His hand slid up her thigh, and she knew he wanted to change the subject.

“Well . . . in the interest of full disclosure,” she said, “I should probably tell you something else.”

She turned and set the ice cream carton on the table behind her. When she looked at him again, he was watching her closely, and she felt a pang in her stomach. Was she really going to tell him about this?

“You asked me once why I do the work that I do.” She cleared her throat. “You know, the stalkers, and the psychos, and the revenge porn.”

He moved his hand to the top of her knee. She looked down at it and traced her finger over his knuckles.

“My last boyfriend posted a video of me.” She looked at him. “On a porn site.”

He watched her steadily, and she tried to read his expression. It didn’t change, and her heart sank.

“You don’t look surprised,” she said.

“I’m not.”

Her throat tightened. She had to force herself to speak. “Did you see it?”

“No.”

“How did you—”

“I guessed.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“How did you guess?”

“Different things.” He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face, then tucked it behind her ear. “You’re very passionate about your work, so I figured it was personal to you. And the first time we were together, you were uncomfortable with certain things.”

“Your phone.”

He nodded. “You had no problem with a loaded Glock in the room, but my cell phone freaked you out.”

She blew out a sigh. “I know. I’m weird.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Guess it’s my hang-up.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger, and Leigh felt a familiar ache in her chest. She hated it. She hated knowing there was something out there, something she had no control over, something that gave perfect strangers access to her most private self. It made moments like this impossible. Whenever she started to relax with someone, or started to open up, she imaged them seeing those images—seeing her in her most playful, private, unguarded moments that were never meant for anyone but a person she’d cared about. Every time she thought about it, she felt this sick helplessness. It never went away, only receded into the background.

She cleared her throat. “Will you do something for me?”

He just looked at her.

“Will you promise you won’t watch it?”

His eyebrows arched.

“It’s out there, no matter what I do. And if we spend time together, someone might send it to you. You’d be surprised how people are like, ‘Hey, FYI, you really need to see this, bro.’ ”