Page 41 of Take Me, Sir

Dean

Eatingdinner with Dalton and Juliette was going to be beyond awkward. A part of me was still annoyed at Dalton for telling me to stay away from Kyndall, and more of me was pissed on her behalf because of the things he'd said to her about her finances.

Except when she called me to ask about going, she'd said he'd apologized for all that – her side of things, not mine – and I'd gotten the impression that she wanted to forgive him.

I wanted that too. I wanted her to be happy, to have a relationship with her brother that wasn't awkward and upsetting. And I wanted my friend back. In some ways, my friendship with Cross worked better with Dalton as a part of it. His usually easy-going personality was a nice counterbalance to our more aggressive, competitive way of doing things. Our occupations alone showed our different natures. Cross and I were two type-A businessmen who were focused on work, and whose charitable contributions normally consisted of writing checks, versus the elementary teacher who tutored underprivileged kids and took the occasional trip with Habitat for Humanity.

It was that last thought hitting me as I got into the car that made me understand why Dalton's disapproval bothered me so much.

Some part of me didn't think I was worthy of Kyndall, and having admired the man Dalton was, I feared he saw that about me too. He knew she deserved better. She deserved someone more like him. Selfless enough to sacrifice for someone else's good. Compassionate toward people the rest of the world rarely acknowledged. Generous even when he didn't have much to give.

It was a strange feeling. Unfamiliar. I never claimed to be a saint, but I'd never considered myself a bad guy either. No shady deals or kicking puppies. No playboy, love 'em and leave 'em tendencies. Only a moderate amount of youthful indiscretions, and none of them too bad.

I was a good guy.

Just not good enough for her.

Maybe Dalton was right. Maybe I should stay away from her. Let her find someone better, someone worthy of her.

Except I didn't think that was possible. No matter how many men out there were better than me, more charitable, more deserving, none of them would ever really be good enough for her.

And I wasn't selfless enough to walk away and let her find someone else.

Shit.

The part of domination that I liked the most was control. No matter how much power a Sub had to stop a scene, the time they relinquished their control to me was what made me want to be in this world. Everything was so pure, so simple. Giving pleasure brought me pleasure. There were no ulterior motives, no wondering about what the other person was thinking. A Sub gave up their power and trusted me to keep them safe. I maintained control to give them that safe space.

Kyndall had taken that from me without either of us realizing it. I could be in control of a scene with her, but her power over me went far beyond what a Sub usually had. Keeping her safe no longer only meant respecting her limits and bringing her sexual pleasure. I wanted her protected and happy in every aspect of her life, and there was no possible way for me to be in control of that.

I was unable to tell what bothered me more, not being able to control that aspect of her life, or that I wanted to. The fact that I'd chosen to spend time with her not for sex, nor for a scheduled event for which I needed a date, was new enough. Everything else was nearly overwhelming.

One thing I knew for certain, however, was that each passing day made Kyndall more important to me.

The driver opened the door for me, and I took a slow breath as I got out. The heat was oppressive for the minute it took me to walk from the car to the door, and I felt a brief longing for the cooler English climate. I wondered if Kyndall ever missed Cambridge like that. She'd never mentioned it, but then again, she didn't talk about much other than her family, and not even much about them either.

I frowned as I took the elevator up to her floor. I hadn't realized it until now that Kyndall and I may have only spent a short time talking, but she'd never really said much about the last few years of her life. I'd told her about my parents, about my time at Oxford and the creation of my first online company. I hadn't said much about how much money I had, but I'd liked that she hadn't asked. I supposed my respecting her secrets about her own finances made her hesitant to ask about mine, but none of that explained why she didn't talk about MIT often. In fact, I suddenly realized, the only reason I knew she'd gone there was when she told me she lived in Cambridge for college and I'd asked which college she’d attended.

I promised myself that I'd remedy that. I wanted to know everything about her so I could understand her better, so I could better know the man I should be for her. And because I wanted to know everything there was to know about the woman I was falling for.

My parents had never been the sort to show much emotion, though I never doubted how much they loved me or each other. That meant I didn't have much of a grasp on the sorts of things one could expect in a relationship. They'd given me the sex talk, and had always made sure I knew to treat others with respect, but the concept of romantic love was something I wasn't sure I understood beyond the surface. Even the story of their own courtship had been told with minimal depth, made more with the head than the heart.

I didn't want the surface with Kyndall. I'd already told her that I wanted to try to pursue a relationship, but even now, I wasn't sure how deep that meant we would go. Or what that actually meant.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was floundering, unable to determine which direction to go or what to do. I wasn't even entirely sure what I wanted, not beyond the immediate desire to be with Kyndall in the here and now. All of my plans for the non-profit were pushed to the background until I understood what else was going on.

When I was six or seven, my parents had taken me to a carnival outside of London. My first one. I'd been so excited that I hadn't known what ride I wanted to go on first, only that I wanted to experience all of them. Even the ones I wasn't yet old enough to ride. My parents had indulged me, letting me lead them from place to place, finding every single ride I was able to go on, talking with every carny in sight. I'd played every game and lost them all, but I hadn't cared.

On our way back to the car, I'd spotted a ride that I hadn't noticed before. It was one of those that spun around in circles, and I'd always been one of those kids who would spin themselves around in chairs until they couldn't walk straight. My parents hadn't liked the idea of me going on it, but they'd let me anyway. When I'd gotten older, I realized they hadn't thought I'd be tall enough to ride it, which was what had happened at a few of the other scarier rides. Except at this one, the height sign must've been pushed lower into the dirt because I just managed to reach the line.

I'd been thrilled, and even though my parents had predicted I'd throw up, I hadn't. What had happened, however, was that I hadn't been able to get through the exit gate on my own. I was dizzier than I'd ever been, barely able to stand up, much less walk. My father had ended up carrying me back to the car, and I'd had to close my eyes because the world had been tipping in all sorts of crazy directions. When I read Alice in Wonderland a couple years later, I remembered thinking that I could relate to what it must've felt like to fall down the rabbit hole.

Being with Kyndall made me feel like that all over again. Like I was a child, spinning out of control, loving it and fearing it at the same time, knowing that I'd never see the world the same way again. Like everything had been turned upside-down, and I didn't know which way was up...and I didn't care.

As I stopped in front of her door, I pushed those thoughts and feelings down, determined to make tonight work. While I wasn't ready to give my feelings for Kyndall a name, I would do whatever was in my power to make her happy, and tonight, that meant dinner with Dalton and Juliette.

She opened the door a few moments after I knocked, and the smile that spread across my face was both automatic and genuine.

“You look lovely,” I said as I ran my gaze down her body.

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