Page 60 of Compulsion

Although, there is still the irksome issue of the man who hurt her in the past. The one who made her thorny about financial control and skittish when I kissed her the first time. Someone has abused her, and I won’t be satisfied until I make him suffer. His actions made it more difficult for me to win Abigail’s trust. He’ll pay for that.

“Tell me about your relationship history,” I say. “How is it possible that such a stunning woman was single and waiting for me to come along?”

The question is meant to soften my intense inquiry, but she edges away from me slightly. I’m not sure if it’s my compliment that’s making her uncomfortable or the prospect of talking about her painful past, but I won’t relent until I have answers. I want the name of her abuser.

“You don’t want to hear about my past boyfriends,” she says with a dismissive wave.

“I’ll be the judge of what I want to hear,” I admonish. “Tell me.”

Her brows lift. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.” I don’t bother to hide the warning, cold edge to my tone.

She considers me for a moment, then shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve only had one boyfriend, and it wasn’t that serious. We dated for about six months during my freshman year at College of Charleston, but he transferred to a different school for sophomore year. The relationship was never significant enough to warrant trying long distance.”

“Is he the one who hurt you?” I ask, my voice dropping even colder.

She blinks, as though caught off guard by my question. “No. He was a nice guy. We just didn’t have much chemistry.”

Some of the violent tension eases from my muscles. “So, he’s the one who couldn’t satisfy you.”

I’m still annoyed that the fumbling fool is the one who made her think that her body isn’t capable of experiencing pleasure. She was painfully tense when I was gentle with her that first time. He probably reinforced that stiffness with his inept attempts at seduction. I wonder how many times she forced herself to endure the pain to soothe the boy’s ego, the way she’d tried to do with me when she faked her orgasm.

He might not be the one who hurt her, but he should suffer for that sin against her.

“What’s his name?” I demand.

“Devin.” Her brows are drawn together in a small, concerned frown. “What are you going to do, fly to Seattle and beat him up for being too nice?”

I force my body to relax with considerable effort. She can see me so clearly. I don’t want her to read the extent of my vicious intentions in my eyes. I’ll take care of her, but she doesn’t need to know my violent plans for the men in her past.

“How do you know he’s in Seattle?” My tone is light, as though it’s an offhand question. “Are you still in touch?”

She huffs an exasperated breath. “No. That’s where he transferred for college. I don’t know if he’s still living there. Can we please change the subject? I’d rather spend time getting to know you than talking about my ex.”

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship,” I offer in order to placate her.

I’ll have to return to this line of questioning later, when I’ve managed to get my new, surging emotions under control. I won’t risk scaring her off if I reveal the extent of my violent nature. Shecraves my erotic cruelty, but I suspect she’d be upset if she saw it directed at others.

“I’d rather not hear about your womanizing,” she says frostily.

Fuck.

Sometimes, I feel like a fumbling idiot when I’m around her. I never lose control of a conversation like this, but I’m saying all the wrong things.

I’d meant to reassure her that I’ve only engaged in casual flings to sate my needs. I’m skilled at BDSM because it’s provided an outlet for my darker urges, even if I’ve never been fully satisfied. I’ve kept my mask firmly on, and the women I’ve been with never knew anything about my family or my past. I didn’t put myself at risk for them. I didn’t make myself vulnerable.

I can only be this way with Abigail.

“I’ve never wanted to be with anyone before I met you,” I say earnestly. “That’s all you need to know. You make me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.”

That seems to be the right thing to say, because she softens, and her frown eases.

“Sorry, I’m being insecure.” Incredibly, she’s the one offering an apology.

That throbbing beat starts up in my chest again. I can hardly believe I’ve captured this sweet woman. She possesses her own inner darkness, but she’s nothing like me. She doesn’t have a cruel bone in her body.

Distant thunder rumbles, breaking the intense moment. I blink and tear my gaze from her x-ray eyes. Dark clouds are rolling at the horizon, the storm drawing closer to the beach.

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