“This is not me being uptight. This is you trying to snatch back some control of the situation.” He pushed his plate aside and set his elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Tell me why you’re doing this.”
She set her fork down and shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under his unyielding gaze. Had he answered when she’d asked him the same question? She couldn’t remember what his response had been if he had. “You know why. I need to learn some things. Be more refined, as you put it.”
His frown deepened. “You could learn that in one of those manners classes people give for debutantes. Why are you agreeing to give yourself to me?”
She fiddled with the edges of the napkin in her lap, wracking her brain for an answer. Why was she doing this? Yes, she wanted to learn to be more feminine. But he was right; she didn’t need to be someone’s submissive to do that. Was it simply because she was attracted to him and knew this was the only way he had relationships?
No, she may have not had a lover in a while, but she wasn’t desperate. She’d long ago learned how to take care of her own sexual needs. She was better at it than any guy had ever been. Well, until the other day in the kitchen. She’d never get that kind of orgasm on a solo tour. But still…
Why this?
Grant reached out and put a knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Charli, I need your honesty here. I don’t want to take this any further until I know where you are with this.”
She nodded, attempted a small smile, failed. Honesty, huh? Fine. What did she have to lose at this point. “I’ve had three relationships in my life. The first in high school with a cornerback who was happy to relieve me of my virginity, but not so keen on telling his friends he was sleeping with the team’s ‘chick kicker’ instead of a cheerleader. Another early in college with the guy who is now my boss.”
Grant frowned. “Your boss?”
“Yes, Trey barely counts because it was more a friends-with-benefits deal. And the benefit really wasn’t that grand. I ended it a few months after it started. The last one was with a guy I met at the gym. It was…fine. He ended it to go back to his ex-wife.” She blew out a breath, her dating history even more depressing when said aloud. But if they were going for honesty, she was going to give him all of it. “The number of times I’ve actually been able to enjoy sex with anyone? Maybe four.”r: Roni Loren
She ventured a glance upward. “I’m not scared, not for my safety at least.”
He nodded, pleased to hear that she at least trusted him on some level. He let go of her hand, giving her some space to speak whatever was on her mind.
“There isn’t much that makes me nervous. Hell, ask Max. I’m sure I’ve taken years off his life with my thrill seeking. I’ve skydived, played tackle football with dudes twice my size, been on a roller-derby team. I’ve probably had more concussions and broken bones than many pro athletes.” She gave him a wan smile. “But this is so far outside of my realm, it makes all that stuff look like cake. I look around at the women here, and I feel like I come from a different species.”
“I assure you, you don’t. I checked you out thoroughly the other day.”
“Very funny. I’m just worried I’ll spend these two weeks completely embarrassing myself.” She looked down at her discarded shoes. “I can’t even wear heels without tripping.”
Her bottom lip jutted out in frustration, creating an unintentional pout. He had an urge to sink his teeth into that plump pink flesh. She was so damn cute when she was annoyed. “That only takes a little practice.”
She gave him a yeah, right look. “I’m not even sure why you agreed to do this. There’s obviously no shortage of women around here willing to, uh…service you or whatever. Every time I speak your name it’s like I’ve mentioned some goddamned rock star.”
He snorted.
Amusement lit her eyes. “What? I’m serious. I think some of the girls are planning to make I Heart Grant T-shirts.”
She drew a heart shape in the air between them, while batting her eyelashes in an overexaggerated imitation of his so-called admirers.
He smirked, loving that she had no filter. Thought to mouth. He wondered if that’s the real reason her bosses were reluctant to put her on the air. Nothing like live TV and someone who isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on her mind. Could be disastrous.
It was going to get her in trouble as his sub as well, but he couldn’t help looking forward to administering the fun consequences. “First of all, you wouldn’t be servicing me, you’d be subbing for me. Different animal. This isn’t prostitution. Both parties get equal benefit in this arrangement.”
“Right. So I get the benefit of earning the right to service you?” she said, her sarcasm about as subtle as a tractor-trailer.
The waiter stopped by the booth and upon hearing Charli’s words, simply laid down the escargot appetizer, gave Grant a new drink, and disappeared.
Grant took a sip of his club soda, amused. “That is a great benefit, but no. What you get is, well, that can be different for each person. Most subs would say they find freedom in the role.”
She eyed the appetizer and frowned. “Freedom? By being someone else’s slave?”
“Being a slave in this world is a bit different that what we’re doing. Though I know slaves here who would say they’ve never felt free until they found their master.” He grabbed one of the tiny forks and put a snail on a toast point, making sure to get lots of garlic butter sauce with it. He held it out to Charli, who took it reluctantly, then made a matching bite for himself. “But you never wonder what it’d be like to have a true break from everyday life? To not have to make any decisions or pretend to be something you’re not? To wake up and know that all you have to do that day is let someone else take care of anything you may need?”
She sniffed the toast, examining it. “I’m thinking I could accomplish that with a trip to Barbados and an attentive waiter.”
He laughed. “Yes, but could that waiter teach you how to wow those horseshit-for-brains bosses of yours with your feminine charm?”
She popped the escargot into her mouth and mumbled “no” whilst chewing.