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“I was. Divorced now.” Roman’s lips twisted around the words, a badge of failure. “Yolanda said I was married to the job more than to her, and she was right. I was never home, and when I was, my mind was still working. When my predecessor was murdered and I was tapped for a promotion, I took the job without consulting her. She was right to walk away, as much as it pains me to admit. I was a selfish bastard. Probably still am.”
Caleb reached out his hand, stopped, then settled it on Roman’s hand, an anchor in a churning sea. “Must’ve been rough.”
“Rough doesn’t cover it.” Roman’s voice cracked like dry leather. “It gutted me and made me feel like an utter failure, even though, by then, I wasn’t in love with her anymore. It still made me question everything. Who I was, what I wanted, and above all, if I was willing to pay the price for what I wanted…”
“And what do you want?”
Roman’s heart clenched, desire and fear warring within him. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Maybe you need someone to help you figure it out.”
“Maybe.” The word lingered between them, heavy with unspoken desires and the darkness they both craved. “But I’m still not sure if I’m willing to pay the price for what I want.”
“Life’s short. Take risks. Live a little.”
“Risks can destroy everything you’ve built.”
“Or they can give you everything you never knew you needed.”
Roman’s heart hammered. He let the truth in Caleb’s words sink in. The risk, the thrill… It was tempting, too tempting. But he was a man of control, of carefully constructed boundaries. Wasn’t he?
“What do you get from it, from submitting?” he asked.
“Submission is a gift.” Caleb’s eyes searched Roman’s, blue depths filled with a silent plea. “To give yourself over fully to another. To trust them to take you apart and put you back together. Stronger. It’s not just kink for me. It’s about trust, surrender…finding someone who understands power and control.”
Roman’s pulse kicked up a notch. The air felt charged, thick with Caleb’s admission. A desire, dark and potent, bubbled inside him. Power. Control. Words that resonated with him on a level he hadn’t anticipated. “Sounds like a heavy responsibility for the Dom.”
“Only if they don’t crave it. Some do. They live for it. The responsibility, the control…” Caleb’s voice dropped to a whisper as if revealing secrets meant only for Roman’s ears.
The weight of Caleb’s gaze was like a physical touch, stirring something primal within Roman. He fought the surge of authority that clashed with his professional decorum, with the Roman Dwyer the world saw. But here, in this room, those barriers seemed far less significant. Roman leaned closer, the pull irresistible. “And you? What do you live for, Caleb?”
“Someone to guide me. Use me. Someone unafraid of what they can do to me.” Caleb’s breath was warm against Roman’s cheek, a dare wrapped in vulnerability.
Something snapped within Roman. His hand lifted almost of its own accord, fingers grazing Caleb’s jawline. That touch seared him, a confirmation of the power exchange Caleb offered so willingly.
“Unafraid.” He tested the shape of the word, the concept, his heart hammering in a mix of excitement and fear. But he couldn’t deny the rush, the intoxicating blend of risk and arousal.
“Roman?” Caleb’s voice was soft, but it carried the weight of all that stood between them.
“Shit.” Roman exhaled.
“Take control,” Caleb said in a whisper with the impact of a gunshot.
“Dammit, Caleb…” Roman’s resolve crumbled. He curled his fingers around Caleb’s wrist, the steady thrum of his heartbeat pulsing beneath the skin. “I don’t know where this will lead.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Caleb leaned into the touch. “Right now, it’s just us.”
“Us.” The word was a revelation, a commitment Roman never expected to make again. Yet here he was, poised on the edge of something that could either save or destroy him. With a sharp inhale, he let the last of his resistance fall away and stepped into the role Caleb so openly craved for him to fill.
“Kneel,” he commanded.
Without hesitation, Caleb obeyed, descending like a supplicant before an altar. He knelt in the middle of the hallway, unafraid and unashamed, the epitome of submission that sent a surge of power through Roman’s core.
“Look at me.” The words were a growl torn from Roman’s throat.
Caleb lifted his gaze. Those blue eyes held a spark of eagerness, a silent plea for what only Roman could grant. And grant, he would. He couldn’t deny Caleb any longer. Or himself.
With rough hands, he freed himself. “Open your mouth.”
