He got up before she could answer him, and went to the kitchen, where he paced the length of the dark slate floors, his heart slamming into his ribs.

He couldn’t fucking talk to her—not the way she wanted him to.

It was Allie, for God’s sake. He owed her.

No.

Not that. Not anything he wasn’t able to give. And to really be himself? To let go of the reins he’d used for years to hold himself in check, to contain the beast? He just wasn’t capable. He’d always known it. That was why they hadn’t been together all these years. She deserved more.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

He yanked open the brushed-steel refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade, cracked it open and took a few swigs.

He couldn’t leave her alone in there for too long—she was going to wonder.

He pulled in a breath, closed his eyes as he blew it out. What he really needed right now was to go for a long run, to lose himself in the New Orleans heat, in the pumping of his legs and his lungs. Even in the pain from his damn leg—the pain that was always there when he went running. But she was waiting for him, and he had to handle this somehow.

“Okay,” he muttered, scrubbing at his goatee. “Okay.”

He grabbed another Gatorade and went back to the bedroom. Allie was right where he’d left her, her hair a tumble of dark silk around her shoulders, her breasts bare above the sheet she’d pulled up around her waist.

He handed her the Gatorade, pulled his sweatpants back on and sat next to her on the bed.

“Drink some,” he told her. “I want to be sure you’re not dehydrated.”

She opened the bottle and took a few sips.

“Is everything okay, Mick?” she asked.

“What? Sure. Everything’s great. You were perfect.”

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it before letting it go.

“You seem kind of . . . disconnected.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

“Are you?”

He smiled. “Yeah, of course. Hey, I’m going to have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch my plane. I don’t know if you want to stay. You’ll have to be up early with me.”

She looked at him warily. “I’m . . . not sure if you’re asking me to stay or to go.”

“You’re welcome to stay if you want.”

“That wasn’t exactly an answer.”

“Sure it was.”

He was such a liar. And a bad one, at that.

Asshole.

“Jesus, Mick. What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“What do you mean? I’m just saying I still have to finish packing, and I have to be up early. And I thought you were coming over to talk for a while. But now that you’re here and naked in my bed, you can stay if you want to.”

He had to be up early? Fuck, he was a Grade A piece of shit. But the panic inside him had to be quelled.

“Do you want me to?”

“Sure.”

“Wow, that is really not an answer.” She pulled the sheet up to cover her chest. “Tell me what’s going on with you, Mick. Tell me why you’re shutting down on me.”

He shrugged. “Everything’s fine, babe. But I have to get ready for this trip. It’s business. And as much fun as I have with you, I still have stuff to take care of.”

Fun? He felt like such a bastard as the words came out of his mouth. Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this to her. But the other part—the part that felt the urgent need to escape—couldn’t help it. He didn’t even want to think about the control he’d schooled himself in for years, or the fact that he’d obviously lost it completely.

She threw back the sheet and stood up, rummaging on the floor for her clothes. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Doing what?” he defended himself, knowing full well it was bullshit.

“I opened my pain up to you, and now you refuse to give me anything back. Is that what we’re doing here, Mick? Is it all about ‘fun’? Because I thought it was something more than that. I thought it was us getting to know each other again.” She paused while she slipped back into her underwear. “How the hell am I supposed to do that when all you do is hide your real self from me? Your truth?”

“I didn’t ask you to open to me like that.”

She straightened up and pulled her tank top over her head. “Didn’t you?”

She was glaring at him. He didn’t blame her.

“Maybe this is my truth, Allie. Maybe this is all I can do. Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for years.”

She shook her head. “That is such a cop-out. Poor Mick, so fucked up he hasn’t learned a damn thing about himself in eleven years.”

“I’ve learned to accept who I am,” he said, hating that he sounded so churlish.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? Then why don’t you share it with the class? Who do you think you are?”

“I think I’m fine.”

“Fine?” she challenged. “It must have taken a lot of soul searching to come up with ‘fine.’”

“Christ, Allie. Why does this have to be some psychological examination of me? Why do you have to fucking force it?”

She stood looking at him, a flush coming over her face, her eyes glittering. It was several moments before he realized it wasn’t anger but tears that gleamed there. “That was a horrible thing to say, Mick. Take it back.”

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s not true.” He got up off the bed, unable to bear the hurt in her eyes, knowing he was the cause. He reached for her hand and leaned in to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Come on. Let’s not argue anymore. Not tonight. Stay with me. Please.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Only if you want me here. If you want me to stay. I can’t do this half-assed thing where I’m the only one who wants me here with you.”

“I do want you here. I really am going to have to pack. But I want you here where I can see you. Talk to you. Touch you.”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t mind the packing.”

He pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to ignore how soft she was, how sweet, but he had to kiss her once more before pulling back.

“I’m going to be gone for a few days. Can we not get into anything heavy right now? We’ll talk more when I get back from my trip. I still . . . obviously have some stuff to wrap my head around.”

“Okay. It can wait,” she agreed.

He wrapped her in his arms and she leaned into him. He didn’t want to think about how good she felt. He didn’t want to think about anything.

“Why don’t you curl up in bed while I pack? You can help me figure out what to take.”

She climbed back into bed in her tank and her panties. She was fucking adorable.

“How have you managed on your own all these years, Mick?”

“Probably by running out of socks on every trip.”

“Men.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re quoting Marie Dawn?”

“Because from her comes the wisdom of the universe,” she said soberly.

“That’s what she keeps telling Neal, anyway.”

Allie laughed, and he felt the knot in his gut loosen a little as he went into his office to grab his suitcase from the closet. It seemed he’d gotten around the tension. For now. But he’d think about that later, after his trip. Right now things were okay with Allie—or at least in a holding pattern—and a little less intense. He had a few days just to chill, which was what he needed.

You need her.

Yeah, that too. Which was why the timing of this trip couldn’t have been better. He couldn’t think straight with Allie this close, this accessible. A few days away would give him perspective.

*   *   *

MAY IN ATLANTA was almost as hot and muggy as New Orleans, but Mick had always liked this town. He was booked into his usual hotel, the Omni—it had a killer view of the Atlanta skyline and was central to his business contacts. And to the local dungeon, 2112, where he was meeting his friend Finn tonight.

He and Finn had met each other on the kink circuit five years earlier, and they hung out together whenever they were in each other’s cities, or at the fetish conventions, where Finn often lectured on BDSM safety and his favorite topic, mind-fuck. He was a true sadist, one of the best Doms Mick had ever seen, and a good friend.