“She’s not that simple,” Stephen says, his hand running down my back, his fingers cool on the bare skin. “Just when I think she’s the most independent woman in California, she’ll surprise me.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Like you did last week.” I flick my eyes up to him, a question in them. Last week? He leans in, lowering his voice. “In the elevator,” he reminds me.
Oh. I wouldn’t exactly call that a submissive moment; it was more of a weak one. The elevator in his building had shuddered, the lights flickering, and I had all but crawled into his arms, terrified of being stuck there, in the dark, a claustrophobic attack armed and ready. It hadn’t been necessary. The lights had stayed on, and the elevator had resumed its climb, crisis averted. I shrug, ready to be done with the conversation. “You’re right. I’m a paradox of contradictions.” I stick my tongue out at Stephen, and he gives me that smile, the one he reserves for moments when he’s enamored with me, and I’m not surprised when he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips. When I pull away, the waiter is finally here, and I smile at him in relief.
Him
The dinner is two hours of absolute agony, and I don’t know if it had originally been Kate’s idea or mine, but it needs to never ever happen again. Every time he touches her, my skin crawls. The prick kisses her, and I about come out of my chair. And I’ll never be able to step on an elevator again without running through every possible scenario that could have occurred between them. The question had been a test, and he’d failed. Submissive and dominant aren’t words that apply to Kate. She is both, constantly, and at the same time. She challenges me as she begs for domination. She argues for what she wants to be told. She needs a firm hand that gives her everything she wants. She needs me, and no one else.
Chelsea says something and I turn my head, nodding, willing her to go to the bedroom and sleep. Tonight was as cruel to her as it was to me. Each touch was a show, each whisper a power play, the entire meal a battle between Kate and me. Chelsea pulls on my hand and I stand, following her to the room.
“Wait here.” She pushes me down in the chair, the one by the bedroom’s fireplace, and I sink into the velvet, rubbing my hands across my face.
“Not tonight, Chels—”
“Shut up.” She disappears into the bathroom, and I slouch in the chair, closing my eyes and resting my head on the back of the chair, listening to the sound of water running and drawers opening. When she reappears, I crack open an eye, her profile silhouetted by the bathroom’s light. “Close your eyes,” she whispers.
I don’t, my head rolling to one side as I eye her, trying to understand what is different. It’s her hair, it’s dark and shorter, brushing the top of her shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“Shhh…” she says, straddling me. “Don’t ask questions.”
She leans forward, and it’s then that I smell the perfume, the scent that Kate wears. I stiffen, and she lifts my hands, placing them on her hips. “Undress me.”
“Chelsea…”
“Don’t think about it. Pretend I’m her. You need it.” She drags her fingers through my hair, and in the dark bedroom, with the dark hair, her smell … I can almost believe it. I can almost believe that this is Kate, and I can have her. Right now, I can unbutton her top and bury my face into her breasts. I can push her to the floor and have her mouth around my cock. I can carry her to my bed, and wrap her legs around my waist and tell her everything that I always think and never say. I love Chelsea for this, and I also hate her for seeing it, for how transparent I must be.
I drop my head forward, resting it on her chest, my arms stealing around her waist. I hug her to me and feel myself breaking, feel exactly how fragile every piece of my world is. “I can’t,” I say, the words gruff. “I’m sorry.”
She leans back and lifts my chin. I’m glad it’s dark, glad I can’t see her face. “Don’t be sorry. It was a stupid idea. A little creepy on my part, too.”
I laugh, and drop my forehead into the crook of her neck. “It wasn’t a terrible idea. I’m hard as a rock right now.”
“Yeah, I can feel that.” She rocks against me. “Any chance of me taking advantage of that?”
“Not tonight.” I reach up and gently pull at her hair, the wig coming off, her blonde hair spilling out. “I’m in one hell of a mood. I’m just going to step in the shower, if you don’t mind. Then I can take care of you.”
“I’m fine.” She rolls off my lap, bouncing to her feet. “I’m ten minutes away from a wine coma anyway.” She wanders toward the light, and pauses, turning in the doorway. “But you’re setting up something for this weekend, right? Someone for me to play with?”