“My father was abusive.”

The words, spoken in the quiet stillness of an early morning, caught me off-guard.

Lukas and I had lain awake together for nearly twenty minutes without speaking, facing each other, just enjoying the silence and warmth of the other.

So when he spoke, and the words were what they were, it came as something of a shock.

I steeled my jaw against trembling, refusing to let myself tear up the way I wanted to. I also had to fight against the anger that burned inside.

“He used to beat me…whenever. If I didn’t do good in school, or if he thought I was being a show-off, bringing home good grades. If it rained and I had to stay inside, or if it was sunny and I asked to go outside. It got to where I didn’t ask for anything – I just got by. If I was hungry, I stole whatever food I could find because if I asked, he’d belt me. If my clothes were getting too small, I’d steal them, too, or find them at shelters, whatever it took.”

“Lukas–”

“He was a mean bastard. He liked to hurt people, and I was an easy target, Stella.” His eyes flicked to mine. “And I’m his son.”

He paused then, and I tried to puzzle through whatever it was he was telling me.

I wasn’t having much luck.

He must have seen the confusion on my face because he stroked my hair back, then pulled me in and placed a kiss on my forehead. “I’m his son. Sometimes, anger burns inside me so bright, the need to strike out…I can’t explain it. But I worry that if I don’t do something to blunt that edge, I might strike out and start hurting people…like he hurt me. That was why you saw…”

It clicked then, and I understood what he was telling me.

He was explaining about the shed.

“Lukas, you can’t tell me you were in that shed because you felt some deep urge to hurt me,” I said, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“It wasn’t hurt on my mind,” he admitted gruffly. “But I don’t trust myself. Besides…” As I watched, his cheeks went a dull, ruddy red. He was embarrassed, I realized. I waited for him to pull back, to hide away from me again, but he continued and said, “All the things he would say to me…I still hear them. In here.” He tapped his temple. “I’ve been away from him for a long time, but I hear him all the same. It’s like he’s on repeat in my head sometimes and when I…”

As his words trailed off, understanding filled me.

“You’re punishing yourself. What he used to do, you’re taking over.”

“In a way.” I could tell he didn’t want to look at me now, but he did it anyway.

I hurt for him. I wanted to draw him into me and stroke away all those pains, all those fears. I also wanted to hunt down his father and beat him stupid, but that wasn’t going to help anything, was it? But maybe I could help with this.

“You’re not the only person who’s hurt himself for a reason like this,” I told him, brushing his hair back. “Others have done it – others do it all the time. What you have to do is figure out a healthier way to deal with this…edge you described.”

“Healthy.” He snorted and sat up. “There’s nothing healthy about the shit I’ve got going up here.” He tapped the side of his head again.

While I agreed he had some unhealthy ways of dealing with some rough shit, I suspected there was just as much broken in his soul as in his mind. But I wasn’t going to go there. Not right now, maybe not ever.

But…

Clearing my throat, I said, “Can I ask you something?”

His face took on that familiar shuttered expression, but he said softly, “I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“That’s fair.” I smiled at him. Then, taking a deep, shaky breath, I dove in head first. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I get the feeling when we’re…intimate, there are things you’re holding back from me. Am I right?”

The shuttered expression didn’t disappear, but I caught a flicker in his eyes. It might have been surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“Instinct?” I shrugged, smiling weakly. “I don’t know. I just…it’s hard to explain. I get more from what we have together than I’ve ever gotten from any man, but something tells me you’re not giving me everything. I don’t mean personal everything. It’s just…you’re holding back on me, aren’t you?”

“You won’t even call me sir, Stella. I’m not sure you’re ready for anything more intense than what we’re already doing.”

“I don’t call you sir because it puts me in the mind that I’m not your equal, and I am,” I said tartly. “I’ve lived most of my life with people making me feel like I’m less than them. Maybe they don’t even do it intentionally, but the reason we’re even involved is because I made the choice to cede control to you. That means I have some level of power in this relationship. Calling you sir when I’ve already ceded control is just…it’s not me.”

He latched onto one thing in all of that.

“Whoever it was that has made you feel less…they are wrong,” he said, cupping my cheek in his hand. “That is all there is to it.”

My heart threatened to flip. I held it in check through will alone.

“Smooth,” I said, keeping my voice light. “But I’m still not calling you sir.”

He laughed, the sound rusty. “Fair enough.”

“Will you tell me what you’re holding back?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“It’s not any one specific thing, Stella. There’s no formula for this. You say you don’t want to have sex in front of others and I’m too greedy to share, but if I tell you I wanted to strip the blouse from you in the middle of the dance floor and show the other men that I had something they wanted…what would you do? If I’d touched you…” He cupped one breast in his hand. His lids drooped as he found the nipple puckered and tight. “Would you be as aroused as I think you are now? Or would you pull away?”

“I don’t know,” I said, voice raspy. “But I’m willing to try it.”

“And when I tell you that I plan on fucking your ass and listening to you beg me to stop, then beg me not to…does that scare you or turn you on?” he demanded, his hand moving from my breast to tangle in my hair.

“Both.”

“It will hurt.” He caught my hip now, fingers spread wide to curve over my ass. “I already know that, and I don’t even care because that means I’ll be the first one to sink my cock into that hot little hole. What does that make you feel?”

“Hot.” The word was almost more of a squeak than anything else. Wiggling in closer, I pressed my lips to his chin. “Almost everything we do scares me a little. But that’s one of the things I love about it. It’s what’s been missing from my life, Lukas. Stop holding back.”