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As I started to eat, he poured me a glass of white wine. He didn’t pour any for himself. He didn’t even have a wine glass at his place setting. We both had a glass of water next to our plate, and he sipped his.
“You don’t want any wine?” I asked him.
“Training. I try not to drink much.”
Right. His fight.
“So, this is how you eat during training? I don’t see a carb in sight.”
“I can order some, if you want something.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Thank you. Um, this is perfect.” I wasn’t sure if I’d just been rude. The meal looked great.
I was just so fucking nervous.
He was so quiet.
I could feel his restrained energy, restless, like a wild animal, struggling to be tame. A wolf indoors.
“It’s really good,” I told him, though he didn’t ask. Something told me he already knew, or he wouldn’t have spent his money on it.
I watched him as he watched me. He’d started eating, and he looked regal in the candlelight; his beautiful cheekbones and full lips. His sculpted body. The faded bruises.
He looked like a gladiator who’d suddenly become emperor and hadn’t yet decided how he was going to rule.
I wondered if he knew exactly what he was going to do with me tonight, or if he was still figuring it out. Figuring me out, like I was struggling to figure him out.
Or if he was just taking his time. Enjoying this; the anticipation, knowing things I didn’t know.
There was definitely a lot going on behind those wolfish eyes. And I had no idea what the protocol was here. Or what his rules were. I was pretty sure that whatever his rules were, I was supposed to follow them, if wewerein a “scene.” But he hadn’t told me his rules yet, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to ask.
Probably not.
We are dominant, after all. We like to call the shots.
I heard Aunt Madeleine’s voice in my head and bit my tongue.
“When I messaged you last night,” he said, breaking the silence, “and discovered that you weren’t available, I didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, washing my food down quickly with some wine. Was he mad? It wasn’t like he’d given me advance notice that he wanted to see me or asked me to stay in town last night. But somehow, I didn’t want to disappoint him. “I’m… sorry?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was busy on Friday or I would’ve messaged you sooner. It just reminded me that you’re leaving and I shouldn’t take you for granted.”
I stared at him.
Was he for real?
He wanted to see more of me? Was that what he was saying?
“I’ve become aware of how little time we have,” he went on. “But I don’t want to ramp things up too much for you, too fast.”
I took another sip of my wine, my mind racing in several directions. “What does that mean?”
“It means there are a lot of things I want to do with you. But I don’t know exactly what’s okay with you and what’s not. And I realize that you might not know what’s okay with you and what’s not. Because you haven’t done this before.”
My entire body had flushed hot at his words. “Done… what, exactly?”
“Given yourself over to the care of a Dom.”
