His For More Than One Night Read online

  Then there’s the benefit that I have only to brush against him with the slightest invitation to have him inside me, not just in bed but out of it, in the most exciting places in the house. Then, like all good things, the easiness ends.

  For the first time I wake up on my own, without Trey beside me in bed. A little shock runs through me to see the clock by the bed read after nine in the morning. Did Trey leave for work without letting me know? I’m disappointed. Even if I don’t have to work today, it would have been nice to get a kiss goodbye.

  After a quick shower, I make my way downstairs and find him working at the large table in the room attached to the kitchen we usually eat at, even though there is a formal dining room it’s too big, as it seats sixteen.

  “I thought you had left for work already.”

  “And from your tone, you’ve been annoyed with me. No, sweetheart, come here for a moment.” Pulling me into his lap, he presses my head onto his shoulder. “I have taken the day off. Do you remember when I asked you if you would be willing to see a therapist and you said yes? I made the appointment for noon today.”

  Instantly, I go tense and try to pull away.

  “Kate, please. I’ll go with you, and if it gets too hard we’ll end it for the moment. Joy Engle is the best in Chicago. She’s treated people that have gone through what you have, and worse. She knows what she’s doing and won’t push you beyond your limits.

  Baby, it kills me knowing I’m going to push you to the edge, to a pain you want to only forget. Please, this isn’t just for me, it’s for us, it’s for you.”

  I’m still tense. I still want to pull away and tell him to go to hell. Then I see his hand on my hip, and it’s trembling ever so slightly. His words are true. This isn’t easy for him to ask. Sliding my hand over his, I squeeze and nod.

  “Thank you. I love you, Kate, and all I want is for you to be as happy and whole as you can be.” His voice sounds rusty, and I nod, understanding how hard it is to get the words out.

  It’s a few minutes before either of us speak, and his words are light and prosaic. “Brunch? What would you like, sweetheart?”

  I don’t even have to think. My arms go tight around him. “I’m not hungry for food right now. Please, take me back to bed.”

  For a long moment, he doesn’t say or do anything, then he picks me up and does as I ask.

  ***

  Standing in front of my clothes, I’m not stalling, I think. I’m just not sure what to wear. Trey comes in and watches me and then starts picking out things. They’re all jeans and comfy tops, yet for some reason I feel like I should wear something more formal, and tell him that.

  “Baby, you look good in everything. Formal is not a necessity in the slightest. You need to wear what you’re comfortable in.” With a kiss on my forehead, he tells me that I have fifteen minutes and he’ll be waiting downstairs.

  With a sigh, I grab the jeans and a light blue button-down blouse that’s a man’s style designed to be longer. I have tried stealing his shirts, but the moment he sees me in them he gets so turned on he either rips them off or takes them off very slowly.

  I don’t bother with makeup, and put my hair in a ponytail. It pisses me off to see fear in my eyes, and it makes my back straighter as I go downstairs.

  The drive isn’t far. The office is located in an attached brownstone in Old Town. At the entry, Trey announces his name and his appointment time, a buzzer goes off, and the door opens into a large room that looks like someone’s home, not an office. A woman behind a desk is the only thing that gives away the office aspect. She’s older, with steel grey hair, and has a plump, grandmotherly look to her.

  “Mr. Ramsey, I’ll let her knew know you have arrived.”

  My hand goes into his, and I squeeze. He responds gently and guides me over to the large brown sofa. “Remember, if you it gets to be too much, you can stop it anytime. We will be coming back, but for the moment if you can’t bear it, then you won’t have to.”

  Nodding, I lean into him. A door opens, and the woman calls Trey’s name. I think she surprises us both when I stand. “Both of you, please.”

  Trey is up immediately, and his arm is around me as we walk toward the open door. The woman is older, mid-fifties, there is no soft, grandmotherly look to her. She’s reed thin, African-American, her hairs buzzed close, and black hair battles with grey. The skin on her cheeks and hands are smooth, and although she has an air of confidence and steel, there’s a sadness in her eyes that isn’t hidden. A network of lines on her forehead and at her eyes speaks of years older than mid-fifties. This woman has heard what I’ve been through before and, as Trey said, much worse.

  Her voice is soft yet firm. It reminds me of the therapist from childhood. “Kate, I wanted to see the both of you because I’m concerned. I shared my concern with Trey, but as his alpha, king-of-the-world persona is very strong, he shrugged off my concerns. So I want to share them with you and hear what you have to say for yourself.

  My concern is why you are doing this. This can only truly work if you are here for you and not Trey. Yes, Trey cares very much about you, but if this isn’t really about you wanting to do this, then it won’t work. Why do you want to see me?”

  Trey is tense beside me, and I don’t look at him. I’m still trying to sort out the exact reason myself. So I just say what’s been swirling around in my head: “Yes, I want to do this for Trey. I want to be the woman he deserves to have. Someone as strong as him; someone who isn’t broken and messed up. I want to do this for him because although he has helped me so much in so many big and small ways, it isn’t fair or right to put all of it on him to make me whole again. I want to do this for me because I’m afraid I’ll lose him if I don’t, and the idea of being without him is so painful it hurts just to breathe. I’m doing this for me because I’m tired of the fears, of the nightmares, of almost having a panic attack when a man gets within five feet of me without invitation. Yes, I’m doing this for him, but I’m also doing it for me.”

  She leans back and studies me for seconds that stretch to minutes. “All right. I would like to continue, then. Although Trey and I have spoken in terms of what he went through with his late wife and how he dealt with that, you are not his late wife. I want you both to be aware of the way I work. For the first two, maybe three sessions, we will simply go through talk therapy, and I will be taking you through the times of abuse. I need to know those that were the most intense and, yes, painful. For those I will use EMDR therapy. EMDR stands for eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. What it really means is we are going to take those painful and often violent memories and we are going to file them away properly. For years you jammed them in the file cabinet of your brain and just tried to slam the door shut. Now we have to go in and take them out and file them so that the door closes properly and nothing comes bursting out without warning. After those sessions especially, you will be more upset. I will always try and take you out of it completely, but it still leaves patients ultra-sensitive and upset.

  There is also something I would like to discuss with you both. For the next few weeks I want you to abstain from sex, of all kinds.” I open my mouth to protest, she shakes her head. “Kate, this isn’t a power play or a test. This is a very important and experienced condition I am asking you both to commit to. It’s not going to be easy, none this will be, please trust I know what I’m doing, and it’s for a very good reason. During this time I would like you work on expressing your affection and care for Trey in ways that have no sexual aspect to them.”

  It takes a moment to process her instructions. In that time Trey kisses my forehead and I hear the door close, but I’m not really taking anything in. “I’ve never been able to do that before, show affection without believing it will lead to sex. He’s held my hand in public, but I have never reached for his hand.”

  Finally, I look up and see she’s nodding. She reaches for a pad and pen on the desk beside her. “That’s a part of the condition. It’s condit
ioning, training yourself to think outside of your norms. A large part of the therapy will be dealing with your past, the other part will be learning the habits that you have developed to deal with the abuse aren’t always healthy. Sex is a good thing it helps lay a foundation of binding a couple, and is often an expression of caring, but when that’s all a couple has holding it together, it isn’t strong enough to get them through the changing and rough times that come to them.”

  “How long do you think we should not have sex?”

  “A few weeks for certain, until we are beyond the EMDR therapy. Trey has you down for two sessions a week, scheduled so far for the next three weeks. I believe you will need another three weeks at least, maybe more. We’ll evaluate together how you are doing and see about going from there.”

  “He already scheduled me?”

  “Yes, he’s very thorough.” Her smile tells me she’s come up against his hard will.

  “He mentioned you were the best in your field. How did he get me scheduled so often on such short notice?”

  “I first saw him as a patient over a year ago, to help him deal with his issues with his wife’s death. There was some hope I could explain away what she had gone through, and I think help mitigate his resentment. At the time he wanted an appointment and wasn’t willing to wait.

  He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. My work is mainly unpaid or dealing with children of the state, so I took him up on his offer. He came to see me a few weeks ago to discuss your situation and we spoke then. At the time he warned me that I might need to clear my schedule for you. With a large retainer, I believe that’s the word he used, I agreed.”

  With a shiver, I understand. Trey’s force of nature isn’t to be argued with. Looking up, I see her studying me. “So he already talked to me about you?”

  “He gave me the bare facts. His concern was how to handle you without driving you away. As it was obvious he cared about you and it was more about you than him, I gave him the best advice I could without knowing all the facts. Does that bother you?”

  Shaking my head, I smile. “It doesn’t. It is so completely Trey that I shouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised. If it had been to control or manipulate me, then I would be very pissed. But that’s the thing about Trey, nothing has ever been about him. It’s all been about how to help and understand me. And like I said before, that’s why I want to do this. Now it’s my turn to learn to take care of myself.”

  “I’m glad you can see that. You are lucky to have someone as loving and supportive as Trey is, and he’s lucky you are as strong as you are. Not all women who have gone through what you have are willing to sit where you are. It’s easier to lock it all away and try to throw away the key, but it doesn’t work.”

  Nodding, I understand, and I’m ready.

  Her next question is expected, that doesn’t make it any easier. The beginning, how did it all start? Taking a deep breath, I start talking.

  Chapter Ten

  A soft beeping intrudes on my sniffling, I know it signifies the end of the session. and I want to start crying again in gratitude. Trey is there, and he’s got an arm around me, and I’m leaning heavily on him. They are talking, but I don’t make anything out all, losing myself in the feel of safety at being back in his arms. Gently, he guides me to the car and opens the door. When he gets in he has to put my seatbelt on, and the drive home is lost as I struggle to stop crying.

  “No, sweetheart. Cry until you can’t anymore. Don’t try to stop and contain it. We’re almost home.” When we get there, he picks me up out of the car and carries me inside.

  Slowly, the tears begin to die. A box of tissues appears, and he wipes my face clean. We’re on the sofa in the living room. I’m curled on his lap and I don’t want to move. A few embarrassing blows are all I allow myself before resting my head back on his shoulder.

  “Do you want to take a nap? Rest for a little while?”

  “Dear god no. No sleep.” The answer comes out fast.

  “Afraid of nightmares? Okay, no sleep until you’re ready. The movers have been here and left your things upstairs. The other boxes full of your books are in the study. Do you want to unpack and make this place more your home now?”

  “What about my studio? My lease doesn’t end for another four months.”

  “That’s been taken care of. I meant it, baby, I’m not letting you go, so maybe you should try and make your new home more your own.” His tone is serious, only slightly teasing.

  “And if I want to get away?” I’m teasing him as I press closer.

  “Then I will look into buying some heavy chains to keep you secured to our bed, where you belong.”

  His words are very serious, but they remind me of Joy’s conditions. “Trey, how are we really going to go so long without the best part of us?”

  “It’s going to be damned hard, no doubt about it, baby. However, although you know how much I adore and worship your body, I don’t think it’s the best part of us. Is it bad I love fighting with you, getting you riled up, your cheeks all pink from annoyance? I love hearing the sound of your voice when you get all dreamy when you talk about a favorite thing, whether it’s a book or movie or anything else that has caught your fancy.

  We’ll get through it. I know we can. So now’s your time to really go on rich-man dates. We’ve yet to get you to the opera, you enjoyed the symphony that time and you love the theatre. Filling the day will be a concerted effort to make it so that by the end of the day we will fall into bed too exhausted for sex.”

  “We’re going to keep sleeping in the same bed? That sounds like torture, having you close and not being able to have you.” The pit of my stomach is fizzing with pleasure that he’s not looking to hide at work. He wants us to be together as we get through each day, not hiding from what we can’t have.

  “Hmm, yes, yes it will. We’re going to have to look into buying you proper pajamas, no nightgowns or shirts for you. I’m thinking those scratchy flannel long sleeves and pant sets.”

  Laughing, I poke him. “You too. No shirtless for you. It has been proven I cannot stop myself from enjoying you shirtless.”

  “Are we going to have look into actual handcuffs or rope for you?”

  “Maybe, but not until Joy gives us the okay.”

  His laughter fills me up, and I snuggle into him. Almost instantly I feel him harden beneath me. I sigh and push off him. “I’m going to unpack and sort myself out upstairs. You can go into work, if you want.”

  “No, I took the day off. If you need some time, I’m going to run out and buy those pajamas for the both of us.”

  While he’s gone, I unpack the rest of my clothes, and it barely makes a dent in the large walk-in closet. It’s the kind of closet that has a huge island in the center for accessories, and the shoe section is less than a third filled. I’m a little overwhelmed, until I see except for his suits, his side doesn’t look much different from mine. He has a few more shirts, but there are only five pairs of shoes in his section. The area to hang his ties only holds about twenty then again his ties are all silk and probably run five hundred apiece. Still, where it counts, the flashing of his wealth is as subtle and understated as he is.

  I’m in the study unpacking boxes, and am annoyed at myself for keeping so many. Half of the books are read and should have been donated long ago. I begin a pile for donation, and am chucking books in an unpacked box when Trey finds me.

  “Here I thought I would find you unpacking.”

  “Ugh, don’t get me started. I’m so annoyed with myself. Half of these books are read, and even though I reread a lot, this is ridiculous. Don’t look at me like that. Do not enable this weakness. I’m purging and donating these. They never should have been moved.”

  Laughing, he shakes his head. “Four boxes of books isn’t bad. When I moved from New York I brought five boxes of books myself.”

  “You like to read? You’ve never mentioned that.”

  “That’s because I read the stuff
you don’t like, and didn’t want to start an argument.”

  “Memoirs and historical?” I make a face, and nodding he smiles.

  “We wouldn’t have argued. I would have just said ‘how boring’ and moved on.” I stick out my tongue and toss more books into the box. “You had them move my big chair here, and that’s sweet, but it could have been trashed. I’ve had it for forever and it’s tired.”

  “It can just as easily be gotten rid of. I wanted to make sure you have everything that will make you comfortable here. This is your home now, and I want you to feel like it is. ” He’s serious. His hands are on the back of the chair we’re discussing. I drop the books in my hand and climb onto the chair and lean against him. “What aren’t you saying? What has you wound so tight?”

  His hands go into my hair, and he holds me against him. “I know I’m rushing you. I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”

  “Say it.”

  “When I say this is your home, it’s not to soothe or reassure you. It’s because I’m thinking long term, not a few months.”

  I tense at his words, and finally it clicks.

  “I know it’s scary, and that’s why I haven’t gone there yet. You don’t need any more pressure on you. I know you need more time, hell, from the outside looking in, even I’m wondering if I’m jumping the gun. But I’m not, and I know that because I know life is short and you have to do what makes you not just happy, but brings you joy in life and for me, that’s you. It doesn’t matter it’s been less than two months. From the first day I knew, and nothing has happened that has made me change my mind.”