Not Safe for Work(5)

Oh God. This is going to be awesome.

“Good. Good.”

I watched him for a moment. “Have you had any bad experiences with Doms? You don’t have to go into detail, but I’d just as soon not step on any land mines.”

“No bad experiences, no. I still prefer to take things a little slower at first, though. Not just jump in and start breaking out the whips and leather, even when it’s tempting.”

I nodded. “No sense diving in headfirst while we’re still strangers for all intents and purposes.”

He held my gaze. How surreal, even thinking of being anything beyond strangers with him. Or realizing that, despite spending an unholy amount of time together in those stupid meetings, that was exactly what we were—we barely spoke directly to each other, since my bosses freaked out if anyone jumped the chain of command and addressed a client. Even in the same room, at the same table, in the same conversation, our interactions were filtered through Marie or Mitchell.

Until now.

I cleared my throat. “So then I guess the question is, what do we do until we get this ‘stranger’ thing out of the way?”

Rick smiled. “You’re the Dom. I’d say that’s your call.”

“In theory.” I took a drink of my iced tea, because holy hell, my mouth was parched. “But you know how it works—the Dom calls the shots, but the sub is the one in charge.”

“True. Then I guess we’ll take it a little at a time.”

I nodded. “I can work with that.”

“Good. Because I’ve met a few Doms who are impatient as f*ck.”

“Ugh. No. I would never move faster than my sub was ready to move.”

“Good,” he said again. “Then I’d say we’re off to a damned good start.”

I nodded.

“And while we’re on the subject, it doesn’t have to be all kink, all the time. In fact, I’d prefer if it wasn’t. I dated a guy for a while who wasn’t into sex unless it was kinky, and it was…” Rick exhaled, shaking his head. “It was exhausting, you know?”

“Yeah, I agree. Some people like it that way all the time, but I’m with you.” I laughed quietly. “Maybe I’m just getting too old.”

Rick snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Because if you are, then I am, and…no.”

I laughed again. “Fair enough. To be serious, though, I do enjoy vanilla too.”

“So I read. And same here.”

God, this was weird. We were in the same booth, on the same wavelength, and if I kept playing my cards right—no, if he kept playing his cards right—we’d be in the same bed.

Except we hadn’t even touched yet. Verbal games only went so far.

We were way too out in the open for any contact beyond hands on the tabletop. Not even touching an arm or teasing the inside of a wrist with a finger. Maybe if we were a couple of twenty-somethings, it would’ve been different, but I came from an era where that sort of thing didn’t fly. And, well, old habits died hard.

But I still wanted to touch him. More than that, I wanted to see him squirm.

So, beneath the table, I ran my toe along his insole. “Footsie” seemed like a childish game, but the way his eyes closed and he slowly pulled in a breath, the way the hairs on his arm stood up and my own spine tingled—this wasn’t child’s play.

I did it again. His other foot moved, rubbing against mine, and I quickly put mine on top and pushed his back to the floor.

Rick’s eyes flew open.

Right then, the waitress appeared beside us. “Can I get you gentlemen—” Her eyes darted back and forth between us. Some color bloomed in her cheeks, as if she’d realized a second too late what she just walked into. A little quieter, she quickly asked, “Any refills?”

“Some more water please,” Rick said, the words spilling out one on top of the other. “Ice water.”

The color deepened. She swallowed and turned to me. “And you, sir?”

“Water, yes. Please.”

She was gone so fast, she may as well have just ceased to exist.

Neither of us spoke. I slid my foot off his, and he shifted as if he suddenly couldn’t get comfortable. When the waitress returned, she deposited our drinks and made a quick exit, and still, we were silent.

He took a few deep swallows of water. I left mine on the table but wrapped my hands around it, letting the cold bring me back to earth.

My body temperature slowly came down, though the same could not be said for my pulse, especially as I whispered, “Why me, Rick?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He tapped his fingers on the sides of his glass. “I did, but…I’m not sure I understand the question. Why not you?”

“Rick. You could have any man in this city.” I pushed my drink aside, folded my arms on the table, and leaned over them. “Why are you sitting in a bar with a middle-aged guy who builds models for a living?”

He studied me, and then slid his own drink to the side before mirroring me, leaning in so close our forearms nearly touched. “Because I’ve seen the way you carry yourself. I’ve seen the way no one intimidates you, no matter how hard they try.” A faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He ran his foot up the side of my ankle, and I sucked in a sharp breath, which brought that grin fully to life. He went on, “And once I saw you on Leathr, and I realized what you really are, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to sit across from you in a meeting while I could still feel everything you’d done to me the night before.”