She pushed the plate away. “No. If you were standing on the other side of the Grand Canyon, you’d be closer to me than you are now.”
“You’re being melodramatic.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the counter, his expression tight. There was a warning simmering in those green eyes, but she didn’t really care.
“I don’t think so. I’m talking in a calm, reasonable tone, just like you are.” The edge in her voice earned her a narrow glance, but she continued. “I’m not capable of enjoying a breakfast this good if there’s a ton of bricks already in my digestive tract.”
“I’ll pack it up for you then. Max will take you to work. Dana had a full schedule at the church and he was in the neighborhood. You can pick up the things you left in my office. I’ve had you reassigned to K&A’s research department on the fifth floor. Given your career specialty, you’ll learn more there. You’re an exceptional investigator, Marcie. You shouldn’t be wasting your time as my paralegal.”
Things were replaying in her head. Everything that had happened last night. The times she’d cried and he’d wiped those tears away. The screaming orgasms. The way he’d completely taken her over, broken her open.
“Is this the way you do it? Give a woman the experience of her life, and then it’s over?”
“You wanted to know more about serving a Master. Last night, I gave you what I intended to give you at Progeny, so that’s no longer necessary. Lesson over. At least with me. There are some Doms I’ll recommend who can mentor you at the club until you find someone willing to pair up with you according to your desires.”
“You agreed to mentor me.” She would keep her voice level, not accusatory. She would not stamp her feet or cry. She was going to do this as an adult, make him fucking admit he was the one acting immature.
He met her gaze with implacable eyes. His words remained cool, reasonable. Which was why she knew it was all bullshit. But he wasn’t showing any cracks in the façade, anything she could use to break past that wall he’d built against her this morning. It was like he’d reinforced it with fucking concrete while she slept.
“You came to me for guidance, and I’ve given you that. If you’ve done your research, you know the protocol. When a Master or sub says it’s over, it’s over. You respect the boundaries and the consent.”
He moved then, came to sit at the table with her. He didn’t smile, didn’t stab her in the chest with a gesture that patently dismissive of her feelings, but he did put his hand over hers. Now she saw his expression soften, become kind. “You were incredible last night. I couldn’t have asked for a better submissive, so know that much. You just need to move on and look elsewhere. I have no problem helping you with that. You’ve told me you’re not a child. I believe you, so I expect you to respect my decision like a reasonable adult. We’ve always been friends. I’m still your friend.”
The Doms he had in mind were probably about her age, competent enough, but no one who would be a challenge, who could even touch what he’d been able to do to her. He might not acknowledge it consciously, but it would be deliberate. He wouldn’t want anything that could compete with him. He refused to accept her, but he’d control the replacement candidate pool. If she could have bristled under his touch like a porcupine, she would have.
Rising, he picked up her plate. It made him lean over her, and the scent and strength of him, so close, was almost overwhelming. While he put her breakfast in a container as promised, she sat there numbly. When he disappeared briefly up the stairs, she stared out the window at a fence, a bird bath. An oak tree with a decorative lizard sculpture attached to it. He reappeared with her overnight bag. “I have a flight out this morning for an afternoon meeting in Houston. I’ll touch base with you when I get back and we’ll talk out the details. I told Research you’re doing some freelance for Pickard, so they know you might need to be on a part-time schedule with them on some days.”
How considerate of him. He had an appointment in Houston today; tonight, instead of going to Progeny with him, she’d have an appointment with a Dumpster, her latest strategy to uncover dirt about the company being sued by Pickard’s client for insurance fraud. It was a fitting change of schedule, seeing as she was being kicked out like garbage.
Ben had his hand on her elbow to bring her to her feet. With smooth efficiency, he moved them toward the door. Probably a scenario he’d enacted with countless women before her. Except she wasn’t them. He probably strolled to the door with them, rather than ushering them out like his ass was on fire. They’d been casual lays, after all, everyone reasonable adults about it. Unlike her.
“Tell Max if you need to stop anywhere before you get to the office. Take more Advil through the day if you need it, and another long soak in Cass and Lucas’ hot tub tonight. I’ve put some more of that balm in your overnight bag for the sore areas.” He brushed his lips over her cheek—her cheek—and opened the door, propelling her into the alcove. “Okay?”
“Mr. Calm and Reasonable?” She pivoted on her bare foot, looked up at him. “My shoes are still inside. If you throw them out onto the sidewalk, I might chase after them like a dog after a ball, giving you a chance to slam the door. But I’d rather not get them scratched.”
He started, glancing down at her feet, her painted toes. As he stared at them a long moment, she could see him sorting through things. He didn’t miss details. Not
