The Strength of the Pack (Suncoast Society #30)(20)

“Hey, Crawford. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” A man walked up and shook hands with him.

Nate caught her eye and offered her an apologetic smile, then at the first opportunity spoke up. “It’s great seeing you tonight,” Nate said, “and I’d love to talk some other time, but I’m in the middle of something tonight.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry. No problem.” The man offered her an apologetic smile and walked away.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his chair closer to her while angling it more so his back was to the rest of the room.

“It’s okay. You’re popular.”

“Maybe too popular.” He did that little eyebrow arch again and she felt her pulse thrum in response. “You were saying you wanted to talk tonight?”

“Yeah.” Deep breath. “Leo and Tilly and everyone have told me that direct communication is best in this lifestyle.”

He nodded. “Yes. I prefer it, myself.”

“Okay.” Another deep breath… “I really like you, but I’m not in a position to get into a…relationship right now.” She wasn’t going to delve into the intricacies of her past tonight. That could wait until the time—if they even reached that point—where he needed to know it about her. “I’m still healing from what happened in a bunch of ways. I learned a lot about myself over the past year. Stuff I didn’t know. And I’m growing.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“So what I’m saying is that I’m…” She picked at her cuticles. “Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she muttered.

He reached out and stroked the top of her right hand, his long, elegant finger brushing across the top of her knuckles. “I think I do,” he said. “You’d like to see where things might possibly go, but can’t make me any promises.”





From the shock in her eyes, he might as well have reached out and thumped her in the temple.

“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly that.”

He didn’t stop stroking her hand. He loved the feel of her energy. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “And I’m not involved with anyone. How about we start as friends and see what happens? And we both keep the other informed if there are any…developments with others that need to be discussed.”

She slowly nodded.

He slowly curled his fingers around her hand to see if she’d grab onto him or pull away.

She tightened her grip.

“I will tell you,” he said, “that I’m monogamous. I’m not poly. The kind of play I do in private is far more…intimate than the play you see me do here with others. Will it bother you seeing me work with others here at the club?”

“Like what you usually do?”

“Right.”

“No, it won’t bother me. Most of the people you work on have clothes on. Or if they’re naked, they’re facedown because of the fire cupping.”

“It’s a legitimate question,” he said. “Laying a groundwork.”

He knew he’d piqued her curiosity, though. “More intimate how?” she asked. “The private play.”

“For starters, I like doing it naked.” He loved the delightful way the pink flush started at her collarbone and worked its way up her cheeks. “And I’m far more hands-on with what I do. Lots of acupressure, massage, orgasm play. Things like that. I only do that with someone I’m intimate with.”

He watched her throat work as she swallowed. “Sex?”

“Doesn’t have to lead to sex, no. Depends on how you define sex. If you define sex as mutual orgasms, okay, sex. If you strictly define sex as intercourse, no, not necessarily.”

Hell, the last time he’d had intercourse had been nearly two years ago. In the interim, he’d had a couple of partners he’d reached the point of playing privately with, which had led to a very satisfactory blow job from each of them, but things dissolved relationship-wise before crossing the threshold.

One because she thought an orgasm suddenly meant a lifelong commitment to each other, and the other because she wanted to do orgasm play with others and he’d told her sorry, no.

It wasn’t even an STD worry so much as it was an intimacy concern. He only gave and shared that kind of energy with someone he felt completely comfortable with. And if they were doing it with others—or jumped aboard the crazy train and started picking out china patterns—those weren’t scenarios conducive to him wanting to be intimate with them.

Yes, he had exacting standards. He wouldn’t deny it.

He gently turned her hand over in his, palm up. With his other hand, he lightly traced the lines in her flesh. Invisible sparks shot through his fingertips at the contact.

She was so deeply wounded. Maybe she wasn’t even capable of really opening up to someone. Having a husband admit he’s gay certainly couldn’t help in the self-confidence department. He also noticed that her free hand frequently sought out the tag on her chain and she played with it, an unconscious gesture already, after having so recently received it.

“How about I let you guide me?” he asked as he looked into her eyes. “You let me in as much—or as little—as you’re comfortable with at any given time. I’m serious when I say I don’t share, though. So if there’s anything going on with you and Leo or Jesse—”