Page 17 of Britain

“I’m so sorry. I guess we have that in common, sort of.”

My thumb strokes the back of her hand. “When did your mom split?”

I don’t like the way her face pales, but she opens her mouth and her words shock me and render me speechless. “My mother was a whore and was having affairs with multiple men. There was an incident involving me, and she went to jail. My dad made her sign her rights over. I haven’t seen her in a really long time. I honestly don’t ever want to see her again. She’s dead to me.”

What she says doesn’t concern me, but the way she says it does. Her voice is devoid of any emotion; it’s almost robotic. I open my mouth to ask about the incident, but our waiter chooses that time to bring our food.

Luckily her demeanor relaxes a little as soon as the waiter sits her humongous steak in front of her. I fight a hard-on while I watch her lick her lips as she stares at her plate.

Conversation is stalled while we eat, and I’m fascinated while I watch her. She moans around each bite, and twice I’ve caught the guy at the table next to us staring at her, and I’m really close to punching him in his fucking face. The look I give him after he does it a-fucking-gain finally sends my message loud and fucking clear.

She looks at me with a raised brow, and then glances at the guy. “What’s going on?” Britain asks quietly.

I look right at the gawker. “I don’t like him staring at you while we’re on a date.”

The douchebag has the decency to look embarrassed. After we finish—and damn, she almost ate the entire thing—she declines dessert, so after I pay our bill we make our way outside. “Do you want to come to my place and watch a movie? We could have a coffee; we could sit outside under the twinkle lights?”

“S-Sure, that’d be nice.” I don’t miss the way her hand begins to tremble in mine.

“We’re only going to do what I said, okay? I’m a big boy, I can control myself.” I turn her until she’s facing me. Reaching down and stroking her cheek, I whisper, “I know we don’t know each other well yet, but I promise you can trust me, I swear it.”

Her eyes drift closed, and then they slowly open. “I trust you.”

I touch my forehead to hers. Why does this girl affect me so? I’ve never had this sort of reaction to someone before. Oh sure, I’ve cared about women and the subs I’ve had scenes with. Just being around her brings out the Dom in me. I’ve never had anyone that I’d want to submit to me the way I want Britain to. I want to own every part of her.

Maybe tonight can be the night I let her know what I’m into, and see if it’s something she’d be interested in. I hope to God she is.

We make it back to my place, and I put a pot of coffee on. We head upstairs and I take her out to the patio and turn the twinkle lights on. There’s a slight nip in the air, so I turn on my gas fire pit that sits in front of the wicker love seat. “Sit—I’ll go get the coffee.”

In the kitchen, I grab a tray and pour the coffee into a carafe, pull two mugs out of the cupboard, and set them on the tray along with cream and sugar. Back upstairs, I watch her through the door. Britain’s face is illuminated by the fire, and fuck if she isn’t so fucking pretty that it’s taking my breath away.

I set everything on the little table, and before I can stop her, Britain pours us both a cup and looks at me expectantly. After I tell her what I like, she doctors my coffee up before doctoring her own. Once I sit next to her, we sip our drinks silently and listen to the sounds of the night. I grab the remote off the table, and after pressing a couple of buttons, soft music fills the space.

I know it’s like I’m setting up some sort of romantic rendezvous, but I just want her relaxed.

“Thank you again for dinner. It was amazing. I’m still so stuffed.”

I grab her hand in mine. “You’re very welcome. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as small as you eating a steak the size of yours.”

She laughs softly. “Marcus used to tell me when I was younger that I had a worm living inside me and that’s why I ate so much. I’ve just got a super high metabolism.”

“How long did you think you had a worm inside you?”

“For about two weeks. Keith was watching me one day after school, and he caught me in the bathroom with a flashlight and a knife. I was trying to track it with the flashlight, and then I was going to cut it out.” Britain shakes her head.

“Did your brother feel bad? Did he get in trouble?”

“Yeah, I remember sitting in the hall listening to not only my parents, but Keith yelling at him too. My dad showed him the knife I was going to use, and he’d gotten really upset about it. He pretty much spoiled me after that for a while.”

I like this “getting to know each other” stuff. “How much older are your brothers than you?”

“Keith is twelve years older, and Marcus is ten. I’m twenty-four, if you were wondering. How old are you and your sister?”

“She’s twenty-four, and I’m twenty-eight.” I can’t believe we’ve never discussed our ages, but why the hell would we talk about something boring like that?

“I’m a virgin,” she blurts out, and then, even in the firelight, I can see she turns beet red.

Chapter Nine

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