“But you’re fully recovered now. You could go upstairs on your own.”
She could. Of course, she could, but . . .
“You’re worried they don’t want to sleep with you? Have they given you any indication they feel that way?”
“It used to be that they couldn’t stop touching me.” Making love to her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that attention until it was gone. “They tell me they love me.” Once she’d pointed out that she hadn’t heard them say it in a while. “They give me small kisses and gentle hugs. But . . .”
“It’s not the same.”
“No. They’re worried about scaring me. But Max and Logan would never hurt me. I’m not saying I might not react strangely sometimes. I might have flashbacks. But I miss them touching me. I miss sex, damn it.”
Molly smiled. “Sounds like you’re frustrated all right.”
“Yep.”
“You could take charge. March on up to your bedroom and stake your claim. Initiate sex.”
“Yes, I know.” She dropped her gaze to her lap.
“But?”
“It’s silly.”
“No, it’s not. It’s how you feel. That’s never silly.”
Spoken like a true therapist. “They’ve always sort of taken charge, you know? I’m used to them—” she broke off, blushing. No need to get into your sex life with the therapist, Savannah.
“They’re dominant in the bedroom?”
“Not just there,” she muttered.
“You practice BDSM?” Molly asked matter-of-factly. As though she were asking Savannah whether she took milk in her coffee.
Savannah could feel the flush creep up her face. Holy shit, how had they gotten onto this?
“No,” she squeaked then cleared her throat. “We don’t . . . they’re not . . . hell’s bells. They’re not my Doms. We don’t go to clubs, we don’t have a room filled with floggers and paddles. I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
Molly laughed. “Don’t worry. I have all sorts of clients with all sorts of kinks, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Well, Savannah guessed she should have known it wouldn’t phase Molly. She hadn’t blinked when Savannah said she had two husbands. Although she’d figured Laken had given her a head’s up.
“Do you know anything about Haven?”
Molly shook her head.
“Um, well, around here men are slightly more dominant than you’ll find in other places. They tend to be overly protective—of all the women. When I was new in town, a man approached me asking for directions. I decided it was easier just to take him over to the development he wanted to see. As we were heading off, the sheriff intercepted us and asked what was going on. Then he gave the man directions, pulled me into his office and proceeded to lecture me for ten minutes on the dangers of speaking to strangers like I was a child. He then told me if he couldn’t rely on me to keep myself safe he’d assign guardians who’d see that I followed the rules, and if I didn’t . . .” she drifted off.
“If you didn’t?” Molly asked, looking intrigued.
“They’d spank my butt. It’s not abuse,” she said quickly.
“Oh, no, I get it.”
“You do?”
“You’d be amazed by the number of people I counsel who find that a good spanking is an excellent form of stress release.”
Really? But, then, Savannah guessed she was right. Sometimes a spanking served to release all the tension and tears she had bottled up, allowing her a way to let go and get it all out. She’d just never really thought of it that way before, but maybe that’s part of the reason she sometimes deliberately pushed her men.