Page 63 of Volatile

“But you said you’re a Dominant. You’re not making sense. Nothing makes sense. I think back to the times we spent together, how you could be so gentle sometimes, how you encouraged me to speak my mind and have my own opinions. Also, the cooking.”

That actually made him laugh. A bright spot amidst the madness. “Doms can’t cook?”

“It seems more likely that they’d order the woman to do it.”

“That’s not how it works for me. And you seem to be forgetting that subs can be men too. BDSM isn’t some conspiracy against women, to keep them down. There are plenty of female Doms; I know several. All Doms are different, but the good ones have one main focus: to protect and care for their submissive.”

“So, like a pet.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m still the same man you’ve been sharing a bed with these past weeks. I—”

“Is Julia submissive?”

Damn it. She’d twisted the conversation to a direction he did not want to go.

“Yes.”

“Ah, I get now why you said she’s nothing like me. I guess I should take that as a compliment.”

“Will you come over? This isn’t the kind of thing we should be discussing over the phone. You should be in my arms.”

She was silent for so long he had hope that she’d accept. He could already feel her on his lap, all soft skin and silky curls nestled against him.

“Tell me who this Joshua guy is and where I can find him.”

She’d just flipped him on his ass again. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“It’s not the right thing to do. I’m not going to stab Lily in the back, and you shouldn’t ask me to.”

“But I feel like you’ve done that to me, Jonathan. You betrayed me by keeping things from me. So many things.”

“I’m sorry, Ivy. That was never my intention.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

He could feel the knot in his stomach growing, moving up to his throat. His muscles burned and ached as if he’d been running nonstop. A half a day earlier he’d been optimistic about a better future, and Ivy had played a major part in that. Now she was slipping away, and everything was draining from him faster than stormwater down the fucking gutter.

He made a last-ditch effort. “Please come to me, Ivy.”

“I can’t. I just... can’t. And I need you to respect that and leave me alone.”

“Ivy—”

“If you truly care about me, Jonathan, you’ll do that for me.”

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