Page 58 of Unexpected Hero

And the way she sounded when she came.

That’s an auditory memory that’ll never leave me.

Neither will the guilt over listening.

But she’ll never know, so no harm, no foul, right?

And once again, I’m attempting to believe my own bullshit rationalization simply because I want it to be true. Pathetic.

Consent is important to me. I won’t let myself forget that again.

“Okay, Lettie,” I start, emphasizing her nickname. “Are you ready to go?” I wave my open palm toward the passenger side of my car.

She lifts one shoulder and lowers her chin. “Promise you’re not going to kidnap me?”

“I promise. But I might tie you up.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Given what I said on the phone to her, she might not realize that was a joke.

Way to not be creepy.

Her laugh lilts melodically. It wasn’t the same laugh she has with her friend, but it’s still a pleasing sound. “Well, you did mention BDSM, so I suppose that’s an appropriate joke.” I open the door for her, but she puts one palm solidly on the doorjamb, stopping her entry into the vehicle. “You were joking, right?”

“Yes. That was a joke.”

Her cheeks redden. “Okay, good.”

My vision catches on her thighs as she slides into the car and tucks her skirt underneath her. I force my eyes away and close her door.

Friend. Mentor. Sponsor.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

The first few moments of our drive are quiet. I don’t mind silence, but it doesn’t feel right for this moment. There’s so much I need to say. But I don’t know where to begin.

This isn’t a topic I’ve discussed with someone outside the lifestyle. My mind begins sorting through potential conversation openers. Ultimately, I decide to wait until we get to our destination before bringing it up.

So that leaves small talk. One of the worst inventions of humankind.

“Am I dressed okay for where we’re going?” she asks, giving me a slight reprieve.

“Yeah. That’s nice.” I force down a tight swallow.

Nice? I can do better than that.

“You look lovely,” I add softly, a pathetic tremble in my voice.

“Thank you. But I wasn’t fishin’.”

I crook my head in her direction. “Huh?”

“I wasn’t fishin’ for a compliment.”

That Southern accent sends blood rushing to my dick, but I act unaffected. “Oh. I see.”

Her gaze burns into the side of my face.

---