“Why do you think I kissed you, Brielle?”
“Because you wanted to. Because you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”
“Does it matter?” he asks.
My heart is slamming against my ribs, hoping I’m about to discover he has secret feelings for me like I do for him.
“We both know this isn’t headed anywhere. We like fucking each other. It’s an added bonus to our lessons together. Don’t read something into it that isn’t there.” His voice is whisper-soft, and his eyes are pleading with mine. I have no choice but to believe him.
Fuck.
The overwhelming urge to cry is back in full force. I want to understand why I haven’t thought of Kirby once since Hale came into my life. I want to know why Hale puts up the wall that he does. I want to know where he works, what he likes for breakfast, and if he snores when he sleeps. I want to see him with his nana. The image of him helping a frail old lady up the steps to church makes me teary. And most of all, I want to understand how I’ve grown to be so desperately attached to him in such a short time.
“I have to pee,” I say, breaking away from him and striding toward the restroom.
Once I’ve latched the stall door and covered the toilet seat with paper, I sink down and empty my bladder. Taking a deep breath, I ball the toilet paper in my fist.
My sessions with Hale creep into my mind. The first-time post-sex sub drop made me question everything. That was the best and most intense experience I’ve ever had with a man. Kirby was the furthest thing from my mind. And even in my buzzed state, I question if I can handle three more sessions. But how can I say no to the most beautifully brutal thing I’ve ever felt?
With absolute clarity, I realize that falling for Hale is a very real and terrifying possibility. And what will I do then? I certainly won’t be okay with him mentoring and fucking the brains out of women all over Chicago. Besides, he’s made it very clear that he and I do not have a future, so why am I sitting here dreaming of things that will never be?
Feeling somber and broken, I finish in the bathroom, taking a few moments to pull myself together before I go to find Hale.
He’s waiting for me outside the ladies’ restroom, looking solemn.
“Can I take you home?” he asks, his tone demanding.
My grand plans that included alcohol, dancing, and regret suddenly seem childish. “Yes.”
I pull my phone from my purse to text Julie and tell her I’m leaving, when I see that she texted me fifteen minutes ago to tell me she was going home with the older guy she met at the bar. Okay then.
“Do you have a tab to settle?”
“No. I’m ready.”
His hand on my lower back guides me to the exit, and I let him help me into the car.
We’re both quiet on the drive to my place. The alcohol is starting to wear off, and I’m vaguely aware that I should be embarrassed that I practically admitted to feeling more for him than I should.
“Can I come in?” he asks, stopping the car on the street outside my building.
I should refuse him. That would be the logical thing to do. My current emotional state and growing feelings should signal that I need a breather from him—at least for the night.
Glancing over at him in the moonlit interior of the car, I see the ghost of a smile form on his lips as he says, “I left you hanging earlier. I can take care of that for you.”
I don’t know if this is a lesson or a mercy fuck, but I also know I won’t refuse him. “Okay,” I say, my voice flat.
He takes my chin in his hand and turns my head to meet his eyes. “I need a yes or no answer. Do you want me tonight?”
“Yes, I want you.” There’s so much truth in my words it hurts. I force a smile onto my lips.
Once we’re inside, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to my bedroom. Carefully, he lays me down in the center of the bed, then removes my high heels, kissing the top of each naked foot. His lips are warm and soft, and send tingles rippling along my skin. He’s being so tender, so sweet, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.
Slowly, methodically, he removes every stitch of clothing from my body, kissing me softly from head to toe. He’s never been so attentive and careful like this with me before.
My head is spinning with questions, and I feel like I’m drowning in this big, beautiful man. I watch him in the moonlight, reveling in the feel of his rough stubble against my neck, breathing in his scent until I feel so full of him, I could burst. He’s looking at me like I’m the beginning and ending of everything.
“Just feel,” he whispers against my thigh.
I want to ask him what tonight’s lesson is about, but I don’t want to break the pleasurable spell he’s cast over me. So I close my eyes and let the exquisite kisses he’s placing just below my belly button push all the other noise from my brain.
Soon, he nudges my thighs apart, and I let my knees fall open to grant him the access he demands. There’s no shyness, no self-consciousness with him. I want this so badly I can taste it. I want him to take me where only he can—where nothing exists but mindless pleasure, in that space where I shut off my brain and just feel, as he’s commanded. It’s a feeling I’ve grown to crave.
Warm, wet kisses placed delicately between my thighs make me gasp out loud and tug at his hair. He stops and pulls away, a smile on his lips, then goes to my dresser and searches the top drawer while I watch him, curious about what he could possibly be looking for. When he finds it, he strides confidently toward me and uses the black tights he’s found to tie my wrists together above my head. I wonder if I’ve been pulling his hair too hard, or perhaps he simply likes seeing me tied up. He tugs his shirt off, and I’m treated to the smooth, muscular planes of his bare chest.