Brielle

 

“Push your bottom back and press your heels into the floor.”

I glance up at the yoga instructor and mimic her pose, pushing back into a downward-facing-dog position.

Frustrated, I glance at Julie beside me. She’s so tall and graceful with her long limbs and perfect posture; her downward dog looks nothing like my awkward, shaking attempt. Yet week after week, I let her drag me here to this yoga studio and twist my body into shapes it isn’t meant to do, following it up with a wheat-grass shot that I can barely stomach, all in the name of good health. Oh, joy.

I glance at the clock and see that it’s only been seven minutes. Shit. I’m doomed.

“I still need the details about the other night,” Julie hisses at me.

“And yet you bring me to yoga, which I hate.” I narrow my eyes. I’d be much more inclined to give her all the juicy details over, say, margaritas.

“It’s a free country, Brie. You didn’t have to come. I think you secretly like it.” She winks.

I shoot her a scowl and blow a lock of hair from my face.

“Besides, I think that Dom of yours will appreciate how limber you are,” she adds.

“He’s not mine,” I tell her. Apparently, I’m one of many.

His phone call last night with Chrissy springs to mind again. The soft, calming tone of his voice, the anguish in his features as he spoke to her. It was like catching a glimpse of a whole different side to him, one that I never imagined existed.

“And rise up into warrior pose. Arms gracefully extend out from your body,” the instructor says from the front of the room. “Brielle, lengthen your spine, chin up. Good.”

I roll my eyes and inhale deeply. My brain is still spinning over my arrangement with Hale. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

This is all for Kirby, I remind myself. I can do this.

• • •

 

When Friday rolls around, I’m distracted and edgy. I didn’t hear from Hale all week, aside from his text this morning.

 

Hale: Are you ready for your lesson tonight?

Brielle: Of course. Are we meeting for a drink again?

Hale: No. Not this time. When I fuck you, I want you stone-cold sober and one hundred percent sure this is what you want.

 

Needless to say, I found myself speechless and still haven’t responded. After my second cup of coffee, I finally summon the courage.

 

Brielle: Do you want to meet at my place?

Hale: Yes. I’ll be there at 7 p.m. Make sure you eat something beforehand. You’ll need your energy.

 

When darkness falls, I finally force myself to leave the office. It’s Friday, which means all of my coworkers took off early, looking forward to their weekends and asking me if I had any plans. I mumbled something noncommittal about seeing a friend.

If they knew the truth, my professional reputation would be at stake, and I can’t have that. I may still be new to my career, but I’m a damn good real estate agent, and I won’t risk it.

I gather up my laptop bag, my purse, and the remnants of the lunch I was too nervous to eat, then head out to the parking lot. I knew staying at the office and keeping myself busy with listings and e-mails would be a better decision than pacing my quiet apartment, waiting for Hale. The anticipation of seeing him makes my belly flip. I have no idea what he has in store for me tonight, aside from his hint that we’d be fucking.

Once home, I only have an hour until Hale’s due to arrive. I secure my hair into a bun, strip down, and wash off in the shower. Then I stand naked in front of my dresser, peering down into my underwear drawer. Both times we met up, I’ve worn sexy G-strings, and both times he’s kept my panties as some type of intimate souvenir.

My eyes flash on my most nondescript pair of white cotton briefs. I wonder what he’ll say if I wear those?

A streak of defiance flares within me and an impish grin curls my mouth. Wanting to force a reaction from him, I grab the panties and step into them, then add a plain white bra, a pair of jeans, and a comfy long-sleeved pink tee. We’re staying in, after all. What’s the point in dressing up?

Once I’m ready, I munch on a handful of pretzels as I tidy up my apartment. I know Hale told me to eat, but the idea of sitting down to a full, heavy meal is not appealing. A glass of wine sounds fantastic right about now, but I won’t indulge. Hale wants me completely sober, and there’s something ironically intoxicating about that.

The buzz of the intercom catches me off guard.

He’s here.

I press the button and tell him to come on up. Moments later, feeling breathless and excited, I answer the door and find the tall, striking man I’m coming to know as my Dom standing in the hall. He’s dressed down tonight in dark-washed jeans and a slim-cut Henley in navy blue.

“No suit and tie tonight,” I murmur.

“No. I left the office early and went home, so I had time to change.”

“Oh.” Never having seen him in anything other than a suit, I stand mutely in my doorway, struck by how his straight-fit jeans hug him in all the right places, and how the shirt brings out how intensely blue his eyes are.

“May I come in, peach?” he asks with an amused expression as if he knows I’ve been standing here awestruck by him.

“Of course.” I pull the door wider and usher him inside.

It’s his second time here, but I didn’t give him much of a tour the first time. He pretty much attacked me at the front door and carried me to my room after our sexually-charged encounter in the bar. Tonight’s mood feels mellow in contrast. Something tells me we’re going to take our time, explore things more fully this time around. I’m both nervous and excited.

I lead him from the entryway, stopping at the kitchen to ask, “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Heading to the living room, I watch his gaze bounce around the room as if he’s not only taking in my space, but deciphering my personality too. He wanders over to the bookshelves lining the far wall. They are crammed with paperbacks of every variety and genre.

“Bookworm, huh?” He lifts my signed copy of the mega-bestselling erotic romance from its revered resting place.

“I read on my iPad, but I buy my favorites in paperback too,” I explain.

“Romance, mystery, paranormal.” He skims his fingers along their spines. “You like it all, don’t you?” I can’t help but catch the flirty tone to his comment.

“Yes, but love stories are my favorite.”

“Why’s that?” He turns to face me, his expression turning serious.

“Because. It’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? A partner. Someone to comfort you at the end of a hard day. Someone to love.”

He frowns at me. “Not everyone wants that.”

I want to challenge him, to prove him wrong. I don’t even know why, other than that my belief in love is everything to me, and I will fight to defend it.

“What do you want then?” I lift my chin, trying to force a response from him.

His narrowed eyes latch onto mine. “I’m in charge. Don’t forget that. If I were looking for love, don’t you think I’d have a girlfriend? A wife?”

“Of course,” I stammer, getting the distinct feeling I’ve somehow offended him. “You’re attractive, intelligent. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“What I want is you on all fours, tits down, ass up.” His eyes darken, and I can feel the challenge radiating off of him.

I’m unnerved and thrown off-balance. His reaction to my declaration that surely everyone must be looking for love was met with harsh rejection that only someone who’s been hurt would have. The unmistakable feeling that he’s been heartbroken washes over me. Is that why he does all this? This control? This no-strings mentoring?

Before I can ponder it further, his hands on my shoulders bring me back to the moment. With steady pressure, he guides me down to my knees, all but signaling our discussion is over.

Gazing up at him, I sink to the carpeting. I hate that he’s shut down our conversation, but recalling our previous lesson, I remember the intense look in his eyes, the almost primal need that seemed to take over. Afterward, he was tender and sweet, and seemed much more willing to engage in pillow talk. So I decide to be a good little submissive during my lesson, and then once he’s satisfied and feeling content, try to get some information out of him. I’m beyond curious about this man I’ve agreed to work with.

“Did you follow my instruction this week, Brielle?” he asks.

My gaze flits around the room as my brain struggles to remember what I was supposed to do this week.

“You didn’t touch yourself, did you?” he asks.

Oh. “No, sir.”

He walks around me so that he’s positioned directly in front of me. My eyes are level with his groin, and I can’t help the smile that tugs on my lips.

“What is it, pet?” he asks, lightly stroking my cheek.

“Nothing.” I cough to cover up my smile.

“Tell me.” His tone is firm, and I know there’s no way I’m going to disobey, despite the truth being quite embarrassing.

“I was just remembering when I…sucked you.”

He lifts his chin, looking up at the ceiling briefly, before bringing his gaze back down to mine. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” My cheeks flush, but it’s the unabashed truth.

His fingertips stroke my throat, running along the column of my neck, and every vivid detail about having his thick length in my mouth rushes back. The bite of discomfort in my jaw, drawing shaky breaths in through my nose, his pungent scent, the groans of pleasure that rumbled in his chest. I’m growing wet already.

“If you behave tonight, I might let you suck on my cock again. But first, tonight’s lesson, yes?” he asks.

I nod, eager to learn all he has to offer.

“Tonight is about you understanding your sex appeal. Practicing the art of lovemaking, without any self-consciousness. Appreciating the true effect you have on a man, Brie.”

I swallow my nerves. “Do I affect you?” I whisper, gazing up at him.

“Does this answer your question?” His hand leaves my cheek, and he grips the bulge at the front of his trousers. Dear God. “You’ve got me hard already, sweetheart. At nothing more than the thought of getting to fuck your tight little pussy tonight. You are a prize, and I’m lucky to have you. Any man would be lucky to have you. Say it for me.”

“Any man would be lucky to have me,” I murmur.

His hand strokes my hair. “We’re going to work on getting you to actually believe that, but good, for now.” Offering me his hand, he helps me rise to my feet. His mood seems to have softened, and I’m still trying to catch up. Treating me to a warm and unexpected kiss on the mouth, Hale leans in to whisper near my ear. “Go into your bedroom. Undress and wait for me on the bed. I want to see what kind of sexy panties you’ve chosen for me tonight.”

I walk to my darkened bedroom and undress, only remembering my plain white briefs when I remove my jeans. I remove everything but the panties and lie back on the bed.

Soon, Hale is back, carrying his black bag.

The nerves in my belly do a little dance in anticipation of what he has inside that mysterious bag of his.

Setting the bag down, he removes his candle and lights it, placing it on my dresser.

Familiar notes of sandalwood and black currant warm the room, and my nerves dissipate slightly. I have a feeling that I’ll forever associate this scent with him, and I don’t quite know how I feel about that.

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask him questions at this juncture, but my curiosity gets the best of me. “What’s with the candle, anyway? Not that I don’t love the scent, I’m just curious.”

“It’s another way for me to set the scene. A Dominant needs to be in control at all times, in all things. It’s a scent I had custom made for me. It provides another way for me to ensure the submissive I’m training is using all five senses in a way she hasn’t before during lovemaking.”

“I see.”

I wait to see what accoutrement or device he’ll withdraw from the bag next, but he turns to face me, letting his eyes wander the length of me.

“Sorry, they’re not sexy,” I apologize, looking down at my choice in underwear.

His smirk tells me he’s about to prove me wrong. “Are you sure about that, peach?” Sitting down beside me, he runs his thumb along the seam of the panties, tracing where the hem meets my inner thigh.

I’m eager to feel his touch between my thighs, though I’m quite enjoying the reverent look in his eyes as he studies me. My gaze follows his path as his thumb moves to the front of my panties where my plump outer lips feel sensitive and swollen. He rubs up and down, making my clit tingle with each swipe of his finger.

I can feel myself getting wet, and I know he must feel the way the damp fabric clings to me.

“I want to fuck you with these on,” he growls, proving every notion I’ve had about myself to be wrong. He finds me desirable, even in my most modest state, and the thought thrills me.

“Anything you want.”

He raises one eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

The memory of him telling me he wanted to take me, well, there, is still fresh in my mind. “I’m sure,” I say, mustering my courage. Be brave. This is my time for adventure, to explore.

Leaning down to kiss me once more, he tastes of mint and something distinctly Hale. His tongue sweeps past my parted lips and I open for him, my own tongue desperate to lick against his. My hips push closer toward his hand where he’s still treating me to light caresses over my panties.

I reach for him, gripping the hard ridge in his pants, and he releases a strangled grunt.

“Not yet.” Lifting my hand away from his happy place, he places it on the bed beside me and intertwines our fingers, holding me there while his other hand continues its magic against me.

The knowledge that he’s hard and wants me as badly as I want him is a powerful thing. He’s so much bigger than any man I’ve seen before, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me. My body aches for it. Yet, he’s so in control of everything—of my pleasure and of his own restraint. I want him naked and on top of me, but it seems for now, he wants to torture me.

“I need you to understand something. A basic concept.” With a single kiss placed just below my ear, he pulls back, looking down at where his fingers are still rubbing against me. “Men are visual creatures. And even though you think these plain white panties aren’t sexy…there’s a tiny damp spot I can see right here.”

He rubs his thumb over my clit again, and I release a shuddering breath.

“That is sexy as fuck.” His voice is rough, aroused.

“Hale…” I groan, becoming increasingly frustrated with his fingers teasing between my thighs.

His pupils dilate when I moan his name, and just when I think I can’t take any more of his slow torture, he moves my panties to the side. Sliding his fingers along the seam of my sex, he parts me and sinks two fingers deep inside.

My hips lift off the bed and a groan of satisfaction falls from my mouth. “Yes, please,” I beg.

“Even when you don’t think you’re sexy, move with confidence. When you own it, when you work with what you’ve got, it will always be a turn-on.”

Understanding that this is part of his lesson, my sluggish brain eventually catches on to what he’s saying.

“So, you mean I could do this…” I move my hand between my legs and my index finger begins slowly circling my clit while his fingers slide in and out of me. “…and it would be sexy.”

He makes a hungry noise in his throat and my pulse riots. “Fuck yeah, it is. Move with confidence. Remember that.”

I close my eyes and let my head fell back onto the pillow as I get lost in the sensations. He thrusts his fingers upward, stroking my G-spot, and I begin climbing toward orgasm almost immediately. A few more strokes and I’m clenching down on his fingers, an intense orgasm ripping through me. Blinding white light crashes over me as his fingers slowly withdraw.

“Wow. That was…” I struggle to catch my breath.

Hale leans over me and kisses the side of my neck. “You seem to be catching on to my lessons nicely.” He nips at the tender skin at the base of my throat, and I realize he’s nowhere near done with me. “Do you need a moment to recover?” His gaze moves between my breasts and my eyes.

I shake my head, the quiet intensity of the moment settling in. The flickering candlelight. The scent of my arousal in the air. I’m lost to him and this moment entirely, and I want more.

Hale rises from the bed and pulls his shirt over his head. His jeans and boxers go next, and he stands before me, completely nude, looking like a sexy, muscled god with his six-pack abs, his smooth and defined pecs, and impressive erection.

My eyes are drawn to it, and I don’t even try not to stare. My greedy gaze drinks its fill. He’s nicely manicured down there, and his cock is long, thick, and straight. It’s perfect, actually, and I’ve never thought that about a penis before. His fist closes around it, and he strokes himself once from base to tip.

“Do you want me to fuck you, peach?” he whispers.

More than anything. “Yes,” I answer dutifully.

He moves onto the bed, kneeling between my parted knees. There is not even a question of protection, both of us having disclosed our personal health records, including the fact that I’m on birth control.

I’ve never been so crazed with want and lust that I’ve felt out of control, but that’s how he makes me feel. I hate his practiced restraint and composure. He slowly slides the panties down my legs and discards them at the end of the bed.

Leaning over me, Hale brings my hands up above my head, linking our fingers and pressing me firmly into the bed. His hard arousal presses against my center, and I want to rock against him, to angle my hips and force him inside, but I don’t. He kisses me deeply and I follow his lead, my lips parting and my tongue dancing with his.

He is by far the best kisser I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing. His lips are soft, yet firm, his tongue warm and delivering subtle strokes that leave me wanting more. More of everything. I imagine what his mouth would feel like between my legs.

Unable to hold back, I grind against him and he groans. “Not yet.” He pulls his lips from mine. “I don’t want to hurt you with this.” He slides his cock against my slickness. “Need to make sure you’re ready, okay?”

I’m about to tell him I’m ready when his mouth lowers to my breasts and his tongue licks a path between my cleavage.

“I want to fuck these later,” he murmurs. “They’re gorgeous.”

I’ve always hated that my breasts were on the smaller side, but the way Hale is worshipping them changes my mind. I feel perfectly whole in his presence. He holds nothing back, releasing my hands to push my breasts together and lick the cleavage he creates, sucking firmly on my nipples until I’m about to scream. I reach between us, gripping his solid cock, and slide my hand up and down.

He sucks in a breath and curses softly. “You better be ready for this.”

“I am,” I pant, squeezing him.

“I’m going to tell you exactly what to do. Do you understand?”

My gaze lifts to his and I nod.

Taking his thick cock in his hand, he strokes himself slowly again. Is he doing that just to torture me?

“A man likes it when you know how to please him. You’re going to become the girl he can’t live without. The only girl he wants to fuck. Period.”

I stare at him, incredulous, wondering how exactly I’m going to accomplish that.

“Turn over. Put that nice round ass in the air. Just like before.”

I roll onto my stomach and then lift my behind up, curling my knees under me. My cheek rests on the pillow, and though I can’t see much, I can see enough. Hale rises up on his knees behind me, admiring the view and positioning himself against me.

He trails his finger down my spine, not stopping until I feel his finger between my cheeks, ghosting over me. “Did I tell you already that I want to fuck you here?” He gives my butt a quick swat, and I release a grunt.

“Y-yes.” I don’t think that’s on tonight’s agenda, but he constantly keeps me guessing, so who knows. I am totally at his mercy, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

Palming both of my ass cheeks in his large hands, he aligns his eager cock against me and thrusts forward. My pussy squeezes around him, not quite as ready for the invasion as I thought. I’m instantly reminded that I’ve been celibate for four long years.

He stills against me. “Relax your muscles, okay?” His tone is sincere and soft, and I’m starting to crave this tender side of him that he only shows on occasion.

I take a deep breath and when I exhale, he pushes forward again, sinking a little deeper this time. Dear God. He’s stretching me in the most wonderful way, easing in and pulling back slowly, carefully. The competent way he moves speaks to his experience with women, something I don’t want to think about in this moment.

“Goddamn, you’re tight, peach.” His voice comes out strained and raw.

One more long, slow thrust and finally he’s buried fully within me. A low moan escapes my lips. Ever since our first meeting, I’ve imagined what fucking him would be like. Never in my dirtiest fantasy was it this good. He moves in and out at the perfect pace. Varying his thrusts from hard and fast to deep and slow, lingering when he’s fully buried inside me as if he wants to savor the feeling. The way his hands grip my hips, and he pulls me back firmly against him with each thrust, tells me I’m going to have little fingertip bruises there tomorrow. And damn if I don’t love the thought of him marking me.

“Fuck me back, sweetheart. Get into it and let yourself go. A man needs to know he can get you so full of need that you have no choice but to rock these beautiful hips closer and take every last inch of what he’s giving you.”

Hale’s movements still, giving me the chance to practice taking the lead. It feels so foreign to me, so new, that for a moment, I struggle to find a rhythm that will suit us both, my body stopping altogether.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says, leaning over me and pressing a single kiss between my shoulder blades. “Just feel. Get rid of all those voices in your head. Let everything go and simply feel. It’s just me and you, and we can practice for as long as you need to.”

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Embracing my inner sex kitten, I imagine what the view must be like for him. Me in a position of complete surrender, my ass on display, his cock impaling me, owning me. It’s an erotic sight. I push my butt back, sliding on his cock until his heavy balls slap against me, and he grunts out a sound of delicious pleasure.

I try the move again, withdrawing and rocking back, wiggling my butt in a way I hope is enticing. But I believe him—this is a judgment-free zone, and that thought alone provides confidence. Knowing I can try things I’ve never been brave enough to try is freeing.

He places one hand flat on my lower back, but he lets me do all the work, and I practice rocking back and forth on him.

He shudders, then whispers a curse.

“How is it?” I ask, glancing back at him, suddenly needing some reassurance.

“Uh, you’re doing good.” His voice is impossibly tight, and something tells me I’m doing better than good.

Deep satisfaction rises inside me and I let go, fucking him faster, pushing my ass back to take him deep again and again. The unintended consequence is that I stop thinking so much and just feel. It’s incredible, and soon I feel my release building.

“Hale…” I cry out. “I’m close…”

Suddenly he pulls free and my body mourns his loss, but only for a second. Before I know it, I’m tugged up from the bed, wrapped in his strong arms, and laid back down—on my back this time. And then the broad head of him is pushing into me again, claiming me.

“I want to watch you when you come.” He thrusts forward and this time, I don’t wait to be told; my hips lift from the bed and I meet him thrust for thrust.

God, we’re quite a sight. His huge, thick cock parting me, sinking deep within my pink, tender flesh. My pelvis rocking against his. Our hands locked together. Our eyes lifting to each other’s.

“Come all over my dick, baby. Just like that,” he growls, his eyes glued to the spot where his body is joined with mine.

I fall apart, climaxing almost immediately, moaning his name in a litany of mumbled cries.

His chest shudders and he lets go, the warmth of his semen marking me all along my stomach and thighs as he pulls out at the last second and strokes himself in the most sensual way.

Moments later he moves from the bed, and I hear his footsteps in the hall. He returns with a warm cloth that he uses to clean me. I wonder if this is all part of the service, but the look in his eyes is pure adoration, and I’m lost to him. I’ve never been so thoroughly worshipped, taken, and now his kindness feels like too much.

“That was perfect,” he says, breathless, kissing my temple once again.

A thousand emotions slam into me at once. Pleasure. Desire. Fear. Disgust.

I am the definition of a hot mess. With my hair clinging to my damp skin, and my lungs still heaving from my powerful release, I feel lost and broken. I curl onto my side and hug my arms around my body, hating that he’s about to see me cry.

I’m supposed to be doing this because I want to date Kirby. Right now, he’s the furthest thing from my mind, and I want nothing more than Hale to take me in his arms and never let me go.

“Hey, hey…” The softness of his voice startles me. “What’s wrong?” He strokes my hair, running his fingers against my scalp and through the length of my hair.

I can’t answer at first. Tears roll down my cheeks for reasons unknown as feelings of deep regret and sadness wash over me. I have no idea what’s gotten into me.

Hale leans over me with a pained expression, opening my legs and inspecting me carefully. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, nothing like that.” I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

I’m feeling confused and… I don’t even know how to explain it. Was that as intense for him as it was for me? Probably not. His face gives nothing away, and his calm demeanor makes me feel unnerved, inferior. I’m nothing more than a client; this is just sex to him. To me, it was the most powerful, incredible thing I’ve ever experienced, but to him I’m merely another appointment in his date book. How do I tell him that without sounding totally crazy?

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“The sex between us was intense,” he says as though he’s plucked the words right from my brain.

“Yeah,” I agree.

“So intense that sometimes it can become confused with something it’s not—something more emotional. It’s a powerful thing, submitting like that, giving yourself to me the way you did. Have you done anything like that with a man before?”

“No. I… That was a first for me.” I felt wild and uninhibited, and I let myself go in front of him like I’ve never done before.

“I thought so.” He strokes my hair again, the look of pride in his eyes as he watches me makes me aware that I’d do it all over again—anything he asks and more. “But we can’t confuse what this is,” he says, bringing me back to the moment. “It’s just physical.” The strained way he says it makes me wonder who he’s trying to convince—me or him.

He tugs me down against him and curls his body around me as he tells me to just breathe, and I do. As I try to get my emotions under control, he holds me and assures me my reaction is normal.

“Remember when we talked about aftercare?” he asks, still holding me.

“Yes.” I never dreamed I would be in a position to need it, remembering how hysterical his friend Chrissy was, sobbing and sounding desperate as he coached her through her meltdown. I’ve never been like that after sex, but this felt like a lot more than just sex.

“We didn’t talk about sub drop, but I think we should. Submitting can be an emotional experience. After a scene, your adrenaline and all the other chemicals that your body naturally produces are at an all-time high. When they crash, it can leave you feeling sad, lonely, and confused. The more intense the scene, the more intense the drop can be.”

Listening to him talk, I feel relieved. It’s nothing but my out-of-control hormones and emotions playing tricks on me. I focus on relaxing and clearing my mind. Listening to the sounds of his heartbeat, I enjoy the way his hands knead my muscles.

I have a choice to make. I can enjoy every minute of his attention, every gift he has to offer, or I can go it alone. Why wouldn’t I want his help?

Convincing myself to relax, I’m soon warm and comfortable and feeling drowsy. Everything is going to be okay. I think. He murmurs calming words, praises me for tonight, and continues stroking my hair and my skin.

I’ve let him in so completely, and hate that I don’t know him better. “Will you tell me about your nana?” I ask softly, curious about this dominating man’s soft side that I’ve only caught glimpses of.

“What do you want to know?” His tone is guarded as if he doesn’t enjoy dishing out personal details.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m curious, I guess. Are you close?”

He nods. “Other than my younger sister, she’s the closest thing I have to family. She’s put up with a lot of shit from me over the years, and now I take care of her.”

“What’s she like?” I try to picture Hale hanging around a little old lady, and fail miserably. I’d have an easier time picturing him in a BDSM dungeon, clad in black leather, with a sub tied up in intricate knots.

“She’s an eighty-year-old who makes the best goddamn blueberry pie in the world, likes to knit me hideous sweaters, and continually asks me when I’m going to settle down.”

I giggle, picturing the intrusion, because I really can’t imagine anyone questioning him. “And what do you tell her?”

“Never.” His voice is flat, convincing me he’s serious. He has no interest in marriage or monogamy. The memory of overhearing those two women discussing his tragic past jumps into my brain, and I feel bad for him. It’s a thought that makes me want to take him in my arms and hold him close, but somehow I know he wouldn’t allow that.

After a few minutes, Hale gets up, blows out his candle, and dresses. I watch the way the muscles in his broad shoulders move, the tone and definition of his firm thighs as he pulls on his jeans. He’s really quite gorgeous.

A passing thought makes my stomach sink, and I realize this could all be a terrible combination. His overwhelming masculine presence, my desperate need for love…

Am I headed straight for disaster?