Page 102 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Being married to Callie has taught me a lot, Tabitha. Not just about Littles—being a Daddy Dom wasn’t something I ever dreamed of—but about strong women with complex histories of abuse. This guy,” he continued, jerking his chin at Grit, “wouldn’t hurt you if I held a gun to his forehead. You know it, but understandably, you don’t trust it. It’s a catch twenty-two, sweetheart; he needs to shove you into a place you don’t want to go so you understand just how deep the trust between you runs.”

“So you’re here as what? A sex referee?”

Grit tried to conceal his laugh by coughing; Evander just grinned.

“No, little hellcat. Like Grit said, I’m a communal security blanket.”

No, there was more to it than that. Her brain might be ninety-percent fried from the panic attack from hell, but she wasn’t stupid. Narrowing her eyes, she weighed him up, then lifted her head to give Grit a suspicious side eye.

When it struck her, she smirked. “You’re here in case I go postal.”

Evander pursed his lips. “That’s one reason, yes, but not the main one.”

Hmm, wouldn’t that be an interesting fight? He was six-seven, outweighed her by a good… one-fifty by her estimation, maybe even a bit more, and he wasn’t some gym-fit wannabe warrior. His muscles were built from scratch through years of hauling lumber and hammering in nails. Physical stamina was one of his strengths.

Add in Grit—who wasn’t quite as tall or heavy, but whose fighting skills she knew on a personal level—and they would definitely provide her with a challenge, one she’d enjoy in a primal sense.

Would she win?

Possibly, she mused. The odds of taking them both down were slightly on the lower side than them flattening her. Although… if she lost control, let fear yank the reins from her hands, there really wasn’t any way of predicting what she’d do. The occasional times she’d done just that with a target, she had no recollection of what she’d done, just a mutilated body to dispose of however she saw fit.

Because keeping up appearances was vital, Tabitha chuckled menacingly, forcing her mouth to curve into a devilish smile she didn’t have the energy to reinforce. “Hate to break it to you, but if that happens, it’ll take more than just you two to stop me.”

“That’s not our concern, Tabby.” Grit kissed her temple. “This is your choice. We can try to do this now, or we can wait until you feel ready. Evander will stay if you want him to, or he can go. There’s no rush, no pressure.”

“So the bed just magically appeared?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“No, that’s on me,” Evander admitted. “Grit volunteered to broach the subject with you, and we agreed meeting here would give you more privacy than the hotel room. Not to mention it was convenient, given that he wanted to show you the residential cabins.” He sat back and offered her a rueful smile. “Right now, the play areas are largely unfurnished; the equipment that is in place wouldn’t be suitable for this.”

Hmm, perhaps she could give them the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t sense he was lying to her, and Grit’s body language was relaxed.

Wetting her lips, she inhaled slowly and counted the beats of her heart. When she deemed herself steady enough to make a decision, she exhaled and shrugged off the blanket. Standing, she let it fall to the floor, then reached for her bra clasp.

“Buckle up, buttercup,” she told Grit in a cool, unaffected tone. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of your new boss.”

Chapter Twelve

Tabitha

She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Not because the taunt might prick his pride and goad him into losing his temper, but because he really didn’t deserve it.

Letting the comment slide, Grit sat and watched her fumble with the fiddly fastening, his eyes a little more green than brown in the afternoon light. She did love how the color changed subtly; most of the time, they were an interesting combination of the two, merging into a rich hazel shade, but his mood sometimes dictated which was the dominant color.

“Come here, little tiger,” he commanded when nerves got the better of her and her fingers became clumsier. Spreading his thighs, he crooked a finger to summon her closer. “Calm down. Breathe. Take a fucking moment to think about whether you want to do this now.”

Thinking and making decisions were the last things on her mind. She bared her teeth in frustration as the bra refused to cooperate, then yelped when Grit leaned forward and pulled her forward by her hips.

Tabitha vaguely registered Evander sitting back in the chair, fading into the background as though he wasn’t even there. Her brain identified him as not a threat and forgot about him. “Unless you’re going for a quickie, get your pants off.”

Oh, now that was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Grit stood, straightening to his full height and towering over her, his expression darkening to reflect his displeasure. One hand slipped behind her back, freeing the bra clasp with a fast flick. Before she could remove it, he spun her around and shoved her onto the bed.

Her back hit the covers; the breath grunted from her lungs.

“First things first,” he growled, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t care how scared you are, little tiger, you show the same respect to me as I do to you. I’ve been lenient, letting stuff slide, but try and remember who’s the Dom here.”

Oh boy, she’d really hit his authority button.

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