Chase traced a hand across her cheek. “It must have hurt them terribly when they learned what happened to you.”
She nodded, but didn’t move away. “Yes.”
“Natalie, sweetness, you understand that what happened to you wasn’t BDSM, right? It was assault. It was rape. I’ve heard the term nonconsensual BDSM and it’s flat-out dumb. It’s an oxymoron. There’s no such thing as nonconsensual BDSM. Nonconsensual BDSM is a crime. BDSM is a choice. It’s like telling someone they had nonconsensual sex. Baby, there’s sex and then there’s rape.”
She knew the difference intellectually. Emotionally was a whole new challenge.
The door opened and Ben walked in. He didn’t seem to have his brother’s problems with underwear. He was in a pair of boxers that hung low on his perfectly muscled hips and showed off that shouldn’t-be-allowed-in-real-life eight-pack of his. He rolled in a tray that promised all manner of breakfast delights. He stopped, his jaw dropping open just a bit.
“Dude, seriously? Where the fuck are your pants?”
Chase rolled onto his back, his cock thrusting up. God, Ben had sort of looked like that last night when she rode him to her first orgasm in years. Of course she’d thought he was Chase. So in a way she’d already slept with Chase. In her head at least. And she’d totally slept with Ben.
God, what would it be like if this little domestic scene was real? She had a choice. She could run and they probably wouldn’t stop her. She could get dressed, and the next time she saw them everything would be back on a professional footing and she could go right back to her comfortable shell.
Except her shell had cracked all to hell last night, and she kind of liked the freedom. Old Nat would have reveled in this. Old Nat would be joking and laughing and holding it all in as a crazy experience she could remember in her golden years.
That Nat was dead, but she didn’t have to retreat into her shell again.
She relaxed, her back against the headboard. She’d worked here for almost two years and she’d never been in one of the suites. It was decadent and plush and all those other words she used to associate with pleasure.
“You were supposed to be calling the sheriff so we could take a look at the files.” Ben stopped pushing the tray and frowned his brother’s way.
Chase stretched and yawned. “The file is on its way as we speak. Logan is picking it up.”
“Logan was here? Tell me you put some clothes on before you talked to Logan.”
“Why would I do that? Logan’s from Bliss. We’re lucky the dude ever wears clothes at all. God, Ben, when did you get to be such a prude?” He sat up, his lean body in a graceful pose. “Benjamin, let’s talk about the human body. It’s natural. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Ben fastballed an orange, hitting his brother square in the forehead, and then both men winced. “Fucker. Nat, baby, come over here and sit down with the civilized folks. I ordered you breakfast. I didn’t know what you liked so I just got a little of everything. And I have someone picking up clothes from your room.”
“Spoilsport,” Chase groused, rolling off the bed. “And like you look so civilized in your freaking boxers. Geez, next you’re going to be in a thong shaking your ass in front of her. At least I was blunt and honest.”
Ben shot him the finger.
If she didn’t take control, they would be punching each other like five-year-olds on a playground. And Chase was a little right. Those boxers were strategically placed to show off just about everything Ben had. There was zero chance the man had gotten up and they just happened to sit in the precisely right place to show off the notches on his hips.
“Both of you behave.” She took the seat Ben pulled out for her. He was definitely the gentleman. Chase was the one who sat down to breakfast with his dick hanging out. Crap. She kind of liked them both.
Chase poured her a cup of coffee. “I will if he does.”
Ben took the seat next to her. She was perfectly flanked by Dawson brothers. “I’m the good one. Eggs?”
She looked at the plate in front of her. She didn’t normally eat breakfast because she didn’t sleep much and then after she’d finally managed to go to bed, she let herself sleep way too late and had to hurry to get to work. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually forced herself to sit down to a meal because it always brought back bad memories. God, even food caused her grief.
“Sweetness? The eggs won’t bite back. I made sure they’re dead. They’re defeated eggs.” Chase stared at her with too-assessing eyes. She felt like he was prying back all her defenses to get to the woman inside, but she wasn’t sure who was left in there. “Are you a vegan?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl.
Ben leaned forward. “You’re obviously hungry. Is it us? We can get dressed. Natalie, if you’re uncomfortable, we can take you down to the dining room. We can conduct this interview there if you like.”
She didn’t want them to feel bad. They’d been ridiculously sweet and even though Chase was showing off his cock like a peacock preening, he hadn’t tried to touch her or make a move on her.
“Ben, do you remember how Kitten was when we met her?” Chase’s face was grave. A moment passed between the brothers. They knew her friend. They knew practically everything.
“I’m not going to eat until you do,” Ben said, pushing his plate away.
“That’s not fair.” If he’d ordered her to eat she could have thrown a biscuit in his face and walked out.
“Nothing about what happened to you was fair,” Chase said. “Food deprivation was part of the bastard’s training, wasn’t it? I never got the story from Kitten. She never talks about it, but I can certainly put two and two together. Did he simply refuse to feed you? I don’t think so. If he refused to feed you, you would likely gorge yourself when you had the chance. I think it was worse than that.”
Ben sighed, seemingly following his brother’s line of thinking. “He put the food out and when she tried to eat without permission, he hurt her.”
God, why was she so ashamed? She got up to go, but stopped herself. Damn it. This wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t something to be ashamed of. She’d survived him. She’d won. She’d taken his ass down, but she still ate standing up as though she needed to fucking run. She took a deep breath. “He kept us in the dark most of the time. He would place food in the cage and then when we would try to eat it, he had one of his servants hit us with a cattle prod. I don’t like cattle prods. Not at all. Or Tasers. But I used to like Danishes. The cheese kind. Could I please have one of those?”
“You can have anything, baby.” Ben had that Danish on her plate before she could blink.
And she had stupid tears in her eyes. She hadn’t cried in years. Not when she’d killed Hawk. Not when the police had taken her in. Not when her parents came. But since Chase had spanked her, it seemed to always be right there.
Chase leaned over, a lazy look on his face. He touched her nose.
“What?” she asked. Was there something wrong?
“I like your nose. It’s cute. Like a little button on your face.”
God, he was so weird. How could anyone that hot be so weird? But it worked. She laughed and took that stupid Danish and had a bite. Warm, buttery, sugary, and rich. The taste spread over her tongue like a wave of pleasure. “It’s really good.”
“I would love to try some.” Chase scooted his chair toward her.
“Me, too.” Ben got even closer.