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“Dirty fuck and sore ass. Not too bad. I’ve said worse.”
“And you called me ‘Master.’”
She stiffened in shock. “Fuck.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know how out of it you get when you’re tired.” He pushed back from the table, a determined expression on his face. “I did promise to check out your ass this morning, however.”
Hurrying to the table, she sat down. “No worries. My ass is fine.”
She couldn’t explain why, but she knew she’d be mortified for him to look at her backside.
“I still need to look.”
“No one else I’d play with would.”
“Number one, I’m not anyone else. Number two, they damn well should. And number three, come here and let me see and I won’t make you get over my knee.”
When she wore his collar, he’d always made her come over his knee the morning after a hard spanking. “I told you I wouldn’t be submissive in your house.”
“I’m not asking you to be a submissive. I’m telling you, as the Dom who spanked you, that I need to check your ass.”
“Kinda sounds like the same thing.”
His sigh was heavy and sad. “Does the arguing ever get to you? Because it sure as hell wears me out.”
“I told you this was a bad idea.” He’d called it correctly once before: in the playroom they were fine, but once they stepped outside, they were toxic.
“And my other choice is what? Take my chances some maniac wrote you a note just because he was bored?” He shoved his hand through his hair. “This isn’t forever—just until we get to the bottom of everything. Let’s try not to hurt each other any more than we already have.”
His eyes pleaded with her, and something inside of her softened. Surely she could do this. He was only acting out of his feelings for her. As much as they could claim otherwise, he wouldn’t move anyone else into his house to keep them safe. He was too private and enjoyed his own space too much.
True, he would probably check anyone’s skin the day after giving them a spanking like he’d given her. But then again, that was just the kind of man he was.
She put her coffee mug down and pushed back from the table. Because she didn’t have any other clothes, she still had his T-shirt on and nothing underneath.
It’s no big deal, she told herself. He’s seen you naked plenty of times.
Turning her back to him, she lifted the hem of the shirt and closed her eyes tightly. Last night at the party had been one thing; in his kitchen the next morning was different. But he was right; they should try to get along for the few weeks or however long it ended up being.
“Looks good,” he said. “You can go ahead and sit down to eat.”
“Good? That all you have? I have a great ass. Work out five days a week to keep it that way.”
He took the olive branch for what it was and slapped her butt. “Yes, you have a mighty fine ass. Always did. Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.”
Jeff had always been the one to cook when they were together. He’d taught himself as a young child when he’d figured out that if he was going to eat, he’d have to be the one to prepare it. Dena, on the other hand, grew up with a personal chef and never learned how.
“Never understood how you could cook such a delicious breakfast and suck so much at making coffee,” she said as he placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her. “Seriously, it’s like drinking tar.”
“You drink a lot of tar?”
“Only when I have breakfast at your place.” She ate a bite of sausage. “Damn, I can’t remember the last real breakfast I ate.”
“Plenty more if you want it.”
“This is good.”
He refilled his coffee and sat across from her, silently keeping her company while she ate.
She waited until she’d finished most of her breakfast before asking, “Why all the boxes?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to Colorado for a while to help my dad prepare for retirement.”
Her fork slipped from her hand and clanged against the plate. “What? Why? You hate Colorado.”
He shrugged. “It’s not forever—just to get him settled.”
But still. It wouldn’t be Wilmington without Jeff. Though they had broken up, there was still something inside her that needed to see him. Wanted to see him. Even when he played with other women, at least she was aware of what he was doing and whom he was with.
Her body shook. Jeff was moving. Across the country.
“It won’t be for a long time,” he repeated, but softer this time. “I’m going to help him wrap up the business.”
“You’re going to sell insurance?”
“That’s what Daniel said. Why is it so hard to believe I’d sell insurance?” He was attempting to put a humorous spin on the situation, but he couldn’t make his tone light enough to match his words.
“Probably because you’d scare the hell out of your customers with that scowl of yours.” She couldn’t believe she was joking about it. Jeff was moving, and she sat calmly at his table.
Because she knew if she didn’t laugh, she’d cry.
“It felt like something I needed to do,” he said.
“When?”
“Supposed to have been next weekend, but I called and told Dad I’d be delayed.”
The breakfast she’d eaten sat like a rock in her belly. “Because of me.”
“Yes.”
She couldn’t tell him she was sorry, because that would be a lie and she didn’t want to lie to Jeff. “Were you going to tell me good-bye?” she whispered over the lump in her throat instead.
Something she couldn’t make out lurked behind his expression. “Of course I was.”
After breakfast, they took his truck first to Daniel’s to pick up her car and then to her apartment to get her things. Jeff stayed with her while she packed, but he was quiet. The tension between them was back. Whatever tiny bit of frivolity they had managed to find had fled when he’d told her he was moving.
By midafternoon she’d made herself as comfortable as possible in Jeff’s guest room. She’d brought over enough clothes for two weeks and all her active client files. Bentley, not pleased with the sudden upheaval, had taken up residence under Jeff’s bed.
“Probably pissed about that name,” Jeff had said in a rare moment of teasing. “Who names a cat Bentley?”
“This from the man with dogs named Ace and Bo. Bo? Would a little bit of originality kill you?”
He’d shrugged. “He looked like a Bo.”
She spent the rest of the day reviewing work files in a corner of his living room. She’d noticed the small desk shortly after breakfast and had quickly claimed it. Without Jeff to remind her, she probably would have worked through dinner, but the enticing smells coming from the kitchen dragged her from her files.
After dinner she was back at it. Time flew by, and she didn’t realize how late it was until Jeff quietly placed a glass of chocolate milk on the edge of the desk. Her heart clenched. So many people saw him as quiet and standoffish, but she knew the man under the gruff exterior.
Who would know him in Colorado?
“Thank you, Sir,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I had some.”
“You’re welcome. I want … I want to make this as easy on you as possible.”
“I appreciate that.” She glanced down at her calendar and frowned. “Oh, I meant to tell you—I have a session with Daniel and Ron tomorrow afternoon.”
Daniel was mentoring a new Dominant, and he’d asked her to help. As the most experienced submissive in the group, she was often asked to participate in training scenes.
“Why the frown?” he asked.
Dena sighed and ran a hand through her blond waves. “Ron keeps asking me to play outside of the mentoring sessions. I’ve turned him down I don’t know how many times, but he keeps asking.”
Jeff crossed his arms. Since he was being mentored by Daniel, Ron was
