After the intensity of the weekend with Will—and of the past three weeks in general—this particular Monday seems to crawl like a snail crossing a salt plain against a seventy-degree headwind.

I’m still a lean, mean, focused machine, but I struggle to take proper form as seriously as usual and keep letting my students’ little mistakes slide instead of forcing them to go back to the beginning of an exercise and take it at half speed until they get the sequence just right.

I’ve been teaching self-defense for years—all levels, from beginning to advanced—and no matter how many times I have to repeat the rules for engagement, I’ve never been bored a day at my job. Empowering women by teaching them how to protect themselves and the people they love is my passion, and passion doesn’t get old.

Or so I’d thought…

But today I’m so laid back that my beginner girls end up climbing the ropes at the back of the gym and cackling like hyenas, and my teacher trainee class makes a motion to adjourn for coffee forty-five minutes into our sparring because they insist we could all use a double espresso before our afternoon sessions.

And though I am tired—I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight last night—that’s not why I’m half checked out. Will is the reason I’m suddenly wondering if I want to continue to teach full time or go back to school to get my master’s in physical therapy.

Will and these damned, chaos-inducing submissive lessons…

If I weren’t having so much fun, I would hate what they’ve done to my life.

But how can you hate something that results in multiple orgasms every single night?

“It’s just not possible.” I tug the ponytail holder from my hair and dig my fingers into my tight scalp. “But if you bring your B game tomorrow, you’re not going to make a very good first impression on the pre-teens of Portland.”

It’s true. And I know better than to think the pre-teens will have mercy on me. Pre-teens have no mercy, which means it’s time to woman up and make an adult decision, no matter how much I’m looking forward to seeing Will tonight.

As soon as I lock up the gym for the day, I tug my cell from my purse with a heavy heart and shoot him a text—I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to beg off for tonight. My energy levels are low, and I need to be on top of my game tomorrow for my first school visits. Which means going home and going to bed early—and alone—tonight. Forgive me?

After only a few moments, Will responds—Of course. No forgiveness required, baby. I get it. Though, I will miss you.

Sighing, I lean back against the sun-warmed bricks of the building as I type. Me, too. I’ve been thinking about you all day.

Good. Then I did my job last night.

I grin. Yes, you did, sir. But just FYI, I’m totally ready to try the paddle next time I’m naughty. I’m dying to know what it feels like. I bite my lip, debating the wisdom of saying more, but find myself unable to stop my thumbs from confessing, I’ve been daydreaming about that all day, too. About what it will be like the first time. About whether I’ll be bent over with my hands on the table or if you’ll pull me across your lap or if I’ll be tied to the headboard when the spanking starts…

He sends over a sweating, panicked-looking emoji that makes me laugh. Jesus, woman. You and your imagination are going to make me gray before my time. Or give me a hard-on that’s not even a little bit locker room friendly.

Oops, sorry, I write back. Forgot you were at practice.

Sure you did. This time he sends a devil emoji, making me feel oddly proud of myself. Go home and get some sleep, Curious. We’ll get back on track with our lesson plan on Thursday. I’ve got a late practice tonight and a publicity event tomorrow and then an away game on Wednesday.

Disappointment flashes through my chest, and my lips turn down hard at the edges. Sadness consumes me. Thursday is forever away. We’ll be almost in week four by then.

Sadness consumes me, too, he replies, but we still have two whole weeks left. And because I’m such an accommodating teacher, I’m willing to extend our sessions to a nine-week course, if needed, so we can complete the entire expanded curriculum at our leisure. I don’t want to rush. I like taking my time with you.

My heart melts, and my lips reverse their downward trajectory. “I like that, too,” I murmur aloud. “I love it. And I love you. So much.”

I want to say all of those things to Will—all of them and more—but instead I type out, Ditto, baby. Thanks for being the best Discreet Gentleman ever.

We’re both still on uncertain ground. I know he loves me, too, and that we both want this to work for the long haul, but the fact remains that it might not. We might hit a brick wall during one of our final lessons and end up saying goodbye for good. And that will be less painful for both of us if we can keep the focus on our teacher/student relationship instead of our more complicated exes-who-don’t-want-to-be-exes-anymore relationship.

It’s my pleasure. Truly, Will responds after a moment. I’ll touch base with you Thursday morning, gorgeous. Be good while I’m gone. Or…

Or what? I tap out, not ready to say goodbye. Thursday feels like it’s eons away, and I can’t help wishing that things were back the way they used to be between Will and me.

If they were, during our time apart I could look forward to texts, video chats, and epic phone calls that last until well after midnight. Will and I always joked that we had some of our best conversations when there were hundreds of miles between us.

I’m staring at my phone, waiting for Will’s next text when it starts to ring and Will’s picture—a shot of him on the beach from our first vacation together years ago—appears on the screen.

I answer with a smile. “Or what? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Or you could come with me,” he says, his voice pure temptation. “You could get Jill to cover your Wednesday afternoon class, and we can catch an early flight back from Vancouver on Thursday. Or you could get Jill to cover everything for the rest of the week, and we could stay in Vancouver for a few days, go shopping at Granville Island, wander around Stanley Park, make another trip across that suspension bridge that scares the hell out of you.”

“You like scaring the hell out of me?” I ask, my blood fizzy in my veins.

“No, I like how tight you held onto me the first time we crossed that bridge. I want a repeat.”

“I like holding on tight to you,” I murmur, longing rising inside me. “But I shouldn’t miss work. The new session just started a month ago.”

“Yes, but most of the students aren’t new, and you’ve been busting your ass non-stop for eleven months without a break. That’s probably why you were tired today. You need a mental health day, some R and R.”

I hum doubtfully even as my smile widens. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure the reason I was tired was that a very demanding man kept me kneeling on the bathroom floor until almost one in the morning.”

“You looked so pretty there, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about that all day, baby, the way you looked in those tiny red panties and nothing else, with your nipples swollen from my kisses.”

The arousal inspired by his words is so intense and immediate that I have no choice but to lean more of my weight against the wall. I couldn’t stand up straight right now if I tried. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Or you’re going to have me on my knees again outside the gym. You know the dirty talk makes me crazy.”

“That wasn’t dirty talk, baby,” he says. “Dirty talk would be ordering you to make your pussy wet for me right now. So why don’t you do that for me? Go back into the gym, lock the door, go into your office, and take off your clothes. Play with your nipples until I call you back, and then I’ll tell you what I want you to do next.”

My lips part on a reply, but before I can speak, a soft beep-beep sounds in my ear, indicating that he’s ended the call.

I huff in frustration, my cheeks hot and my pussy even hotter. A part of me is dying to do exactly what Will ordered me to do in that Deep Dom voice of his, but I wasn’t joking about needing the night off. I need to get home, make a healthy dinner, and get some rest so I’ll be in top form tomorrow. I don’t need to spend another half hour or more at the gym or get sucked into playing a game I didn’t agree to play.

This is the perfect chance for me to put this new aspect of our relationship to the test, to use that safe word I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for the day when things eventually get too intense for my personal comfort.

But this isn’t too intense; it’s simply an overreach.

Do I still use the safe word for that?

Frowning, I start to text Will, but before I can finish, a text from him pops through—Hey, babe. I’m sorry. I got carried away. As soon as I hung up, I realized I shouldn’t have taken things that far. You texted to say you needed rest, and it’s my job to respect your boundaries. Not only to respect them, but to enforce them for you in the event a scene leaves you too wiped out to manage by yourself. I slipped. Forgive me?

Anxiety fading instantly, I smile. Of course I forgive you. No one’s perfect.

But I’m pretty close right? he shoots back.

I laugh, rolling my eyes as I type, Don’t push your luck, bossy pants. I’m headed for home and will let you know about the trip tomorrow morning. I need to mull it over and see if I think Jill can handle things on her own.

After a moment he texts back, Sounds good. Hope you decide to come. I’d love to have you all to myself for a few days. And seriously, thanks for your understanding and your trust and…everything else. The past three weeks have been so special to me, Hailey. You’re so special to me.

It’s the closest either of us has gotten to confessing “I love you” out loud, and even though the words are typed, not spoken, they make me melt the same way they would have if Will had whispered them in my ear. He’s so special to me, too, and who knows when we’ll get another chance to get away for a weekend? The season is just gearing up, and games and practices are going to start coming even closer together. If I don’t run away with him now, we might have to wait until next summer, and who knows what will be going on with our lives then.

It’s time to seize the day, to trust my impulsive side. Impulsive Hailey is the one responsible for getting Will back in my life and in my bed, and that’s working out just fine so far. Might as well give her a chance to call the shots when it comes to work, as well.

Trusting my gut, I tap Will’s number as I start around the building toward the street. He picks up on the first ring, his harsh whisper sexy in my ear, “I’ve gotta be back on the ice in two minutes, so if I have to hang up again don’t be mad.”

“This won’t take long,” I promise, hurrying on. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m a definite yes for the trip. If Jill can’t cover the classes, I’ll find someone else who can.”

“Perfect,” he says, clearly thrilled. “I’ll book your flight.”

“And I think I might want to go back to school,” I blurt out, the words bursting from my lips before I realize I intend to speak them aloud. “To get my master’s degree in physical therapy and work with athletes like I originally planned. Or maybe do something completely different and only work at the gym part-time. Is that crazy?”

“Not even a little crazy,” he says. “It’s sexy and awesome.”

I laugh. “Second guessing my life choices is sexy and awesome?”

“Evolving is sexy and awesome. And I have no doubt you’ll kick ass at whatever you decide to do next. You’re a force of nature, Marks.”

“You, too.” My heart fills with gratitude and love and half a dozen other squishy emotions I don’t have the time—or freedom—to adequately express right now, so I simply add, “Thank you for being you.”

“Ditto,” he says. “Text you later with flight details. Gotta go.”

This time, the beep-beep of the line going dead doesn’t make me feel frustrated or disconnected from Will. We’re clearly on the same page in every way, from the big stuff to the little stuff, to everything in between. It makes me feel close to him, like he’s walking beside me even though we’re miles apart.

And that feels so good. That fish out of water feeling I texted Sabrina about this morning is still there—hovering at the back of my every thought, making the familiar streets of Portland look sharp and strange as I amble home through the early evening drizzle—but I’m starting to think that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I’m not losing myself; I’m evolving, like Will said. And evolving is sexy and awesome.

So sexy and awesome that I don’t hesitate to swing into Cupid’s Closet on my way home to buy something special for the trip. Predictable Hailey always let Will pick out her lingerie—he was good at it, and Predictable Hailey figured it was logical to let him choose the fancy stuff since he was the one who would be helping her out of all those hooks and ribbons. Predictable Hailey didn’t have much of an opinion on lingerie except that she enjoyed the way it made Will respond when she put it on.

But Impulsive Hailey liked the way that tiny red thong last night made her feel. She enjoyed dressing for the part of the naughty submissive who would spend most of her evening kneeling on the floor. She also enjoys the innocent potentialities of white lace and the secret thrill that comes from deciding whether or not to put on panties beneath her silky sleep shirt.

As I move about the store, thoughtfully considering my lingerie choices and how they might fit into a sexy weekend away with the man I love, I realize that Impulsive Hailey isn’t the right name for this new me. She’s not impulsive, she’s simply curious, open-minded, awake to all the marvelous possibilities I’d been asleep to before.

I’d always thought that surviving cancer had made me stronger than other people—more driven and determined and unwilling to compromise when it came to my goals. And it has done all those things, but maybe, just maybe, it also made me a little rigid in the process. I was so determined not to waste a moment of my reclaimed life that I never gave myself the chance to slow down and question my course or tweak my game plan. I never gave myself the chance to become someone other than Hailey the Fighter, Hailey the Survivor.

Now, with Will, through these lessons, I’m realizing that I’m not just one person anymore. I’m so many different people, sometimes in the same day, in the same hour, and all of them have something to teach me about how to live the fearless, sexy, loving, fun, and fabulous life I want to live.

“Would you like to sign up for our mailing list so you’ll get an email when we release our holiday collection?” the sales clerk asks as I sign the credit card slip for my new purchase, a lacy sheer bra and panty set I’m sure my man will love with every fiber of his dear, sweet, dirty and Dominant soul.

I smile, nodding my head. “Yes, please.” A naughty holiday sounds perfect, and hopefully, by December twenty-fifth, Will and I will once again be sharing a home, a bed, and a Christmas tree.