Page 59 of Dare to Love Again

ON THURSDAY, WHILEshe was preparing documents for yet another pro bono intent-to-distribute case, the phone rang. She tuned it out because the receptionist usually answered within three or four rings. When it kept going, she reached for it.

“Reinhart and Shoemaker, how may I help you?”

“You can break up a hellacious week by having lunch with me.”

“Mast... uh, Finn? This is a surprise.”

“Were you expecting another man to invite you to lunch? One I’m unaware of, perhaps?”

“No. Never. Well, sometimes Pax will call if he’s working in the area, but he’s still out of town.”

“Darlin’, I was teasing. Sort of.”

The rather brusque way he tacked on the “sort of” made a ribbon of happiness unfurl inside her.

“So, lunch? Are you free?”

“Yes, but my car is in the shop being serviced today.”

“No problem, I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty. We’ll go to Guerrilla Tacos on 7th street. I’m hooked on the place. Basically, if it can be put in a tortilla, they do. See you soon,a stór.”

After the disconnect, she stared at the phone.Ah-store. The way he rolled his r gave the foreign word a soft, sensual quality. A tingle shot down her spine and spread lower until it set up a little vibration between her thighs. He’d said it Tuesday, only she’d been too spaced out to remember her name, let alone ask what it meant. The fact he had gotten her to that state twice now was astonishing.

The number of times Andrew put her into subspace in their entire five-year relationship, she could count on one hand. Her husband was an excellent lover, but in terms of dominance, Finn had him beat hands down. From the start, he seemed to know what she needed and how hard he could push her. And the skill with which he controlled her body, drove it to the brink of ecstasy, and kept it there until he was ready to send her hurtling over the edge, was breathtaking.

And they’d only just begun to explore, which scared her as much as it excited her. If his expertise went beyond what she’d experienced when they got to the main event, he would surpass her husband in that arena as well.

Esme struggled with how that made her feel, as though she were betraying Andrew and the love they shared. Her rational mind knew she shouldn’t think that way, but she couldn’t help it. Countless times, Pax had told her he would have wanted her to move on, to find someone else, to love again. Finn had asked about that the first night as well.

She was twenty-five to Andrew’s thirty-two. They’d never discussed what the other should do if the worst happened. Not even in practical terms of a will and finances, which would have made things easier. But they still reveled in the invincibility of youth, and tragedy hadn’t been a blip on their radar, despite his job.

Pax, who knew him, and Eric and Finn who didn’t, felt sure they knew his mind because as dominants they understood how much a true submissive needed a dom on levels beyond sex and discipline. Pax described a sub being alone like a ship without a rudder, churning hard to move through the water, but without direction and control and a firm hand guiding it through, getting nowhere.

She’d heard of doms who knew the end was coming, like with a terminal illness, selecting another to step in, if only temporarily. Not sexually, per se, but to help weather the storm, and keep the ship, which in her case was listing badly, from capsizing or running aground.

Ryan Paxton had fulfilled that role for her, thank goodness. Early on, while dealing with his own grief, he’d been there for her, helping her with day-to-day life, and taking bigger hurdles when they popped up in front of her, even when some turned out to be twenty-foot-high concrete barricades. Maybe now, since she’d found Finn, he could be relieved of his duties and go back to being her friend.

She glanced at the clock. In less than an hour, she’d see him again, two days earlier than expected, and outside the club. This was a giant step forward. Their budding relationship spilling over into real life had to mean he saw her as more than a play partner, or a sub in need of fixing.

But what if she was wrong?

No. Expecting the worst was too often a self-fulfilling prophecy for her. Despite their few encounters, she already felt a strong connection to Finn and knew he was something special. Tendrils of hope were creeping into her heart. And Lord knows, she hadn’t experienced that emotion in what seemed like forever. She wouldn’t jinx it with what-ifs, and her negative self-talk. Instead, she planned to move forward with optimism that what they had could turn into a lot more.

***

THE LOW CLEARING OFa throat drew her eyes to the doorway. In jeans and a light-gray button-up shirt, the long sleeves cuffed to his elbows, Finn looked better than ever, especially since the lighting was so much brighter here than at the club.

“Hey,” she said in greeting.

He smiled in return.

“Just let me close this document I’m working on.”

With a few clicks of her mouse, she saved the discovery list she was updating and closed the program. Purse in hand, she walked toward him, feeling as much as seeing when his gaze skidded down her body. Instead of a skirt, she was in linen trousers and a teal blouse. When she reached him, she had to look up, like while in the dungeon, because she was also in flats.

“All ready,” she announced.

He said nothing, hadn’t since he arrived, but tapped his lips with his index finger in a silent demand for a kiss.

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