. I’m going to do everything in my power to help you get comfortable with me so you’ll be okay giving me that kind of control. Apart from that? It’s not a big deal.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors.”

  He laughs and shrugs. “I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.”

  “Do you really go to sex clubs?”

  “I have in the past. Giving someone else control over your body during sex requires a lot of trust and communication. That takes time to develop usually. But in clubs, everyone goes there knowing the rules of engagement so it’s a little easier to have a one-night stand and get my needs met.”

  I nibble my lip. “So you don’t need a submissive?”

  “No, I don’t.” He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth. “I like you as you are, Tamsin. I don’t mind putting in the work for you to trust me and feel comfortable. This isn’t a one night only thing for me. While I’d like for us to be able to experiment down the road with different things, I don’t need you to be anything but what you are.”

  I voice my true fear. “What if it doesn’t work?”

  He shrugs like he’s not concerned. “Then we have dinner and watch the movie I picked out like I originally planned.”

  “And you’d be okay with that?”

  His gaze softens and he reaches out, his thumb brushing along my jaw in that way which always sends a flurry of butterflies to my belly.

  “I’d be more than okay with that. I just want to spend time with you, Tamsin. No matter how we spend that time.”

  Fuck, why is this man so perfect?

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  He hesitates. “Are you sure? Because we really don’t have to. It was just an idea.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He stands up and claps his hands, getting right down to business. “Okay, how do you want me?”

  Frowning, I ask, “What do you mean? I thought we just decided you’d be on your back with the straps?”

  He does that smile he does when I’ve said or done something he finds endearing. “Do you want me naked now, or do you want to see how much you’re comfortable with while I’m clothed?”

  My jaw drops and my gaze goes with it, shooting straight to where I can see the giant bulge in his pants. When I look back up at him, his eyes are alight with amusement while his hands rest casually on his hips.

  “What’ll it be, Baby Girl?”

  “Um…maybe we just start with your shirt off and your hands restrained?”

  He leans down until his hands rest on the bed and his eyes are level with mine. “You control this tonight. Anything you want, however you want, even if that means wanting to stop. Don’t be afraid of how I might feel. Trust me when I tell you I’m happy to just be here with you, whether that’s fully clothed sitting on my couch watching TV, or naked as the day we were born while you ride me like your life depends on it.”

  My cheeks flush with desire, the image he painted burning a clear picture in my brain and setting my body on fire. He smiles and drops a quick gentle kiss to my lips before he stands back up and pulls his T-shirt off. I watch it ride up his abs as if in slow motion—one inch of exposed skin at a time. He may not have a six pack like some guys I’ve known, or like the Hollywood types I see all the time in magazines, but he’s sexy as hell with his toned arms from hours playing drums.

  “Trade places with me,” he says, gesturing for me to scoot off the bed. I quickly oblige, discreetly rubbing a hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t drool while staring at his body.

  He lies back in the bed and places his hands out in an angled T position. “Alright, strap me down.”

  There’s a hint of nerves in his voice. “Have you ever done this before?” I ask.

  “Used restraints?”

  “Yeah.” I mean, obviously he has since he has a kit attached to his bed, but I don’t know why he’d be nervous unless he’s never used them.

  “Quite a few times. I’ve just never been the one restrained.”

  “Ever?” I ask, surprised.

  He turns his head toward me. “I like control, but I’ll give it up for you.”

  Forget my body, I think my heart just combusted over his declaration. I’m going to fall so hard for his man, I can already tell.

  He nods at the straps, and I quickly put the restraint on one wrist and then another. I’m thankful it’s a Velcro system so I don’t have to fumble with a bunch of buckles. When I’m done, I stand at the edge of the bed, staring at this incredibly sexy man as he’s laid out in all his perfect glory, completely at my mercy.

  I could do anything and he wouldn’t be able to stop me. It’s a powerful feeling, but also a lot of pressure. I know what he said, but I want this to be good for him too. He doesn’t speak as I let my gaze roam over his body. When my gaze makes its way to his eyes, I’m not at all surprised by the heat there. His erection already gave him away.

  “What are you going to do to me?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  I don’t answer him right away. Instead, I step back, making sure he can see my body clearly, and then I slide my zipper down my back until my dress is completely undone and hangs loosely from my shoulders. I wiggle one shoulder and then another—only slightly—and watch him watch me as the dress glides down my body onto his hardwood floors. His breath catches and his eyes look almost black as he skims me from head to toe.

  “Fuck, Tamsin.”

  I’m thankful I planned to seduce him tonight and wore matching black satin panties and bra. Any other color and I’m sure he’d be able to see the full extent of how turned on I am—there’d be no denying the damp spot at the apex of my thighs.

  As gracefully as I can, I climb on the bed, my gaze now locked on his. His deep, burning eyes give me confidence as I straddle him and place myself directly on top of his erection. The pressure of it between my legs instantly reignites the fire I’d felt earlier before he placed me on the bed.

  God, it feels so good. So much better than I ever imagined—and there’s still a barrier of clothes between us. How good will it feel completely naked?

  My hands slide up and down his pecs, feeling the muscles tense underneath his smooth skin when I give in and grind against him. His head falls back against the pillow and he lets out the sexiest groan, but he doesn’t roll his hips or move in any other way apart from squeezing his hands into fists.

  I continue grinding, and the pressure between my thighs builds. I let out a breathy sigh and continue rolling my hips, seeking that elusive release I’ve been aching for.

  But it doesn’t come.

  Frustration builds, and I must make a noise or something that clues Miles in because he instantly calls my name, pulling me out of my head.

  “Hey, what’s going on? We can stop.”

  My hips stop moving and my whole body sags on top of Miles until we’re chest to chest, my face buried in his neck in a weak attempt to hide the tears developing at the corner of my eyes. His arms flinch when he attempts to move them, but the restraints only let him move an inch or so. Letting out a frustrated groan, he leans his head against mine. His voice is low and soothing when he speaks. “Hey hey. It’s okay. We’ll stop for the night.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be able to do this.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Tamsin. Not a damn thing.”

  I sit up, no longer caring if he sees my now red-rimmed, wet eyes. “How can you say that? I can’t even orgasm! How normal is that?”

  “First of all, normal is subjective, so there’s no point worrying about trying to be anything but who you are. Second, you’d be surprised how many people—men and women—struggle to orgasm. It might not be talked about often, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. That doesn’t make you broken or damaged or any other awful thing I can see you thinking. You’re perfect, Tam. Fucking perfect,” he says almost reverentially.

  I stare at him, my mouth agape and my mind spinning. How can this man see me this way? Or maybe more importantly, how did I get so lucky to find someone who does? Someone who sees me as beautiful and perfect in the midst of me feeling completely inadequate.

  “Tell you what. Unstrap me from these things and we can save them for next time.”

  “Next time?” I ask, still unbelieving that this incredibly patient and understanding man is interested in me when he could have someone who’s a lot less work.

  He nods. “For tonight, let’s get dressed, eat some food, and snuggle on the couch. How’s that sound?”

  “Like heaven,” I say. Before moving off him, I cup his face with my hands and give him a tender kiss, hoping he can feel all my gratitude in that one action.

  Later, when we’re curled up together on his couch, I decide it’s finally time to take Rikki’s suggestion and start seeing my therapist again. I don’t want to mess things up with Miles, and I’ve never really dealt with the trauma of that night. When I first started seeing my therapist years ago, I kept a lot of that night to myself. She’s tried to pull it out of me over the years, but I didn’t want to face it, so I started going to her less and less.

  But if he’s willing to believe in me, then I need to believe in myself, and the first step is getting help.

  20

  Tamsin talks animatedly in the seat beside me as I drive to the Hollywood Bowl. I catch glimpses of her face when I briefly glance over at her, loving how relaxed she is with me now. I was worried after the other night that she might shut down because she felt embarrassed or damaged or whatever other lies she tells herself, but she surprised me. Well, surprised isn’t the right word. I know Tamsin is stronger than she gives herself credit for—she just lets her head get in the way.

  I rub my thumb back and forth where it rests on her thigh, relishing being able to touch her this freely.

  “So how do you know Wrecked by Reason?”

  “They opened for us on our first major tour and we became good friends with them. When I asked Chase for tickets, he didn’t hesitate. It’s been a few months since we last saw each other, so it’ll be good to catch up.” I steal a glance at her. “You know, most women would be wildly impressed right about now.”

  She rolls her head on the seat rest, facing me, and offers a smile. “You forget I grew up in the music world. Very little impresses me when it comes to musicians—they’re just regular people like everyone else.”

  “Hmm…so who would you be impressed by?”

  She taps her finger on her lips like she’s really having to think hard about this. “I don’t know. The president maybe? Or someone who’s won the Nobel Peace Prize. I don’t know. People are people and I like to believe that everyone is special and impressive in their own small way. Take the mom who always hugs her son before he goes to school. That might not seem that impressive to most people, but to her little boy it’s the gesture that gets him through the day. Believe me, he’d notice if she stopped doing it. Why shouldn’t she be just as impressive as someone who performs in front of thousands of people a night, or someone who fights for climate change? Maybe that simple action makes that little boy be kind to the quiet kid in class and that kindness makes that kid feel seen, which means maybe he doesn’t follow through on the thoughts of killing himself that have been plaguing him, and ten or fifteen years down the road he saves someone life. There’s a domino effect for every action we take, so why should I be more impressed with people who are more in my face about their successes and actions than the ones who are quiet about it and just living their life?”

  I process her words for a minute before I respond. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  “I think I’ve probably thought about it too much,” she says with a deprecating laugh. “But I just think everyone deserves to be celebrated. Life is hard. We’re all getting by the best we can and should be treated like rock stars no matter who we are or what we get accomplished—or don’t—on a daily basis.”

  “You have a valid point.”

  “Do you really think so, or are you just saying that?”

  I glance over and give her a genuine smile. “I mean that. I promise I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”

  “Does it ever bother you that people put you on this pedestal for being famous?”

  “Not really, but then again I don’t have to deal with it as much as Trent does. Only die-hard fans really notice me when I’m out and about, but otherwise I get to live my life pretty much like normal. But I won’t lie, I like the attention when we perform. I love hearing the roar of the audience when I have my solos and knowing that all my years of dedication and hard work have led to this moment—to fans losing their ever-loving minds while I get to play my drums. It makes all the sacrifices I made to get here worth it.”

  “And it’s well-deserved. You guys are great. I’m not trying to diminish what you’ve accomplished. I just wish more people also appreciated the small, everyday acts that keep the world moving.”

  I nod my head, agreeing with her one hundred percent, and give her a quick squeeze on her thigh as I pull into the parking area reserved for VIPs. Once we’re parked, we make our way backstage where I immediately see Chase, Jonah, and Sloan. Chase has his drumsticks in hand like always, while Jonah, their guitarist, eats a hot dog—I don’t know how that man doesn’t weigh six hundred pounds when he’s constantly eating—and Sloan sips what’s likely tea.

  “Hey Chase!”

 

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