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He wants a slave.
How many times would she have to remind herself of that in the next few weeks of training? Maybe she should text him to find out if he’s okay.
He hadn’t seemed regretful last night, and he was the one who’d banged her until she bunched the sheets in her fists and screamed, but guys had feelings too.
After a deep breath, she felt a little better. “Okay. I guess it’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s not. Banner’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you.”
Yes. She did believe that. For all his stern looks, and his big palm smacking her ass, he was a gentleman. And when he wore a suit . . . Instant girl hard-on.
“Plus, he ain’t hard to look at,” Janine added in a whisper. “Don’t tell Chris I said that.”
Kate laughed. “Bad girl. I should hold that over your head.”
“Bitch. Now that you have yourself a Dom, I can blackmail you too.”
Sadness sunk in, wiping her grin away. Having herself a Dom sounded really good after last night. But it couldn’t be Banner. What they had together, though hot and fun and amazing, was still only temporary.
“I gotta get to work,” she mumbled, then took a sip of her coffee.
“On a Saturday?”
“Mandatory overtime.” Hopefully, the caffeine would cheer her up. She was still sore and exhausted from the previous night, but she had to force herself through the day. “I’ll talk to you later.”
They ended their call, and Kate sucked down her java while doing her hair and makeup. As much as she loved her job, going in today was the last thing she wanted to do. What she really wanted was a long bath and some retail therapy. Maybe Janine would be up for a shopping trip later.
“Pixie!” She called her dog over and clipped the leash onto her collar. The click made her shiver and reminded her of last night. She’d been on a leash, led around like a dog.
Ugh. She gave her head a shake. How had she let that happen? It was so undignified, but she couldn’t deny the flutter that started in her belly just thinking about it.
On her way out the door, Pixie trailing behind her, she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. Naming the bulldog Pixie was kind of a joke. The dog was anything but tiny. Short, and like a typical bulldog, stocky and mean-looking. She’d picked the breed because of its low exercise needs. Working all day meant she couldn’t look after her, and having a dog with excess energy tear up the house would suck. Plus, she hoped her low bark would give criminals pause if they tried to break in.
They went on a short walk around the condo lot, and then she watched the lazy dog collapse onto her bed as if she’d just hiked Mount Everest. Minutes later, after Kate had packed her lunch, Pixie let out a long, satisfied snore. She could always count on that dog to make her smile.
She glanced at her phone, sitting innocently on the counter. Feeling more confident now, she grabbed it to text Banner. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she thought through what to write.
It was probably best to keep things light.
Are you awake yet? I feel half-dead and now I have to drag my tired ass to work. LOL. How are you?
Instead of waiting for a response, she forced herself to put it out of her mind and left for work. Just before she started the car, her text alert dinged.
She looked at the contact. Damn, he was fast.
I’m good. I’m sorry I kept you up late though. You didn’t say you had to work today. Give me the address and I’ll bring you some coffee and lunch.
She smiled, and her stomach fluttered. Sweet man. But showing up at the clinic was a bad idea. Not only would her coworkers get nosy, but she was very careful about confidentiality and keeping her personal life separate from her clients.
But, oh the things he might do to her with the office door closed.
Thanks, but that sort of thing isn’t allowed there. Glad you’re feeling well. Have a great day!
It felt like a brush-off, but she was already running late. At lunch she’d open the window of communication again. Maybe she’d invite him shopping. The thought made her laugh. She pictured him holding her purse as she tried on clothes. Would he sulk like most men? Something told her he was secure enough in his masculinity to hold a purse. And he had every reason to be.
Chuckling, she started the car. Hopefully, the day would go by fast and with minimal interruptions from her overactive libido, despite the reminders of last night creeping into her head. Already, she felt as though she’d been marked, as if she had BANNER’S FUCK TOY stamped in big letters across her forehead. If only they wanted the same things from a relationship . . . but they didn’t, and no amount of hot sex or wishful thinking was going to fix that.
Chapter 6
