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Rather than agreeing to his assumption—the truth he clearly saw through my attempt to hide it—I set my cell on the bedside table. Flirting with danger would only leave us both burned and hurting.
The first reason I’d attempted to keep my distance from Sean, my being straight, had been obliterated. And while that second out of loyalty to Katie had settled somewhat in my mind during Sean’s and my time at the cemetery, the third reason remained strong as ever.
I glanced at the book alongside my cell. I’d dug out the employee handbook just to double check my employer’s stance on becoming involved with students. The rule was etched in black ink, too direct to argue or find some way around.
I respected—loved—my job and needed the salary to survive.
Slumping onto the edge of my bed, parts of my body still beaded with water, I glanced around the rest of my room. I’d long since boxed up Katie’s things and donated them to charity, but her dresser still sat on the wall opposite mine. A single dried rose rested in a glass vase atop it, the only flower I’d kept from those that had adorned her casket before she’d been lowered to her final resting place. The leaves had dried brittle, sensitive to touch. No matter how little I tried to jostle the vase while dusting, a single petal would fall, reminding me of Beauty and the Beast.
I’d always found the beast alluring, his sharp edges and broken bits more lovable than the outward perfection of his human form.
Only one petal remained.
Once it fell, I expected to be condemned to a solitary existence where loneliness would be my only companion.
Sighing, I closed my eyes.
Sean found me in the darkness behind my eyelids rather than Katie, and for the first time, guilt didn’t rouse. I allowed my thoughts and feelings free rein to do as they pleased.
I didn’t believe Katie would be jealous over a younger man stepping into my focus that used to be solely on her.
What about Sean got to me? What trait drew me in? It went beyond physical attraction, almost like a sense of knowing him outside time and reality.
Scrubbing a hand over my mouth, I glanced at my clock.
Eight—on a Saturday night.
While I would normally sit on the couch and watch a show to pass the time, my feet itched to move. I should have run home from the cemetery and finished off my body to the point of exhaustion like I usually did after visiting Katie’s gravesite rather than taking Sean up on his offer of a ride.
I remembered where she and I would go when feeling a little…restless or adventurous, and the similar itch had me considering heading back out. I’d allowed my membership to expire but could pay a drop-in fee.
An urging welled up inside me, and I moved on instinct, sending a text to a number I hadn’t utilized in years. I had no urge to interact, simply be in an atmosphere Katie and I used to enjoy together.
The club owner replied before I crossed the room to grab a pair of slacks.
I’ve been waiting for you to return to the land of the living. You’re always welcome, Matteo.
A part of me settled at her assurance, but something deeper resonated with the first part of her message. I had been stuck among remnants of memories that ought to be cherished rather than wallowed in. Doing so had held me back from exploring once more…possibly finding happiness.
Twenty minutes later, the buxom blonde met me at her office door, a force to be reckoned with. “Matteo.”
“Mistress Chantelle.” I kissed her cheeks as she did mine before sitting on the chair she motioned toward.
“I wondered when you would grace us with your presence again,” she said, settling behind her desk across from me. “How are you, Matteo?”
“Still grieving but feeling as though I want to live again.”
Her knowing gaze slid over my face, her Domme instincts reading with ease even if I’d attempted to shield myself from her. “You’re not ready for more than finding your place though, are you?”
“I’m not.”
She nodded. “Masters Cooney and Kaden are here tonight with their partners. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”
I entered Chantelle’s lounge a short time later, memories swarming my mind. The air scented of leather and sex, and a blood-stirring mixture of lust and longing flooded through me at the images in my head of years long past.
The place was packed far beyond when Katie and I used to frequent the club when she would kneel at my feet and gaze up at me with grateful adoration.
As promised by Mistress Chantelle, Master Cooney sat far to my right in a chair with his back to the wall. His thighs were spread wide, and Becky was seated on the floor between them, her lush curves hidden by a silk shift. Her cheek rested on his thigh, and ropes bound her from wrist to elbow, the lead rope in Cooney’s massive paw. He toyed with the ends of her dark hair, softness on his face when he’d used to be so damn hard before she’d crept into his life, a timid, abused woman. He’d been happy to be her rigger and master, the safe place she’d needed to heal.
