A nice roaring fire in that thing would set quite the mood. I could watch my career go up in smoke as he fucks me on the floor, and the couch, and the coffee table, and the chairs. That familiar throb starts between my legs and my only consolation is that I’ll see Savage any minute and, hopefully, this night will end with our clothes off and our needs fulfilled.
I look down at my dress and wonder if I may have overdone it for a dinner at Savage’s place. The red sundress looked casual and flirty when I examined myself in the mirror before I left, but now, now it feels like I’m overdressed and begging for something. The plunging neckline and high hem are practically an open invitation to him.
Who am I kidding? He has an open invitation to anything and everything he wants.
A door down the hall opens and a strange, fast clicking noise races toward me. I turn and find the most adorable dog I’ve ever seen racing from around the corner.
I don’t remember Savage ever mentioning he had a dog.
My love for animals is only rivaled by my love of shoes, so I’m more than happy to welcome the little one. A pink bow on the top of her head alerts me it’s a girl, and I crouch down to greet her.
“Oh, hi!” She jumps up, her front paws barely reaching my knees, and wiggles so hard I think she might fall over. I laugh and run my free hand over her soft, fluffy head, reaching down to find the dog tag on her collar. “Princess, eh? What kind of man has a Yorkie named Princess?”
“One who’s a total fucking sap.”
I jerk, surprised to hear his voice. I hadn’t noticed him enter the room. I glance up with a smile, and lose all control of my body and senses when I finally catch sight of him. A barely-audible gasp escapes my mouth and the bottle of wine falls from my hand, crashing to the floor and shattering, sending glass and dark, red wine spraying across the floor.
Princess yelps and bolts away, disappearing down the hall.
Shit.
Oh.
My.
God.
What did I just do?
Looking down at the mess on the floor, I avoid his eyes and, instead, watch the dark red liquid spreading across the floor.
Say something!
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, still keeping my eyes firmly planted on the mess I’ve made.
“It’s okay.” His voice is calm and understanding, but I just can’t bring myself to look at him, not after how I just reacted.
Why didn’t he tell me?
I hear him leave the room and look up as he disappears into what I assume is the kitchen. My knees give out and I grab the back of the couch and lean against it while I stare down at the wine on the floor.
He reenters the room and stops in front of me without a word. I glance up and reach out, taking a handful of towels from him before dropping to the floor to sop up the wine.
“Be careful, don’t cut yourself.”
Tears well in my eyes at his concern.
Christ, I am such an idiot.
Savage uses a small vacuum to suck up the broken glass as I push it to the side. When the floor is finally dry, I hand him the wet towels without making eye contact.
A loathsome combination of embarrassment and disgust at myself has my stomach churning. The desire to leave while he’s out of the room is one I have to fight—hard. I can’t leave now. That would really make me a thoughtless bitch. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not that.
Instead, I make my way around the couch and drop down into the corner with my back to the kitchen. I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands, closing my eyes and cursing myself for the millionth time.
I sense his approach and his feet appear in front of me. His black shoes are gleaming, almost as if he’s had them professionally shined recently. Every single moment I’ve spent with Savage runs through my head—our meeting at his office, our dinner, the late night phone calls and videos—and I try to figure out what I missed.
Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I realize?
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His voice finally breaks the tense silence between us. I’m thrown by his calm reaction to my not-so-adult response to the new information.
How can he be so fucking calm right now? The longer I avoid looking at him, the more the apprehension builds and the shittier I feel.
Pulling myself together, I shake my head and glance up at him, finally meeting his sympathetic blue gaze. He smiles at me, and it seems genuine, but it does nothing to ease the tension in my body or the situation.
“I didn’t do it intentionally…not tell you…. It just…never came up. I knew you probably couldn’t see in my office, and I beat you to Angelo’s the other night, so…”
He trails off and watches me expectantly.
Say something! Don’t leave him hanging like this.
I manage a tight smile and wring my hands together in front of me. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t invite you to go dancing.”
As soon as the words come out, I clamp my hand over my mouth, wishing I could take them back. My verbal diarrhea has reached epic proportions, and heat floods my face and neck.