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“We’ll talk in private.” He stepped sideways off the path, between two of the columns that supported the pergola-like path cover. The rocky soil, loose rather than hard packed as it was in the courtyards, crunched under his shoes. He looked down at her bare feet, then back at her.
“If you wait a moment I’ll go get your shoes.”
It was a risk. The moment he was gone she’d probably disappear into the Sub Rosa court.
To his surprise she joined him, walking out of the striped shadows and into the silvery light cast down by moon and stars.
“You deserve aftercare too,” she said softly. “And you’re right, what we did was enough to…”
Her words ended with a heavy sigh.
Without touching her, Daniel guided her onto the grounds of the estate, and around the corner of the Sub Rosa court building.
The manicured lawns—which he was fairly certain were fake grass due to California’s perpetual water shortage—started at the edge of the building and extended over large swaths of the grounds. From here they could see the Conclave, the edge of the Iron Court, and even the tops of a few cars in the parking lot at the front of the property. No one would come this way. They had total privacy.
Daniel took off his tie and tie tack, ignoring the way she tensed, and stuffed it into his pocket. With quick, economical movements he unbuttoned and slipped off his dress shirt, laying it on the ground beside the wall.
Autumn looked at it, then at him.
“Won’t you get cold?”
“I’ll be fine.” His undershirt was thin cotton, but he was still far from naked. “I’m more worried about you.”
Autumn turned her back to him and then slipped his jacket on rather than just holding it up. The sleeves hid her hands and it covered her butt. She turned to face him, and he had to quickly school his features.
The jacket was big enough around the waist to overlap, but while he was roughly the same circumference from waist to chest, she was most definitely not, and the jacket gaped, showing off the inner curves of her breasts, which were plumped like an offering because she’d crossed her arms below them.
They both took a minute to stare at her moonlit cleavage.
“At least my nipples are covered,” she pointed out.
“Yes, good thing, because looking at your cold, tight nipples would be…” There wasn’t very much acting involved in letting his voice trail off into a groan.
She grinned at him, and something inside him relaxed. She wasn’t upset anymore. They could talk to one another. That meant he would understand her, and what had gone wrong.
She turned and sat on his shirt, leaning her back against the wall. He dropped down beside her, shivering at the touch of the cold plaster against his back. Stretching his legs out, his glossy shoes an odd contrast to her dusty toes, he settled in to wait.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward, at least for him. He was happy to wait. He wasn’t sure he would have been this patient with another partner. Something about her was different. Maybe it was because of the game, because the decision to play together had been made for them.
It had been natural and effortless, slipping from conversation to scene. She’d effectively run from him, but it didn’t feel like manipulation.
She hadn’t used her safe word.
For some that would be evidence that she wasn’t really upset, but instead being deliberately bratty or trying to manipulate the scene.
He knew, with a certainty that had no basis in fact or evidence, that there was another explanation.
They sat there long enough that the goosebumps on his arms were starting to feel permanent when she finally sighed, drawing her knees up, hands curled around her shins.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have no reason to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured her. And he meant it. He was in control of the scene, and that meant anything that happened was his responsibility.
“You’re only saying that because I haven’t confessed.”
“Confession is good for the soul.” He couldn’t stop the disdain that tainted his words, but hoped she could tell it was for the phrase, not her.
“And spankings are good for people’s emotional health.” She turned to look at him. “That wasn’t sarcasm, by the way. Getting spanked until I cry always makes me feel better.”
