Page 32 of Mob Saint

“I’m sure you moved things around to make time for this. I’m sure you have bet?—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Tiera.”

There’s that warning that filled his words last night when I called myself fat. He told me I’d learn just what kind of Dom he is. I sorta want to test that, but he’ll know I’m baiting him if I do.

“Do you want to come in?” I realize we’re still standing in my entry way.

“Thank you. Are you shoes on or shoes off?”

I notice him looking around and spotting my shoe rack. I keep them there because they’re convenient, but I prefer shoes off.

“You can keep them on. That’s thoughtful of you to ask.” No one else ever does.

“My mom loathes shoes on in the house, so I’ve learned to pay attention and ask.”

I want to say good to know, but that implies I’ll go to his parents’ place one day. Fat chance of that. I wonder if I could get away with saying that.

“Can I get you something to drink?” It would disappoint my mom if I didn’t offer.

“I try not to turn down a chance for water, so yes, please.”

I stare at him for a moment. He’s serious. There’s a reason he looks the way he does. Healthy living. His manners are also impeccable. I move around the kitchen to get us both a glass of water. He nods when I hold the glass near the fridge’s ice maker. I lead us to the living room, though I don’t know why. He notices the coasters immediately and sets out two—next to each other—in front of the loveseat. I have a sofa and a recliner. He waits until I sit before he does.

Someone drilled this etiquette into him, but it was his choice where he sat. Again, it makes me feel unique because I don’t think he’s like this with other women. Then again, he has a sub, so maybe he is. He said it’s not romantic, and I believe him. But there’s usually a level of affection during aftercare regardless of other emotions that are or aren’t there. Maybe this is just how he is with all women who aren’t his cousins’ wives.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t going to Trenton? It’s a Saturday, so I assume not going into the office.”

He angles himself, so he can see me as he speaks. His arms rest casually on the armrest and back of the loveseat, putting his back in the corner. I twist to see him, and it brings our knees together. He doesn’t move his.

How do I say I’d usually be with Zack?

I hesitate a moment too long. He nods and glances away. It threatens to embarrass me, but I refuse to suddenly turn timid.

“I suspect you’d be doing the same thing.”

Okay. That felt like a gut punch to point out he’d probably be having sex with another woman. His gaze locks with mine, and it pierces straight through me. I don’t know what to do. I’m ensnared and can’t look away, but I don’t know what to say. Technically, isn’t it his turn to say something next?

“It’s a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon.” His eyes shift as he looks from the top of my head down to my knees. It’s as though I’m sitting in front of Superman, and he has x-ray vision. I feel naked. I wish I were naked.

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, either.” This isn’t about one upmanship. Why did I say that? I didn’t intend for him to know how I spend my Saturdays, but he guessed. Then I point out how he spends his. I didn’t leave well enough alone and doubled down.

Shut up, Tiera.

Tiera. I’ve never thought of myself as that. He’s rubbing off.

Fuck. The thing I want to rub off is his cock.

If you don’t get your mind out of the gutter, he’s going to know just what you’re thinking.

When my gaze meets his again, he knows exactly what’s on my mind. From his focus on my lips, maybe he’s got the same thing on his.

“It’s a nice day out. Would you like to go for a walk?”

I didn’t expect that. “Uh, sure. That sounds really nice.”

It does.

It only takes me a moment to slip my shoes on, then we’re headed out my door. He guides me to the right when we get down my front steps. We point out favorite places in our neighborhood and laugh that we go to the same bodega but have never met.

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