She changed the massage to soothe him, her fingers not digging so deep but moving over the tree and branches with reverence. She worked the skin over the crows with a gentle touch. The skulls rolling through the roots were given a much harsher treatment. So many of them. Some old, some newer. She didn’t want to continue their game.
“How many men have you let screw you?”
The breath rushed out of her in an angry gush. “Oh my God. Are you kidding me? You can’t ask a question like that. What if I asked you that question?”
“I’d have to answer honestly, that’s the rule we set up. I’m not a coward. You ask, I tell. You want out of the game, you have to acknowledge you’re afraid.”
“You’re being such a jerk.”
“Babe, you knew the first fuckin’ time you saw me that I was a jerk. Are you going to answer, or are you going to renege?”
She wasn’t a quitter, and her answer would only seal the deal between them. She couldn’t ever fall for this man. Not ever. He would eat her alive.
“None.” She said it fast and kept working on his back, but she could feel the color sweeping up her skin.
“Fuck. Are you lying to me?” He half turned over to try to get a glimpse of her face.
She pushed him back down on the mattress, not wanting him to look at her. “What possible reason would I have to lie? It’s my turn. How many women have you had?”
“Too many to count. Hundreds. Could be more. Probably in the thousands.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. She always, always had to remember that answer. This man was not for her, and he never would be. He was so far out of her league. She’d be better off with perverted Joseph the parasite than him.
“Okay, then.”
She had worked her way down to the band of his jeans. “Are you feeling better?” She moved off of him to her side of the bed.
“Why haven’t you been with a man?” Savage rolled over and once more reached out to the leg that was pitted and scarred, running his hand from her calf to the top of her thigh, rubbing gently as if he could remove the marks.
“My parents were both ill. My father had a heart condition and my mother had cancer. I was around eight or nine when my father’s condition was discovered. I took care of both of them. They homeschooled me. They were wonderful, and my childhood was happy. I never felt deprived. I started working outside the home when I was a teenager to help bring in money, but I always went home as soon as I could. That didn’t leave me a lot of time to find someone.”
She wasn’t going to tell him about the many dates she’d been on. The kisses that left her feeling ice-cold. Empty. She felt safer sitting up, keeping her back to the headboard. “Have you ever been married or had a child?”
“Technically, that’s two questions, but I’ll answer because you’re being so honest. Never been married and never had a kid. You ever fantasize about bondage?”
“Bondage?” she echoed faintly. Her heart began pounding in her throat. Could he read her mind? What did he know about her? “Why are all your questions sexual?”
“You can’t ask me that until you answer my question.” There was amusement in his voice.
“Yes, but it scares me. It would definitely have to be with a partner I trusted.”
“Doesn’t the fear heighten the sexual intensity?”
“I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never tried it, and won’t with someone I don’t trust. Maybe I’ll never try it. How many women have you played this game with?” She wasn’t going to let him win. Damn him, anyway. She would answer every question as honestly as she could, and she wouldn’t be embarrassed if she ever saw him again.
“None. You’re the first and the only, and there won’t be another.”
“Why?”
He turned his head to look up at her, his fingers around her leg. “Because you’re the first woman I’ve ever met who is so fuckin’ honest you turn me inside out, and I want to know everything about you.”
That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Looking into his blue eyes, she felt her heart stutter. His eyes were like blue flames. Intense. Burning through her. It was difficult not to see the honesty there or hear it in his voice. It was a compliment. A genuine one, and coming from him, when he clearly didn’t give them out easily, it meant too much to her.
“My turn.”
He grinned at her and she knew she was in trouble. “Are you certain you don’t want to just go to sleep?”
“No. I want to keep you talking. But you could go back to rubbing my head.”