Protege(59)

However, he would object to the term superior. Jude was adamant that subs and Doms were equally important, both dependent on one another. To say one role was superior would upset him. She grinned, imagining him lecturing her, hearing his gentle yet stern voice.

Peach, superiority indicates value. One role is no more valuable than the other. Yin could not exist without yang.

So maybe the word she was searching for was control or authority. He needed to nurture but remain in control. She had no issue deferring to him, because she desperately wanted to be the elasticity to his rigidness, the softening touch to all his intensity and hardness. But she wasn’t.

No matter what, at the end of the evening, Jude always said good night and put her to bed in her own room. Some nights she was too tired to care, but other nights she resented the locked door between them.

Perhaps he needed privacy, but she’d slept beside him once in the beginning and they’d fallen asleep together throughout the days from time to time. He was separating them intentionally, and no matter how much she pretended to be indifferent about their teacher-pupil association, it pissed her off. Didn’t he feel any difference toward her since they started almost two weeks ago?

It was inevitable that her emotions changed. She was learning his idiosyncrasies, knew how he liked his steak cooked, his coffee sweetened, and his dick sucked. Wasn’t he learning the same weird characteristics about her to some degree? Maybe he was and they simply didn’t appeal to him. She was greedy to learn every detail about Jude, but maybe he didn’t covet the details of her personality the same way. Perhaps he found her annoying and was counting down the days until the end of her apprenticeship.

Perhaps she was being overly sensitive and critical of herself. He surely didn’t give the impression that her presence in his home was remotely tedious, but why did he never waver when the day closed? Why was she always left with such insecurities as that door locked?

It made it difficult to embrace their circumstances full-heartedly. Ingrained was the knowledge that this was a temporary learning experience, and she could never quite lose herself or trust what they shared completely—no matter how much her heart begged to give over that last inch to him. It was an irritating wall that got in the way quite often when trying to build a relationship founded on trust.

The barrier that separated them, a shared wall of sorts, was not hers but his. He’d put it there. He’d insisted she acknowledge his all-powerful declaration that this was not personal.

I’m going to shine this bright light into your canal as I place this clamp on your clit and insert this anal plug, but remember . . . nothing personal.

The longer she dwelled on his implacable aloofness the more irritated she got. Glaring at him from her treadmill, she watched as he grunted and now exerted himself on the rowing machine.

Oh, look at all my fancy back muscle.

Disgusted, she shut off the machine. She’d had enough.

Releasing the oars, he glanced at her. “Where are you going?”

“To shower,” she said, grabbing a towel from the pile and disappearing into the open bathroom.

Her skin was slick with sweat and her clothes were damp. Usually, she liked puttering around the gym. She never gave her workout the effort Jude gave his, but he made for nice entertainment. Today, however, her body was achy, she felt fat, and the mere sight of him teased her every insecurity.

“Collette.”

She frowned when he followed her into the open shower room. “Yes?”

“It hasn’t been an hour. You’ve barely been on the machines. Get your ass back out there.”

Gritting her teeth, she said, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Are you sick?”

She knew that was the only way he’d let her quit early, but she couldn’t lie to him. “No.”

“Then I don’t care what you feel like. I expect you to exercise for an hour and you have over thirty minutes left.”

She huffed and pivoted, tossing her towel on the counter. Making her way back to the gym, she stepped onto the treadmill and hit quick start. The pace was sloth speed, and she folded her arms as she glared forward. Stupid, bossy, emotionally shortsighted—

The button beeped and the treadmill jerked to a stop. “Off the machine.”

She scoffed. “I thought you wanted me to finish the hour.”

His eyes narrowed. “Get off. The machine.”

Noting the hard edge of his jaw and the way his mouth was devoid of anything close to a smile, she shrank into herself. He was suddenly in full-blown Dom mode. She stepped off the treadmill and lowered her chin to her chest, her eyes apprehensively gazing up at him.

He appeared taller, larger, as though he sucked all the air out of the room to fill his broad, bare chest. “Go to the kitchen, remove your clothes, move a chair to the center of the room, and stand with your palms flat on the seat while you wait for me.”

At least a dozen responses went through her head, but she’d been trained enough not to utter a single one. “Yes, Sir.”

She made her way to the kitchen, guilt gnawing at her as anticipation built. She’d definitely had an attitude, and exercising was part of their contract, something she’d signed off on. She could have finished the hour, but she was in a crap mood and she wanted to be away from him.

You’re a liar.

Okay, so maybe she was poking him because of her frustration. Sometimes women needed a little extra attention and she wanted him to give it to her. However, this did not seem like it was going to end the way she wanted.