While he waited, he couldn’t stop replaying the awful words her mother had spewed at her. Everything from her job to her dress, and worst of all, her weight—the woman hadn’t had one nice thing to say. If Decklan wanted a primer on what made Amanda tick, he’d just gotten one, and it made him furious.
He heard her low voice from the other room. He shrugged and walked around the spacious apartment, taking in her home for the first time. Just as he’d expect, the place was full of warmth and personal touches. From soft, muted pastels for color to landscapes hanging on the walls, to the occasional photograph, he felt welcomed. At home.
“Can I get you anything?” She walked back into the room, now wearing a light gray tee shirt trimmed with aqua blue and a matching pair of lounge pants with her bare feet peeking out.
She looked sweet and a little bit lost, and he held out his arms for her.
She didn’t step toward him.
“Is your dad okay?” he asked, undeterred. He felt certain he could break through these walls.
Her expression softened. “Yeah. It’s a precaution. He had chest pains. They ran some tests. It wasn’t a heart attack, but they want to do a stress test and check for blockage.”
He nodded. “Hopefully it’ll be okay.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “You know, you really should get out while the getting’s good. We were never supposed to be more than one night, and this is way more than you bargained for.”
She started for the kitchen. He took two strides and stopped her, grasping her hand and pulling her toward the couch in the main room of the apartment. “I should punish you for assuming you know what I want, but I won’t. Instead, we’re going to talk.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I think I’d prefer the punishment.”
He bit back a grin. “I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
He settled her in his lap, her curves lush and full against him. He ordered himself not to react to her body when he had to work on her mind.
“You are not going to shut down on me.” He shifted her so he could see her face. “We’re going to talk like adults, and you’re going to tell me everything. You can start with why your mother is a raving bitch, and I’ll end with showing you exactly what’s wrong with everything she thinks by worshipping your body for hours. Sound good?”
She shook her head, her hair falling around her face.
“I’m not going to deny we have something good, Decklan, but I come with baggage.”
“Who doesn’t?”
She frowned. “My baggage feels like it could sink the Titanic.”
He allowed himself a laugh at that. “Baby, your mother isn’t someone I want to see often. But she’s your mother. It is what it is. She’s not you. And we both know she’s wrong about everything she said. She just got inside your head tonight, that’s all.”
“You’re right. I know it in here.” She tapped her head. “It’s harder to feel it in here.” She placed her palm over her heart.
He covered it with his own. “The only one you have to please is yourself.” He paused. “And me.”
“Yeah, trust the dom in you to say that.” Despite everything, she grinned.
“Enough stalling,” he said in his best dom voice.
She drew a deep breath. “Do you really want the whole pathetic story?”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I really do.”
“Fine, but remember, you asked.”
Just like she’d asked her grandmother why her mom was so mean. Amanda remembered her childhood clearly. Back then, she’d been thirteen, and her grandma had tried to play off her daughter’s behavior.
“I was eighteen when I heard the story from my grandmother.” God, this was embarrassing. She was wrung out and just wanted it over with. “I’d had my first … sexual experience with a guy. It was over before it started, if you know what I mean. He wasn’t even in me when he came. He blamed me. He said once he saw me naked, he just wanted it over with.” She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.
“What an ass**le,” Decklan said, his hands all over her as she spoke. He slid one palm over her hair, another down her arm, always touching her, reassuring her, telling her without words that he wanted her.
“Yeah. Well, I can look back now and see he was probably mortified and needed to lash out. But then?” She shook her head, hating that particular memory along with so many others. “Anyway, when I got home, my mother wanted to know why I was crying. The story came out even though I knew better than to tell her. And of course, she agreed with him and started in again on all that was wrong with me.”
Beneath her, Decklan stiffened. She appreciated his anger on her behalf, but she just wanted to get through the telling. And move on.
“My grandmother was staying over at the time, and when Mom went to bed, she told me how wrong Mom was—and why she was so superficial and bitter.”
He waited patiently and she went on.
“When my mother was in middle school, my grandfather lost his job and Grandma began cleaning homes for wealthier families. My mother went to school with some of those kids. After a while, she had to wear hand-me-down clothes, and the kids at school made fun of her for it. She was angry, hurt, and turned it on the world. She blamed her parents, treated them horribly, and was determined to do better.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for her,” he muttered.
She grinned at that. “My mother got a scholarship to college, but she had to work part time too. But she was determined to marry well and, as Scarlett O’Hara would have said, never wear hand-me-downs or be hungry again. Unfortunately for her, when the guy she set her sights on brought her home, his family didn’t accept her. They had plans for their son, and he was going to marry within his own social class.”
“Ouch. Although, I’m thinking considering she didn’t learn from how she was treated, she got what she deserved.”
Amanda nodded. “She never did meet her wealthy prince. She married my dad, a nice guy from back home, who sold insurance. But she was bitter. And she couldn’t see the good in life or the fact that her husband provided well. He put a roof over her head and clothes on her back.”
“But not designer duds,” Decklan said.
Amanda shook her head. “Nope. Not until she began to max out his credit cards. And when she had a daughter, she transferred all those unfulfilled expectations to me.”