Page 20 of His to Explore
“I think she was going to call her, but I doubt she’ll be able to do anything. Fred is very good at covering his tracks.” She sighs. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. It’s not like he hurt me. They were just flowers, right?”
“It wasn’t just fucking flowers,” I growl.
“It’s just…my apartment is my safe place, you know?” Her voice is so small, so fucking sad, and it breaks my heart. “Seeing those flowers made it feel…disgusting there. Tainted or something.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.”
“But I played right into his hands,” she argues. “I know what he’s doing—just trying to get a reaction out of me.” She gives a sad little laugh. “And I did exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t even stay in my apartment this weekend, I was so shaken up.”
“Where the hell did you go?”
She shrugs. “A hotel.”
The urge to break things grows. She shouldn’t have been in a hotel, she should have been withme. She should have let me take care of her. That’s what would have happened with any of my past subs—it’s the entire fucking point. My submissive should always know that I’m there to take care of her.
But I haven’t treated Kensie like any of my other submissives. I’ve been allowing her to call the shots this entire time. It’s so outof character for me I could laugh. But there’s no doubt why I was willing to do it.
I’m crazy about this girl. I have been since the very first day Joan introduced us. I’d taken one look at those bottomless ocean eyes and known that I would do whatever it took to be with her. The idea of any other man at Wyld being the one to help her made me see red—and that was all before I’d even touched her.
But I’ve been going against my instincts, against my very nature, for weeks now. I was willing to do it for Kensie because I thought it was the only way I could have her. But now I’m realizing my mistake.
The woman in my arms hasn’t needed me just to provide her with exciting sex and orgasms. She needs me to guide her. To take control of the situation. To fucking protect her.
That starts right now.
It might freak her out, the way I want to take care of her. My girl is skittish. She doesn’t trust easily and she’s told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want a relationship outside of the club. But that’s okay. I’m a patient motherfucker when it comes to getting what I want.
And there’s never been anything I want more than Kensie.
KENSIE
Ican’t shake the nerves ricocheting around my stomach as I make my way into the restaurant. They’ve been pretty much a constant since Grant texted me to set this up, and they’re only getting worse as the time to see him gets closer.
I have no idea how I’m going to face him after the way I acted the other night. Bursting into tears on his lap after a scene that I specifically requested—practically begged for!—was beyond embarrassing. And yes, he’d been pretty amazing about the whole thing, but still. There’s been a part of me that wondered if he wouldn’t want to see me again.
So I was more than a little shocked when I got the text requesting my presence tonight. And even more shocked when he insisted on meeting at this restaurant instead of the club.
I’ve never seen him outside of Wyld. The very idea makes me feel jumpy.
I also can’t shake the worry that he’s planning to call things off and wants to do it in a neutral territory. I have no idea how I’ll react if that’s the case—I might just burst into tears in front of him for the second time.
Don’t be silly, I tell myself as I approach the hostess stand. You’ll be a big girl and control yourself, no matter what he has to say.
“Ms. Milton?” The hostess asks, voice warm, before I even open my mouth. “Mr. Anderson is already here. He asked me to bring you straight to him.”
“Oh,” I say, sounding stupid. But I’m caught off guard. He must have told the hostess what I looked like. I can’t deny the little shot of warmth the realization gives me. Just like Grant to make sure I wasn’t waiting around to be helped.
As your Dom, my entire job is to take care of you.
That’s what he said to me that night in the dungeon. The memory makes me feel as breathless as it did that night.
“If you’ll come this way,” the hostess says, and I shake myself out of the swirling, confusing mental spiral as I follow her into the dining area.
The restaurant is nice, clearly high-end with its art deco furnishings and unique light fixtures. But it feels different from the places Fred would take me. All of those fancy restaurants were clearly designed to see and be seen. To show off and network. This place feels warmer, with the low lighting and soft jazz. The cozy booths dotting the space allow for way more privacy than any place I’d been to with my ex.
Stop thinking about him,I order myself.
That demand gets a whole lot easier to follow when Grant stands up from the booth as we approach. God, he’s good looking. You’d think I’d get used to it after everything we’ve done together, but I swear it hits me like a truck each time I see him. Tall, broad, always well-dressed. His beard is trimmed a little neater than the last time I saw him, and he opted for a tie, which he usually forgoes at Wyld. I have a sudden urge to grab him by that length of understated silk and pull him into a kiss.
