Page 48 of A Lesson In Beginning

“Ravenous? For information about me? Why?”

“Because I find you beyond intriguing, Adah. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. You think the fact that you’re a mother would bother me? Please.” He scoffed humorously. “I’m a pediatrician. I love kids. And I want to know anything and everything you’re willing to tell me. I want much more than that, to be frank.”

“Like what?”

“Honestly?”

“That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? To be honest and upfront with one another?”

“Honesty it is, then. When you get sassy like that, I want to wrap my hand around your long hair and pull you into me, silencing that deliciously bratty mouth with my own, stealing your breath and making you melt under my touch, under my kiss; under my dominance.”

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything but sit there, gaping at him as that lone finger continued to draw patterns over my palm, and moved further up, to the sensitive skin at my inner wrist. I shivered, unable to control my body’s visceral reaction to his lustful words.

“How does that sound to you?”

“I… um…” I trailed off, unable to form proper words. The thought of his lips on mine, of him doing exactly what he had described, filled every available space in my mind, until there were no thoughts other than those of kissing him. I’d thought about it countless times at this point, but I had always quickly shut the thoughts down, refusing to admit my attraction. But this time, for the life of me, I could not find one legitimate reason to deny myself the thought.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased me lightly.

“More like the thought of your tongue has me — oh, good Lord Almighty.” I pulled my hand away from his, covering my face as flames of embarrassment flushed over me. He full-on cackled at my words, only furthering my mortification.

“I am humiliated.” How he understood my words, muffled and garbled behind the shield of my hands, I did not know.

“Humiliation is not really my thing. I prefer different kinks.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Hey.” His gentle tone accompanied his hands, taking my own, pulling them down from my face and holding them in the middle of the table. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I like your sass. I like how quick-witted you are. What I don’t like is how you shut it down every time you get that way. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

“I’m afraid.” The admission was possibly the most honest thing I’d said yet, the whispered words barely heard over the sounds of the surrounding cafe.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Getting in trouble.”

“What does getting in trouble mean to you? What does that look like in your mind?”

“Getting beaten.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think to stop them. I tugged my hands, yearning desperately to cover my face again, to shield myself from his gaze. Some manner of protection felt absolutely necessary, but he only tightened his grasp, unwilling to let me retreat to the safety I was used to.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean a pre-negotiated, mutually agreed upon punishment.” His tone had utterly changed, taking on a darker timbre that drew my gaze back to him. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find in his eyes; perhaps pity? But I only saw anger. Anger at the truth I was now allowing him to understand; that my life had not been the pretty picture painted by so many of the people I had met at The Temple.

“No, it was not that.”

“Your ex-husband?”

“Yes, but not only him.”

“Who else?” He didn’t ask for permission to know more, but the truth was out, and I found myself unable to deny him my truth any longer. I didn’t want to hide this anymore; not from him.

“My father. The Reverend. It was the way of things in Zion. Spare the rod, spoil the woman.”

“Isn’t it spare the rod, spoil the child?”

“Yes, but in Zion, they still revered the children. They had use. Women were only good for one thing: producing more children. That, and obeying commands.”

“Chattel is treated better.”

“You’re not wrong.”

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