After another skillful brush of his lips, Sean ended the kiss and lifted his head, breathing hard. She clung, not ready to let him go. How had he gotten under her skin so quickly? His tenderness filled her veins like a drug. The way he had addicted Callie terrified her.
“I want you. Sean, please . . .” She damn near wept.
With a broad hand, he swept the stray hair from her face. Regret softened his blue eyes before he ever said a word. “If you’re not ready to trust me as your Dom, do you think you’re ready for me as a lover? I want you completely open to me before we take that step. All you have to do is trust me, lovely.”
Callie slammed her eyes shut. This was so fucking pointless. She wanted to trust Sean, yearned to give him everything—devotion, honesty, faith. Her past ensured that she’d never give any of those to anyone. But he had feelings for her. About that, she had no doubt. They’d grown just as hers had, unexpectedly, over time, a fledgling limb morphing into a sturdy vine that eventually created a bud just waiting to blossom . . . or die.
She knew which. They could never have more than this faltering Dom/sub relationship, destined to perish in a premature winter.
She should never have accepted his collar, not when she should be trying to keep her distance from everyone. The responsible choice now would be to call her safe word, walk out, quit him. Release them both from this hell. Never look back.
For the first time in nearly a decade, Callie worried that she might not have the strength to say good-bye.
What was wrong with her tonight? She was too emotional. She needed to pull up her big-girl panties and snap on her bratty attitude, pretend that nothing mattered. It was how she’d coped for years. But she couldn’t seem to manage that with Sean.
“You’re up in your head, instead of here with me,” he gently rebuked her.
Another dose of guilt blistered her. “Sorry, Sir.”
Sean sighed heavily, stood straight, then held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”
Callie winced. If he intended to stop the scene, that could only mean he wanted to talk. These sessions where he tried to dig through her psyche became more painful than the sexless nights she spent in unfulfilled longing under his sensual torture.
Swallowing down her frustration, she dredged up her courage, then put her hand in his.
Holding her in a steady grip, Sean led her to the far side of Dominion’s dungeon, to a bench in a shadowed corner. As soon as she could see the rest of the room, Callie felt eyes on her, searing her skin. With a nonchalant glance, she looked at the others scening around them, but they seemed lost in their own world of pleasure, pain, groans, sweat, and need. A lingering sweep of the room revealed another sight that had the power to drop her to her knees. Thorpe in the shadows. Staring. At her with Sean. His expression wasn’t one of disapproval exactly . . . but he wasn’t pleased.