Page 74 of Unexpected Hero

My confession sits between us. As I wait for her response, I’m hit with a looming sense of fear.

Because I want her to be okay with it.

I need her to accept me the way I am.

But it shouldn’t matter. I can’t have her.

I’m certainly not going to tie her up. I won’t be watching her have sex, that’s for damn sure. And I can’t let her watch me with another woman, knowing she’s interested in me beyond friendship. So my kinks shouldn’t matter. They won’t affect our friendship.

I’m simply telling her about this so she knows what to expect if she takes the job. She needs to have a full understanding of the lifestyle to make an informed decision. That’s all.

So why the fuck am I waiting for her judgment like it’s the most important thing in the world?

When she finally speaks, her answer is simple and succinct. “Okay. If you think Dante would consider me for the job despite my lack of experience, I’d like to go check it out. Is that possible?”

She’s not turned off by what happens in the club. At least, not what I told her so far. There’s more — loads more. But the basics are out in the open. The rest might be easier for her to see for herself. She needs to hear the sounds. Smell the smells. And feel the thrum of sexually charged energy.

The only way to know if she can handle it is to experience it for herself.

The sooner I get her this job and a safe place to stay, the sooner I can resurrect the boundaries of my relationship with her. And, more importantly, stop watching her.

“I can take you there. Before we go, I think you should do some reading on the subject. It’ll give you a better idea of what to expect. When I show you the club, I don’t want you to be shocked or surprised by what you see and hear. It wouldn’t look good for me or you if you’re walking around in a state of panic.”

“For you?”

“Yes. Your behavior will reflect on me. I’m the one recommending you. I promised Dante you wouldn’t be disrespectful or cast shame on the members.”

“So no clutching my pearls. Got it.”

My lips pull in a growing smile that matches hers, but I don’t respond. There was no question.

“Well, it’s funny you mention reading about it. My friend from back home sent me some e-books.”

I already know that from screening her calls and texts. “Oh really? What kind of books?”

“Romance novels with BDSM.”

“That’s all well and good for small glimpses, but I can’t imagine they’re entirely accurate.”

“I understand. She’s into kink, so she sent me realistic-ish books. And it’s just to dip my toes in the water. Only enough to get me wet.”

My eyes double in size.

She jerks her hands to cover her mouth, and in the process, she spills her water all over the concrete picnic table. “Oh shoot!”

As the water drips onto her lap, she leaps upward but must lose her balance. As if in slow motion, she topples over the back of the bench onto the grass. Her legs go flying in the process, flashing me a glimpse of her exposed lower body.

I jump up and circle the table as my muscles tense to prepare me for action.

She’s flat on her back, in the process of rolling to one side. A groan leaves her, and her face pinches tight. Not from embarrassment but from pain.

She’s hurt. Shit, shit, shit.

I kneel, skimming my hands about an inch over her frame, afraid to touch her or hurt her worse. “Lettie, where’s the pain? Did you hit your head?”

“No. Not my head. It’s my foot.”

She bends her leg toward her chest, reaching for her right foot while hissing through her teeth.

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