“Man is a terrific businessman. Terrible boyfriend and husband. Father, too, apparently.”
I could tell you how much I wanted to laugh but couldn’t, but you probably have a good idea as it is.
“Kathryn.”
Here, beneath my covers, I’m convinced that I don’t hear a thing. I especially do not hear a man’s voice. I don’t hear a man’s voice that has no business being in my apartment that is locked to the outside world. And it’s definitely not Ian, the man I want to see less than I want to get an infection.
Nevertheless, I lower my covers and see Ian standing in my bedroom doorway.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“I caught your assistant on her way out. I, er, convinced her to let me in without announcement.”
“She’s fired.”
“Katie.”
I toss back the cover and thrash to the other side of my bed. I look like hell, wearing nothing more than a pair of cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt. My hair is a fucking mess. I haven’t brushed it since yesterday.
If I’m too grotesque for this world, Ian doesn’t let on.
“Don’t call me that,” I finally say. “The woman you call Katie isn’t here.”
He approaches my bed, dressed in his usual work clothes of crisp pants, a red tucked-in shirt, black and red striped tie, and heavy charcoal jacket that looks too warm for this summery weather. There’s a five-o-clock shadow covering his jaw, giving him a hint of a disheveled bad boy look in his otherwise pristine outfit.
I hate that I want him in my arms.
“Are you sure?” Ian puts down his briefcase. “I’m looking at her right now.”
Our eyes meet, mine bloodshot and covered in goop. The hazel of his eyes is particularly sharp today. It’s like everything I find physically attractive about him has come out in full force. The only way this could be worse is if he takes off his clothes and shows me the physique he works hard in the gym to achieve.
I wonder how fucking sexy he is bench pressing and jogging on a treadmill while reading a book or watching the news, sweat seeping through his clothes.
“You can’t flatter me,” I say. “You need to leave. I’ll call security downstairs.”
“I can’t leave until we talk through this.”
“What the fuck, Ian? I said everything I already have to say. You’re the one creepily breaking into people’s houses and acting like you’re entitled to something.”
“I don’t think I’m entitled to anything. I would, however, like to talk.” He gestures to the foot of my bed. “Can I sit?”
“Oh, you’re asking me for permission? It must be my birthday.”
Like the entitled bastard he is, Ian sits on my bed, his hand dangerously close to the crease where my feet are.
“I’m sorry, Kathryn.”
I let the silence simmer around us. All you can hear in my bedroom is the ticking of a wiry clock and the slight hum of the air conditioner. My soundproofed windows keep out the street noises, but I imagine there are cop cars, kids laughing, and adults yelling at one another. Birds chirping. Dogs barking.
Life.
In here, it’s two people awkwardly interacting.
“Sorry about what?” This should be good.
Ian rearranges himself so he’s facing me, his tie slapping against the bed and his shirt wrinkling to meet his poor posture. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday at my house. That was rude of me to say, and not even how I really feel.”
Not how he really feels? Then why the hell did he say them? For fun? I wouldn’t put it past him. “You embarrassed me in front of our families.” Granted, I hadn’t improved the situation with my further comments, but I’m conveniently leaving that out. I was pushed to say them, after all.
“I want you to know something.”
He waits for me to reply. “What? Make it good. I have no patience and you’re about five seconds away from getting the official boot.”
You’d never guess I said those words to him just now. He’s too complacent. “When you walked away from me yesterday, I worried that I wouldn’t see you again. Funny, isn’t it? I know I’ll have to see you for work, even if we’re too pissed to work closely together. Yet I had it in my head that you were going to become some enigma from my past. The kind of woman who haunts me when I’m trying to sleep.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Where did he learn this speech? Some how-to site? “Also the woman whose name you call during sex. Even if you’re not fucking her at the time.”
“That too.”
I settle into my pillow, staring at him through clouding eyes. If you walked into this room, you’d think I was the type of Sleeping Beauty who slept with her eyes open. Open and without any makeup. Shit, does that make Ian the Prince Charming come to wake me up from my slumber? Anything but, please.
I’d rather be awake for that.
“This is hard for me to say, let alone articulate…” Ian’s hand creeps dangerously close to my feet beneath the bed. “I like you. Very much.”
He’s kidding, right? “Like me. You like me.”
“Very much.”
“Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t articulate it well.”
“I’m serious, Katie. Don’t ask me to put better words to my feelings right now. Yet I definitely feel something for you. You’re more than a woman I casually hookup with. You’re even more than a friend. I’m not sure what you are. That’s the problem. I’ve never felt for someone what I feel for you, and that’s new for me. I need some time sorting it out.”
I sit up, the covers falling away from me. My back is hunched, my greasy hair falling into my lap, and my makeup-less face sending rockets into this man’s skull.
“You need time. You. Need. Time.”
“Have I misinterpreted something? I was under no impression that we were on some specific timeline when it comes to our relationship. Besides training you, anyway.”
He’s already bringing that up. Either this man is a terrible liar, or he’s terrible at understanding me. Probably both. “No, we weren’t on any timeline. We were doing whatever felt fun. Yeah, I had a lot of fun with you.” I have to look away before his charisma breaks me. “Maybe too much fun. Like I told you, I’m getting in over my head. You’re an easy man to fall in love with, Ian Mathers, and I don’t want to fight you anymore.”
No surprise that he takes my hand, eyes staying locked on mine. “Then don’t fight me.”
“Don’t you get it? You’re one of the last men I should fall in love with. Where would a real relationship with you go? I don’t want to be your full-time sub.”
“I don’t want a full-time sub. Not from you or anyone else. That’s sex, not a lifestyle.”
“Even so, I can’t do that even half the time. It takes a lot out of me and asks me to look at who I really am. Meanwhile, you keep doing your own thing like whatever.”
“Katie… if this is about you Topping, I… really don’t care if you take out your urges on other men. Just casual, of course. Maybe if I’m there.”
All these stipulations. I could die from dizziness. “That’s not going to work for me. I’m a Domme. I don’t want some man looking over my shoulder and seeing what I do. For fuck’s sake, Ian, we would be miserable after a year. It wouldn’t work. We’d be forced to break up like your parents before we could even talk about marriage.”
My God, I just said the M word.
Ian doesn’t flinch. “I think you’ve misunderstood me,” he says, steadily. “We don’t have to go from what we had to an engagement party. There are places in-between. Like… agreeing to be exclusive while we test the waters out some more.”
“Why would you even want to bother with that? Do you want to waste your time when you could be looking for someone more suitable to your needs?”
“Did you not hear what I said?” Ian leans forward, face coming closer to mine. I resist flinging myself into his embrace now that I can smell his cologne so strongly. His comfortable cologne that makes me think of gentle nights in his bed, his body wrapped around mine and his lips teasing every inch of my skin. “I just told you that you make me feel things that no other woman has in my thirty years. Why wouldn’t I want to follow that and see where it goes?”