CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Palisade
Monday morning at the clinic felt like walking through a minefield.
I avoided Easton for most of the morning, burying myself in patient files and back-to-back appointments. But I knew I couldn't dodge him forever in a clinic this small.
"Dr. Honors?" Aimee, my vet tech, stood in the doorway, her smile reflecting the bright fluorescent lights of the exam room where I was reviewing lab results. "We're running low on prednisone. I checked the main cabinet, but I think we might have more in the back supply closet."
"I'll go see what we have." I grabbed my tablet and headed down the hallway, grateful for the mundane task that would keep me occupied for a few more minutes.
The supply closet was tucked in the back of the clinic. It was more of a small room than a closet, with floor-to-ceiling shelving and barely enough space for two people to stand. I was reaching for the medication on the top shelf when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Need help?"
Easton's voice made me jump, my hand slipping. The bottle tumbled off the shelf, which he caught with reflexes that shouldn't have surprised me.
Hockey player reflexes.
Dom reflexes.
I shoved the thought away. "Thanks. I had it."
"Clearly." He set the bottle on the lower shelf, not leaving. The small space felt even smaller with his presence filling it. "We should probably talk."
"About what?" I kept my back to him, pretending to search for something else on the shelf.
"About the fact that you've been avoiding me all morning." He stepped closer, and I caught that scent.
The same cologne that had surrounded me Saturday night when Master E had leaned over me and asked if I was ready.
My stomach dropped.
No. Coincidence. Lots of men wore similar cologne.
"I'm not avoiding you," I lied, finally turning to face him. "I've just been busy."
As his gaze met mine, I saw a familiar exhaustion etched in his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept either. "Sadie—"
"We should get back to work." I moved to step around him, but the space was too narrow. My shoulder brushed his chest, and he steadied me with a hand on my elbow.
"You're trembling," he said softly.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"You're trembling. Nervous or excited?"
Master E had said those exact words in the same gentle tone beneath the command.
My eyes snapped to his face, heart hammering. It couldn't be. It was impossible.
But Easton was staring at me with an expression that made my blood run cold.
His gaze had dropped to the wrist he was holding, and I realized I'd been absently rubbing the other one.
The skin was faintly pink from where I'd worried at it all morning, a nervous habit I'd developed since Saturday night.
Since the silk restraints.
"Your wrists," he drawled, his voice rough. "You keep rubbing them."
I snatched my hand back, but it was too late. Realization dawned in his eyes. They widened, then darkened with recognition.
"Oh my God," I said.
His hand was still on my elbow, and I felt it tighten fractionally. "Ava?" The name came out strangled.
I couldn't speak. Could only stare at him as every detail clicked into place with devastating clarity.
The height. The build. Those hands that had known exactly how to touch me. The commanding edge in his voice had made me melt. The way he'd moved over me, inside me, like he'd known my body better than I did.
"Use your words. Tell me what you need."
He'd said that Saturday night. And I'd heard him say the same thing to Casey just yesterday at practice when she was trying to explain a new move.
How had I not seen it?
"I need to say something," I said quietly, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "About Saturday night. I left during aftercare."
His jaw tightened. "Yeah. You did."
"That was wrong. I'm sorry." The words came out in a rush. "I panicked. The scene was intense and perfect and overwhelming, and when you went to the bathroom, I ran.” I rushed to add on, “But that's on me, not you."
"I spent two days wondering if I'd fucked up somehow," he said, voice rough. "If I'd missed a signal or pushed too hard. If something I'd done had made you feel unsafe."
Guilt twisted in my chest. "You didn't. The scene was…" I swallowed hard. "It was exactly what I needed. You were exactly what I needed. But I wasn't ready to face what that meant. So, I violated protocol and left you to wonder. That wasn't fair to you."
He studied me for a long moment. "You're right. It wasn't." Then his expression softened slightly. "But you came back to apologize. That matters."
"Does it?"
"Yeah, Sadie. It does."
Easton
The world tilted sideways.
Ava. The woman who'd trusted me with her body, who'd surrendered so completely, who'd felt like coming home even though I didn't know her name.
It was Sadie.
It had been Sadie the entire time.
"Jesus Christ," I said, my mind racing back through every detail of Saturday night. The soft gasps. The way she'd responded to my touch. How right it had felt, like my body had known even when my mind didn't.
Because it had been her. All along.
"You…” Sadie's voice broke. "You didn't know?"
"No." My hand was still on her elbow, and I couldn't seem to let go.
"I swear to God, Sadie, I didn’t know. The masks, the low lighting, Meredith used fake names—" I stopped, pieces falling into place.
"That's why you felt so familiar. Why everything about that night felt different from any other scene I had ever done. "
Her face had gone pale. "This can't be happening."
"But it is." I stepped closer without thinking, and she backed up against the shelving. "Sadie, it was you. You were there, and I…" I couldn't finish. I didn't know how to articulate what Saturday night had meant when I'd thought she was a stranger. Now that I knew the truth?
Everything.
It meant everything.
"This is bad," Sadie said, her voice shaking. "This is really bad, Easton."
"Why?" I gentled my tone, trying to calm the panic rising in her eyes. "Because we finally stopped dancing around what we both want?"
"Because I have a daughter who's just starting to feel safe with you!" The words burst out of her. "Because if this goes wrong, Casey loses you. I can't do that to her."
"So, we pretend Saturday night didn't happen?" My jaw clenched. "Pretend I don't know how you sound when you come? How you taste? The way you said 'Yes, Sir' like you were born to say it?"
Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing. "That's not fair."
"None of this is fair." I braced one hand on the shelf beside her head, not trapping her but making it clear I wasn't backing down. "But it happened, Sadie. We happened. And you can't run from this."
"I ran on Saturday night." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"I know. I came out of the bathroom, and you were gone." The memory still stung. "You left me there."
"I was scared." Her eyes met mine, and I saw the truth in them. There was fear, but also the want. "I'm still scared."
"Of me?" My voice roughened. "Or how you felt?"
She didn't answer, but she didn't need to. The way her pulse jumped in her throat, the way her breathing had gone shallow.
She wasn't afraid of me.
She was afraid of wanting me.
I reached behind her and pushed the door shut with a soft click.
Her eyes widened. "Easton, we can't do this here," she started, but I was already moving closer, crowding her against the shelving.
"You're right," I said, my voice dropping. "We should talk about this. Figure it out." My gaze dropped to her mouth.
I didn't give her time to protest. I didn't give myself time to think about why this was a terrible idea.
I kissed her.
Not gentle. Not tentative. I'd wanted to kiss her for months. I would have kissed her Saturday night if I'd known it was her.
She made a small, surprised sound against my mouth, and then she was kissing me back just as desperately. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I pressed her back against the shelves, swallowing her gasp.
This. This was what Saturday night had been missing. The knowledge of who she was. The freedom to touch her without masks, without pretending, without the careful distance we'd been maintaining for weeks.
I kissed her like I was drowning and she was air. Like Saturday night and every near-miss before it had been building to this moment.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, nails scraping against my scalp, and I groaned into her mouth. She tasted the same as she had at Sassy's.
Sweet and wanting and perfectly her.
"Easton," she breathed against my lips, and hearing my real name in that breathy tone nearly undid me.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes dark with want. Beautiful.
"We need to stop," she whispered, but her hands were still tangled in my hair.
"I know." I didn't move. Couldn't.
"Anyone could—"
"I know."
For a long moment, we just stood there, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
"Tonight," I said finally, forcing myself to step back. "After Casey's asleep. We have to talk about this."
"And say what?" Her voice was still shaky. "That we accidentally had incredible anonymous sex, and now we have to figure out what it means?"
"That's exactly what we say." I straightened my shirt, trying to get myself under control. "Because I'm not pretending this didn't happen. And neither are you."
For a long moment, she just stared at me. Then she nodded, a jerky motion. "Tonight. But just talking, Easton. We need to figure this out."
"Agreed." Though after that kiss, talking was the last thing on my mind. "Tonight."
She slipped past me, grabbed the medication she'd come for, and fled.
I stayed there for another minute, my hands braced on the shelves, trying to process what had just happened.
Sadie. It had been Sadie all along.
The woman I'd been trying not to want was the same woman who'd trusted me with her body, her pleasure, her submission. Who'd fit against me like she was made for it.
Saturday night hadn't been practice for letting someone in.
It had been me letting in the only woman I'd ever wanted.
And now that I knew the truth?
I wasn't letting her run again.