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Hank picked up her hand and played with her fingers as he glanced at her. “You don’t strike me as the ranching type, Nika. No offense.”
It was nice that he understood that about her. “None taken. I love being here on the ranch and didn’t mind growing up on one, but it’s not the career endeavor for me that it is for my parents and my brothers and sister. So you think you’ve been a Dom your whole life?”
“Well, not in the sexual sense. That didn’t come until later, but I’ve had Dominant traits my whole life.”
“Most notably?”
“The need to protect, guide, and inspire trust. I know that sounds kind of lofty, but there are too many assholes in my line of work who get a badge and a gun and suddenly discover an overinflated ego. They want that job because of the power rush. I’m not in this profession to make myself feel important. I hold it so other people will feel safe, so their lives are better and they’re happy. I think those qualities are also needed by my sub.”
“I thought you didn’t have a sub.” She wanted to Hoover the pouty-sounding words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
Hank chuckled quietly and she noted Travis’s interest in the topic by the twinkle in his eyes as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee. It felt odd to be served by him.
“No, I don’t have a sub. I was speaking in general terms. I’m a public servant and it would be difficult to keep that kind of relationship quiet. At least, I haven’t met a woman yet who didn’t tell secrets to her girlfriends. I have to maintain my constituents’ trust.”
“Do you think holding the position you do satisfies some of those needs?”
“The nonsexual needs, yes, probably. As far as the women I’ve dated are concerned, my habits are as vanilla as they come. I’ve never found a submissive whose wants and needs complemented my own enough to make it worth risking the negative exposure.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is that something you want very much?”
“Would you be happy if you couldn’t write?”
She understood exactly what he meant. “I’d feel like a part of me was missing…amputated. Is that how you feel?”
Hank nodded. “Like a part of me is missing. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack when the haystack is full of posers, wannabes, and psychos—on both sides of the issue. Doms and subs are understandably wary. A lot of men with a pushy personality seem to think they’re Doms and wind up with disastrous results. It’s not like how it is in books. The right Dom/sub combination can take years to find each other and sometimes it never happens.” Veronica heard the quiet longing in his words and tried to focus on her questions but there was a part of her that was reaching out to him, wanting to soothe the ache in his voice.
“From research, I know there are a lot of ways practitioners approach Dominance and submission, and BDSM. Where are you in the spectrum?”
Hank suddenly grinned and she felt the flush creep up her neck and a giggle fluttered inside her.
“Are you asking where I stand on the whips and chains?”
The levity finally burst forth and she didn’t mind when her cheeks warmed. “Yes, I am.”
Hank chewed his lower lip for a second then said, “I enjoy having the reins firmly in my hands—whether that means safeguarding a sub’s health, delivering a spanking, or the occasional whipping. I say reins figuratively, Nika. I don’t own any leather apparel, either. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
Veronica shook her head vigorously. “It doesn’t.”
Travis smirked. “Now I’m picturing you in leather. Thanks for that.”
The three of them laughed and the tension in the room dropped to a more manageable level for her.
“Honestly, Hank, I had a hard time imagining you like that. I don’t think you need it, but I…”
Hank sat forward and looked into her eyes. “Tell me.”
“I’d love to see you in your Sheriff’s uniform and…your hat.” Even the mental image got her a little wet.
Hank smiled broadly and said, “I guarantee you’re going to have plenty of opportunities to see me in my uniform.”
