Page 20 of R for Rough

I hadn’t thought of the last one.

“Did you grow up fishing with your old man or something?”

I shook my head. “My grandpa. I spent every summer with him in Maine.”

“Damn. It’s nice over there.”

It really was, but I preferred Washington. “Nothing beats this place, though.” I smiled to myself and checked out another row of listings in the window.

“Is that a fact,” he murmured. “What about all the restaurant meccas of the world? You don’t wanna chase the stars and be an exec in New York or…” He trailed off, seeing me shake my head.

The notion was almost laughable. I loved being a chef, but I’d never aimed for Michelin or fame.

“I’m very happy here,” I said. “Plus, my brother’s moving to Seattle with his family next year, so I’ll be able to see my nephews more often.”

It was only a matter of time before my folks followed. They had nothing else keeping them in Georgia.

Griffin sighed heavily, and I didn’t know why, but it did something to the atmosphere around us. Like a flip of a switch, I became so aware of him—and I realized none of his questions were random.

Was he freaking interviewing me?

Alessia was right. He was jaded.

I had exes too, but I didn’t feel the need to ask a potential date if he had plans on cheating on me, moving halfway across the country, or stealing my laptop.

It’d happened.

I took a deep breath and felt the need to lay it all out there for him. If he’d been hurt, I wanted to ease some fears and hopefully convince him that we were worth a shot. Because this couldn’t go on. Before he’d left for Europe, I’d been so hooked on him—not to mention kinda broken that he had no interest. But now…things were changing, and it was more painful than ever to wonder if he was going to believe I was worth the risk.

I positioned myself in his line of sight and tried to come off as casual by leaning back against the window. I stuck my hands down into my pockets too.

He watched me in silence, and I was slowly figuring him out. He’d been honest enough to admit I was his type. That my behavior and personality had affected him when he’d struggled with his own relationship. So…maybe that gave me a boost of confidence. Determination blanketed the nervous butterflies in my stomach with an easyshh.

“Can I tell you my dream, Chef?” I asked.

He stared at me for a while longer, before nodding so subtly I almost missed it. His face was all shadows and contrasts in the faint glow of the streetlights farther away.

I went with total honesty.

“I want a place like this.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I wanna grow stuff that Daddy and I cook together.” Instant reaction—his jaw tightened, and he took the slightest step forward. Daddy was the magic word, maybe? It sure was for me. “We should have a boat too,” I added. “Perhaps he and I will spend a whole weekend out on the water, fishing and playing and cooking… I mean, if he likes to cook, that is.”

The tension grew thicker as he took another small step forward.

He swallowed and glanced down the street. “Maybe your Daddy grew up on the water and would like that a whole lot.”

Holy fuck.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I drew in a breath.

Please, please, please, please let this happen!

“Yeah, maybe.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, and he met my gaze again. “And when we play…we go rough. Because I love it when he controls my air supply, when he pushes me around, when he takes whatever the fuck he wants from me, and when he rape-fucks me because he just can’t help himself.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw and closed his eyes briefly.

“Daddy won’t have to worry either,” I went on. “’Cause I know my safewords, and they’re always in effect. Also, safety—I’m only available for him, and I wouldn’t risk anything. I mean, nonsexual play with others is cool—I like that—but only Daddy’s allowed to kiss me in my secret places and stuff.”

The look he gave me then seared its way through me and set me on fucking fire. I didn’t need to see every detail of his face to know I was getting to him.

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