She looked down at her hands, trying to hide how much his words relieved her. After leaving his place, she’d been convinced she must have done something wrong.
“I was pissed at myself. I hammer into my members the rules of safe, sane, and consensual play. And here I am hitting a vanilla girl who’s never played before with a belt, not even knowing anything about your limits.”
She ran a finger around the rim of her coffee mug, not daring to look at him. “It was fine. You didn’t hit me that hard.”
“Yeah, but what if you’d had an abusive childhood where you were beaten with a belt and I had triggered that trauma for you? Or what if you had a former injury I needed to be aware of? It was irresponsible on my part, and I’m sorry.”
She glanced up, surprised by the deep sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t have an abusive childhood. And…” She attempted an it’s-no-big-deal shrug. “I kind of liked the belt, for what it’s worth.”
“Is that right?” he asked, a devious smirk forming. “Duly noted. Maybe you’re not as vanilla as I thought.”
She didn’t know what to do with that observation, wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with her at this point. All she knew was that for the last two days, she hadn’t been able to close her eyes without replaying the way Grant had handled her, the sharp way her body had reacted to his touch and words. She hadn’t been able to go to sleep either night without sliding her hand beneath the band of her pajama bottoms, touching herself and imagining it was Grant’s fingers and tongue instead. Her panties were damp already simply sharing the room with him.
She set her mug down and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping her neck wasn’t as pink as it felt. Damn redheaded complexion. “What do you suggest for training?”
“You sure you’re serious about really trying this with me?” he asked. “Because I’m not good at doing anything halfway.”
Boy howdy, had she learned that. “Yes. Lay it on me. What do you propose?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking resolute and foreboding. “For two weeks, when you’re not working, you’re all mine.”
She wet her lips, her nerves starting to take root and bloom. “Meaning?”
“I’ll own you, Charli.”
ELEVEN
Charli had never been to a spa before. Her beauty regime usually consisted of a quick split-end trim in the salon at her gym with an occasional deep conditioner. For a rare treat, she’d spring for a pedicure. But today she had the feeling she was going to experience a whole other side of the rigors of beautification.
Kelsey was sitting in the zen-style waiting room when Charli walked in, looking vastly different than she had the first time Charli had seen her. The catsuit and expertly applied makeup had been replaced by jeans, a soft white sweater, and a bare face that was really unfairly beautiful. If not for the world-weary glint Charli had seen in her eyes the other night, Kelsey could pass for a college student.
Kelsey looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and broke into a smile. “Hey there. Guess you didn’t get lost this time?”
Charli pulled the note Grant had left on her counter that morning from her pocket and held it up. “Grant gives good directions.”
She cocked an eyebrow and her grin turned conspiratorial. “I bet he does.”
Charli shoved the note back in her pocket, trying to cover up her instinctive, awkward reaction at Kelsey knowing exactly what she and Grant were doing. Being open about sex was going to take some getting used to. She’d grown up in a household where even the mention of her period had set her dad into a stuttering, bumbling mess. Any talk of sex would’ve probably made his poor head explode. An appointment card for the women’s health center had just magically appeared on her bedside table the day after she’d turned sixteen. “No comment.”
Kelsey laughed and tossed the magazine onto the coffee table as she stood. “So are you ready?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. Grant didn’t exactly tell me anything more about this than to show up.”
“Uh-oh,” Kelsey said, pulling a note from the pocket of her jeans. She unfolded it and showed a very long list—all in Grant’s precise handwriting. “Then you have a few surprises to look forward to. He’s scheduled you for the works.”
Charli leaned forward, trying to read what was on the list, but Kelsey folded it before she could read anything more than “wax.” Oh, shit.
“No peeking. If he had wanted you to know, he would’ve already told you. But I promise you’re going to look and feel fabulous by the end of it.”
Kelsey linked arms with Charli like they were two little kids ready to skip down the hallway. The BFF vibe that rolled from Kelsey was foreign to Charli. She’d never really had that kind of thing with girls, even as a kid. While the other girls had been braiding each other’s hair and talking about boy bands, Charli had been knocking down the guys in touch football. The one time she’d even been invited to a slumber party, the other girls had ended up teasing her about her unshaved legs and lack of training bra.
But she liked that things didn’t feel fake or forced with Kelsey. The woman’s warmth and desire to help seemed genuine. So Charli took a deep breath, trying to relax even though she was completely out of her element. “If you say so.”
Kelsey pushed open the main door to the spa area. “I do. This is going to be fun. And boy, are you going to break some hearts tonight. All those subs who were interviewing to be Grant’s are going to be so jealous when they hear.”
Charli’s tennis shoe squeaked against the floor as her step faltered. “What do you mean?”
Kelsey peeked at her, a slight wince. “Shit. Big mouth. Sorry. Never mind.”