Chapter 21
James
‘Fuck it,’ I think, stepping into the club tonight instead of hiding away and pretending our connection never happened.
Knowing Isabelle is a Domme, remembering how supportive she’s been as Belle, how she looked that night, how she still looks in my mind’s eye, are what keep my feet pushing me further into the building. I can’t stop thinking about her.
There’s an image burnt into my mind; her ankle in my hand, my fingers stroking up her calf, the way she dressed in stockings that drove me feral at the club.
The memory of her breasts, full and soft in that corset, makes me ache to touch her.
I want to take them in my hands, kiss them, feel them, and let her own me completely.
I’ve been hard all evening just thinking about her.
For once, I listened to my cock. I took the chance. I came. Not for Belle, but for Iz.
Yes, Miss
Now, standing here by the bar, all my bravado drains away.
My stomach knots, suddenly anxious at her response, aware that our relationship may change forever.
She knows now. Knows me. Knows what I want.
Laura’s voice needles my skull; ‘What the hell do you think will happen? Why would she want you? She’ll be laughing at you behind your back.
’ The doubt creeps in. I’m too old for her. Too fucking stupid for this.
My eyes head straight to her.
Isabelle laughs across the room, looking as gorgeous as sin in a simple black dress, bare legs, and flats.
This is Isabelle. Her dark hair, loose and shining under the lights, lips painted red, that effortless confidence draped over her like silk.
I imagine my mouth on her skin, her soft hair in my hands, the sound of her moaning my name.
But the guy next to her? Young. Handsome.
Exactly the kind of man she should want, and he is too close for my liking.
Her hand rests on his arm. She’s radiant, smiling at something he says. Then he notices me. His expression shifts. Challenging. Assessing.
He murmurs to Isabelle. She turns, and her smile fades to a solemn expression. She looks as nervous as I feel. The man stands, pulls her into a quick embrace, then strides toward me. My fists clench. I want to flatten him for touching her the way he did.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
But as he passes, he leans in and says, "Look after her. We love her very much." Then he casually strolls away.
Isabelle limps toward me, still looking a little sore on her injured ankle. She slides onto the barstool beside me, eyes searching mine.
"You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle, you know," I say, searching her face for clues as to how she feels.
She shrugs, gesturing to her flats. "Came prepared. I’ll manage. James…" She hesitates. "Do you forgive me? For lying?"
God, her eyes undo me. I’d forgive her for anything.
Not that she had done anything to be forgiven for.
I thought long and hard today about the position she had been in.
If our roles were reversed? I’d have bolted.
But she stayed. Advised me. Which led me to wonder how long she has been in this lifestyle.
She’s so young, but her understanding of it is…
mature. Just like her. She had always been older than her years.
"Iz, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m the one who’s sorry. For running today. You didn’t deserve that."
I don't even know where to start with this shitshow. I really like her. Not just because she’s beautiful, but because she’s an amazing woman. Smart. Captivating. And now, knowing this side of her? It wrecks me. She could be the one I explore with. The one who understands.
Yes, Miss
But what if it all goes wrong? It would destroy our working relationship.
But there's this little spark inside me that says, ‘What if it goes right?’ I gaze at her beautiful face, upturned and looking at me expectantly, apprehension in her eyes.
Her lips part. The club lights paint her skin in blues and pinks.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip.
I want to bite it. Swallow her gasp as I claim her mouth.
I shoot my shot and come out with it.
“Iz, I'm going to be honest with you because I can't deal with this uncertainty. I really like you. I think you’re incredibly beautiful, funny, and so smart, but I have no idea how to do this.” I gesture around us. "You know where my head’s at. And I don’t know if I can be what you want.
I’m too old. We’re colleagues. It’s all totally fucked up.
" My voice trails off as her hand closes around my wrist, silencing my rambling.
Warm. Steady. In control.
And it makes me feel just that little bit more ready.