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“I’ll be out of your way as soon as we’re done with breakfast,” I say.
“No. That’s not what I mean.”
“Look, Hunter.” I pick up a piece of bacon. “This is new to both of us, okay? I just got out of a relationship, and you just got out of…the idea that you could never have a relationship. I’m okay going slow. I get it.”
“No, Frankie.” He reaches toward me and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want to go slow.”
I stop chewing again. Then I swallow my mouthful of eggs with a gulp. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that…I have feelings. I don’t quite know what to make of them yet. But I’m hoping… That you and I… Together… Maybe we can…”
“You’re going to have to finish that sentence at some point.” I smile. “I don’t want to push you into anything.”
“I don’t want to push you into anything, either.” His gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “I want you. I’d do anything to have you. But my whole lifestyle, the things I enjoy in bed—”
“I know what you enjoy, Hunter.”
“I wanted to do so much last night,” he says, “but after that amazing blow job, I swear to God, Frankie, I don’t think I’ve ever been that relaxed.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“Enjoyed myself? That went so far beyond enjoying myself.” He reaches across the table, takes my hand, squeezes it. “You’re phenomenal. You know that?”
“So are you.”
“I’m glad you think so, but what you’ve experienced is just the beginning of what I have to offer. I’d like to change that, but it’s not always pretty, Frankie. I won’t make it sound like wine and roses all the time, because it’s not. I’m strong-willed, and I get what I want from my sub. Can you handle that?”
My pussy throbs with his words. “Any time.”
“After breakfast?”
“Is the club open during the day?”
“No.” His gaze turns darker. “But my bedroom is.”
I gulp. “I need a shower.”
“My shower is also open.”
“I have work…”
“I won’t keep you too long. I have an afternoon class.”
“Hunter…”
He narrows his eyes, and I swear, they’re burning right through me.
I bite my lip. “I don’t mean I don’t want to be here. I totally do. I just… I don’t want to push you, Hunter.”
“You can’t push me. I’m unpushable.”
“Okay… Even though I totally should be working on my article today, I have to say spending some more time in your bedroom sounds like heaven.”
He squeezes my hand again. “Sounds like heaven to me, too.”
“I also want to thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
I set down my coffee mug. “For opening up to me last night about Allison and Teresa. I know Allison especially meant a lot to you.”
“She did.”
“Would you still be with her if she were still alive?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“I suppose it doesn’t.”
“I understand why you’re asking. You’re thinking if Allison hadn’t died, she and I would still be together, and you and I wouldn’t have met.”
“Well…yeah.”
“But she did die, Frankie, and you and I did meet. And you’ve already taught me so much.”
“I’ve taught you something? You? The scholar? You? The Dominant?”
“Yeah. You taught me how to feel again. You made me want to feel. Once I got over being scared of it, once I took my mask off, I remembered what feeling felt like. No pun intended.”
“I want to be honest with you, Hunter. I’m feeling something for you that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”
“Not even with the guy you were with for over five years?”
“Not even him. That was a big mistake. But I suppose if I hadn’t made that mistake, I wouldn’t have been sitting in the bar that night, and I wouldn’t have met you.”
“See?” He smiles. “Everything that’s happened in our lives has led us to this point. And I’d like to make the most of it.”
“Then take me to your bedroom,” I say, “and bind me. Bind me to the bed like you promised last night.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Hunter
Frankie looks so sexy in my shirt. It’s been difficult keeping my hands off of her, but she went to all the trouble to make me breakfast, so I felt I should eat it.
Plus, it was good, and now, with some protein and carbs in my system, I’ll be able to really show her what I want to do with her.
As I lead her back to my bedroom, my gaze falls on the Phantom of the Opera mask sitting on top of my dresser. The stark white against the black lacquer of the wood.
I’ll still wear it at the club, of course. I’m known there as Phantom, and even though I trust everyone I see there, I still don’t want to show my face.
