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Mason finished the éclair and reached for another. Then he pulled his hand back. “Sorry. Is it okay to take a second?”
“Sure. You know they’re best the day of, and I can’t possibly eat all of these myself.” She smiled again, this time with the dimples. “Though I was prepared to give it a try.”
Mason smiled back reflexively, but his mind was in turmoil. He wanted to tell her she was totally wrong about not being so-called slave material. He’d been so used to working with the eager trainees who were desperate to please and to submit. He’d approached things all wrong with Hannah. He’d moved too fast. He needed another chance. But he sensed she wasn’t yet ready to hear all this. And he didn’t want to risk upsetting her to the point that she asked him to leave.
“Here’s the thing,” he ventured. “I didn’t just come here to apologize. I came because I can’t get you out of my head. I’m in the kitchen and I turn around to ask you to taste the mustard glaze for the pork tenderloin so you can tell me what’s missing, but you’re not there. I pass by the dungeon and see a trainee bound to the spanking bench and remember how sexy and perfect you were during that session. I lie down in my bed at night, recalling that brief but wonderful moment when you curled up against me and I held you close.”
He was probably saying too much, but he kept going. “I remember that very first night, when you flew from that flogging. I knew right then that there was something special about you.” His cock stiffened at the memory.
“Every moment we spent together is right there when I close my eyes,” he continued, unable to stop now that he’d started. “Somethingwas happening between us, Hannah. You can deny it all you like, but in your heart you know it’s true. Just think about that kiss. That one stolen kiss in the kitchen.” He brought his fingers to his lips, which still burned with the memory. “I will never forget that kiss.”
If this were a movie or one of her romance novels, Hannah would get to her feet now, her eyes shining, and fall into his arms. He would rise, carrying her effortlessly to the bedroom, where they would make passionate love for hours. Afterward, she would admit she was madly in love with him and longed to be his forever slave girl. It was only fear that had held her back, not desire.
But life rarely imitated art, at least in his experience, and this time was no exception. Hannah didn’t leap up and throw her arms around him. She didn’t drop to her knees and beg to serve her Master. But neither did she laugh in his face or tell him to take a hike.
Instead, she said in a low voice he had to strain to hear, “I haven’t forgotten that kiss either, Mason. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She sighed. “I’ve missed you like crazy, if you want to know the truth.”
Mason’s heart leapt at her words. Hope swelled inside him like a helium balloon. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything.
“I’ve talked it over endlessly with Charlotte, with Lucia, with myself,” she continued. “It’s not just that I can’t do the whole Master/slave thing.” She blew out a breath, as if girding herself for what she had to say next. “My late husband is the only man I’ve ever been with. I know that sounds impossible in this day and age, but it’s true. We got together when I was only nineteen. I don’t know if I even know how to be with another man.”
Mason had lost count of how many women he’d been with, even disregarding the one-night stands fueled by drugs and alcohol. And yet, in some ways, the two of them weren’t all that different.
“I’ve only ever been in love once before, too,” he offered. As he admitted those words, his pulse quickened, his mouth suddenly dry. He wasn’t one to put his feelings out there—the real ones, the ones that hurt. He hadn’t talked about Carla to anyone, ever. He still blamed himself. If only he’d been a better Dom—a more courageous one, she might have stayed.
“Lucia mentioned Ashley,” Hannah began.
“No, not Ashley,” he said with a wry smile. “I lusted after Ashley,” he admitted. “No question about that. She was deeply masochistic and delightfully submissive. But her leaving was a blow to my ego, not my heart.” He shook his head. “That relationship had a limited shelf life from the beginning. It wasn’t just that she’s nearly twenty years my junior. She was always going to leave, sooner or later, and I knew that. I think I only let myself get as involved as I didbecauseI knew that.”
Hannah tilted her head with a curious smile. “So, then who?”
Mason hesitated. Did he really want to talk about this? Would it make Hannah think less of him? He demanded complete honesty and full disclosure from his subs. Wasn’t it time he gave it in return?
Taking a breath, he blurted, “Her name was Carla.”
“Carla,” Hannah repeated.
“Yeah.” To his surprise, it no longer hurt to say her name aloud. “We met in culinary school. She’s the one who introduced me to BDSM. I’d always been hardwired as a Dom and a sensual sadist, but I had yet to experience anything firsthand at that point. She was a total masochist—nothing was too much for her, and it thrilled me. She was eager to bring all my darkest, deepest fantasies to life. I fell for her hook, line and sinker.”
He smiled as he recalled, “Both of us nearly got thrown out of the program because we kept forgetting to show up for class, too involved in some lengthy scene to keep track of time. I wanted to collar her. Shit, I wanted to marry her.”
“So, what happened?” Hannah asked. She had been listening to him with her full attention, her eyes fixed on his face, her expression rapt. She always did that, he realized now. She listened with her whole self. It was just another thing he loved about her.
He shrugged. “Immaturity. Bad timing. Those were definitely factors. But the real problem was that she wanted me to do stuff that even I wasn’t comfortable with, especially back then before I had any real training.”
“Like what?” Hannah breathed, eyes wide.
“Choking her out, burning her with cigarettes. Body suspension.”
Hannah squinted in apparent confusion. “Like hanging by your wrists?”
“No. Like hanging from skin hooks.”
“Skin hooks,” Hannah exclaimed, a horrified expression on her pretty face.
“Yep. You lift the person off the ground using sterile hooks inserted into the skin and attached to ropes or cords that are in turn connected to a frame or pulley setup.”
“Jesus,” Hannah breathed. “Who would want to do that?”
