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"Oh, God," I said, glancing away for a moment. Drake was my Dom. The Dominant who was going to teach me about the lifestyle. The one Lara thought I could like for real.
"I have to go." I pulled on my coat, gathered up my bag and put on my sunglasses. I walked away, my body stiff, mortified that Drake Morgan was the Dom I was supposed to meet.
"Kate!" Lara called out to me, but I was out the door and on the street hailing a taxi before Lara could call me back. I practically ran away from them – from Drake.
Oh, God…
The taxi drove down the street and before even a few moments passed, my cell rang. It was from Lara. I refused the call.
When it rang a second time, I answered.
"Before you say anything," I said, frustrated, not wanting to speak to her now. "I want you to remind Dr. Morgan that this was purely academic. This was research – nothing more. No matter what you think Lara, I'm not interested. This was nothing personal—"
"Kate, Kate, shhhh," Drake Morgan said, his voice soft. "Don't worry. I know. You’re a serious student. This is just research. If anything, it's me who should be embarrassed."
I hung up and threw my phone into my bag.
CHAPTER FOUR
I was numb the entire taxi ride back to my apartment, my cheeks hot despite the chill air. The adrenaline shock that went through my body when I realized Drake was my Dominant left me weak.
Drake Morgan?
MD, brain surgeon, bass player, philanthropist, my father's example of perfect manhood? Now I knew what he meant when he said my father didn't really know him.
I felt a bit nauseated that he knew I was the one who wanted to meet him. No, make that I felt completely nauseated that he knew.
He was a Dominant? Dawn said he was dangerous when she saw him in the bar. As usual, she was right.
Holy crap… I looked down in my lap. My hands were shaking.
Lara said he liked to tie women up and control their pleasure, fuck them senseless. Mindfucks. The thought of it – even now – even mortified as I was – titillated me. My body couldn't help but respond, a twitch between my legs w
hen I thought of him naked, being all -- dominating. Like that Dom in the letters.
This was terrible. This was horrible. This was… oh, hell, what if my father found out I was looking for a Dominant? Even if it was just research for a course paper, if he knew I was really interested in the subject…
Total and complete mortification.
Humiliation.
I didn't even admit that I read the books that everyone was talking about when both his wife Elaine and my sister-in-law Christie giggled together about it in front of him.
Oh. God. It would be comical if it wasn't so mortifying. I couldn't imagine what Drake thought. I'm the one who wanted to talk to him about being a Dominant… About BDSM. About submission. I was mortified by my curiosity and, yes, real interest.
I was already in my father's bad books for changing focus from politics to popular culture and not even going for the internship interview he arranged with an editor friend at the NY Post. If he knew…
My cell vibrated in my bag again – probably Lara calling back. I fished around in the bottom, searching for it and checked out the call display.
Drake Morgan, MD.
He was using his own phone now. I ignored his call.
No freaking way.
I paid the taxi driver and ran up the stairs to my third floor flat in the old brownstone, slamming the door behind me. I removed my shoes, threw down my bag on the coffee table and paced my tiny apartment. What was I going to do now?
I flopped down on the couch and tried to get control over myself.
