Deep in the Woods (4 page)

He came at her then, too quickly. She flinched and felt ridiculous. The awkward silence made her want to run.

“I was just playing,” he said in apology. “I wouldn’t have hit you.”

She set her teeth and stalked on, feeling very near to crying. She concentrated on the clop-clop of her wedge heels on the pavement to drive the sudden emotion away. “Let’s just walk,” she muttered. “Isn’t that what you wanted, to walk?”

“Okay, sure. Let’s walk. Look, I’m sorry I’m such a dork. I just find you really interesting. And really beautiful. I mean, I’m a photographer,” he said, gesturing to his camera bag. “I notice these things.”

“You find me interesting? You mean I’m weird, right?”

“I never said you were weird. Are you weird? I’m a little weird,” he added with a crooked smile. “I did meet you for the first time at a BDSM munch. So how weird are you?”

“I don’t tell that to just anyone. Only people I’m trying to scare away.”

He laughed, and she was amazed to realize she’d just made a joke. Wow, and his laughter. Low and masculine, but light and playful at the same time. His eyes were so warm and relaxed. He made her want to let her guard down and play along, but as soon as she felt that, she wanted to run away. Why did she want to run? God, everyone was right, she was a psycho. She wanted him to hug her. She wanted him to hold her. He was so strong, so vital. So confident and assured. Why was she so attracted to him? Because he was dominant and she was submissive? Or because she was lonely and sad, and he seemed so kind?

“Please—” She clamped her lips shut.
No. No.

“Please what?”

“Please…will you?” She stopped and reached out to him, feeling foolish and vulnerable. He didn’t hesitate. He took her in his arms and clasped her against his chest. He didn’t grope her or try to kiss her. He seemed to understand that wasn’t what she needed. She needed to be held. She needed to feel the warmth of another human being who didn’t mean her harm. She needed strong arms around her that were soothing her, not holding her down.

Oh, no. No.
Tears flooded her eyes before she could stop them. No, she didn’t want to start crying. She couldn’t. He would know. He would know she was every bit as messed up as he probably suspected. Shit.
Shit.
Stupid tears. She tried to wipe them away before he noticed them. Her entire body tensed and more tears flowed, more than she could hide, more than she could control. Her face grew hot with embarrassment. “I… I… I…” she stammered, trying to explain it all. But she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t do anything.

And Dave said nothing, asked no prying questions. He didn’t ask “What?” or “Why?” or make her explain. He just pulled her closer and held her. He was so solid. He smelled clean, like soap tinged with cigarette smoke from the Studio. He held her even after she soaked his shirt and turned the heather gray material dark and wet.

“Please, please don’t let go of me,” she whispered to the thump of his heartbeat in her ear.

He threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer still. “I’ll hold you as long as you need me to. All night, if you like.”

All night.
All night.

* * * * *

She knew it was a bad idea to go to his house. Of course it was. She had only met him for the first time earlier that afternoon, and then they’d only spoken briefly. But when he’d walked her to her car and asked if she wanted to follow him to his house so she didn’t have to be alone, she’d agreed. Ridiculous. Even now, driving there, she fought the urge to peel off and retreat to her safe, lonely place.

But there was something about him she couldn’t resist.

He looked at her and something in his eyes both terrified and drew her closer. Not terrified her in the way that Barry’s eyes had terrified her. No. Terrified her in the way that he seemed to understand how badly she was hurting, even though they’d barely talked. He seemed to know the secrets she tried so hard to hide.

But of course that was ridiculous. How could he know? Her secrets were her own. Any secrets that troubled her, any secrets that hurt and made her feel as if she might die from exposure and pain, all those secrets could be buried away—by choice. The choice was Sophie’s, Dr. Perez said, and Sophie had made her choice. She had buried the secrets away. She didn’t want them anymore, and she most certainly didn’t want anyone else to know them in all their horrible ugliness. She had begun to feel better now that they were buried. Still sad, still isolated, but better.

Isolation was safe, if lonely. Doing what she was doing now…it didn’t feel safe at all.

But she didn’t turn around. She followed his car down city block after city block, until they left the industrialized part of the city and entered a sleepy residential section. The homes were small and close together, but she was quite sure they cost more than she could ever afford. They passed a small neighborhood park, a community garden, and then turned into a narrow lane. He stopped and put his car in park. She stopped behind him and did the same, taking deep gulps of air. It was after midnight and there was no moon, so that when she cut her headlights the night turned black, lit only by a faint streetlight down the road.

He came to her window. “Did you call someone?”

“Call someone?”

“Tell them where you are? Who you’re with?”

“N…no. No, I didn’t. I don’t really have anyone to call. Except my parents. I don’t really want to call either one of them right this second and tell them I’m at the house of some guy I just met.”

He laughed. “Well…maybe not the best idea. But you should call someone. I could be a maniac, you know.”

Sophie looked up at him. Her heart was doing flip-flops. He
was
a stranger, and he could be a maniac. But then she shook her head. “I know maniacs. I don’t think you are one. And if you are, you won’t be the first maniac I’ve tangled with.” She opened the car door, got out, and slammed it behind her.

“I’m not a maniac. And your friend Tara saw me go after you when you left the dungeon. So I suppose we’ll call you safe enough this time.”

He wanted her to be safe. It was a novel experience. Had Barry twisted her view of men so much? Of course Dave wanted her to be safe. Most men didn’t mean women harm.
Safe, safe, safe
, her mind repeated.
Relax. You’re safe.
He held out his hand and she took it. It was warm and rough. He led her up the walk to the covered porch of his small bungalow.

“I suppose I should have asked you this sooner, but how do you feel about dogs? Large, smelly, affectionate ones?”

Sophie could hear deep barking from inside the house. “How large?”

“Massive. But he’s a good dog.” He started to laugh as the scrabbling of claws on the door intensified. “He’s mostly a good dog. Here, let me go first.”

Sophie watched as he turned the key and inched in, pushing back what appeared to be a black bear.

“Down, Cerby. Come on, I’ve got a visitor. Don’t embarrass me.”

She grinned listening to him cajole his dog. Cerby—
Cerby?
—was barking and straining to get to her. She held out a hand gingerly. The huge black dog sniffed it and then licked it with a warm tongue full of drool.

“He likes to give kisses.” Dave sighed. “I’m so sorry. I’ll hold him. Come in please. He’ll settle down in a minute. He really is somewhat trained when he’s not excited.”

Sophie wasn’t that comfortable around dogs, especially dogs of this size, but she trusted Dave and so she decided to trust his dog. She smiled at the huge black beast and he stared back with big, dark eyes.

“His name is…Cerby?”

“Yeah. Short for Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog of—”

“Of the Underworld. Yes.” She laughed. “He looks like he could be quite the watchdog.”

“Aw, he’s a big pushover.” He finally released his dog’s collar with a strict warning. “Be good.”

Dave went ahead of her and Cerby followed. He put his camera bag on the table and switched on the lights to reveal a lovely floor plan of brightly painted rooms and colorful furnishings. The kitchen and dining room were one large space painted bright red. The walls and countertops were covered in tastefully arranged pottery and artwork of every color and type, from staid toile etchings to riotous South American pottery to flowery Nordic prints. She stared at the explosion of color as he crossed to turn on the lights in the adjoining living room. The walls there were a light green and deep blue. Instead of pottery and glassware, the walls were decorated with photos and hand-drawn artwork. Sophie stood and took it all in as Cerberus again began to lick her hand. She patted his head, noting that his height was nearly to her waist level. Dave turned to her and smiled.

“He likes you.”

“He likes everyone, doesn’t he?”

“No, not really. I mean, look at his stance. He wants to protect you.”

Protect me from what?
Dave walked past her to the kitchen.

“Should I put on some coffee? Would you like a drink? Water? Beer? How about a glass of wine?”

“Sure. Whatever you like.”

“Go on into the living room. Sit down.”

Sophie was already moving before the tone he’d used registered with her. She lifted her gaze to him. He looked back, aware, but not apologetic.

“If you want to. Don’t let me boss you around.”

She sat on the edge of the couch and pressed her legs together. Dave’s dog came to sit in front of her. When she reached out to pet him, he buried his massive head in her lap and sighed. She stifled a giggle and caressed his black fur. For a big, scary dog, he was quite personable.

“Cerby, come on. Give her some space, Casanova.”

Dave came in with two glasses of wine and nudged the dog with his knees before settling down next to her on the couch. He handed her a glass.

“To new friends.”

“To new friends.” And possibly more. She glanced down at his leg, so long and muscular beside hers. She took a small sip of wine and peeked over to find him looking at the same thing. She choked slightly and wrapped her fingers around the wineglass so she didn’t drop it. What did he expect of her? What did she expect of him? She wanted to put her hand on his thigh just to see what it felt like.

“What are you thinking?” he asked in the silence.

“I want to put my hand on your—” She shook her head, horrified at herself. “I mean…your leg. I mean… I was just… I haven’t… I haven’t been this close to a guy in…” She laughed. “Okay, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s just that my last relationship…it ended very badly. So I’ve been a little…”

“Gun-shy?”

Sophie nodded, mesmerized by the understanding in his eyes.

“Well, I’m flattered that you chose to trust me. When I saw you at the munch, I have to admit I was interested.”

“Were you? Even when everyone was glaring at me?”

“Especially then.”

She laughed, but he sobered and turned to her.

“You know what, Sophie?”

“What?”

“I want to touch you too. But I’m not sure I should.”

Sophie’s breath left her.
Ouch.
She swallowed hard and downed a gulp of wine.

He took her wineglass away and put it on the table, then moved closer to her. He traced her jaw with a light fingertip. “I just want to proceed carefully here. I mean, it’s clear you’re not in a completely comfortable place when it comes to this thing we do—”

“No, I am. That meltdown at the dungeon, that was just because…because I hadn’t been there in a while…and something about the way she was screaming…”

“You don’t know anything about me. Maybe I like to make women scream like that too.”

Sophie stared at him. “Do you?” It was true. He could be a hard-core sadist. Evil personified, wrapped up in a smiling package. Again, she was leaping into a risky relationship without looking first. “Well, I do like… I like…”

“You like to be hurt. I figured that. But I won’t hurt you like your last guy did. I can’t. If that’s what you’re looking for—”

“No.” Sophie shook her head. The big black dog raised his head from under the coffee table at the stridency in her voice. “No, I don’t want that again. It wasn’t healthy.”

“No, it wasn’t. And I’m not into unhealthy relationships.”

Sophie wrung her hands together in her lap, humiliated. “You’re assuming that I’m a nutcase. I don’t blame you—”

He placed a fingertip against her lips. “I’m not assuming anything. I am telling you that if I kiss you…if I touch you tonight the way I want to…”

The way he was staring at her made it impossible to concentrate on his words. Her eyes dropped to his lips, full and sensual. His bottom lip was perfection, something to lick and nibble. Before she could stop herself, she drew her tongue across her own lips. His hand cupped her chin and his gaze forced her to focus. “Listen to me. If I kiss you… Sophie…” He leaned forward and she parted her lips with a sigh.

The moment his lips touched hers, she felt relief. She felt a peace that had eluded her for months, perhaps years. He held her face in his hands as his mouth possessed hers. The kiss quickly intensified and his tongue pushed into her mouth. He moved closer. His hands grasped her shoulders, then ran down her arms to pull her against his chest. The entire time, his lips never left hers. He tasted her eagerly, and his kiss was demanding. She felt possessed, challenged. He could master her and she knew it. He was letting her know he could master her if that was her desire.