I took a step back. “Okay, back up. What did I do? Why are you mad at me?”
Even as I watched, his expression seemed to crumble. “Fuck,” he said, then kicked the tire of the Range Rover that the valet had just returned from the lot. “Dammit, Kat, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you here. And not because there’s anything wrong with the Firehouse, or anything wrong with you.”
He moved in front of me, then wiped away a tear that I hadn’t realized I’d shed. “It’s because of what you are to me,” he said, his voice so gentle it almost made the tears flow freely. “It’s because I came here because I needed something I couldn’t get anywhere else. I needed a safety net. But I don’t need that anymore. If I truly have you the way you say I do—the way I hope and believe that I do—then I don’t need this place anymore. Do you understand?”
I nodded, a little bit humbled, a little bit amazed.
“Is that okay?”
Okay? With every word and every touch he was telling me how much I meant to him. How could it be anything but okay?
And yet—
He’d been examining my face, and now he frowned.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. If you want to go in, that’s okay. I understand.”
“No—no,” I repeated quickly. “It’s not so much that I want to go in—Sloane’s told me a little bit about it, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m keen on the public part.”
“But?”
I shrugged, then looked away. “I guess I want the experience.” I gathered my courage and met his eyes, finding them warm and understanding. “I want what I could get in there with you.”
A muscle in his cheek tightened, and he nodded. “Okay. We’ll go in.”
I shook my head and grabbed his arm. “No, you don’t understand. I just want you to take me there. I don’t care if it’s in the Firehouse or your bedroom or my house or in the back of your Range Rover. Does that make sense? I want it all, Cole. Everything you are and everything you have to offer. I’ll admit I’m curious, but it’s not a big deal. And if you don’t want to take me here, that’s fine.” I reached up and fingered the necklace he’d given me. “I’ll wear this anywhere you want me to. I just want you to take me all the way.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, with an odd gleam in his eye. “I was waiting for the right time to bring it up.”
I cocked my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Instead of the Firehouse, I want to take you to our playroom.”
I raised my brows. “You mean, like with sex toys and stuff?”
His laugh was pure delight. “God, Kat, you’re wonderful. Yes, with sex toys and stuff.”
I cocked my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “I hate to mention this, but I don’t think we have such a room. And if we do have one, I’m a little ticked off that you never bothered to mention it to me before.”
“That’s because it doesn’t exist yet. But it occurs to me that you suddenly have a free bedroom. And I can think of one very interesting use that we can put it to.”
I had to admit that he’d made an excellent point.
Over the next few days, we divided our time between Home Depot and Forbidden Fruit, the local sex toy store that Cole introduced me to and that I spent many fascinating moments perusing.
What I found the most interesting, though, was that Home Depot became our primary destination. I might be fascinated with the edible body paint—which I intended to let Cole put to good use, what with his innate artistic skill—but it was wood and pipe and brackets and bolts that he was focused on.
It was a little disconcerting how much hardware was going into that room. And, honestly, I had a feeling he was trying to outdo whatever setup they had at the Firehouse.