Chapter 14 Nate #2
If I thought some privacy would help me figure out how to apologize, I was dead wrong.
I follow Harper to her apartment so no one will see her leaving campus in my car.
She parks while I wait and then walks over to my passenger side door, her shoulders slumped.
Once she’s inside, she doesn’t say a word, merely nodding an assent when I suggest a restaurant in nearby Harrisburg, a good half hour drive from the university, where we hopefully won’t be seen.
It’s the most awkward car ride of my life.
You need to fix this, I tell myself sternly as I lead her into the restaurant, a comfortable little bistro that I hope won’t be crowded this early in the evening. The hostess shows us to a table in a quiet corner. Perfect for talking.
If only I could figure out what to say to her.
A waiter appears at our table, offering wine suggestions, and I wave my hand dismissively, telling him to bring over whatever he prefers.
“I’m very sorry,” I tell her, the minute he’s gone. “I behaved badly.”
She makes a little scoffing noise, not meeting my eyes. And then she says something completely unexpected. “So is this…Was it only a one night thing?”
I stare at her, not understanding what she’s talking about.
“Harper.” I lean across the table and place my hand over her fidgeting fingers.
“Look at me.” She does, and I’m once again sickened to see that her eyes are swimming with tears.
I did that to her. “What are you talking about? What one night thing?”
“Us. Were we just a one night thing?”
Holy shit. She can’t actually believe that, can she? My voice is low when I respond, a dark anger rippling just below the surface. “Why would you ask me that?”
She pulls her hands away from mine and I feel the loss of contact through my entire body. Before I can demand that she continue, the waiter arrives with the wine. It seems like it takes him forever to fill our glasses, and then our water goblets. “Are you ready to order?”
I’m tempted to tell him to get the fuck out of my hair but Harper is looking pale.
I’m not sure if that’s a reaction to my behavior or not, but I know she has a tendency to skip meals when she’s busy.
I might not be able to take back what happened today, but I can at least make sure she’s properly fed.
“The salmon for me,” I say, glancing briefly down at the menu. “The pasta is good,” I tell her, and she nods, looking like she couldn’t care less.
Once the man is finally gone, I turn to her. “Explain to me what you’re talking about.”
She takes a deep breath. “You’ve barely talked to me all week.” She looks away, fingers moving to her wine glass so she can fidget with the stem. “You won’t even look at me at school and—”
“I look at you,” I growl. How does she not know this? Doesn’t she see how often my eyes are on her, how I can barely tear my gaze away? Fuck, it’s like she’s the only thing I can see. And it’s been like that for weeks now.
She shakes her head, the first tear slipping down her cheek. Fuck. That lonely tear has my heart in a vise, a heavy anchor weighing down my chest.
“You act like I’m not even there,” she whispers. “You barely acknowledge me in the classroom. You don’t talk to me. I have no idea if you even liked it, if you would want to do it again or if—”
“Stop.” I put every ounce of authority I can muster into the word, needing to end this stream of nonsense coming out of her mouth, needing to rid her of these thoughts.
“I didn’t like what we did together, Harper.
” She draws in a shaky breath and I once again reach for her hands, holding them in mine now, tightly, so she can’t get free.
“Like is a bullshit word. It’s far too tepid to ever describe what happened on Friday. ”
Her gaze snaps back to my face, eyes wide and surprised. “I fucking loved what happened on Friday. It’s the best night I’ve had in a long, long time.” Maybe ever. “How could you doubt that?”
For the first time she looks frustrated. “What am I supposed to think? You haven’t called me. You haven’t said a word about what happened last weekend—”
“I haven’t said a word to you about it because if I even let myself think about it in your presence I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from fucking you right there in the classroom.”
Her mouth drops. She’s quiet for a long moment, just staring at me. “Really?” she finally whispers.
I struggle not to roll my eyes. “For a smart girl, you’re awfully unobservant.
Fuck, Harper. You consume me. I feel like I must be so obvious to everyone, because I can’t keep my damn eyes off of you.
Being in that room with you, every fucking day, and not being able to touch you…
” I close my eyes briefly. “It’s torture. ”
I open my eyes, watching as she swallows. “It’s the same for me,” she finally whispers.
Some of that weight seems to slip from my chest. “Yeah?”
She rolls her eyes, smiling now. “Of course, Nate. It was the best damn sex of my life—”
I can’t help but growl a little bit at that.
But then the teasing smile slips from her face and she looks wounded once again.
“But why haven’t you called me?” she asks, sounding uncertain.
Shy. “I understand that we’re in a difficult situation on campus.
But outside of school…it seems like you don’t want to see me then, either. ”
I blow out a breath, releasing her hands to run mine through my hair. “That’s just not…” I shake my head, not really sure how to say this. “It’s not usually what I do.” I gesture at the table. “Dinner dates. Phone calls. That’s not really how my relationships work.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
Fuck. I’ve hurt her feelings. Again. I’m not doing this right.
“I’m not saying I don’t want those things,” I say quickly.
“I’m just saying…” I blow out another ragged breath.
Why in the hell does this have to be so hard?
I feel vulnerable, on edge. The exact opposite of the way I like to feel.
But I can’t seem to push it down, can’t seem to adopt the unruffled, unaffected mask I usually don so easily with my submissives.
Because Harper is different, a voice whispers in my head. And damn if that doesn’t terrify me.
The waiter returns with our meal and this time I’m relieved to see him. At least this will give me some time to try to get my thoughts in order, to figure out how much I want to admit to her. Once he’s gone, I dip my chin, waiting for her to meet my eyes.
“This is new for me, too, Harper.”
Her eyes narrow a little, studying my face, and it feels like she’s taking me apart, like she can see every single thought in my head.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating and it leaves me with the strangest desire to pull her into my lap and tell her everything, every fear and desire I’ve ever had in my life.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She seems to be choosing her next words carefully. “It’s new for you to…have a relationship? Outside of the club, I mean.”
I nod. “Yes. Usually my relationships are very cut and dry. I see my subs at Wyld and the rest of my life is separate. Unaffected.” I point at her food. “Please eat.”
“Compartmentalized,” she murmurs, then frowns as she dips her fork into the pasta. “And I screw all of that up. I blur lines for you because you see me during the week.”
“You do blur the lines,” I tell her, my voice soft. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“It doesn’t?”
“I like this,” I tell her simply, that vulnerable feeling rising up again. “Being here with you—well, at least before I made you cry.”
She laughs, her cheeks turning the pink shade that makes me so insane and I’m instantly half-hard.
“Eat,” I urge again, and she does, looking much happier now.
It’s quiet for a few minutes while we both attack our meals.
I can’t deny how much I like making her smile like that, how much I want to do it again and again.
“And I like seeing you on campus,” I say lightly, returning to the previous thread of conversation. “Even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind one of these days.”
“I think I might enjoy that. You losing your mind with me.” The words are quiet but her gaze is direct, eyes fixed firmly on mine, and I go straight from half hard to solid steel, my pants suddenly very uncomfortable.
“I have every intention of doing just that.” My voice is rough, the need clear in my tone. “At my earliest possible convenience.”
She blushes more deeply and fuck, all I want to do is pull her into the bathroom and show her exactly what it would be like to lose it with her.
But I can’t shake the sight of that tear slipping down her cheek, the knowledge that I hurt her. Confused her.
“I screwed up, Harper.”
Her forehead becomes furrowed. “How?”
“I was trying so hard to keep myself under control at school that I allowed you to feel unimportant.”
She waves a hand, dismissing my words, taking another bite of her pasta before responding. “No, it’s fine. I’m just being sensitive—”
“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” I say firmly. “Not with me. You were right, I should have talked to you, made sure you knew where you stood. As your dom it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable. To be forthright with you. Particularly since this is all new to you.”
She looks down, fidgeting with her fork now.
We’re going to have to do something about that, I think.
It normally turns me on, when a sub shies away from eye contact.
It’s a demure action, perfectly submissive.
A sign of respect. But for some reason, I don’t always like it with Harper.
Don’t like her hiding her eyes from me. They’re so expressive, always telling me everything I need to know about her feelings.
It pisses me off when she tries to keep them from me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She sighs, reaching for her water and taking a long sip. “I’m just…I don’t know. It’s confusing.” She gestures helplessly between us. “All of this.”
“Me?” I ask, feeling slightly sick at the thought. “Or the lifestyle?”
“The lifestyle. Or…I don’t know. Both, I guess.”
I watch her, trying to understand this hesitation. She had told me that first night that she wanted to study people who were into BDSM, to understand them and their desires. And she had seemed so guilty at the club, ashamed to be enjoying the depraved things I showed her.
“You’re still not sure if this is right for you,” I finally guess.
She looks almost embarrassed. “I’m a grown woman.
I should be confident enough to like what I like.
To own my sexuality. But I just…” she meets my gaze and I can see it all there.
Her shame and her doubts. That expression stabs through my heart and I know in that instant I would do anything to take away those feelings.
She takes a deep breath. “I just can’t seem to silence that voice that tells me that there’s something wrong with me, you know?”
“There is nothing wrong with you.” My voice comes out harsher than I had intended, but damn. I refuse to let her think she has anything to be ashamed of. “People like all different kinds of sex and—”
“I know.” Her eyes dart around like she’s afraid someone at a neighboring table will hear us talking so explicitly. “I do. I’m just being stupid.”
“Angel, you are far from stupid.”
Her eyes light up a little, as if she likes to hear the pet name from my lips, and I make a mental note to do more of that. She’s completely right—I left her hanging, left her open to confusion and doubt because I wasn’t forthright with her. That ends right now.
“You know what I think?” I ask and she shakes her head, still looking at me with those bright eyes.
“I think the only way for you to know if this lifestyle is right for you is to get more experience with it.” I raise my eyebrows, allowing all of the desire I feel for this woman to burn in my gaze.
“And I would love to help you with that on Saturday.”
She grins, the pink on her cheeks darkening. “This Saturday?”
I nod. “Club Wyld. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Her grin grows mischievous, want darkening her eyes. “Dr. Chase, I have a feeling this Saturday will be very instructive.”
I grin right back. “It sure as fuck will.”