-14-
Grant
After the concert was over, I took the loaner cello back to my apartment, changed out of the black dress shirt and pants I wore for the orchestra performance, and into jeans and a navy button-down.
I’d told Ruby I had a date tonight, and she’d been adamant if I wanted to hook the girl, I’d have to make sure I showed off my arms. She’d informed her boyfriend Kyle she’d rather receive a forearm pic over a dick pic. It was infinitely sexier, according to her.
As I rolled the sleeves back to my elbows, I chuckled to myself. When it came to Tara, I’d take every advantage I could get.
When I arrived at the restaurant, a trendy place in Wrigleyville, Tara was already waiting. She flashed a nervous smile, but I almost missed it because whistles blew loudly in my head.
Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail, creating a stream of gold silk down her back. Her black, long-sleeve shirt was opaque and just see-through enough to make out the shadow of her black bra.
The neckline. Jesus. I couldn’t catch my breath or stop staring. The shirt flaunted her skin and her cleavage and her fucking perfect tits. Below, black leather pants with a dull shine, and she was statuesque in stilettos heels.
The girl oozed sex, and as I strode toward her, every male eye in the room watched me with envy, or downright jealousy.
“Shit, Tara. You look fucking amazing.”
Her shy smile was replaced with a full-out grin. “Thank you.”
Her gaze raked appreciatively down my body, and had I imagined her pausing as she lingered over my arms? No, she’d definitely focused on them. Good call, Ruby.
Our table was ready, and we were seated deep in the center of the open restaurant, which was noisy, but not terrible. The constant conversation going on at the busy tables around us made it feel somehow intimate.
We ordered wine, and by the time it arrived, I realized she had barely said a word. I’d dominated the conversation, and as soon as the server finished taking our dinner order, I was going to correct that.
“I’ve been going on nonstop since we sat down.” I was acting like a fool, flustered by her. “I’m sorry.”
A soft smile graced her lips. “You shouldn’t be. I like listening to you.”
It was surprising how nice it was to hear, but I needed to change topics. I wanted to know more about her. “How did your performance go?”
“It went good. Were you worried I was going to end up in your lap again?”
I’d be very happy if you were in my lap right now.
“I’ll be honest—I held my breath. But it sounded like it went brilliantly. There was a big reaction from the audience.”
She looked pleased, but then her gaze dropped to her wine. Something was off. She seemed different tonight. Unsure. Where was the confident woman from yesterday?
Her attention snapped back to me, and my anxiety grew. Her expression was strained. “I need to tell you something.”
It was the same phrase from yesterday, right before she’d revealed she was already in a relationship but wasn’t exclusive to the guy. Instinctively, I braced for the worst. Now was when she told me she had an open marriage, or needed money, or that she believed Nazis were just misunderstood.
I tried not to sound skeptical. “Okay.”
“I want to tell you a story, but first, I have a question. How do you feel about sex?”
I blinked. “Uh, I like it?” How was I supposed to answer that? “I like it quite a bit, but maybe you want to be more specific.”
A tense laugh drifted out of her before she turned serious again. “Do you think it’s possible to separate it from emotion? Like, does sex need to be an emotional experience every time you’re with someone else?”
A warning siren wailed in the distance, telling me to choose my words wisely so I didn’t come off looking like a guy who was into meaningless fucks. I wasn’t. But between girlfriends in college, I’d had plenty of one-night-stands, and I was a man. Whenever the opportunity presented itself and a girl was interested, I usually didn’t turn her down.
“No,” I said. “Sometimes, sex is just sex.”
She nodded in agreement. “You don’t have to be in love, or really even in ‘like’ with the other person every time. Don’t get me wrong, with the right person? Sex is powerful and meaningful. There’s nothing else like it. But sometimes, it’s just about having fun and feeling good, right?”
Was this a trap? It felt like a trap. I hesitated before answering. “Right.”
“You look terrified,” she said. “I’m doing this all wrong, but what I’m getting at is, can people be in an emotional relationship, let’s say in love, and never have sex?”
“Of course.”
It was the answer she wanted to hear, because her eyes charged with energy. “So, would it be possible for people to be in a relationship when it’s the opposite of that? Sex without love or emotion?”
My mouth went dry. “Is that what you’re looking for with me?”
She let out a tight breath. “We’ll have to circle back to that.” She snatched up her wine glass and took a long sip, leaving me to wonder where she was going with this.
Did I want a purely sexual relationship with Tara? No. I’d want more. I’d want everything. But if sex was all she was willing to give right now, I’d take it without complaints and do my best to make her interested in more.
She licked her lips as she set the glass down, and her blue eyes clouded with an emotion I didn’t understand. Apprehension?
“Story time. Like you, I was the black sheep of my family.” Her gaze fixed on me. “So, when I couldn’t fit in, I decided I’d stand out instead. If everyone was going to go right, I’d go left. It’s why I started dancing.”
I understood what she meant. I’d grown up in a different hemisphere, but so much of my life had been similar. There’d been fights I’d gotten into over stupid shit, all just to get noticed. To make sure my voice was heard.
Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile. “Joke was on me, though. A lot of the time ballet is about blending in, matching the people around you. Anyway, when I got to college, I met this girl.” Pink tinged her cheeks. Either she was embarrassed, or the wine was warming her up. “She was smart, and funny, and kind of bossy. Like, in a sexy way, and . . . it was confusing. I always tried to be unique, my own person, so I couldn’t tell if I was actually into her, or if it was just—I dunno, me trying to be into her. Because it was different, you know what I mean?”
“You thought it wasn’t real.”
She nodded. “Like, all the cool girls at the time said they were bi. They weren’t. They were just playing at it. For most of them, it wasn’t sexuality—it was a trend.”
There was a clatter of silverware at the table next to us, but I didn’t give it any attention. I only wanted to hear what she was going to say next.
“I didn’t act on it. I was afraid to go down that road if it wasn’t true. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I didn’t want to get hurt either.” Her posture changed as she kept talking. She relaxed, tension leaving her shoulders. “About three years ago, I auditioned for the Chicago Ballet Company. It was my third attempt. I told myself if I didn’t get accepted, that was it. I was done trying to be a professional dancer.”
Even though I knew how it was going to end, I still had hope that her story would go another way.
“After it was over, I went to some random bar to get shitfaced. I’d spent my whole life trying to be seen, but that night? I wanted to be fucking invisible. I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life, or who I was anymore.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she lifted a hand, signaling she had more to say.
“This guy comes over, and suddenly I’m telling him my sob story, whining to him over the drink he bought me.” She looked amused. “Not unlike what I’m doing right now. So, we have this long conversation about everything. I told him I’d spent the last twelve years of my life doing what other people told me to do, moving how they wanted, and now without a director, I was lost. To a man like Joseph—that’s the guy’s name—hearing that was, like, the greatest thing ever.”
“What?” I scowled. “Why?”
She swallowed hard. “Because he’s a Dominant.” The word hung, suspended between us. Tara toyed with the napkin on the table, tracing the edges with her fingers, hinting at her nervousness. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly.
I didn’t get into details with Ruby, but I knew she lived the lifestyle, and it was good for her. She had issues with her temper, and Kyle helped her keep it under control. McAsshole had a history with Ruby that made me wary of him, but his positive influence on her was undeniable.
“I’m submissive.” Tara declared it with ease. “After a month with him, it was clear I was bisexual. Girls, boys, I like them all . . . as long as they’re the ones in charge.”
Beneath the table, I balled my hand into a fist. The idea of her with another woman was so hot, I had to do something to distract from my basic instinct. This isn’t about you. Don’t make it about you.
I thought my reaction was good. I wanted her to feel comfortable, but I must have failed. Her breathing picked up, and her gaze darted away from mine, which made me just as nervous as she looked. Did she think I wasn’t cool with this? Because I was. It was brave that she’d told me.
“Tara, I think—”
“I’m in a relationship.” She spat it out like she’d been holding it back and it escaped by pure force.
I flinched, even though I’d heard her. “You mentioned that.”
“Right, but it’s an unusual one. That’s why I told you all this, and why I asked if you thought it was possible to be in a relationship that excludes emotion.”
I fought to process what she was saying, “You and this guy, it’s just a sexual relationship?”
“Not a guy. It’s a couple.”
A couple. Her and a guy and a girl. My curiosity kicked in, overriding everything else and I asked it genuinely. “How does that work?”
“They’re together and very much in love. I’m their third. I care about them, and they care about me, but it’s a respect thing, not emotional.”
I picked up my glass of wine and drank, not so much because I was thirsty, but so it would give me a chance to organize my thoughts.
“They’re my doms,” she continued. “Because of where I am in my life, I don’t date. I like what I have with them, and up until recently, I thought it was all I needed. But if the right person came along, I’d . . . well, things would change.”
Wait a minute. I set my wine down, but my fingers remained on the bell of the glass. “What are you saying?
“I like you, but I don’t know you well enough yet. If you’re just looking to get laid, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“You have your doms for that.” The second it was out, I wanted to take the shitty comment back. I hadn’t meant to be so plain, but it felt like I’d already lost the chance to date her before I’d known I was competing, and I was a sore loser.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem offended. “Yes, exactly.”
“And what if I’m not just looking to get laid? I asked you to dinner—”
“A lot of guys think dinner’s a prerequisite.” Her expression dared me to say otherwise.
I wasn’t going to, because she had a point. “Fair enough, but you didn’t answer my question.”
She sat back in her chair and evaluated me critically. “I’m not allowed to sleep with you, but we could get to know each other and see if there’s something here.”
My eyes went as large as the head of a timpani drum. “What about them?”
“I won’t be fucking them either.”
Was this crazy? I had to say it out loud to make sure I was understanding it. “So, you propose we date, but not sleep together.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“And your couple would be stuck in a holding pattern.”
“Unless I decide to end it, yeah.”
“Or I don’t make the cut, and you go back to them.” I shoved a hand through my hair, probably making a mess of it. “It sounds like they’re getting the raw end of the deal.”
“There are other ways for me to please them.”
“How?”
“I could give them control over us.” Her eyes were full of seduction. “If you were into that sort of thing.”
Beneath the table, my dick twitched. Her sexy voice instantly made me into a lot of things, including considering her strange offer. I knew nothing about this couple, other than one evening with me had her considering leaving them. If this couple and I went head-to-head, how could I not win?
“I know this is a lot,” she said. “I’m super excited you’re still sitting here after I laid all this out. But . . .” she took in a deep breath, pushed up her shirt sleeves, and leaned on the table, “there’s something else I have to tell you.”
My gaze locked onto the beautiful tattoo crawling along her forearm, and my heart stopped.
Bloody. Fucking. Hell.