Page 47 of Dare to Love Again

Eric, who had stuck around to see it all play out, looked excessively pleased with himself. Val stood beside him, her expression full of sympathy as she offered an encouraging smile.

“What happened to it being my choice?” she muttered. “This hardly seems fair.”

“Who said a submissive’s lot was fair?” Eric looked down at Val and asked, “What about you, baby? Do you get fair from your dom?”

“Rarely, but I always get what I need, like it or not.”

A grin lit his face. “A perfect answer,” he murmured while kissing the glossy hair on top of her head. “Keiran, since it appears you’ve got this situation well under control, we’re off to the dungeon to play.”

“Have a good night,” Master Finn said.

Eric chuckled. “We’re at Decadence and I have a beautiful submissive on my arm. That is a given, my friend.”

When his friends walked away, he extended his arm to their table. “You, sweet lass, look like you could use a drink.” Catching her hand, he led the way and took a seat. When she didn’t immediately follow, he patted the space next to him.

She eyed it skeptically, unsure how all of this had backfired but certain this master was too smart for her own good. She opted for the safe seat across from him.

He grinned, enjoying their exchange a helluva lot more than she was.

She couldn’t deny what he’d said. She wanted him and felt a rush of desire simply from looking at him. And why did he have to smell so damn good? It made it hard to think.

She tried not to inhale, but ol’ Hawkeye Finnegan was sure to notice.

“Relax and breathe, Esme,” he said on cue. “And don’t look so sad. We already know we’re good together, or did you forget Friday night?”

“I’m not interested in a relationship,” she blurted out. “I’ve been there before, and we both know how that ended.”

“First, you didn’t breathe. Second, a spanking, a kiss, and drinks hardly comprise a relationship. And third, I’m not collaring you or putting a ring on your finger. We’re simply talking.”

“What if I don’t want to scene with anyone else?”

“Then you’ll scene with me.”

“Which brings us back to square one,” she muttered.

Leaning forward, his forearms on the table, eyes narrowing on her, he asked, “Do you know why Tristan called me a saint?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” she replied tersely, really pushing it.

“Because I’m known for my patience, but it has limits. And you, little lass, are bumping up against them hard, right now.” He leaned back and patted the padded seat beside him. “Come sit beside me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“If it has to be to get your ass over here, yes.”

She didn’t like the deepening of his tone and figured she’d better heed the warning. Grudgingly, she slid out of her side of the booth and onto his. But she hugged the edge, keeping as much space between them as possible.

Exhaling slowly, he slipped his arm around her waist and hauled her against him so she pressed against his side from knee to hip to shoulder. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Now, we’re going to sit here and get to know one another better, have a few drinks, perhaps dance—”

“I don’t dance.”

He covered the hand closest to his and interlaced their fingers. “Open communication between a dom and sub is crucial, Esme. Did you have that before?”

“Yes.”

“I expect no less.” Raising her hand to his mouth, he surprised her with not only his lips on her knuckles but the teasing, warm wetness of his tongue. “Now, tell me again you don’t dance.”

She pressed her lips together in frustration then muttered, “How do you know so much? That wasn’t in my file.”

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