23. Dia

TWENTY-THREE

"What doesyour dream life look like?" Dalton asks as we lay in bed, his fingers running through my mess of black hair.

"I don't know," I say. "Having a steady job that pays enough to go on a vacation every year?" I've honestly never really thought about it. I didn't have the luxury of planning out my perfect life when I was younger, and as I got older, the goals I had seemed to change every time I turned around.

"I don't mean your idea of a comfortable life," he replies. "I mean, if you could have anything you want for your future, what would you choose?"

I lay there, trying to imagine what I would even want if money and circumstances weren't a factor. I've never been into fancy cars and designer clothes. Not that I wouldn't love them. I've just always had a different idea of what success would look like.

"If I could have anything, I would want a white house with a wrought iron gate and a porch big enough for some rocking chairs. It would have to have a fireplace and a big kitchen so I could have friends over on the weekends for wine and makeovers. Mads and Blaze would bring their kids over and I'd be the cool aunt that would wear giant sunglasses and slip them twenty-dollar bills and a boat load of sugar when their parents weren't looking." He laughs, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. But I can't seem to stop myself from falling further into this fantasy. Nobody has ever asked me anything like this before, and now that I'm making up my perfect life in my mind, I just want to keep adding to it. "I would have a big back yard with a pool and a little waterfall that I'd spend hours relaxing at every weekend. I'd just soak up the sun and listen to the sounds of nature. And maybe there would be a dance studio in the basement. A wall full of mirrors with a barre and wood floors for me to dance across, not just to spin around in one spot. I'd replace my worn, old pointe shoes, and do grand jetés until I had blisters, just because I could."

"Can I watch you?" he asks.

I look up at him, my smile fading into a look of confusion. "Watch me what?"

"Do grand jetés," he says. "I don't know what that is, but I already know I could watch you do it all day long."

I breathe a laugh. "This is a fantasy. Not real life, Dalton. You asked me what my dream life looked like. But I will absolutely be working toward the life where I can vacation every now and then. Even that seems unattainable right now, but I'll get there."

"I have no doubt about that," he says, rolling us over so he's on top of me. "My wife is the most beautiful," he kisses my cheek, "strong," he kisses my other cheek, making me giggle, "sexy," kiss, "determined woman in the whole world."

With each word of encouragement from Dalton, I feel an imaginary sledgehammer take a whack at the wall I've constructed around my heart. The barrier that once kept me protected from the hurtful words of people I trusted is slowly being obliterated by this man that I still have trouble believing I deserve. Even though I fought him tooth and nail at first, I find myself wanting to know what it would be like to be loved and cared for in a way I'm sure only he can give. And I trust him with my heart. I know he won't hurt me.

Let's just hope I can return the favor.

As much as I'd love to lay in this little bubble with Dia, we need to discuss what things are going to look like for the next couple of weeks. Hopefully longer if I do this right. But I know I need to choose my words carefully. She's been burned so many times, I can already tell she's got one foot hovering over the threshold, ready to bolt at the first sign of uneasiness. I have to continue to show her that, no matter what she throws at me, I'm here. I have to show her, without telling her yet, that I love her and want to be the person she runs to when she needs to feel safe and secure. And when she's feeling like she's not enough, I want my words to be the ones that make her realize how special she is.

"So," I say, anxiety clouding my tone, "with the way that things changed tonight, I think we need to talk about what this means for the rest of our time together." I look at her, expecting some inkling of defiance, but she just waits patiently for me to continue.

I keep my arms wrapped loosely around her as we lay propped up on the pillows in my bed. I want her to feel me here, but I also don't want to make her feel like I'm holding her down while we talk. She's free to move away, leave the room, or tell me to go fuck whatever inanimate object she's feeling like going with today. The more I get to know Dia, the more I understand her. And the last thing she wants is to feel like she's being forced into anything. "I want you to give me one hundred percent free rein to treat you as my wife while we're in private. I understand your hesitation to tell the world about our marriage because I'm in the public eye, and I respect and support that decision. But while we're here in our home, or with Mads and Blaze, I want to be able to do things for you, show you affection, buy you things, and spank that ass raw if you misbehave. Are you sure you're okay with that?" I ask.

She swallows, and I see the rough motion as it moves across her throat. I'm not sure which part of what I just said caused that reaction, but I bet I have a little bit of an idea. My little bad girl likes the idea of getting punished for acting up. And my palm is already tingling at the thought.

"Yes," she whispers. "I mean, I'll try." I can tell she's nervous about all of it. And I understand. Even though Dia has put a lot of trust in me in these last few weeks, that doesn't change the fact that she has yet to experience any type of relationship, besides with Mads, that doesn't end in her being used and heartbroken. But that shit ends here. With us.

"How about this," I say. "Let's come up with a safe word. Not just for sex, although we can use it there, too. Anytime you feel uncomfortable or think I've gone too far, you say the word and we'll take a time out. You can take however long you need to sort through it and decide how you feel, and if whatever it was is an absolute dealbreaker for you, I won't do it again. No questions asked. Sound good?" I ask.

Her smile is so sincere, and I finally feel like we're having a breakthrough. She's going to give me the gift of being her husband for real. "Yeah, that sounds really good," she answers, making my heart do somersaults in my chest.

Fuck yeah, baby.

I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before exhaling in relief. "Thank you." I want her to know I'm truly grateful for this. I know it's not easy. "Pick a safe word, baby. Something you'd absolutely never say in regular conversation with me." I smirk. "I guess ‘Oh my God, Dalton. Your dick is so big and perfect, I can barely stop from ruining my panties whenever you're around' is out. Pick something else."

She gives me a cute little eye roll. "You're so annoying."

"So I've been told," I reply. "What's your safe word?"

She taps her bottom lip, thinking carefully before looking up at me with a grin. "Elvis."

Jesus fucking Christ, this girl.

"Okay," I say. "‘Elvis', it is."