Page 44 of S is for…

“I’ll try it plain first, please.”

“Of course.”He poured her a cup, then lifted the saucer and offered it to her.“Here you go, Delaney.”

“Laney, please.I prefer Laney.And what do I call you?”

“Peter.”

“I mean when the scene starts?”

“Sir.Or Peter.”He shrugged.“For me the exact phrasing isn’t critical.”He shook his head.“That isn’t to say that I won’t respect your desire to be called Laney.Julen—Master Morton—even told me that, but I didn’t want to assume I had the right to use the nickname.”

“Oh, thank you.”It took her a minute to put together that Julen meant Master Morton.Laney touched the rim of the delicate teacup to her lip, checking how hot it was.Deciding the tea probably wasn’t scalding, she took a sip.It was warm, with a soft flavor that practically begged her to relax.

“That’s really nice, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”Peter smiled at her, then poured his own cup, and sat back.

Laney took a few more sips, but rather than normalizing things, the situation seemed to tip further away from what she expected with each swallow.

Meanwhile, Peter seemed content to sip in silence.

Peter.The Dom who’d brutally used Diann the weekend before.Laney had hidden her horrified winces when Diann described her scene with Peter.She also had to swallow a “seriously?”comment when Diann insisted the extreme activities weren’t the problem, weren’t why she’d used her safe word.Peter’s emotional distance was the issue.

And yeah, Laney knew how bad emotional disconnection felt—after all, a version of that very thing was what had happened with her and Master Morton.But, sayingthatwas the problem, not the nipple-abuse cocktail table, just hadn’t made sense to Laney.

Laney looked at the tea set, then back to Peter, and this whole thing just seemed…wrong.Off.

The man who’d had a hard-to-watch fight with his ex after coldly using that same ex as a BDSM slave surely wasn’t also the kind of man who started a scene with a nice cup of tea.

Laney balanced the saucer on her bare knee, wrapping both hands around the delicate cup like it was a mug.She was being ridiculously simplistic, trying to say that a man who enjoyed humiliating and whipping his partners couldn’t also be elegant and considerate.

“You look worried,” Peter said casually.“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I just realized that I’m doing mental gymnastics about you being a hard-core player.”

“Hard-core player?”

“I mean BDSM player, not like…dating around player.”Dating around?Was that even a thing people said?“A BDSM enthusiast who likes more extreme or hard-core activities.”

Peter smiled against the edge of his cup before taking a sip.“Enthusiast.”

“Stop mocking my poor word choice,” Laney said in exasperation.“The whole tea thing has thrown me off my game.”

Now Peter was studying her far too seriously.She meant the comment to be both funny and an explanation for her verbal stumbles, but he didn’t seem amused.Anxiety clenched her stomach and she looked down, picking up her saucer with her empty hand and studying the pattern around the rim before setting her cup on it once more.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” she murmured.

“Why are you apologizing?You didn’t say anything rude.”He didn’t sound mad, but when she looked up, his expression was still serious.

“You…look mad.”

At that, he blinked.“I’m not mad, in any way.”

Laney winced.“Sorry.I sometimes assume people are angry with me any time they’re not actively happy and smiling.”

His attention traveled over her face, moving feature by feature.

He’s definitely mad at you.

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