Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(171)

“Ah. Sure. Who hasn’t?” Dalton shifted his stance, then his eyes. “So I oughta be

afraid the next step will be shackling a woman in chains and beating on her in front of

a room full of strangers?”


He sank into the closest chair. “This is pointless.”


“Does your family know?”


Ben shook his head.


“They should. Maybe they can get you some help, cuz, ’cause this is seriously f*cked

up.”


He thought he’d conquered the fear of being outed to his family. But the idea of his

brothers and parents staring at him, with Dalton’s same judgmental eyes, made him

physically ill. His voice came out a hoarse whisper. “You gonna take it upon yourself

to tell them?”


“I don’t know. But you can’t deny the reason you haven’t told them is because you

know it’s wrong.”


Now he had to worry that Dalton would blab to the entire McKay family.


“Look at yourself, Ben. Sitting there holding a whip, a whip that you used on not one,

but two women tonight. And you’re tellin’ me I’m the one with the problem.” He

shook his head. “It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad.” Dalton stormed out.


There was the game-ending blow. It’d been ages since he’d felt such a wash of shame.

Since he’d felt like an outcast. And then he topped off those failings with the fear

that no decent woman—like Ainsley—would ever love him because of his tendencies.

Hidden fears that smacked him in the face today from his cousin’s accusations.


Ben remained in the room a long time, emotions warring. He fingered the beautifully

made whip. Device of torture? Instrument of pleasure? His supposed expertise gnawed at

him. He’d honed his skills on cattle. What would his family say if they knew he

regularly used it on people? On women? Would they be ashamed? Should he be ashamed?


So Dalton hadn’t been totally off base.


Ben felt raw. Used. Confused. Lonely. As much as he’d broadened Ainsley’s horizon,

she’d broadened his too. He glanced around the room. He felt nothing. No pride, or

excitement or anger. No anticipation for what might be in store for him for future

nights with future subs. He just wanted to go home.


Chapter Twenty-Nine


Ainsley dreamt of Bennett every night. Images so vivid she couldn’t tell the

difference between fantasy and reality until she woke up alone.


After last night’s dream she’d leapt out of bed and stared out the hotel window

across the freeway to the Denver skyline. She’d hoped she wouldn’t dream of him here,

as she had the last two nights in her bed in Sundance.


Wrong.


Which begged the question: were her regrets about her decision haunting her?


Yes.


But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was miserable. Trying to stave

off the dreams that left her feeling bereft, she drank four strong gin and tonics at

the hotel bar before she stumbled back to her room.


But not even booze kept him from overtaking her thoughts.


A rough-skinned hand brushed her forehead and she shot straight up in bed. She couldn’

t see anything it was so dark. “Who’s there?”