like a damn dog marking my territory. “She’s taken. Find someone else.”
He gives me an assessing stare. “I’d rather let the lady speak for herself.” He turns to her, his gaze softening. “Would you like me to call a monitor?”
“No, I can handle Hunter on my own.” A smile touches her lips. “But thank you for asking. I really appreciate it.” She waits until the man moves away and then swirls toward me. “Are you out of your mind?”
I’m certainly acting like it. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’m sorry.” Fuck me, I can’t believe I just did what I did. “I shouldn’t have got in your way. You have every right to approach whoever you want. I’ve behaved appallingly.”
She stares at me for a long second, and then she exhales slowly. “You were right. I’m not ready to play at the club. Magnus invited me to scene with him, and I wanted to bolt. Maybe Eric’s right too. Maybe I really do want missionary in the dark.”
Fuck me, now she’s down on herself. I feel like a complete asshole. “Eric was out of line,” I tell her. “He was so far over that he can’t even see the line in his rearview mirror. As for sex, can I offer you some unsolicited advice?”
She doesn’t look at me. “Why not?”
“This is the deep end of the pool,” I murmur. “You’re learning how to swim. If you want to explore BDSM, find someone you trust. You have friends in the lifestyle. Ask them for references. The right partner will listen to what you want, and he won’t overwhelm you.”
She gives me a long, inscrutable look. Then she pulls away. “See you around, Hunter,” she says.
Then she leaves.
I take a deep breath. The band is in full swing. It’s late, and people are forming into pairs, triads, and foursomes, and heading off to the back rooms. This is when the action really begins.
I came here looking for casual sex. A woman to dominate. An encounter that would make me feel in control again. Something that would make me forget the ache in my heart.
But the luster is gone.
Eric is no longer in sight. He must have left. I walk over to the bar and settle up, and then I too head home.
9
Eric
I get to work early Monday morning and head straight to Dixie’s office. The door is open. She’s got her headphones on, and she’s engrossed in her work. I knock on the frame a couple of times, and she finally hears, lifting her head with a smile of greeting.
A smile of greeting that quickly fades. She takes off the headphones and surveys me warily. “Eric,” she says. “How can I help you?”
It’s half-past six. The place is empty except for the two of us. I’m not a morning person, but I got up at the ass crack of dawn because I didn’t want the entire office to hear me grovel.
I hold out the coffee I got her as a peace offering. “I owe you an apology. I behaved appallingly on Saturday. I said terrible things, I acted like a complete dick, and you have every reason to be furious with me.”
She takes the coffee from me. “You haven’t poisoned it?” she quips.
“It’s a caramel macchiato,” I reply. “There’s enough whipped cream on it to cause a coronary, if that’s what you mean.”
Her lips twitch. “The whipped cream is the best part.” She takes an experimental sip, and pleasure fills her face. Fuck me, she’s beautiful, and I need to get my head out of my ass because she’s a coworker, and I’m not stupid enough to get involved with someone I work with. Even if this gig at Xavier’s is temporary.
“Why did you say it then?” she asks me.
Ouch. I was really hoping she wouldn’t ask. “Do we have to get into it?”
“Let me quote you,” she says. “‘At the end of the day, what she wants is missionary with the lights dimmed.’ Yes. I want to know why you said that.”
“My last serious girlfriend…” Fuck. “I dated someone who thought she wanted to explore kink. Turns out she didn’t. It blew up in my face. You remind me of her.”
“Why, do I look like her?” she retorts. “You don’t know anything about me.” She takes another sip. “Thank you for the coffee. I didn’t know you knew how I took it.”
“I’ve heard you place your order during the afternoon coffee run.” I run my fingers through my hair.