Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(72)

It hurts to think of those early years. God, I was naive. Just a foolish little girl.

Maybe I’m making a mistake, telling Jasper all this.

I study his move. If he takes my knight, I can take his bishop. Is that an even exchange? Can I afford to give him this piece if he gives me one of his?

Into the lull I left, Jasper offers, “It took a long time for me to put a name to what I needed. What I was. Sadist. Dominant, too, but that was easier to wrap my head around—even a relief, in many ways. But then, once I finally felt I had it worked out, all I wanted was to experience it. To find the other side of my coin, if you like.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a grimace.

“The problem was, of course, that there are as many brands of masochist and submissive as there are sadist and dominant.”

“There are?” I ask, curiosity bubbling past my unwelcome memories. “I thought— I suppose I thought you either are or you aren’t.”

Absentmindedly, Jasper runs his finger over his lower lip as he contemplates me, and I try to stop imagining what that lip would taste like. I wonder what flavor of sadist he is.

“Not quite. Some submissives want a full-time dominant, and others are only interested in giving up control during sex.

Some want a combination of both. Some enjoy bondage, some degradation. Some like to be praised, and others like to be hunted.”

His hand curls around the arm of his chair as he lowers it, and my heart trips over itself, speeding. I want to ask what it means when all of those things sound incredible . . . but I’m embarrassed about what the answer might be.

Flustered, I move my pawn to B5.

And am instantly embarrassed by how transparent a move it is. He’ll be able to see through that with no trouble.

“Masochists are the same,” he continues, watching me. “Some like particular types of pain—a sting, or thud, or burn, or slice, or a combination of those or many others. Some seek out subspace, others hate it. There are different extremes to which they may enjoy pain . . . No, it’s not as simple as does or does not.”

I feel his gaze on me again, and I pick up my tea to buy myself some thinking time. Maybe . . . some of that . . . would be okay.

Maybe.

Knight to B5. Jasper takes my pawn.

Okay, he’s too strong in this position. I change the subject again.

“Henry craved his parents’ approval as much as I craved his—but I also think I was the only person who had ever looked up to him, and he needed that as well. He proposed after five months despite their dislike of me, and I couldn’t believe it. It felt so romantic to me, like a dream.” I shake my head, annoyed that my past self was ever that stupid. “When we eloped, they disowned him. He hadn’t planned on that. He thought they would forgive him anything. They didn’t, and he didn’t do so well after that.”

We didn’t do so well after that, either.

“You said he was in service,” Jasper said, not quite a question.

I take a sip of my tea, then nod. “Yes, well. He didn’t get into an Ivy like he’d planned, in the end. He didn’t have the grades, and without his father’s donations . . .” I shrug uncomfortably. “We sold his car to get started in a small apartment, and I worked in the local library while I studied. I did receive an academic scholarship, which helped a lot. It wasn’t what he had planned for his life. It still felt like luxury to me, but it was a coffin for Henry. He resented . . . it.”

I stop myself from saying “me” at the last moment, and Jasper catches my gaze like he heard it anyway.

With my pawn, I wipe Jasper’s knight off the board with a tad too much aggression. “I think he decided to join the Army because he wanted so badly to play the hero again. That was always how he saw himself.”

Jasper shakes his head, and I know what he must be thinking. It’s no reason to join the military. Instead of replying to that, though, he takes my pawn with his bishop.

“Check,” he says calmly, and I blink, redirecting my attention to the game.

His bishop is in line to take my king—the jerk. How did he manage that?

Ignoring the game, Jasper waits until he has my attention. “Soomin was both my wife and my submissive, but it was years before the cracks started to show. She wasn’t a masochist, Eden, and I was starting to understand I needed that. I wanted more than her submission. I wanted her tears and her trust.” He pauses and sighs. “But I wanted her to want that, mostly. And that wasn’t who she was.”

This isn’t a session. It isn’t work. He’s meeting me halfway. Actually talking to me, the way I’ve wanted all of them to.

Giving me his secrets.

I wonder if he’ll tell me what’s going on with the others. Why everyone is so tense.

I take my knight to D7, blocking his bishop and taking me out of check.

“Is that why you divorced?” I ask.

Jasper bends over the board, and I see the tension in him in the corded tendons of his lovely, careful hands. “In part. It . . .

destroyed me . . . that Soomin felt she wasn’t enough. I loved her, very dearly. I insisted she was all I needed, tried to make it true, but she didn’t believe me.” He adjusts the wrists of his sweater, his sharp misery coated in its inviting softness. “I’m not sure I believed myself by the end.”