We walked to the limo that my father had waiting outside the hall and the driver took us to Drake's car, which was parked in a lot down the street.

We said our goodbyes to my father and his wife and Drake opened the passenger door for me. I got inside with reluctance. I just didn't want to go out alone with him, despite my frustrating physical attraction to him as a man.

The car was silent as we drove to the Russian Tea Room. Drake didn't even try to make light conversation to make me more comfortable, as if he wanted me off center, vulnerable.

Finally, I couldn't hold back. "You're not going to talk to me?"

"I'm too busy recovering from our little kiss."

"Little?"

He glanced at me, smiling. I made a face and turned away from him.

"For me it was little," he said. "Maybe for you it wasn't. I don't usually kiss a woman unless I'm in scene and I'm fucking her, so for me, that was nothing."

"If it was nothing, why are you still recovering?"

He grinned. "Touché," he said. "But as I said, I don't usually kiss a woman unless we're fucking, so I'm still a bit uncomfortable. How about you?" He turned to look at me, his eyes dark.

I crossed my arms and looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. "Never better."

"Good. I knew you needed some attention," he said, humor in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile. He was enjoying himself.

"Do you ever take things seriously?"

"Oh, I assure you, Ms. Bennet, that I take some things very seriously. Sex, for instance."

We finally arrived at the restaurant and Drake found a parking spot a block away. He opened my door, then took my hand, his arm around my waist.

The restaurant was still full with late-evening customers, but Drake had a reservation and so the hostess escorted us in to the main dining room, with its dark green walls, gilded fixtures, red leather banquette seating and white tablecloths. We sat at a table with a curved banquette, which meant Drake could sit right beside me. As soon as the hostess left us alone, Drake moved closer to me – closer than I wanted.

"I love these tables," he said, his voice a bit smoky. "If you were already my submissive, I'd have made you wear garters and black fishnet nylons instead of pantyhose. With no underwear on, I'd be able to sit real close and have my way with your pussy while we ate. Your mind would be occupied with what else I was going to eat when we were finally alone."

A thrill of lust went right to my groin at that. I tried to keep a straight face, but my cheeks heated at his words. What possible response could I give to that? Luckily, a waitress arrived and asked for our drink order, and I was spared having to say anything. Drake ordered some blini with caviar to start and then, to my surprise and shock, a shot of Anisovaya for us both. When he said the word, a chill ran through me.

Anisovaya…

"I'm sorry, but we don’t have Anisovaya on the menu."

"Tell the bartender that Dr. Morgan is here. He keeps some especially for me."

The waitress nodded. "Certainly."

I turned to him, my mouth open. "You drink Anisovaya?"

"Yes," Drake said and folded his hands on the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. "I love Russian vodka, especially infused with anise."

I sat in silence for a moment, my face hot. "You wrote those letters."

He frowned, and then smiled briefly as if recovering, his eyes hooded. "I take it that Lara gave you the link and password."

I nodded and glanced away, not knowing what to say.

He was the Dominant who wrote those letters…

"You weren't supposed to read those," Drake said, moving cutlery around on the table. "They're for my subs to read after we sign contracts so they know what to expect. I feel somewhat at a disadvantage because usually I know what my subs like before they know what I like."

"You read my profile on FetLife," I said, a little too petulantly.

Crap. Drake was him.

"Yes, but I want the narrative, not just a list. I want your fantasies so I can fulfill them. Most couples are too afraid to be honest about fantasies, sexual kinks, Kate. The great thing about a relationship like we'll have," he said, leaning closer, "is that you can be totally honest with me. I won't be offended or shocked or jealous or worried about them the way a normal boyfriend would. I'm only here for the sex so I want to make it incredibly good and rewarding. There'll be none of those messy emotions to get in the way of pure pleasure."

I thought about that for a moment when the cocktail waitress brought us our drinks and the caviar, placing them in front of Drake.

"How can you keep emotions out of a relationship? They're bound of leak in."

"Not if you don't let them," he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "I won't let them. Now, down it fast," he instructed, pointing to the shot of vodka. "The Anisovaya goes down smoothly."

"I shouldn't drink," I said, but in truth, I needed something at that moment.

"Oh, you most definitely should. I want you to loosen up a bit, Kate. Enjoy yourself. Relax. We need to talk and I want you to be completely honest with me. For a change. Here." He pointed to the shot again. "Pick it up and we'll do it at the same time."

I took the shot and looked at him, reluctant, my hands shaking.

"Za vas," he said in Russian. "To you."

"Za vas," I replied and together, we shot back the vodka. I grimaced. Despite the hint of anise, it was still vodka, straight.

Drake smacked his lips. "Vashee zda-ró-vye!" he said. "To your health."

I smiled just a bit, licking my lips. He seemed in such a good mood, now that he had me alone on his own turf. He took one of the blini and smeared sour cream and caviar, then added a few bits of onion to it.

"Here," he said, holding it up to my mouth. "You never drink vodka without eating."

"I don't know…"

"A rich kid like you never had caviar?"

"I had a huge aquarium when I was a kid and bred guppies. I couldn’t get used to the idea of eating fish eggs."

He laughed but pressed it on me. "Trust me, Kate. This is so good. You'll love it."

I took a bite and chewed, a bit hesitant. Then I raised my eyebrows. The smooth creaminess of the sour cream was punctuated by the sharp little bites of salty caviar and the savory onion. "It's good. I didn't think I'd like it."

"Like I said, you have to trust me. I know what's good. The more I know you, the more intimate we are, the more you can just let go and I'll lead the way."

"You're so sure of yourself," I said. I picked up the menu and examined it. "What's good to eat?"

"I'll order my favorites," Drake said. "Can you trust me?"

I nodded. "Russians don't eat eyeballs do they?"

"No, at least, none that I know."

Drake ate the rest of the blini and then fixed another, which we shared, him feeding me.

The waiter arrived and Drake ordered for us in Russian, requesting the Pelmeni, which were stuffed dumplings, the Blinchik, which were crepes with white truffle, and to start, the famous Tea Room borscht soup.

When the waiter left, Drake turned to me, resting his arm on the back of the seat behind me.

"So, Kate," he said, moving just a bit closer. "You read my letters. How did they make you feel?"

I shrugged. There was no way I was going to tell him. "I don't know what to think..."

"Don't tell me what you think. Tell me how you felt."

No frickin' way.

"You're a good writer."

"You are so stubborn. Look, Kate, this couldn’t be easier," he said, moving a little closer. "Your father wants us to be together. We can meet, talk and I can take you out to functions as much as we want, we can do as much as you want, explore as much as you want, without having to hide our relationship. No one has to know why we're together. They'll all assume they know why, thinking it's because we've fallen in love," he said, his tone mocking. "It's great cover."

"I haven't agreed to become your sub."

"No, you haven't," he said and traced a pattern on the back of my hand. "I hope to convince you to sign a modified agreement. I'm going to be honest with you, Kate." He caught my eye. "I want you. There's nothing I love more than initiating and training a new submissive. I think I can satisfy your needs. In fact, I think this is perfect for us both."

"And if I said I just want to write a research paper and interview you? Nothing more?"

"You didn't feel like you only wanted to write a research paper earlier. You were nice and wet and for a moment, you kissed me back."

I frowned. "I was overly emotional. You caught me at a vulnerable moment."

He shook his head. "When you're vulnerable, your true feelings come out. It's when you're feeling strong that you're able to hide them. Look, Kate," he said and took my chin in his hand. "There's something between us. I felt it. You felt it. Pure sexual attraction. You want to try submission – I know you do. You want to try it with me. Why fight it?"

He let go of my chin and I glanced away.  "You’re so blunt."

"I have to be blunt. I have to tell you the truth about how I feel and what I want and what I can give. You have to be completely open with me about what you desire. You have to feel complete trust in me in order to really let go."

"I feel like you're pushing me. I don't like being pressured."

"Kate," he said, turning my face back to him. "This is all about you. People think that it's the Dominant who has all the control – and he does, once they're in scene, but to get to that point, it's all about the sub. Her limits. You have all the control. You dictate the terms. I fulfill them. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you, if that's holding you back. I'm not going to reveal anything about this to anyone. It's just between you and me – and Lara of course. She's not going to let anything slip. She's totally professional. All I really want," he said and leaned closer, staring at my mouth, before deliberately moving up to my eyes. "All I really want is to do whatever it is you need so I can make you come, over and over again. Is that so bad?"

He licked his lips and I thought – what a manipulative bastard he is. This was one of his mindfucks,  him knowing exactly what to say to get me aroused.

"If it's all about me, then let me decide on the pace."

"I will," he said. "This is just me trying to assure you that I want you. You don't have to worry about that part of things. This is now all up to you. Like I said, I'm sending you a revised agreement with my preferences later tonight when I get back to my apartment, but if you've read my letters, you already know most of it. I want you to strike off what you don't want to try and include everything you do want. Then we can negotiate."

"How soon would you," I said and hesitated. "Usually start things?"

"We can have sex right away, if you want." He stared into my eyes. "Tonight. But it will take time before you're ready for the bondage. I won't move too fast for you. You'll decide when we start."

"So, we just go somewhere and have sex?"

"My place or yours?" He smiled. "Kate, have you never just had casual sex with anyone? A one-night stand?"

I shook my head. "No. I've always known them first. Dated. Never sex on a first date or a one night stand."

"You've never wanted to fuck a man you just met?"

I glanced away, playing with the cutlery. "I've been attracted to men I've met, but I can't just have sex with someone right away."

"Why not?"

"Because," I said, frowning. "This is embarrassing."

"Kate, you have to be honest. You have to get over your shyness with me. Tell me. Why can't you just fuck me tonight?"

I took in a deep breath. "It's so …intimate." I shook my head, shivering at the thought of just having sex with a stranger. "Being naked with someone? Letting them touch your skin? Opening your legs to them? Letting them inside your body? It's so … you're so …vulnerable."

I looked in his eyes. He was a man. He couldn't understand.

"Thank you for being honest."

He leaned in and kissed me softly, his mouth covering mine. I let him. He pulled back when the waitress came with our soup.

"What happened here?" he said, touching my bottom lip with a finger, running it over the small scar where one tooth pierced my lip.

"I fell when I was a kid."

"Don’t tell me – wearing your mother's high heels during a dress-up game?"

I shook my head, fighting to hold back my smile. "Stilts."

"Stilts? You?" He grinned at that and I couldn't help but smile back, but then I turned my head away.

We ate the rich earthy borscht – the best I'd ever eaten.

"So," he said, spooning some sour cream into my soup, "tell me about flyboy."

"How do you  know about him?"

"Lara told me."

I frowned. "I'd rather not. Can't we talk about something else?"

"This is important. I need to understand what happened, what he did, how you responded. It will help me know what to do to make you relax and trust me."

I sighed. "I don’t like talking about him. He's a bad memory."

"I need to know why your memory of him was bad. Look, he obviously made mistakes with you. He was a total amateur. I won't make those mistakes. Besides, think of this as research. You tell me what he did, and I'll tell you where he went wrong and how I'd do it properly. If we never do anything more, at least you'll understand."

I stirred my soup a bit. "I met him through Doctors Without Borders. He used to fly people into remote camps as a volunteer. He was doing his MBA and we started to date."

"How soon did you have sex with him?"

"A couple of weeks. We went out for coffee a lot at first, and then had dinner. Then we went to a movie and he came over and we had sex."

"What was it like for you the first time? Did you come?"

I exhaled heavily. "Are you going to ask for a moment by moment accounting of our relationship?"

"Yes." He turned back to his soup and took a spoonful. "I need details to understand what your experience was and why it went wrong. So," he said again. "Did you come the first time?"

"No, I didn't. It took a while. But I did eventually."

"What did it?" he asked as I ate my soup. "What was it that allowed you to have an orgasm?"

"You sound like a sex therapist."

He cracked that grin, his eyes mischievous. "That's one way of thinking about me. But seriously, what did you do that allowed you to orgasm?"

"I don't know," I said, exasperated, glancing around to see if there was anyone in earshot. "We were a bit drunk, and I just, I don’t know… I was more relaxed. He did things for a long time and I was more ready."

"How exactly did he work you up?"

"Drake!" I turned to him, frowning. "We're having supper."

He smiled. "I'm not asking because I want to become aroused. I'm asking so I understand what you need. What you like. A Dom must trust his sub to tell the truth at all times. She must trust him enough to tell the truth. Otherwise, it won't work."

"I thought that was what the agreement is for."

"It is but we have to talk openly. I want you to get used to being totally honest with me about sex. You can say anything. Anything. I've heard it all."

"Not from my lips."

"No, not from your lips," he said, smiling. "And I can't wait to hear it from your lips in particular. I happen to love your lips, especially your scar. All I can think of when I'm with you is kissing you, licking your scar, sucking your lips, biting them. And I mean both sets." He licked his lips again just for emphasis and bit his bottom lip.

I turned away, trying to hide my heated face. The image of him kissing, licking, sucking and softly biting me aroused me, a twitch of lust in my now-swollen flesh.

"So, enough about your delicious lips that I want to suck and lick and bite. Tell me about flyboy. When did he start to introduce the idea of BDSM into your relationship?"

"After the books came out and it was on the news."

"What did you think at first?"

"I read the books but I didn't want it. I thought BDSM was about men who hated women and just wanted an excuse to hit them and get away with it. I thought it meant I wasn’t good enough the way I was. He wanted me to shave. He wanted to do anal. He wanted to spank me. He wanted me to let him mock-rape me."

"And how did that make you feel?"

I frowned. "Upset, of course. I had just started to enjoy sex and then he starts with all this kinky stuff that scared me and made me feel inadequate. Why wasn't I good enough as I was?"

"For someone with a kink, plain old orgasms aren't enough. It's like eating vanilla ice cream after you've had chocolate truffle. You can eat it but it's not the same pleasure."

"You and Lara," I said and couldn't help but smile a bit. "With the ice cream metaphor. Except vanilla ice cream is still sweet. Anal and mock rape aren't."

"They can be. It's all in your preparation and build-up. Flyboy should have studied BDSM before he ever tried anything. He should have gone to someone and been trained like I was. I know how to do this, Kate. You can relax."

"So, is this dinner and this talk part of how to do this?" I said, looking at him, but not in his eyes. I kept my eyes on his chin or his mouth to avoid eye contact. He tipped his head down so that I couldn't avoid his eyes.

"Not my usual MO," he said. "But the general approach is the same. I have to find out what a sub needs and if we're compatible. Sometimes, I have to seduce them a bit."

"So, in your mind, you're seducing me right now."

He smiled. "I hope so."

"What do you hope will happen?"

He moved a little closer to me and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

"I hope," he said, keeping his voice soft. "I hope that we'll continue to talk like this, with you telling me in intimate detail what you did that made you feel pleasure and what he did that scared you. Then I hope you'll agree to take me to your apartment. I hope that you'll agree to let me fuck you tonight so that the first time is out of the way. I promise to make you come at least twice if you do. Nothing will happen tonight in terms of bondage and dominance. It's too soon. But it's not too soon for us to fuck, given our obvious mutual attraction."

"This is all too, I don’t know – clinical."

"I thought you wanted to understand. I thought if I explained everything, you'd feel more comfortable. I can just do it, if you'd prefer. Just train you without explaining."

I said nothing, seriously considering it, a jolt of desire rushing through me from his so blatant words. I couldn't help but imagine what he would do to me if I let him.

"You seem to have this all plotted out."

"I do. It's my specialty. I like to study a problem. I like to break it down into its parts. I like to create a strategy for solving it, lay out all the steps. I like to follow through."

"So I'm a problem?"

"I want you as my submissive. The problem is how I can get you to submit. I have to understand you, what you need and want in order to have you, satisfy your needs. Will you at least consider my request?" He wiped his mouth with a napkin and held my eyes.

I glanced away, my stomach all butterflies at the prospect of taking him home with me. "I'm thinking."

"Good. Now, tell me about your love of the fine arts. Do you paint or draw?"

I took another spoonful of soup but suddenly I didn't want to talk about art. "Both. I did a lot in high school, but it was too frivolous for my father."

"Did he actually tell you that you couldn't study art in college?"

"Not in so many words, but he made his views known, as he does with everything."

"What about your mother? Didn't she encourage you?"

"You want to talk about submissives? I think that sometimes, mother was afraid of him."

"He wasn't violent was he?"

I shook my head. "No. He just has this way… You know when he disapproves. He doesn't even have to say anything."

"Sounds like an old bastard. So, now, instead of writing about politics, you're writing about culture and the arts. That's a good compromise. You're a very good writer."

"Thank you," I said, starting to relax now that we weren't talking so bluntly about sex. "It makes me happy to be able to write about what I really love."

The waitress removed our empty bowls and brought the Pelmeni and Blinchik. Drake cut up one of the Pelmeni and held his fork to me.

"Here," he said, "taste this. It's so good."

I took the bite-sized piece of dumpling off his fork and he smiled as I ate it.  I closed my eyes it was so delicious, rich and savory. "That's so good!"

He smiled. "I love that face," he said, his voice a bit husky. "I bet it's like your orgasm face. At least, I hope so."

"Do you talk like this to all your submissives?"

"Like what?" He tried to act all innocent, but he knew exactly what I meant.

The cocktail waitress came by and he ordered another round of Anisovaya.

"So," he said, his voice soft and low. "Will you take me to your place tonight and let me fuck you and make you come at least twice?"

I forked a piece of Pelmeni. "I don't know if I can – tonight."

"But maybe some night? That's a step forward. Look, if you're unsure about sex, just let me come over and see your apartment at least. I'd love to see what your apartment looks like from the inside instead of just what your peephole looks like. Besides, if you make me stay outside, Mrs. Kropotkin might call the cops if she thinks I'm harassing you. You're an artist. I'd love to see your art. "

I couldn't help but smile a bit. "You want to come in and see my etchings?"

"I really do want to see your art. I want to know you, Kate. Your art is part of you."

"You don't need to see my art to be my Dom."

"Look, Kate, I promise I'll keep my hands to myself. If you change your mind and want to fuck me, you'll have to make the move."

I turned and looked directly in his eyes, searching for how truthful he was, but it was impossible to tell. All I had was Lara's word to go on – that he was absolutely trustworthy. But could I trust her?

After we finished the meal, he fed me some blini with whipped cream and fresh fruit mixed with some fruity Russian liqueur. He seemed to love feeding me and I told myself that this was great insight into what made him a Dom. He really enjoyed taking care of a woman's needs – all of them. Chivalry was not dead with Drake. Feeding – I remembered the movie 9 ½ Weeks when the male character fed her while she was blindfolded, trying to heighten her senses.

Drake made everything about control and sensation, as if his life was dedicated to it. I thought about him while he swirled the bit of crepe around in the sweet sauce before lifting the fork to my mouth, his eyes encouraging me to have more. He was a neurosurgeon. He dealt in brains – how they worked and what to do when they went wrong. Neurons, brain structures, neurological responses. He had an undergraduate degree in Clinical Psychology, and studied the mind and how it worked, the unconscious, emotions, personality. It made sense that he would be all about control and enhanced sensation. Maybe it fascinated him on that level.

 I opened my mouth and let him feed me the crepe and it was so delicious, I closed my eyes and murmured my appreciation. When I opened them, I saw real pleasure in his eyes.

"I love it when you close your eyes like that," he said as he watched me chew. "But when I make you come, you'll keep your eyes open and focused on mine."

I swallowed hard at the thought. It wasn't just the idea of him making me come, it was how certain he was that he would, and that certainty aroused me, my body warming, my flesh swelling. He was so sure of his ability. If he could make me this aroused just feeding me crepes and talking, what would it be like if we were alone and naked? My legs felt weak and I was glad to be sitting down.

Was I that woman – the woman who was so easily controlled by a dominant man? Who got off on being controlled - on giving over complete control to a man?

"What's going on in that too-intelligent mind of yours?"

I frowned. "Why am I too intelligent? You said you didn't like stupid women…"

He laughed and shook his head. "I should have said too active mind. Sometimes very intelligent women over-think certain things – like sex and pleasure.  You have a very responsive body, Kate. You should just free yourself to feel."

"Women are always wet, you know," I said, irritated that he was so certain about me.  "You're a doctor. You should know that from your Gynecology rotation."

"Not that wet." He gave me that half-grin that was more of a smirk. "Don't be embarrassed. I was hard as a rock so we're even."

He was hard as rock. And like Lara said, hung. I recalled the feel of him pressed against my belly and how excited I felt knowing he was as aroused as I was. How I wanted him inside of me. While Big was too big for me, I figured Drake would fit.

"You seem so certain of yourself."

"You like that I'm so certain of myself." His grin grew wider and he forked another piece of crepe, picking up some whipped cream and fruit. "If I wasn't, what kind of Dom would I be?" He held the fork up once more and I opened my mouth. "You have to believe that I'm dominant for this to work. If you doubt my ability to take control over you, you'll never be able to yield power. That's key."

"So this is an act to convince me you're able to take control?"

He shook his head and fixed his gaze on me. "This is no act. I'm being as open and honest as I can with you. I understand you, Kate. You can relax with me. You can just be. Believe me, I won't judge you except when you disobey my orders or don't try hard enough to comply."

Disobeying his orders… Why did that both arouse me and irritate me?

"I'm so conflicted about this."

"I know you are." He reached out and took my hand, stroking his thumb over my palm and even that sent a stab of lust to my groin. "You're afraid. Your modern feminist sensibility thinks this is wrong, that submission is wrong, but that primal part of your brain knows it's right."

He leaned in closer, then he ate a forkful of crepe himself, chewing thoughtfully. He watched me, his blue eyes determined.

"You have to get over your self-judgment and accept this for what it is. Submission for you is just the way you prefer to experience sex. Nothing more, nothing less. There's no deep meaning to it. It just turns you on."

"It shouldn't."

"There you go – that judgmental Superego. Kate, D/s the way we will practice it is safe, sane, and most of all, consensual. That's not just a slogan. I believe it. D/s is not illegal, it's not damaging. It doesn't diminish you in any way. If you sign the contract, we'll have lots of mind-blowing sex in the way that really appeals to us both and you'll sleep really well at night when we part." He forked a piece of strawberry and popped it in his mouth, chewing briefly. "Simple."

I took a drink of water, needing something to distract me from that look of certainty on his face.

We finished the dessert and he described his band members, how often they played and how their gigs at small venues kept him busy most nights. But he had a few open slots a week and would like to see me on those nights, either at his place or mine.

"But tonight, I want to come to your place so I can see who you are when you're not with your family."

"I don’t know…" I was incredibly aroused, but I was also incredibly afraid.

"If you want, no sex tonight. Just talk. We can go over my personal limits and discuss yours. No touching and no sex unless you initiate it."

"And if I sign an agreement? How much say do I get in what happens between us?"

"When we're together? Sexually? None. The purpose of the agreement is for you to give that power over to me to decide what happens. The only out you have is your safe word, but once you use it, that's it. We stop. Full stop. So don't use it unless you really mean it. Don't use it unless what's happening is too much for you to bear. At first, you can use 'yellow' as a sign you need to slow down or pause. Red will be only for full stop, and once we're over the initial training. A submissive enjoys some uncertainty, because it's arousing. But real fear and bad pain? That's when you use your safe word. Other than that, other than your hard limits, you leave everything up to me. What, how, when, where, how often."

"I shouldn't need a safe word, Drake, if all we're going to do is fuck. Remember – no pain."

"I told you I'm not a sadist. But sex can get intense. Bondage scenes can get intense. I'm not into pain, but a binding can accidentally get too tight, or you can be emotionally overwhelmed. I will punish you if you misbehave. Sometimes, punishment can be too intense."

"What kind of punishment?"

"We'll have to negotiate that."

"Lara said you'd likely spank me."

He smiled. "Does that upset you?"

"I'm not a child."

"Spanking is merely to reinforce dominance. It's not supposed to be about hurting you."

"How can it not hurt?"

"It won't hurt too much, then."

"How do you know what too much is?"

"I'll show you. You'll tell me. I'll stop at that point."

I shrank in my seat, disheartened. I didn't want any spanking.

"Look, Kate, hopefully, if I do this right, you'll never need to use a safe word but it's there just in case."

"I don't know about the spanking part," I said. "We're going to have to talk about that."

"We will," he said, and stroked my cheek. "I won't go too far for you. I want this. I don't want to make a mistake with you."

I sighed. "You won't push me tonight?"

He grinned, his expression mischievous. "I won't push. Much. But you have to know that I want you." He leaned forward. "I want to fuck you tonight. I'd love to tie you up and have my way with you, but I know it's too soon. You need to trust me before you can give over your power willingly. But a kiss goodnight would be nice." His blue eyes twinkled.

"I'll consider it."

He paid the check and stood, helped me out of the booth and then escorted me to the coat check. He wrapped my coat around my shoulders, taking the opportunity to nuzzle my neck. And I thought – that was Drake. Constantly reminding me that he wanted me and found me desirable.  It was, he was, irresistible.