Dr. White frowned thoughtfully, folding her finely manicured hands in her lap. “The way you live your life, I was fairly confident you might engage in casual sex, though you never brought it up in therapy.
"I also knew it would take an extremely unique individual to inspire the sort of trust required to form a true connection. Nasa is a dominant male in every sense of the word, and BDSM is a large part of his life.
“He helped Dr. Thompson and I build this practice because of it, and before you object and say there's no way in hell you'd ever let Nasa tie you up or spank you, I want you to hear me when I say there is so much more to BDSM than kinky sex and bondage, and let me explain.”
Dr. White raised her eyebrows, waiting for the immediate rebuttal Dillon did indeed have poised to say. When Dillon remained silent, Dr. White nodded and went on.
“Being a dominant male and being a dominant male who engages in BDSM are two separate distinctions.
"When I met him in Dallas, it took me all of five minutes to understand Nasa doesn't need BDSM to be dominant because it's a natural state for him.
“He's the quintessential patriarch who cares deeply for those he considers his family. He has his own traumas that drive his subconscious motives, but the way he cares is evident in his actions.
"The men and women of Perdition know beyond all shadow of doubt, they are protected.”
In Dillon’s opinion, he’d most definitely succeeded in that regard.
“His protective measures have gotten increasingly more aggressive in the wake of the death of one brother, and increased again after the kidnap and torture of another two members of Perdition, which is why he now has security cameras everywhere, and contingency plans for his contingency plans.
“That Saint and Damon were taken, that Ghost lived in the Perdition compound, took care of the children, and was given jobs that kept him close to the women without being discovered?
"Despite there being over twenty men in residence, everything bad that happened after Ghost's arrival in their lives, every trust that was violated, Nasa considers it a personal failure. A failure to protect his family.
“No matter how many times any one of his brothers tell him it wasn't his fault, Nasa hasn't forgiven himself.
"His ego and his superiority complex in this case is what I'm truly hoping Teague will be able to get through to him about, dominant to dominant.
"I was shocked yesterday to hear from him about you, but I heard the same tone you've described in his voice, and I was thrilled. For you.”
“He doesn't even know me,” Dillon whispered, unable to speak any louder due to the sensation of a boulder suddenly pressing down on her chest.
Dr. White tilted her head to the side, her gaze steady and penetrating. “Even though he was certain you were working with Ghost, he still dropped everything and risked getting his face ripped off by your dog to get to you.
"You responded to him—his voice— at your most vulnerable. Something allowed you to trust him. In that moment, an undeniable connection was formed between you.”
“What, like a duckling hatching and imprinting on the first thing it sees?” Dillon shot back with no small amount of growing hostility.
The idea her attraction to Nasa might be from some psychological misfiring in her brain, and not a natural state in response to his caring actions toward her, surprisingly, upset her.
Dr. White didn't so much as blink. “It's a fair comparison, actually. If I were to call him in here right now and ask him why he drove those four hours to get to you, he would say it was his fault for not convincing you to stay at the compound.
"His fault for failing to make you feel safe there and dismiss any other explanation as possible.
“He'll say he was the one to put you in a position to face Tobias when he couldn't possibly have known about your past.
"He thinks of himself as Mr. Universe, out there surfing the cosmic waves of information, and truth be told there isn't much he can't find in this digital era.
“In fact, I’d wager a fair amount of money, he was up to his eyebrows in digging through your background when the call came in that you were in trouble.
“It was a huge deal to sit in another man's compound—one Nasa had no hand in building or securing—outside his comfort zone, away from his safety net, to wait for you to wake up and explain why you were there, so he could gain your consent to take you back to Austin with him.
“Why did he do all that? Why did he get in Veracruz's face when Veracruz offered you an alternative to coming back to Austin?
"Why make a point to purchase clothes for you in your favorite color, and hunt down your exact brand of toiletries? Why paint his basement white and remove every stick of BDSM furniture from his living space?”
Dillon took a deep breath to keep from popping off a round of sarcasm, only to stop and frown when the last of Dr. White's questions penetrated the stubborn haze of Dillon's thoughts.
“I didn't realize he had anything kinky in the basement. How did you know he'd painted it white?”
“Gee is Dr. Thompson's patient, and he came in with paint all through his hair. I asked what happened when I saw Gee in the waiting room, and he shared.”
Dr. White didn't say anything else, waiting in her unflappable way for Dillon to answer the questions she'd asked.
“Nasa made me lunch yesterday and we talked. A lot. He said I like knowing I have eyes on me at all times.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. It means I can't disappear without someone knowing about it, and he was correct.” Dillon admitted, wanting to reach up and rub away the blush heating up
