Chapter 13 #2
“You’ve been ignoring me all week,” I say, though I know he’s only doing what I asked. I just feel so… I don’t know. Exposed.
He starts to laugh. There’s no humor in it though. “You made it clear you didn’t want me to check in with you. Didn’t want me to message you. I’ve been trying to do what you asked. Listen to your cues, follow your lead.”
I try not to wince, even though he’s right. I was the one who walked away on the beach. The one who replied to his messages with one word.
“When you made your profile on the app, did you say if you were looking for CNC?” he asks me.
“What’s CNC?” I ask him.
It’s his turn to wince. Like I’m embarrassingly na?ve. “Baby, they’re gonna eat you alive.”
“Then tell me,” I say, frowning. “What’s CNC?”
He leans forward, forearms braced on his knees, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His wrist flexes as he runs a hand through his hair, and I can’t help following the movement. The air between us feels charged, too big for both of us.
“CNC means consensual non-consent,” he says, his voice lower now, rougher. “As in, you need to be extremely explicit in what you’re consenting to when you match with somebody on an app like that. Reading about it in books isn’t the same as living it. Not everybody is a good guy.”
He looks up, eyes dark, and I swear I feel that gaze burning my skin.
“As in I wouldn’t get a say in what they do?” I ask him.
His gaze locks with mine. “Possibly. Which is why you need to be clear about what you want. Some of these men will want to hurt you because they get off on it. And they won’t give a shit about what you want.” His voice softens, like he really is worried about me.
And it hits me somewhere deep in my chest. “Have you done that? Hurt somebody?”
He frowns. “I bit you.”
But I liked that. I find myself blushing again, remembering the sharp sting of his teeth. “Anything else?” God, he’s so much more experienced than I am.
“No. I’m not really into pain.” He lets out an exhale, running his fingers through his hair.
“But you’ve done that before?” I ask, so stupidly curious it isn’t funny. “Consensual non consent?”
He tips his head to the side, looking at me like he’s trying to read my thoughts. “I thought I was the one asking the questions here.”
I shrug. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“I wouldn’t bother, I’m not that interesting. And I wouldn’t say I’ve done it a lot. But I’ve… tried a lot of things.”
He’s had a lot of sex. Okay then, he’s already one up on me.
“Like what?” I ask.
His gaze catches mine again. And it hits me in the chest just how good looking this man is, in his crisp white shirt and his closely tailored pants, and his eyes that feel like they’re staring straight at me yet not able to focus at the same time.
“I liked chasing you,” he murmurs. “And catching you.”
I shift in my seat, remembering how much I liked that too.
“Have you ever taken part in a hunt?” I ask him, thinking of the book. Of the way the men organized the hunt, letting the women run, chasing them. I have no idea if they exist in real life, but damn, reading about it was hot.
A ghost of a smile passes his lips. “No. I prefer my relationships one on one.”
Oh, thank God.
I blink at myself. Why does it matter?
“Not that I’m looking for a relationship.” He sits back in his chair, running the pad of his thumb along his sharp jaw. “And how do we keep turning the conversation back to me? This is about you. Putting yourself in danger. Getting hurt.”
“What would you have me do?” I ask him. “Lock myself in the house and avoid men?”
He looks at me carefully. “You need to decide what you want before you do anything. You take control to give up control.” He pours a splash of whiskey into his glass and lifts it to his mouth.
“Well that sounds contradictory,” I point out, trying not to watch the way his neck undulates as he swallows.
“It’s not,” he says quietly. “But it’s the only way it’s safe.
You set the limits. You choose the person.
Or people. You decide when it stops.” His gaze flicks over me, deliberate and hot, before settling back on my eyes.
“You don’t hand that over to strangers on a screen without knowing your boundaries first.”
My throat goes dry. Because that control he’s talking about, that’s what I’ve been trying to find. I just don’t know how to get it.
“I don’t want to be hunted by a pack,” I tell him. Because that’s not what I want either.
There’s that flicker again. It looks like relief. “So what do you want?”
“I want someone who sees me,” I say, surprising myself with the honesty in my voice. “Who doesn’t stop chasing once he’s caught me. Who makes me feel… safe, even when it’s rough.” The words come out shaky, half-confession, half-challenge.
For a long moment he doesn’t move. Then his jaw tightens, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “You’re talking about a relationship.”
It’s my turn to take in his words. “I guess…”
“You’re not going to find that on an app.”
“Then where am I going to find it?” I ask him, feeling frustrated. Not sexually, but emotionally.
He closes his eyes for a moment, lets out a breath. His brows pinch like he’s in pain. “I can’t give you what you want,” he says, like he can read my mind.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m not the one who almost throat punched that guy in the bar like you’re my daddy.”
A ghost of a smile pulls at his lips. “To be fair, the guy deserved more. He was being an asshole.”
Our eyes lock.