Page 127

I opened the fridge, mostly to give myself something practical to do. I’d already put the bedroom back to its normal state.

Quinn said he wants food. That I could handle. Food was easy. Food was normal.

Food was the last thing on my mind.

Quinn asked me for something else too. I hadn’t responded because he hadn’t given me the chance to. He’d made a beeline for the bathroom.

He wants me to fuck him.

Nothing new, right? Been there, done that, right?

But this was different. This time, I hadn’t initiated it—he’d asked.

And what has he asked for? Not a scene. Not dominance.

Quinn hadn’t been that specific, but I had an idea.

He wants closeness. Intimacy.

That realisation made me look at my own motives with an honesty that shocked me,

If I take him to bed now, I wouldn’t be doing it as his Dom.

I’d be doing it as a man who wants Quinn.

I’d spent years convincing myself that wanting someone like that was unsafe. Then it hit me, with all the force of a punch to the gut.

I trust him.

This had become something far more dangerous than dominance.

This was mutual vulnerability.

Do this, and we don’t get to go back to being Dom and sub who occasionally play.

The evening had started as a scene, but it was obvious our connection was changing, and I had to admit I liked it.

I tell myself I don’t do caretaking, but somewhere along the way with Quinn, that line has already blurred. I can still stop this, though.

The truth was, I didn’t want to.

Then I had to smile. Except caretaking is my day job, isn’t it?

The water stopped running, and I busied myself with toasting bread and whisking eggs. Anything to stop my brain from overthinking.

It’s just sex.

The first time I’d taken him on my couch? That had been sex, nothing but pure heat and urgency.

This would be something else entirely.

The bathroom door opened, and Quinn walked into the kitchen a moment later, his hair damp, feet bare, wearing a clean T-shirt that clung in places where it had picked up water from his skin. He appeared relaxed.

More relaxed than me, at least.

He pulled a face. “Aw.”

“What’s wrong?” Then it struck me that I’d never seen him pout before.