Page 30 of Flog Me, Sir

“Lissa.”

She continued to dry off without looking at me, regardless of my tone. “I had a lovely evening, Garret,” she finally said, glancing at me. “Please don’t think I didn’t—but this ... this isn’t for me. I’m sorry.”

Lissa walked out of the bathroom while I sat stunned. She’d admitted to liking me. She all but said she wanted more. Intrigued, she’d said. But, she’d also said it had been too much. I stared at the bathroom door she’d gently closed, blinking, my mind sorting through her words, her actions, the unease I’d seen and felt slowly come over her.

Fear.

I climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel. Lissa had already dressed, her stooped shoulders while reaching for the door handle squeezing my heart.

“Lissa!” I called out from the bathroom’s doorway, using a tone she had obeyed before.

She stiffened, but didn’t turn.

“Lissa.” I eased the command in my voice, pleading rather than ordering she look at me, give me a chance. Give us a chance.

“Red.”

Her whispered safeword hit me hard, leaving me with a gaping wound in my goddamn chest as the door closed behind her.

* * *

“The fuck is your problem?”

I ignored Rian’s question as I stalked past him in the hallway.

He grabbed my shoulder before I could brush past him. “The fuck, Garret? You alright?”

I pulled up and breathed deeply through my nose. “She abandoned me.”

Rian knew enough of my childhood to know exactly how her walking out would have affected me. “Goddamnit.”

“Yeah.”

Tense enough to blow a gasket, I clenched my jaw.

“I was headed to Adam’s gym. Want to go blow off some steam?”

I shook my head and forced a smile. “I’d rather take a cane to a lily-white ass, but that won’t be happening anytime soon.”

If ever.

Lips pursed, Rian clasped my shoulder. “I’d offer to get rip roaring drunk with you, but since you don’t like the good stuff...”

My smile came a bit easier. He knew why I didn’t drink, the memories of intoxicated parents that kept me dry as a goddamn desert. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Where you going?” he asked as I stalked toward my bedroom.

“To have a little chat with my girl.”

“Good luck!” he called out, but I didn’t bother explaining which girl I’d meant.

Ten minutes later, I found Tillie in the kitchen—big surprise.

She took one look at me and pursed her lips. “My boy’s needin’ to give me an earful.”

I sank onto one of the island stools, head in my hands. “I’m falling for her,” I said, listening as she puttered around the kitchen, “and I can’t decide if I hate you or love you for it.”

Tillie didn’t laugh like I’d expected, but set a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

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