“What if she’s being forced to do this? In trouble and needs help?” Sunny asked.
“She could have just asked for help if she needed it,” he said stubbornly.
“Maybe she didn’t think you would help her.” Sunny stared at him with sad eyes.
Shit. That hit him harder than it should have.
“Let’s just do this.” He had to find out what was going on. And he was going to use Betsy to do that. It was no less than she deserved for using him all this time.
Right?
He wanted to meet for a date?
Was he insane? Maybe he hadn’t read the note. Shit. What if he hadn’t found it? What if it had fallen out of his pocket?
All that stress for nothing.
She chewed at her lip. What to do? What to do?
The phone was clasped tightly in her hand as she paced up and down. She hated this. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was too much. She didn’t think she could take any more pressure. It was like a vice around her head, getting tighter and tighter.
Life and death.
Why was it always life and death? Why couldn’t she have simple decisions to make? What to eat for dinner? What clothes to wear?
What to play with? What toy to sleep with?
She didn’t even own a toy. The only things she’d played with were at the club.
She missed being Little. Missed her Daddy.
You saw him last night. How can you miss him already? Idiot.
But she did. Because last night had been goodbye. She’d cried all damn night. She felt like shit.
And he wanted to see her. Tonight.
Screwed. She was screwed. Okay, so he obviously hadn’t seen the note. She was going to have to meet with him and slip him another one. Was going to have to pretend everything was all right.
All she wanted was to be back in the Littles’ room at the club. Only this time it would just be her and Ink. She’d play. He’d watch her indulgently. Then he’d take her home and make love to her.
She snorted. Right. A guy like Ink wouldn’t make love to you. He’d fuck you. Dirty. Hard. Hot.
Yeah, she could go for that too.
A text rattled her phone and she looked at it. Kit’s name popped up. Shit.
Answer him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She texted Ink back that she’d meet him.
It really wasn’t fair that she had to say goodbye twice.
12
His gaze was intent as he watched her cross the room. A different restaurant this time. More upscale. She didn’t really like it. Rather generic. Nothing like the place he’d taken her to last time.
He stood and walked over to her chair before the maître d’ could pull it out. She could tell the maître d’ didn’t like that. He gave Ink a snooty look, glancing up and down at him.
Once she was seated, Ink moved away. But instead of sitting across from her, he slid his chair around the table so he was beside her. His thigh brushed against hers and she stiffened in surprise.
He leaned in and kissed her ear. “I thought we’d gotten you past tensing up when I touched you.”
“Sorry, I’m just a bit on edge.”
“Because of last night?”
She stiffened even further. Had he found the note?
“You left pretty quickly,” he added. “I tried to find you. I was worried about you. You’re sure you’re feeling better? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” So he hadn’t found the note. “I think just bringing everything up about my dad got to me, you know?”
There. That sounded reasonable.
“He sounds like a piece of work.” Ink wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. It was a move that smacked of possession. She felt a shiver work its way through her. “I’d never leave my family. When I make a commitment, it’s for life. I take care of those that belong to me.”
God, how she wished she could be his. She’d gotten a taste and greedily, she wanted more. She wanted it all.
He can never be yours.
“What about your mother? She died?”
“Breast cancer. When I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She turned to face him; aware his lips were mere inches from hers.
“It was a long time ago,” she whispered.
“I want to kiss you,” he told her a low voice. “But not here. I want to go somewhere more private.”
“I…I…more private?” What was happening? This was only their second date. Well, technically. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known him for weeks.