Page 7 of His to Explore
“I’m honored you thought of me,” I muttered.
“Listen, Kensie is clearly a submissive, but she has no idea what that means. She needs someone who is going to keep her safe and help her explore.”
It hadn’t actually taken much convincing, not once I saw a picture of her. Kensie had captured me right away with that lush curtain of red hair and her mouthwatering curves. But it had been the expression in her blue eyes that really gripped me. She looked vulnerable, unsure. Clearly looking for someone to guide her.
And since there’s not much in the world I like better than guiding submissive women, I’d agreed. I figured it’d be a few months of helping a gorgeous woman with a shitty ex-husband get some experience before we both moved on.
I had no fucking clue what I was in for.
Before I can do more than silently rage at the shithead ex-husband for making Kensie feel that way about her job, she straightens her shoulders and faces me head on. “It’s a habit I’m trying to break,” she says, voice stronger than I’ve heard since she joined me at this table. “I’m working on ignoring the echoes of the things he used to say when they pop up.”
“I’m glad,” I tell her, my throat feeling strangely tight. “You let me know if you need any reminders about how amazing you are.” I tilt my head. “Actually, fuck that. I’ll remind you either way.”
Her shy but clearly pleased smile makes me feel triumphant.
Before she can respond, the waiter appears with our meals and Kensie gives a little moan of pleasure at the mouth-watering scent of garlic and spices.
“I told you that you needed to eat,” I say, and she gives me a sassy little eye-roll that has my dominant nature rise up, eager to teach her a lesson with my palm.
We don’t talk for a few minutes as we both dig into our pasta. It’s every bit as delicious as I knew it would be, and we definitely worked up an appetite earlier. Eventually I ask her about the clients again and she starts talking about all the amazing art they’ve rejected so far.
That leads her to chatter about what she would choose if she had a similar budget, all the artists she’d give anything to buy from. It doesn’t take much prodding to keep her talking—in fact, she seems like a whole new person once she gets going about art.
She’s excited and confident, easily giving her opinions. It’s her expression that kills me, though. There’s usually something guarded about Kensie, even when we’re fucking like rabbits. The woman has walls so thick I’ve never been able to even begin to crack them.
But that reserve completely goes away when she’s talking about art. She’s happy and excited, her eyes bright and her smile easy. It’s fucking breathtaking.
Until my dumb ass goes and ruins it.
“You really know your stuff,” I say. “You know, I’ve actually been planning to do some collecting myself. My financial advisor is always telling me what a great investment it can be. Maybe you could help me out?”
Her eyes are teasing as she narrows them slightly. “So you just care about investment pieces? You don’t want me to, ya know, help you find something you might actuallylike?”
I grin. “I mean, sure. It’d be nice if I liked it. But just so you’re aware, I don’t know shit about art.”
She giggles softly. “I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two.”
Holy shit, Kensie is actually flirting with me. And we both have all our clothes on. It’s like a fucking miracle.
“So, what do you say?” I press. “I could come in this week and you could show me around the gallery? Then I could take you out to show my appreciation.” I lean in a little, wanting her to see all the desire in my expression. “It’d be nice to share a meal with you somewhere that isn’t the club.”
And just like that, every one of her walls goes snapping back into place. I can actually see it happening, the way her eyes dim, her expression flattening out, posture tensing.
Fuck.
“If you’re really interested in investing, I think my boss would be a better fit.” Her voice is polite and totally professional and I fucking hate the sound of it. What happened to the giggling, flirty girl I’d just spent the meal with?
“I don’t want to work with your boss,” I snap, my annoyance spiking. I’m irritated with myself, for pushing too hard, and annoyed with her for shutting me out. Mostly I’m pissed at that asshole ex of hers.
What the hell did he do to her to make her so guarded?
“Speaking of work,” she says in a false bright voice, completely ignoring my last statement. “I have to be up early tomorrow.” Before I can say a word she’s standing, gathering her purse. “Thank you so much for dinner, Grant. You’re right, I needed that.”
“Kensie—”
“I have quite a bit to do next week,” she presses on, not even looking at me. “But I’ll call you when I have a free night, okay?”
“Kensie.” But she ignores me completely, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder and striding off into the crowd.
