Chapter 17 #2
With a huff, I walked back to the door and flipped the lock. “Anything else I need to do before I walk back to the kitchen?”
Indecipherable muttering came from the kitchen. Just a low hum of sound. Taking that as a no, I traced my steps back to him. He stood in the same spot, same pose, as if he hadn’t moved at all.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.”
“Why now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why now? Why not two months ago, or even two weeks ago, or, fuck, last week when we saw each other?” He pushed away from the island and folded his arms over his broad chest. I could imagine him in his uniform.
Tall. Strong. Imposing. Authoritative. I knew we had to talk more about why we hadn’t spoken, but I wanted to lock down our…
connection? Dynamic? Whatever the right word might be.
I wanted us together before I revealed how idiotic I was for fucking my twin roommates for years and being oblivious that they’d caught feelings while I was only having fun.
So, instead of answering the question he asked, I said, “I know the difference now.”
“What difference? What are you talking about?”
Confusion looked hilarious on his face and had the added benefit of pulling him from what I could only describe as surliness.
I walked toward him, pausing because he appeared nervous. If it made me a prick, I didn’t give a fuck. It tickled me. He’d kept me on my heels since I caught sight of him in the stands. When he didn’t move, I stepped toward him one step at a time until I stood in front of him.
“I know the difference between the Corps and the Army.”
A slow, lazy smirk crept onto his face. “Oh, you do, huh?”
My lips curled into my mouth, and I nodded. “Yep.”
“And how’d you come by that info, kid?”
“Google, YouTube, Reddit. You know, all those sites you old guys haven’t heard of yet.”
His hand shot out, gripping my face. Thumb on one side, the other four fingers on the other. “You are poking a bear—”
“Bear? You look nothing like any bear I’ve ever met.”
He growled under his breath. “The way I want to bend you over and fuck the brat out of you…”
“I thought you liked brats.”
“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck it out of you for a limited time being.”
The image that those words created forced heat into my face. I wanted that. So fucking much. “So, what does a guy gotta do to take you up on that offer?”
He smiled. The hand gripping my chin slid to cup the side of my head, the other sliding around my waist to pull me against him. His mouth lowered to hover over mine, but far enough away that our eyes didn’t cross. I tried to capture his lips. I can be an idiot, but I’m not fucking stupid.
“Nuh-uh. Not yet.”
“Please,” I begged, and ignored the whiny tone it took.
“Fuck me, you beg pretty, but it will not get you anywhere.”
“So what will? Because I’m not above dropping to my knees.”
Nostrils flared as he dragged several deep breaths in before saying, “Sit your ass down at the island while I cook dinner and we talk.”
“Ugh! Talk? Why?”
“Because what I want to do to you might not be shit you’re comfortable with, and we need to discuss what happens between us—both sexual and non-sexual—before we fall into bed.”
“But…”
“You can beg and pout all you want, but I told you already. I’m a bossy, possessive fucker and you need an image overhaul. You are getting rules.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you decide you want to be mine, and by mine I mean my boy. My sub.”
My boy. My sub.
Fuck me, I never thought I’d be interested in having a Daddy Dom, but when he talked about claiming me, about me being his? Sign me the fuck up. Yesterday, today, twice every day that ends in ‘y.’
I backed away from him, pulled out a barstool, and planted my ass on it. “All right, Gordon Ramsay, whip us up something to eat and get talking. Because I’m over not having your dick in my ass.”
He burst out laughing, pressed a kiss against my temple, and rounded the island.
Within minutes, pans were on the stove, water bubbling, meat sizzling, and something fucking delicious had been put in the oven to bake.
The only time I’d ever seen anyone cook so efficiently was when my parents brought a chef in for an event they were hosting.
I would have told him so, but I worried doing so would derail the conversation he demanded we have before we fell into bed.
And I really, really, really wanted to fall into bed with him.
Under him. I would settle for fucking anything as long as his dick was in my ass before the end of the night.
“Okay, let’s start with the rules,” he said as he opened a drawer on his side of the island.
A notepad landed on the counter next to me. Then a pen. I glanced at them, then at him. “What…”
“You’re writing; I’m talking. Then we’ll discuss.”
“Gotcha.”
“No sex outside our dynamic.”
“What?!”
“You heard me in Nashville: I’m a possessive fucker.”
Holy fuck. Why the fuck was the thought of belonging to him so damn hot?
“Um, yeah.”
“Okay then. If you’re mine, then… You. Are. Mine.”
“You don’t share at all?” I asked.
He turned, placed his forearms on the countertop, and leaned over until we were eye-to-eye.
“Sharing and fucking around isn’t going to help your image.
Do I share? I can, and I have. When it’s what my partner wants, and it’s what I want, and when I know it won’t affect the dynamic we have, but on the flip side of want is need.
Do I want to share you if you decide to be mine?
No. The last thing you need is something else fucking up your image.
I’m already worried about my business fucking with your image. ”
“Is the business in your name?” I asked.
“No, but it’s not buried too far. If someone goes digging, and they know where to look, they’ll find it.”
I nodded with a sigh. It was a worry. The Wardens were known for being clean-cut guys with safe, run-of-the-mill home lives.
They’d buried more shit for my dad and his buddies than I probably even knew about, and I’d been a nosy, sneaky little shit.
But I wanted Slone. Almost desperately. I refused to deny myself the opportunity to experience what he offered.
What my gut told me would only come along once in a lifetime.
“I’m willing to take that risk. The issues the Wardens aren’t happy with are less about the who and more about the how many and the where and when. Teammates have caught me in some compromising positions with other teammates.”
“You’re telling me your guys are running their mouths?”
“Not everyone enjoys being on a team with the Prince of Hockey.”
With a deep sigh, he shook his head. “Insecure assholes.”
Pleasure at his assessment, which aligned with my own, washed over me.
“So, sex is limited to you…” I stated, my eyes falling to the notepad in front of me while my voice trailed off at the end because the question I wanted to ask felt like it was none of my business.
“Ask.”
My gaze flew to his. “What?”
“Ask your question. I can tell you have one.”
My brow pinched. “That’s fucking creepy. You know that, right?”
He laughed as he stood and turned back to the stove. “I’m waiting, boy.”
“Do the rules go both ways?” I asked, barely louder than a murmur.
The thought of him with another man both excited and pissed me off.
“Some of them. But I think the one you’re asking about is sex with others, and yes, that goes both ways. I don’t fuck around and neither do you.”
“Will Ewen be okay with that?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized the thought had even formed in my head.
Silence. Complete and utter silence came from the man on the opposite side of the island. His lack of response was only broken by the sound of him doing something to the food cooking on the stove. It made me nervous, and not the anxious, excited nervous that just being in his presence made me.
“I…” I began to apologize, but his gaze lifted to mine, and I clamped my mouth shut. Impulsiveness would eventually be the end of me. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever learn to temper that part of me.