Free Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) by Jenna McCormick

“What do you mean?”
     He sighs and sinks onto the mattress next to me. “Every time I’m in control and I fall asleep, he takes over. And there’s too much at stake right now for the switch.”
     “But you can’t just stay awake indefinitely. You’re going to have to sleep sometime.” A sneaking suspicion takes hold and I can’t dismiss it, no matter how hard I try. “This isn’t because of what I said, is it? About me being more comfortable with you?”
     He doesn’t say anything and I have my answer.
      Way to be a selfish slag. Snarkarella pipes up. Maybe you could ask him to stop eating too, maybe hold his breath until he passes out.
      Ignoring her, I roll onto my knees and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my front into his back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. This is hard enough for you to deal with as it is.”
     His hand covers my forearms, holding me to him. “I always want you to be honest with me. I’m still me, Baily, deep inside it’s all there. He hasn’t endured what I have. Losing you would devastate him as much as it would me. You said you wanted all sides of me. Did you mean that?”
     At the time I did. I think about it, about the consideration the other Connor shows me. His constant concern for my wellbeing. So what is it that holds me back from saying yes to that Connor when my heart is already committed to this one?
     With a sigh, I flop back onto the bed. “I do, I just don’t know how to communicate with him. You. You know what I mean. We’re always tiptoeing around each other. He’s paranoid, thinks you and I are keeping something from him.”
     He leans over me, pressing himself against me. “We are though. It’s for his own good, but he doesn’t see it that way.”
     “You mean the domination stuff?”
     “He wants it too, wants that control but is afraid to take it. So he tries to control you in other ways, instead of trusting you to come to him when you need him.”
     I’d thought the same thing myself. “So how do we fix this? Make him understand we aren’t doing anything wrong?”
     “We don’t. This is between you and him.”
     “Connor,” I plead but he claps a hand over my mouth.
     “No. You need to work this out on your own. He thinks I’m violent, unhinged. That I’ll hurt you.
     Shaking off his hand I ask, “Why? Why does he think that?”
     His expression shuts down though, and he gets up, moves to the door, ending the conversation. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”
     Alone in the dark, I think about the frustrating men that I love and pray for a way to unite them.
    ****
     Connor has booked us at the Burj Al Arab hotel. I get my first glimpse of the massive sail shaped structure from the helicopter we take from the airport to the private manmade island. The brilliant white of the hotel’s structure against the picturesque view of the Persian Gulf steals my breath. Simon and I had done some research about the world’s most luxurious hotel but nothing could have prepared me for the experience.
     The helicopter lands on top of the hotel and a line of staff eagerly greets us with the Marhaba or welcome in Arabic. Bakhoor , which translates to scented bricks is burning away, perfuming the air from a traditional mabkhara . I’m given a cold towel followed by a squirt of scented rose water, and offered dates along with authentic golden colored Arabic coffee from a dalla .
     “I may never leave,” I murmur to Connor.
     Our private butler escorts us to the twenty-fifth floor, to one of the two royal suites. I gawk like the country bumpkin I am as he leads us through the grand entrance and into the opulent hall. My sneakers squeak a bit on the marble floors, but our butler kindly pretends not to notice as he reels on about the features like the bath menu, the en-suite electronic system that controls everything from the lights to the curtains, on and on it goes.
     Overwhelmed, I move toward the