I nodded.
“Nicole is a paralegal. She told me so and I double-checked online. She’s into this lifestyle; she appreciates the need for privacy. Plus she has something to lose. Rachel … I trust her to understand that she can’t afford the type of lawsuit we would bring if she breached our contract.”
Matt smirked, one golden eyebrow arched.
“How cutthroat, little bird. And so cunning.”
“I’ve learned some things from you and your family.”
His eyes widened, his smirk fell—then he laughed.
“Fair enough. You thought of everything, did you?”
I lifted my chin, a little shock of pride racing through me.
“Yes,” I said. “I did.”
His hand fell, his fingertips leaving cool trails down my cheek. I must have been blushing from my hair to my toes, but I felt calm. The sort of calmness at the center of a storm.
He walked toward the door and stopped.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the carpet.
I was past wondering if I really wanted to try this, or what it meant about me that I was willing to try. Matt had shared his fantasies with me freely. After the night I gave him the whip, his journal lived on our bedside table. It was no longer a secret or an object of shame, but an open invitation to his mind.
I reread it when I was alone. I let it excite me. I let the strangeness and wildness of his desires sink into me; and his self-criticism, I treasured that, too.
What’s wrong with me? I’m ashamed of myself. Confused by myself.
Oh, Matt … I ached to hold him when I read those words. He was the freest man I knew, but something—maybe regard for me—constrained him.
Tonight, I didn’t need to rethink my decision.
I’d thought about it and planned it for weeks.
I studied his back, my head light with wine, until he turned and said, “Call them.”
*
So much for my eye of the storm.
As soon as I heard a knock on the door, my Zen turned to panic.
Was I out of my mind?
“Stay put,” Matt said.
I did, gladly. My limited store of courage had gone into sharing Mission Exhibition with Matt and risking his wrath. This was his rodeo now. I sank into the corner of the couch.
He greeted Rachel and Nicole at the door.
They smelled of floral perfume and looked … surprisingly classy, given the occasion. Nicole wore white linen shorts and a beaded sweater. She’d straightened her thick, black hair. Bronzing powder gleamed on her chocolate skin. Rachel, whom I’d seen previously in stilettoes, a thong, and gold-star pasties, wore a simple black dress and carried a clutch.
“Come,” Matt said. He led them into the bedroom, where he’d arranged two chairs near the foot of the bed. From the living room, I heard his low, calm voice, and their voices. I couldn’t make out what was said, but everyone sounded pleasant, as if we were getting together for tea.
God help me …
You can leave!
The thought obtruded sharply. Yes, I could leave. I could dart out the door while Matt and the women were in the bedroom. He would understand … wouldn’t he?
He strolled into the living room and I sucked in a breath.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“Sweet thing.” He took my hand and I stood, fighting the urge to fall against him. If I showed my anxiety, he might call off everything, and I’d worked so hard to accomplish this … for both of us. He pulled me close and stroked my face and hair. “You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Truly?” He chuckled. “Because I think you’re nervous, which would be appropriate.”
“Maybe … a little. Aren’t you?”
He cocked his head and shrugged, as if normal criteria didn’t apply to him. Fuck, he was cute. I laughed and leaned against his chest, drawing comfort from him.
“I want this,” he said. “You know how much I want it. I can’t believe you … arranged it, that you’re even willing to try. Am I dreaming?”