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“Scared?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I guess so. Look. I don’t usually do relationships. I stick to superficial stuff. But you got in my head. I tried to shut you out, but then Kon texted me that you were here—”
“What?” Tattletale. She almost laughed.
“And I couldn’t bear the thought of you playing with anyone else.”
“I’m not yours.”
He leaned in and smiled. “You were the other night.”
Hell yeah, she was. Memories surfaced, making her stomach flutter. He was one of the only Doms who could handle her, that could make her eat her bratty words, give her the pain she needed, fuck her until she screamed. God, if he could get over his stupid man issues, she’d like to keep him. “Maybe so, but that arrangement expired the minute you put walls up between us.”
He nodded. “Okay. I hear you. Can we try again? It’s been a while for me. Can we start over?”
She considered it. Normally, she didn’t go for fixer-uppers. The whole girl-saving-the-tortured-soul thing made her want to puke. But she did believe in second chances. And Ambrose seemed sincere. That he’d humbled himself for her, let himself be vulnerable, spoke volumes about his character. Maybe he could get over this issue—lots of people did.
“Maybe. If you promise to keep the lines of communication open.” She gave him a mischievous look. “And if you take me out on a date.”
“A date?” He arched a brow. “What are we, twelve?”
“I demand a date. I’ll pay if you can’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can pay.”
“Okay. But no playing until then.”
He chuckled. “Such a brat. Do you know how badly I want to put you over my knee right now?”
She smirked and loved the way his eyes darkened at the challenge. She almost wanted to dare him. “Date first. Then maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you.”
“Fuck.” He exhaled loudly and shifted in his seat. “You’re killing me, little brat.”
Grinning, she replied, “Not sorry.”
Chapter Six
The smell of the bakery hit him three blocks away. It was the best possible advertising for the place—even better than the TV spots and bus ads Ambrose had taken out as part of his mother’s Christmas gift last year. He’d gotten smacked for that. Although she’d let him loan her the money to open the place, she’d paid him back, and hadn’t accepted any help from him since. Apparently, Christmas gifts weren’t exempt from this rule.
Stubborn.
The happy jingle of the bell was pleasant rather than annoying, and his mother came out of the back immediately. When she saw it was him, she grinned.
“Glenn! There’s a troublemaker out here. You need to come throw him out.”
Jody Langly hugged him hard and stood on her toes to rub a hand over his short hair. “Even when you grow it you look like such a delinquent!”
His father came out of the back, shaking his head, arms crossed.
“Hair, no hair . . . It doesn’t matter. The kid always looks like a goon.” His father shook his hand, and they sized each other up like they did every time they were together. Glenn wasn’t exactly a small man, but he was almost a head shorter than Ambrose. “I could still take you.”
“For now, old wolf. You’re getting a little long in the tooth, there. I’m counting the days.”
His father punched his shoulder and chuckled.
“I can’t believe you left your office! Are you here for a visit or to stock your kick-ass kitchen?” Mom had some serious kitchen envy and made excuses to cook at his place regularly.
