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“That obvious?”
“I saw the dots moving, stopping, moving, stopping and no words actually being sent.” He crosses the room and pulls me to his chest, kissing my hair like it’s not a wild bird’s nest on top of my head.
“Breathe. It’s the weekend. And even if it wasn’t? Aftercare isn’t about cleaning you up and kicking you out of our bed the next morning. I can handle Matty without you, we were fine. We separated a box of Fruit Loops into different colors and made some jewelry. You needed to sleep, to recover after your busy night.”
He takes half a step back, cupping my face with both hands. “How are you feeling?” He searches my face with such intensity I can’t stop the question that comes out in response.
“Who was she?”
He tips his head to the side, his brows drawing together. “Who?”
“Whoever left you just a little broken?”
He sighs, kisses my forehead again. “What gave it away?”
“The way your eyes pierce into my soul every time you ask for a check in or how I’m feeling after a session.”
“I need to get back downstairs to Matty, but the short version is that I had a submissive a long time ago. Her name was Ava. We were a long-term, twenty-four-seven dynamic, and I thought we were sound. I thought we had good foundations, good communication, and we were doing all the right things.”
My chest tightens. “You loved her.”
He doesn’t say yes or nod, but he doesn’t have to. I can feel it from the way he’s talking about her. He sweeps my curls out of my face, or rather tries to, they don’t budge much, and I can’t help but wince. It’s not supposed to be wash day, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t go outside looking like this.
“As it turns out, the communication wasn’t where I thought it was, or where it needed to be. She lied to me during a scene, told me she was fine, gave me a green check in when she wasn’t at all green.”
My stomach freefalls. No, no. I’m inexperienced, but even I know this story can’t end well.
“Some submissives tell their dominant what theythinkwe want to hear.” He rubs the back of his neck while shaking his head, his light-brown hair falling into his face. “When really? We want you to safe word if that’s where you’re at. We want you to say you’ve met your limit. We don’t want anything but the truth.”
His eyes brim with unshed tears, and the pain radiates from his body. “I should have pushed back. I should have checked again, and again, I should have made sure she meant green, but I took her at face value. I took her green and kept going. She wasn’t okay. It was a disaster.”
The anguish in his voice twists my heart.
“I pushed her further than she was okay with. She dropped hard, fast, and went into a depression. We stayed together and worked through the depression, but the trust was fractured, I couldn’t... I didn’t...” He sucks in a steadying breath. “I never played with her again. I couldn’t trust that she’d be honest during a scene, and I never wanted to hurt her like that again.”
Tears are trickling down my face, and I have no idea when they started. Sniffing doesn’t stop them. “That’s why you only do one night stands.” It’s not a question. Clearly defined parameters of a one night thing are far easier to navigate than a long-term deal. It makes sense. You lay your boundaries, do your thing, get your jollies and move along before you catch feels.
He nods. “Didn’t work so well with you, kitten.” He brushes his lips against mine, sending warmth through my body. “I’m falling for you. And I’m scared. I don’t really know what to do with any of that to be honest. But I know I’m not ready for you to leave.”
I open my mouth but he covers my lips with his finger. “This isn’t about Matty. I could figure out my life with Matty without you. No offense. I mean, Mom’s going to be back on her feet in no time, and she’s always wanted grandkids to adore and fuss over. So stop that train.”
My shoulders soften, but my brain keeps churning for some other reason he’d want me around that isn’t just because he likes me.
“I’m falling for you, Addison.” The intensity in both his voice and his blue eyes brings a lump to my throat as he repeats himself.
“I thought it was one-sided.” Stupid brain letting the thoughts roll out of my mouth before actually returning the sentiment. “I think I might love you.” Jesus fucking Christ. It’s not exactly the makings of an age-old love story, but I suppose it got the point across.
It hasn’t even been eight weeks. Two fucking months. And I’m in love with him. That’s too fast, right? Can you love someone in two months?
He chuckles. “Good. Cause I think I might love you, too.”
Huh. I guess you can love someone in under two months.
He kisses me again before turning me toward the bathroom with a smack on the ass. “Go get a shower, then we’ll eat, and maybe we’ll head out to the zoo?”
I like the sound of that. “Great idea. Can we get ice cream?” I say that like if he says no that’ll stop me from going to the zoo, but we both know he’s going to say yes.
“We’ll see. If you’re a good girl.”
