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I let my head fall, giving him access to my skin. He could have my body. He could have my pleasure. He could have my desire.

But I couldn’t give him my trust. Not yet. Not only because of the lingering questions about Amber but also because I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t asking just to satisfy some selfish need to be important. Wanting my love when he hadn’t given me his. While reciprocity wasn’t a requirement of the emotion, I already felt unequal in my relationship to him. This was the only card I had left.

Reeve moved to nip at the shell of my ear. “What do I have to do to earn it from you?”

Steeling myself, I answered him. “Tell me what came between you and the woman you loved.”

He stilled.

After a few seconds, he stroked his hands down and back up over the curve of my hips. “What does it matter, Emily? That’s another relationship. It isn’t relative to you.”

My hands balled into fists against the wood of the dresser. “It matters because it’s a piece of you. Trust isn’t just about sex, you know. It’s about opening up. You want my trust and you won’t give me yours? It doesn’t work that way.”

He dropped his hands and I saw his expression tighten in our reflection.

His withdrawal stung. “Hey, you asked,” I snipped.

He backed away. Turned away completely. “I told you before, I don’t want you to know the worst of me.”

I spun around, keeping my hands behind me, still needing to lean on the furniture for strength. “But it’s okay that you know the worst of me?”

He perched on the edge of the bed, still strong, but with just the barest hint of defeat. “Your story was the worst people had done to you. Not the worst you’d done.”

Yet it had still had an impact on him. Still created a trench between us. “And why do you think that’s different? Because you think I might run? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been good at running. Even when I should be.”

I took a shaky breath in as I realized what I’d said. Realized I meant it. No matter what I found out about Amber, I wouldn’t run.

As if to prove it, I went to him.

He opened his arms to me as I stepped between his legs. “Maybe I’m afraid that you should run from me.”

“If I should, would you let me?” God, I was pathetic. I was begging for a sign of his affection as blatantly as he was begging for mine.

“I said I wasn’t going to keep anyone again.” He placed a kiss at my cleavage. “But honestly, Emily” – he lifted his eyes toward mine – “I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself if you really tried.”

I cupped his face with my hands. “I’m not going to run, Reeve. And I hope that doesn’t get me hurt in the end. So my trust isn’t really even a big deal, is it? It’s still win/win for you.” Maybe it was manipulative, because I still wanted him to confess his secret. Because I really did want to trust him.

I really did want to love him.

He really wanted me to love him too. He confirmed it again when he pulled my hands from his face, kissed each of the palms, and said, “It is a big deal. To me.”

His expression, his posture, his tone – something told me he wasn’t trying to bully me into giving him what he wanted anymore. That he was ready to earn it.

Tentatively, I tested him. “How did sex come between you, Reeve?”

“It wasn’t sex. Exactly.” His jaw ticked.

I barely dared breathe let alone speak, but I asked anyway, “Then what was it exactly?”

“Well.” He ran his thumbs over the backs of my hands. “The thing that bothered her in that area was actually a part of my personality, not just limited to the bedroom. She thought I was, uh, controlling.”

I scoffed. “You are controlling.”

“But you like it.”

“Sometimes.”

He flinched, so I squeezed his hands reassuringly. “A lot of the time, Reeve. The times I don’t aren’t a problem for us because I like pleasing you. But, was that not the same with her?” It would fit the Amber that I’d remembered. The Amber who liked men to please her more than the other way around.