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They ate in silence, and while the silence wasn’t exactly awkward, it wasn’t comfortable. Autumn set aside her plate in favor of her wine glass and scooted so she could lean back against the edge of the sunken seating area. She watched him eat, which seemed strangely intimate. He glanced at her as he put a bite of steak into his mouth, then leaned back, still chewing.
He looked no less formal sans jacket. His shirt wasn’t white the way she’d assumed, but actually more of a cream color. His tie was blue silk with a subtle stripe and his tie tack matched his cufflinks.
“I’m enjoying the view, too.” She winked and tipped her glass towards him.
Daniel snorted out a laugh, then started to cough, having apparently half inhaled his food.
Autumn sat forward, legitimately alarmed, but he waved her away, covering his mouth with his napkin. After chugging half a glass of water, he set aside his plate and napkin.
His expression turned chiding and stern. Whoa. He did that disappointed authority figure look really well. For the first time in her life, Autumn had a burning desire to put on a little plaid skirt and play naughty schoolgirl.
That would be fun, but she also wanted to feel his arms wrap around her gently as he pulled her close. She wondered if she’d have an opportunity to run her fingers through his hair, to mess it up enough to make him look mussed. No, that was something a lover, not a play partner, did.
“Please don’t make me choke,” he said.
“Maybe it’s all part of my evil plan.”
“You have an evil plan? Hmm. Usually I’m the one with a kinky, evil plan.”
He was fun. This was fun. Fun in a totally different way than the normal fun she had at Las Palmas.
“I make you laugh, you choke, and then I get to give you the Heimlich maneuver.”
“Ma’am, are you planning to cop a feel?” He pressed his hand to his heart in mock moral outrage.
“It’s either that or I spill some red wine on you so you have to take off your shirt.” She pursed her lips and gave him a once over.
Daniel laughed, seemingly totally at ease with their conversation. With their flirty banter.
Shit.
She was flirting with him. Flirting was not a part of BDSM pre-scene negotiations. Flirting was for romance.
She had a rule. Never mix love and kink. It always ended badly.
“You have a devious mind, Autumn. I like it.”
She managed a weak smile in response to his comment, but inside she was starting to panic.
She’d never had trouble following that rule at Las Palmas, at least in part because she always chose to scene with Doms she trusted and respected, but with whom she felt no desire to flirt.
Fuck. She was romantically attracted to him.
“Damn,” she breathed. “I’m attracted to you.”
Why had she just said that out loud?
He blinked several times, then leaned back and seemed to relax. “I cannot wait to hear the thought process that went into that statement, which your tone indicated you thought was a problem.”
“Nope.” Autumn shook her head. “Explaining would mean telling you some stuff about myself that, frankly, you have no right to know.”
“We are about to be scene partners; that means that we need open lines of communication.”
“It doesn’t mean that I have to tell you all about my trust issues.”
“A sub with trust issues.” He leaned forward and picked up the wine bottle, tilting it towards her glass in question.
She held out her glass, let him pour her another. He topped up his own glass before sitting back.
