Free His Forbidden Bride: 50 Loving States, West Virginia by Theodora Taylor Page B

under his thin boxer briefs.
    “So that turns you on?” I ask, swallowing to contain my breathlessness at the sight of him. “Dominating me?”
    He holds my gaze, blue eyes shrewd, like he’s thinking really hard about his answer to my question. But in the end, he nods. “Yeah, it does. When we’re together like that, I want you under me. That’s all I know.”
    Again I have to swallow.
    And he crooks his head, studying my reaction from his superior height. “That scare you?”
    I try my best to explain without confusing him even more. “It doesn’t not scare me. I had a friend who had a controlling boyfriend. He got worse and worse and then, when she tried to break up with him, he hit her.”
    “I’d never hit you,” he answers so automatic, it could be easily mistaken for fact. “I don’t hit women. That’s a conviction. I know I’d never do anything to hurt you, Doc.”
    I look at him, and he looks at me. Neither of us really knowing his true self for sure…
    Eventually I decide, “Okay, I believe you. Maybe that’s just your thing in bed. Wanting your partner beneath you. Hey, I’m from California. That means I’ve pretty much seen and respect it all. Namaste.”
    It’s a gentle joke, meant to diffuse. But his gaze continues to hold mine. And though we’re just sitting there with bowls of Kashi Cinnamon Harvest in our laps, it feels like he’s fucking me again; going hard and then slow on top of me.
    “Anyway…” I say, deciding it’s time to get out of this bed. “I was thinking maybe we should do some yoga after I wash the dishes.”
    I stand, take both empty bowls, and set them on the tray between us.
    He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his hesitation to go along with my yoga suggestion in his perfect stillness. And I get the sense he’s considering putting me underneath him again. Trying to decide whether or not to take back control of this morning.
    But in the end, he throws me a lazy smile and says, “Yeah, Doc, let’s do some yoga.”
    “I’m not going to lie, I kind of hate West Virginia. But I love living this close to nature,” I tell him as we walk on the footpath behind my apartment building toward the nature reserve—the only thing North Independence is known for other than the University of West Virginia.
    “This new?” I ask him, after we make it to the main dirt walking trail.
    “Old,” he answers with a shake of his head. He wraps his hand around mine, enveloping it as if walking with me like this is a must, despite his cane. As natural as the sun’s steady rise above us. Then he smiles over at me and asks, “You don’t have nature in California?”
    “We definitely do,” I answer. “But I grew up mostly in a place called Compton until we moved when I was twelve, and let’s just say my family isn’t exactly into nature walks.”
    He scans the path we’re hiking up, taking in the brush, trees, and dirt as far as you can see. “I don’t think I used to go on a lot of walks either. But I like being outside,” he says. “This feeling I got right now is old. I feel more free out here than indoors.”
    “Me too,” I answer. “But don’t get used to it. We’re having a warm week, but spring in West Virginia is super funky. Next week it could be all rain. Or snow. Then in the summer, you’ll have to deal with the mosquitoes.”
    He goes quiet, and I wonder if he’s familiar with mosquitoes. But then he asks, “Why Seattle?”
    I shrug. “Why not Seattle? It’s a beautiful city. And they have a wonderful children’s hospital. I’m lucky they want me to serve there.” More than lucky, I think to myself, especially considering my past.
    But John doesn’t know about my past, and he says, “You said you love your family. That you miss them. Then why aren’t you going back to California to live near them?”
    I shake my head, a chill going up my spine at the mere thought of returning home. “It’s a long story. A really long story,” I