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He nodded. “I do. But I wasn’t sure if you were going to come today. You sounded pretty noncommittal in your text.”
Feeling slightly guilty, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Sorry. It’s been a busy week at work, so I was distracted.”
“Come on. I’ll get you a drink, and you can tell me about it.”
She followed him to the kitchen, thankful they weren’t jumping right into training. Maybe some time to get to know each other better would make this feel less awkward.
In the massive kitchen, she went to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar.
“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “A good sub waits for her Dom to tell her where she’s allowed to sit.”
Worry fluttered in her chest. She looked at the cold tile floor. “You’re not gonna make me kneel, are you?” Her knees were messed up from volleyball and would get uncomfortable quickly on the hard floor.
“No.” Casually, he strolled to the fridge and retrieved two water bottles. He handed one to her, then sat down at the small table on the other side of the room. With a half smile, he pointed to his lap.
He wanted her to sit there? Oh no. No, no, no. She shook her head, but he gave her a pretty frightening Dom-eye that turned her insides to mush. Her feet moved without her permission until she was standing in front of him.
She sighed. “Do we have to start this already?”
“I don’t have an on-and-off switch. If you want to be trained by me, then you’re at my disposal.” He pointed again. “Sit.”
Her body sunk onto his lap as she rolled her eyes.
A second later, he grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “Next time do it without the eye roll, little girl. That sort of thing will get you in trouble.”
She jerked away, feeling like this was getting out of her control already. But wasn’t she there to give over control? She pushed that pesky challenge from her mind. She could practice and learn without handing over the reins fully. Banner wasn’t her Dom, or ever going to be, so there was no reason to give him everything.
“I’m gonna let that go this time,” he rumbled.
Her stomach dropped at the small implied threat. What would he do if she did it again? Spank her? Make her stand in the corner? Even though it made her pussy clench with excitement, it was too embarrassing to consider for real. Besides, she’d told herself she wouldn’t push him this time.
“So, tell me about work. What’s going on?”
Now that her girly bits were all warm and achy, the last thing she wanted to talk about was work. But maybe it would calm her down so she could be objective again. “I have a few clients being discharged. I worry about them when they leave.”
“You worry they’ll end up back on drugs?”
“Most of them do.” God, sometimes her job was so depressing. “I have this one client, we’ll call him S. He gave me a hell of a time in the beginning, but he’s come so far. I feel like he can really make it. In a way that’s different than the others. He’s smart and has a lot of deep thoughts. He’s leaving next week, and if he ends up back in the clinic, I’ll be crushed.”
“You really care about your clients, don’t you?”
She nodded. “For some of them, I’m the only one left who does.”
It was silent for a moment, and she wondered if she’d said too much. Maybe she shouldn’t talk about herself so much.
“So, what made you pick that for a career?”
Her gaze dropped to her hands fiddling nervously in her lap. She thought back to her childhood. Even at the age of seven, she’d known there was something wrong with her mother. Her arms were always covered in bruises. She looked sick all the time—too thin, constantly sniffling, twitchy, and easily agitated. All signs she saw in her clients now.
Her aunt, Grace, had taken custody of Kate long before it’d gotten that bad, but her mother always resented it. She’d come by the house, begging to see Kate, promising she was clean and wanting to bring her home. Kate would stare out the window, afraid her mother would steal her away when Auntie Grace and Uncle Mark weren’t looking. Back then, she’d sort of remembered her mother’s rosy cheeks and a sunny smile from before she got sick. Brown hair that looked almost blond in the sun. Lullabies, and walks on the beach, searching for seashells to bring home. Now she wondered if she’d made it up just so she’d have some good memories of her.
“You don’t have to answer,” Banner said softly.
His voice pulled her from the unexpected reminder. “No, it’s okay. I don’t exactly know why I felt drawn to work with this population. My mother was an addict. A normal person would’ve kept as far away from it as possible.” She gave him a shaky smile. “There’s probably something wrong with me. A superhero complex or something.”
He shrugged. “It makes sense to me. You’re a sweet girl, and this is a caring profession. Plus, you have the connection with your mother, and deep down inside, you probably wish you could’ve helped her. Did you live with her your whole childhood?”
“No. My aunt and uncle raised me. They couldn’t have kids anyway. I had a happy life.”
