respect your right to privacy—”
“No. I want to tell you.” He tightened his grip. “The more I talk about it, the less shame I feel about it. Or that’s the theory, according to my therapist.”
I wanted to hold him, to pull him against me and keep him there. But I didn’t want to crowd him.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay so… I’m just going to say it quickly and you can react however you want to, and I won’t see it.”
I bit back a chuckle and put my hand on his, squeezing it affirmingly.
“I…was in and out of foster care for about ten years, but I ran away after my last foster father…” He turned his hand over to lace his fingers through mine, and he held on tightly like we were ascending the first arch of a rollercoaster together. “It was hard in the foster system at the best of times, you know? But I ran, and I was homeless…after my last foster father got handsy.”
Fury burned in my gut, the same brutal fire that came up whenever we had a nasty case at work, the kind to make me really question humanity. He needed space to tell his story, so I didn’t let on that I was ready to destroy anyone who dared to violate him.
I held onto Brax and he held onto me just as tightly.
“Obviously being homeless at fourteen sucked.” His chin twitched. “And I did…what I had to in order to survive.”
I caught his meaning. I held him tighter. I didn’t need him to lay it out for me, I knew what young men did to get by on the DC streets and it didn’t surprise me or shock me. But it seemed like he needed to say it out loud.
His chest rose as he took a deep breath, and then the words rushed out. “I was a hooker. I told Ian what I’d done. What I had to do. I slept with men for money, for food, for a floor to sleep on. I did things I didn’t want to do. I never told anyone until Ian…and he started to treat me like I was a piece of meat.”
Brax let go of my hand, dropped it like it was a hot weapon. I turned to face him, determined to show him with my gaze that I wasn’t reacting the way Ian had, it was safe to tell me these things. But his eyes were squeezed shut and tears trickled down his cheeks, like he was already mourning something between us he hadn’t actually lost.
“Braxton.” I spoke firmly.
His face softened.
“Look at me.”
His shoulders relaxed but there was fear in his eyes when he slowly met my gaze. A cowering. I could see the fourteen-year-old version of Brax in his face, a young man I’d do anything to protect. And just as clearly, I could see the twenty-four-year-old, who didn’t need me to. I adored them both.
“Sorry. You must be so turned off right now.” He gave a short, nervous laugh and then wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist.
“No.” I took his hand, missing his touch. “I’m…in awe.”
He let out a sharp laugh of surprise and looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Awe?”
“I think you’re the strongest person I know.”
He scoffed and shook his head at me. “Flattering but blatantly not true. You know my brothers. You know, uh, yourself. I just surround myself with strong men. It’s…a thing.”
“A submissive thing?” I cocked an eyebrow.
He shrugged like he wasn’t sure, but nodded like he was. I smiled at the ambivalence. As I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, he nudged my fingers with his cheek and a flash of hope came back into his eyes.
“Being submissive doesn’t make you weak, you know.” I smoothed my knuckles over his cheekbone.
“Must be something else about me, then… I keep getting into things with controlling Doms.”
He looked at me, still sad but there was a touch of hunger in his eyes too. Part of me wanted to feed him what he needed.
But I pulled back. “Brax. I don’t know about your past relationships but I can tell you for certain Ian wasn’t a Dom. He was a controlling asshole.”
He slumped his shoulders. “Hm. I think he was both.”
“What did you like about Ian to begin with? Before things went bad?” I touched his cheek again.
“Are you asking what I like in a Dom?” The edges of