Текст книги "Finding Master Right"

Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

He laughed for a moment, and then his gaze turned heated. “Doms in suits, huh? Does that turn you on?”

“No,” she said too quickly. “I mean . . . That’s not what I meant.”

His brows shot up, and his lips tightened in what looked like suppressed amusement. Then he leaned in. “I can help you figure out what your thing is, if you’re honest with me. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m pretty good at reading people. And you don’t have to worry about me being creepy. You’re not my type.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But I can help you find your type. We can figure out what you want, without having to kiss a few frogs first or getting yourself into a dangerous situation.”

She stared at him, reading the earnest look in his eyes. If Chris said Banner had a good reputation, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. It wasn’t as though he was hard to look at, or hang out with. And if it kept her from experiencing guys like Vince, and cock-shot creeps, it would be worth it. It might even be an adventure. A dark, exciting adventure. Her sex life had gone stale years ago, and her fantasies only took her so far. It was about time for something new.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally said. And she’d probably think about him too, later that night while she wore the batteries out in her vibe.

***

“Are you excited for your discharge?” Kate shut the door to her office behind her as she followed Sean into the room. As always, he took the couch, and she sat in the chair across from him. Though her large desk dominated the room, she felt less approachable sitting behind it, so she used it mostly for doing paperwork. The last thing she wanted was to feel removed from her clients.

“No,” he admitted with a sigh.

“No? Usually patients in your position are practically climbing the walls right now.”

Sean’s forehead crinkled, aging him. He couldn’t have been older than thirty, but the drugs had taken a toll on his body. Yellow teeth, thin hair, haunted eyes—he looked like a stereotypical addict.

Discharge was bittersweet. Hope was there, in the distance, trying to shine bright. But reality was a mean son of a bitch. Only a small fraction of her clients made it in the real world. Most of them came through those doors a second, third, fourth time, having just finished detox—though repeat clients were better than funerals. Kate cared about every client, guided them, and the one thing she wished for at every discharge was never to see them again. That, to her, equaled success.

“I’m scared.” Sean’s voice quavered.

She glanced at him and felt only compassion. He’d have been easy to give up on. The first month of treatment, he’d given her a hell of a time. Volatile, uncooperative, verbally abusive. Everyone’s recovery process was different, but she’d recognized the signs of his withdrawal, even though he displayed them in a very . . . aggressive way. She’d waited to see who he was, underneath the addiction.

Kate Lambert didn’t give up. Not ever. Sure, other staff whispered about hopeless cases, but she didn’t believe in such a thing. Becoming jaded by the work was all too common, but she refused to let herself go down that path. Slowly, she had won Sean’s trust. She’d showed him she wasn’t giving up on him and, in turn, he hadn’t given up on himself.

“Everybody has something worth fighting for,” she’d told him, during their previous sessions together. “A reason to fight for your life. You just have to find your something.”

Over those next few months, they’d talked several times a week about what that something could be. Many times it was a client’s children. Or a spouse. Sometimes a brother or even a pet. But Sean had nothing. He’d burnt all the bridges with his family a long time ago.

Together they’d worked on finding his place in the world, what he had of value. Helping Sean address his issues was the biggest challenge in her career so far, but in the end she hoped he’d be successful.

She watched his gaze drift to the floor. His hands shook in his lap.

After a deep breath, she said, “Change can be scary. But you’ve got this. We worked out a plan for getting help when you think you need it. You have your friend Jim on speed dial. You have my number. You’re ready. You can do this.”

He smiled slightly. “Do you like John Wayne?”

“Um. I’ve never really given him much thought.”

“I grew up watching his movies.” Sean lifted his gaze and looked at her. “He said once, ‘Courage is being scared to death . . . and saddling up anyway.’”

She nodded. “That’s good. I like that.”

“What do you suppose it means?” He cocked his head to the side. “John Wayne was known for being fearless. Why was he talking about being scared to death?”

“Well,”—she shifted on the couch as she gathered her thoughts—“I think he’s saying everyone experiences fear at one time or another. But it’s what you do with it that matters. He starred in Westerns, right?”

Sean nodded.

“So, even if you’re scared, you get in the saddle anyway and do what you have to do.” She sounded pretty good to her ears; hopefully Sean was getting something from this.

Slowly, his head moved up and down, but he chewed his fingernail, looking lost in thought. A moment later, he peered at her. “Are you afraid of anything?”

“Of course.”

“Like what?”

She felt her eyes widen. Leave it to him to challenge her until his very last day. “You’re not holding back today, are you?” She chuckled. How should she answer that while staying professional and avoiding anything too personal?

“You seem like you have your shit together. I can’t picture you afraid of anything either.” He laughed.

Why didn’t that feel like a compliment? Past boyfriends had called her a hard-ass, cynical workaholic. Being driven to get far in life and not turn out like her parents had caused her to push people away. Or maybe what she really feared was intimacy.

Banner came to mind. His thick, tattooed forearms, heavy brow, the stern line of his mouth. Now, there was something to be afraid of. The party had been three days ago, and she still hadn’t texted him. She didn’t understand why—he’d only offered to help. But texting him felt like plunging into the real thing. Fantasies were safe, removed. Like Sean, she understood reality came with risk.

Running her hands over her pencil skirt, she collected herself. “I have the same fears most people do. Fear of failure. Fear of being alone.”

“I bet you’ve never failed anything in your life.”

It was a fair bet for those who knew her now. But she hadn’t always been this way. If Sean had known her as a child, he’d have different things to say. At the very least, he wouldn’t compare her to John Wayne.

“Never failing only makes the stakes higher,” she said, smoothing out a wrinkle in her yellow blouse. “Anyway, fear is normal. You’ve hit rock bottom, and you don’t want to go back. You have every right to be scared. Just acknowledge it, and like John Wayne says, saddle up.”

His fake smile wasn’t encouraging. This discharge really had him rattled.

“The most important thing for you is not to give up on yourself. Remember we talked about the reasons to fight? Just keep replaying that in your head.”

He sat in silence, gazing out the window. The rock garden under the willow tree was supposed to be a therapeutic place of refuge. She always thought it looked more like a graveyard.

Normally, Sean was pretty chatty. They’d talked about the meaning of life, religion, books, everything. He was a deep thinker, and for that, she enjoyed him as a client. So this staring silently out the window was a little worrisome.

“You have all your contacts, right?”

He nodded.

“And your phone is back on?”

“Yes.”

She tried to catch his gaze. “You still have a week left. How about you come back to see me twice more?” She smiled warmly. “Maybe I’ll watch a John Wayne movie and we can discuss it.”

He rumbled a laugh, making her feel a bit better about his mental state.

“What?”

“I can’t picture you watching John Wayne.”

Scowling, she shifted and crossed her legs. “Why not?”

“You seem so . . . proper.”

This time, she laughed. If he only knew. “Maybe so, but we have lives outside of here. I’m not my job, just like you’re not your addiction.”

He smiled slyly. “There’s no ring on your finger. No pictures of kids on your desk. What kind of life do you have outside of here?”

Averting his gaze, she swallowed hard. That hit close to home. Bastard. She almost laughed. There was truth there. Reading dirty books every night with her vibrator as her only company wasn’t a life. She talked big about courage and facing your fears, but was she living it?

Usually she didn’t let anything hold her back from what she wanted, least of all fear. And up to this point she’d been pretty forward in figuring out the BDSM stuff. But something about Banner, the conviction of his intentions, made her nervous. On an intrinsic level, she knew that if she took the next step with him, there was no going back.

“Sorry,” Sean said. “That was uncalled for. I’m sure you at least have a boyfriend or something.”

Ignoring the fishing, she smiled slightly, then grabbed her schedule book off her desk. “Tuesday at eleven, okay?”

He nodded, then stood up and looked down at her. “I think you’re right, Kate. Being afraid will drive me back to rock bottom. And I don’t want to be there again. I’m gonna stay positive.”

“Good.” She watched him leave the room, pleased with his change in attitude and hoping it would last.

As for her, it was time to practice what she preached. She took her phone out of her desk drawer, texted Banner, then hit SEND before she could chicken out.

Chapter 2

Answering work e-mail was the most boring part of Banner’s day. He’d spent all morning trying to avoid it, but eventually there was nothing left to read, sign, or sharpen. The first lines of several messages should have piqued his curiosity, but they only made him want to bang his head on something. He didn’t feel like being a responsible adult today, but the boss wasn’t allowed to have tantrums. Although his protégé, Belle, fielded a lot of the nuisance messages for him, there were some he had to answer himself.

Annoyed by the rub of his shirt cuffs against his desk, he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them back to his elbows, revealing the ravens tattooed on one forearm and the world tree on the other. Although he never let business acquaintances see his tattoos, knowing that they were there under his business attire gave him some comfort. He hadn’t always been Mr. Suit and Tie Guy, let alone Mr. Wholesome Family Business Guy, and even now the trappings of the respectable world chafed. This hadn’t been what he’d wanted out of life. Not by a long shot.

The most pressing message was from Arthur Blackwell who wanted to know if Banner was interested in making a deal on a bigger purchase of cane sugar. Now that they’d found a niche market with museum gift shops and hipster bars, Cobalt Harbor Soda had new distributors popping up daily. It was hard to believe that his father had lost almost everything before old-fashioned soda flavors had caught on. He’d lived just long enough to see the beginning of the good times.

His dynamic, hardworking father lying still and waxy on the hospital gurney crept into his mind. He’d just missed saying good-bye to him, even though he’d raced through town when he’d gotten his mother’s frantic call. Blowing the red lights that night hadn’t made a difference. There was no tragic, unfinished business between them, but the loss of Hans Jennings had left a hole in his life. He’d taught Banner how to be a businessman, then left him holding the bag. There were so many times in a day when he wished he could call his father and ask for advice. Now he had to figure things out on his own—his mother, sister, and much younger brother were counting on him to keep them all afloat. There was a constant pressure on him not to fuck up. His life wasn’t about himself or his own needs anymore.

The door to his office opened and shut again. He kept working, knowing Belle would tell him if there was something that needed his attention. Chances were she just needed a file.

“Mr. Jennings, can I get your autograph?” That fake falsetto wasn’t Belle.

He glanced up, knowing who it was even before he laid eyes on the muscle-bound jerk standing just inside the door. “Ambrose, you dickless bastard, when did you get home?”

His best friend smiled. “Just now. And, dickless? Really? That’s not what Anna said.”

“Quit fucking my exes.”

“If you’re done with them, they’re fair game. Besides, there are only so many submissives in Felix, New Jersey. I can’t get all moral about dating your cast-offs. They’re always looking to talk about you anyway. You should put me on the payroll as a therapist for the ones you throw away.”

Banner’s guts twisted. There’d been a string of unsuccessful relationships for him during the past couple of years, but did Ambrose expect him to stay with girls who weren’t a good match?

“I don’t throw people away. There are just specific things that I need, and if that’s not compatible with what a woman wants, then why would I lie to her and let us both become attached knowing things ultimately won’t work?” He closed his laptop and sighed.

Ambrose laughed. “You’re getting cynical in your old age. If you weren’t such a kinky bastard you’d have found someone by now. Finding a woman who wants to grovel at your feet for the rest of her life might be a tall order. You might have to satisfy yourself with a submissive and see if you can slowly push her limits.” He slouched into the chair across from Banner and ran a hand over his bald head. Between his build and his shaved head, Ambrose looked like a thug—even in a suit.

A grumble escaped him. “Lately there are a lot of women hanging around saying they’re submissives, when really all they want is some hot sex. I mean, I’m all for hot sex, but fake submission doesn’t get me off.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re not all fake submissives though. Eventually, you’ll just stumble into the right girl and it will all click. Yadda yadda. Why don’t you try training someone to please you instead of relying on chance to put the perfect girl in your path? Do you think she’ll show up here wearing a collar and begging you to be her Master?”

“No.” The word sounded sullen, even to Banner.

“Come on. You look like a man who wants to take me to lunch.” Ambrose got to his feet and stretched. “The pretzels they gave me on the plane back from New Orleans have worn off, and I need food before I start biting people.”

Banner snorted. “Belle might be into that, but her sub might claw your eyes out.”

“Ohhh yeahhh . . . if Belle’s sub wanted to get feisty with me I wouldn’t complain.”

“She doesn’t like men.”

“Neither do I. It gives us something in common.”

Banner grimaced as he stood. He grabbed his cell, and it promptly went off in his hand. Figured. “Where am I taking you for lunch?” He unlocked his phone and glanced at it. The number didn’t look familiar.

“Hmm. Are you coming back to work afterward, or is lunch just a prelude to happy hour?”

He opened the message on his phone, surprised to see who it was.

This is Kate. I met you at Janine’s party the other night. Sorry to be a pain in the ass, but I need your help.

Immediately, he texted back. Yes, I remember. What’s wrong?

A guy just messaged me on KinkWorld and asked me if I was into figging. Am I into figging?

“Uh oh. I know that expression. New girl?”

Banner shook his head but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Just a friend. She’s new to kink, and she just asked me if she’s into figging. Some guy is hitting on her online.”

“His opening line is figging? What is the world coming to?” Ambrose shook his head and clucked in disapproval. “What’s wrong with asking someone out for a coffee, or a simple getting-to-know-you flogging?” He paused. “So is she into figging?”

“I doubt she even knows if she’s into flogging. She’s that new.”

“Wow. You could train her right from scratch. No bad habits. No preconceived notions of what a Dom/sub dynamic is.”

“Shut up. She needs a protector, not a predator.”

Predator. With her, he felt like just that. He thought about her long brown hair and expressive green eyes and felt the same conflict he had at the party. Although he’d said otherwise, the girl was exactly his type—beautiful bone structure, full lips, strong but rounded in all the best places, legs that would make a model weep with envy. She inspired in him a strong desire both to protect her and to shock her. He’d shocked himself when he’d offered to be her BDSM tour guide, but walking away from that party without trying to see her again had been impossible.

He’d already thought of training her himself, but it wouldn’t be fair to her. She didn’t want to be a slave. Trying to mold her into one would be a disaster for both of them. His friend’s eyes narrowed as though he could read his thoughts. “What big, sharp teeth you have, Mr. Wolf.” Ambrose chuckled and rose, then walked out.

Banner trailed behind, texting as he went.

The guy sounds like a dickhead. Just ignore him. I’m not explaining what figging is. If you really want to know, Google.

He hit SEND then banged his shin hard on the planter by the administrative assistant’s desk and swore under his breath.

Belle snickered. “Don’t walk and text. Are you coming back later, or are you gone for the day?”

Another text alert summoned Banner’s attention back to his phone. “I don’t know. Do you need me?”

“Nah, take the rest of the day off. You came in early.”

The new administrative assistant, Tanja, sputtered and started to cough. Belle had been with him so long she could get away with almost anything.

“You’re the nicest employee, ever.”

“I know.”

Both men walked to the elevator and Ambrose grimaced. “The new paint job in here makes me claustrophobic.”

Banner looked at the freshly painted walls and the new table thingy with the glass bowl full of wooden balls that stood outside the elevator.

“Belle said it was cozy and soothing.”

“It’s dingy.”

“It’s cappuccino with an ecru pinstripe. Classy.”

“Baby poop smeared on the wall is classy? Who knew?” Ambrose picked up three of the balls and started to juggle them. While he was busy, Banner hazarded a glance at his phone.

Oh jeez. I just looked it up. I’m not sure if I’m more embarrassed about having asked you or having seen it. Mental note: never Google pictures if you don’t know what to expect.

He couldn’t help but be a smartass. So I take it you’re not into figging?

The elevator door opened, and he walked in, stumbling over the crack between floor and elevator.

“You’re not coordinated enough to text and walk. And your tongue sticks out when you text, idiot.”

His phone buzzed.

I don’t know. For the right guy I might try anything.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Didn’t she know she was playing with fire? His mind took her insinuation and ran with it, picturing her collared, leashed, and crawling to him. Crying from a caning. Begging to come.

If Ambrose hadn’t pushed the button he might have stood in the motionless elevator all day. He thought through his answer before responding.

You might want to be careful who you say that to. There are a lot of bad men out there.

There was a pause. Are you one of them?

Ambrose gripped his elbow and guided him off the elevator and through the lobby.

I wouldn’t trust me, if I were a pretty little girl like you. Remember that you don’t like what I like.

How was a text conversation turning him on?

LOL I think you’re the first guy that’s ever said, “Don’t trust me.”

Though it nearly killed him to rein himself in, he had to think of what was best for her. He typed back, I’ll find someone to play nicely with you, before you and I get ourselves into trouble.

There was a lengthy pause as his phone informed him she was writing. Was she writing him a bratty book?

Yes, Sir.

How many responses had she deleted before settling on that? And Sir? She didn’t even know him.

They walked the short way to the restaurant on the corner with Banner staring at Kate’s last two words. He vaguely heard the ding from the bell over the door as they entered, but he was trying to think of something clever to respond with.

Ambrose shoved him into a seat. “You want her.”

“She’d be better off with you. She doesn’t want a guy like me.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done with her.”

“Don’t tempt me. It’s not supposed to be like that.” Banner looked down at his phone again, wondering if she was looking sly or giving him big eyes or what. Texts should come with facial expressions.

Ambrose flicked a sugar packet at him, hitting him square in the chest. “You need to do something for yourself once in a while. You’re getting to be a boring old man way ahead of your time. Just because you’re having trouble finding the right girl doesn’t mean you should give up.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil.” He flipped Ambrose the bird good naturedly.

I’m going to arrange for you to meet a few Doms that I know well, who might be more your speed. Are you free on Saturday afternoon?

Was she brave enough to jump in like this? Did she trust him that much already?

Sure. You’re not going to bring them all by and line them up, are you?

“I’m not going to lure this sweet thing to the dark side. Do you want to meet her?” he asked Ambrose.

“Not yet. Break her heart first.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

He thought about who his next choice would be for her after Ambrose. No, I’ll just introduce you to one this time. My friend Trev, I think. Meet us at the coffee shop on Marcus Street at 1pm?

Banner held his breath, waiting for confirmation.

Okay. But how do you know he wants to meet me?

I haven’t asked him yet, but I doubt he’ll say no. He’s a good guy. If he’s not available, there are others. If it’s just me, I’ll just come by with a BDSM checklist so you can think about things.

There’s actually a checklist? He pictured her eyes wide.

Yes, several.

Figging is off the table, by the way.

Then I’ll leave ginger root off of my grocery list.

Thank you, Sir.

He winced and scrubbed at his forehead in frustration. At some point he should tell her that calling him Sir wasn’t necessary. Worse, though, he wanted to hear that sexy voice of hers say the word “Master.”

Just once.

***

Trev walked into the trendy, upscale coffee shop looking like a douchebag. Between the ratty old T-shirt and the backward baseball cap, he looked thirty going on fifteen. Idiot. He’d been going through a midlife crisis or something since he and his wife split, but Banner kept waiting for the storm to pass. He was a decent guy.

When he sat across from Banner, his expression was unenthusiastic.

“Did I mention she’s hot?”

Trevor laughed. “If she was hot she wouldn’t have trouble finding a date. You’d be banging her.”

Really? “Trev, you’ve known me for years. Would I choose a girl based solely on looks? Fucking a hot girl does nothing for me if our kinks don’t match up.” He pushed an artsy menu at Trev. “As for Kate, if she was into what I was into, I’d never let you meet her. She’s hot, funny, and looking for someone to introduce her to kink without being a jerk about it.”

The server came and took Trev’s coffee order. His friend watched the girl’s ass as she walked away and Banner felt like rolling his eyes. Maybe Trev had been a mistake. He liked hanging out with the guy, and his last sub had adored him until she’d moved to Prague for work, but maybe he wasn’t the right guy for Kate.

“So, if she’s so awesome, why aren’t you training her for yourself? Aren’t you still free of responsibilities?”

A twinge of annoyance set his teeth on edge. “I am, but she’s new and not sure what she wants. Trying to convince her she wants to be a slave this early on doesn’t seem fair to her. I also don’t have the patience to train a new girl for ages only to find out that she finds my tastes disturbing.”

“What about working her up to it slowly?”

Not him too. Had he been talking to Ambrose?

“Stealth training?” Banner smiled regretfully. “That’s not exactly consensual. I’m not going to subtly brainwash her. She seems to have a strong submissive side, but I get the feeling it’ll be a cold day in hell before she lets someone master her.”

Trev’s coffee came along with a refill for Banner. He wasn’t sure if he should stay or let them talk alone, but he was worried Kate wouldn’t be open about what she wanted without moral support. But what did she want? Maybe he should have stuck with meeting her alone at first, until they got her interests sorted out, but the urges he got when he was around her, or even just texting her, were anything but gentlemanly.

Having the wolf guard Little Red Riding Hood had not only been a bad idea, but it was especially hard on the poor, starving wolf.

Through the big storefront window he watched Red as she slipped out of a Kia four door and made her way toward the café entrance. She was wearing a floral sundress that revealed a lot of bare skin and sandals that crisscrossed to her knee, showing her long legs to their best advantage. No tattoos or marks of ownership on her pristine flesh. No collar on her neck.

And this goddess wanted someone to teach her about kink.

Trev wasn’t good enough.

When her gaze met his, she smiled shyly and looked at the ground in front of her—probably looking for the curb, but for today he’d let himself pretend it was a reaction to him.

“She’s here. Be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Trev craned his neck to see who Banner was looking at and then whistled low. “Fuck! Are you sure you don’t want her for yourself? That hair alone would win me over, but with the body and the pretty face. Damn, she’d better have the personality to make that a package deal.”

Pretty? He thought she was pretty? Pretty was like a seven. On a scale of one to ten, Kate was a solid twenty-three. Maybe Trev needed glasses.

That morning Banner had finally admitted to himself that he wanted her. He’d caught himself checking his phone more often than usual, half hoping for another text from her, but she hadn’t sent anything. He’d read over the figging conversation a few times, and although it was funny as hell, something about it turned him on. Whether it was that she’d gone immediately to him with her question, or that he’d thought of defiling her in several different ways since then, she’d been lurking in the recesses of his mind and making it hard to focus on work. Or maybe it was that Ambrose wouldn’t stop teasing him about her.

Not for me.

He rose to his feet as she approached and held out the chair beside him, so that she and Trev were facing each other, but not directly. Hopefully it would make it easier for them to talk but with less pressure than sitting directly across from each other.

As she took her seat, his fingertips accidentally brushed the silky skin of her bare back. The buzz it sent through his fingers made him flinch as if he’d been burned. A small shiver ran through her, and for a moment her gaze found his before sliding demurely away. Without artifice, she tilted her head slightly and exposed the side of her neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Would it be so wrong to drag her back to his place and find out what else made her shiver?

When they’d settled into their chairs, Trev turned to her and smiled widely.

“Pleased to meet you, Kate. Banner has told me a lot about you.”

She smiled back at Trev, and a spark of jealousy shot through Banner. Silently, he told his possessive urges to shut up. This was about her, and her future, not about his whims.

“He told you how clueless I am?” She scrunched her nose and laughed.

“You’re new. There’s nothing wrong with being clueless.” Trev sipped at his coffee. “I’m sure any number of people would be glad to show you the ropes, so to speak.”

Ba-dum ching. Banner groaned inwardly.

The server came and took Kate’s order. Tea. He watched how she fixed it, the smooth movements of her hands speaking to how often she drank it.

Kate and Trev chatted for a few minutes. Although they got along at first, Banner could see that as Trev continued to talk about himself and what he wanted, Kate started to lose interest. Some subs liked guys who were somewhat self-centered, but apparently that wasn’t one of Kate’s turn-ons.

“. . . so that’s why I prefer a sub that’s good at reading me. Are you good at reading people?”

“When I choose to be.” She raised her chin and the subtle challenge made Banner shift in his chair. How would Trev respond to her stubborn side?

“Well, generally submissives choose to be good at reading their Doms. It makes for a happier relationship.” He beamed at her and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“And Doms try their best to read their subs, too, of course?” She turned her head to look at Banner. He saw the mischief in her eyes and the smile for him alone and wondered if she was deliberately flirting with him, or if she just thought it was funny to goad Trev.

“I generally know what my subs need.”

“As a result of getting to know them or from assuming you know what they want better than they do?”

The girl had a point.

“It’s not hard to figure out what a woman wants most days, as long as you don’t let them put on airs. If a sub is a diva, it means the Dom isn’t doing his or her job.”

If Trev couldn’t figure out how to take Kate’s sense of humor as well as stop being a douche bag, this was never going to work.

“Wanting to have your needs met is different than being a diva.” She shook her head in disgust. “Thinking you know what a woman wants without talking to her isn’t always going to work. I can’t see how that would make for a good relationship.”

“Women are simple creatures. I haven’t had any complaints,” Trev said smugly.

Her brows went up in disbelief. “Did you take the ball gag out long enough to check?”

Trev’s mouth tightened.

Great.

“Hey, you two. I think you’re getting a little off track.” Banner laughed, hoping to cut the growing tension.

“No, she’s not mine.” Trev waved a hand. “There’s no reason to mince words here. It’s better to know we’re not compatible now instead of finding out later.”

“Yeah, I doubt this’ll work. It was nice to meet you, Trev.”

That was it? What a waste of time.