He sat there staring at the fountain, wondering if he was using the word 'important' instead of 'love' when it came to what he felt for her.
Still pondering that question an hour later, Dillon came walking into the waiting room beside Collette, looking wrung the fuck out.
Nasa was on his feet in a heartbeat, and without any encouragement at all, Dillon kept walking until she practically did a face-plant right into his chest.
He wrapped her up immediately, turning his lips to her hair, glowering suspiciously at Collette. The dark-haired woman gave an amused roll of her eyes, calm and composed. She cleared her throat, which made Dillon suck in a huge breath.
“I have a crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch last night. If you don't have anything that needs your immediate attention, I'd like to try a massage.”
The only thing that needed his immediate attention was her. “You and I already discussed this, Dillon. Lying down flat where you can't see me is too big of a step.”
Nasa continued to pour all of the disapproval and feelings of anger he felt toward Collette, for pushing Dillon to move faster than she was ready, into a heated glare. Collette simply stood there, a knowing smirk teasing the corners of her crimson lips.
“Apparently, the walls in room four are all mirrored, and I can turn my head to keep you in sight,” Dillon told him. “It doesn't have to be today if you don't want to.”
At that, one of Collette's perfectly manicured eyebrows slid up challengingly, and Nasa felt it like the slap of a glove across the cheek. He knew exactly what she was up to, but Nasa wasn't in the mood to play.
“To get to room four, we'll have to walk through the lobby, past Cher, and into Pavlovia. Dr. White wants me to take you over there, through the dungeon, past all the furniture and BDSM equipment because she'd like for you to experience whatever reaction you have to it here—in a space separate from what you've become accustomed to as safe—and discuss how it made you feel in your next session.”
Collette was grinning like a hyena now, and Nasa thought he could feel Dillon smile against his chest. Her voice was muffled, soft enough Nasa didn't think Collette could hear her.
“She did mention it—almost in exactly those words—and I'm okay with it. I trust you. There's nothing in there that can hurt me.”
I trust you.
Three little words and all his reservations were swept away. In response to what had to be a goofy ass look on his face, Collette gave a smart nod and a wave of her hand.
“I'll see you next week, Dillon.”
“Yep, thank you,” Dillon answered a little louder, her face still pressed to his chest.
When Collette disappeared around the corner, Nasa drew back just far enough to catch Dillon's gaze, searching her face for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty.
She seemed calm, wincing only a little when she had to crane her neck to look up at him with her gorgeous tiger eyes—exhausted, but otherwise fine. Better, in fact, than when he'd last seen her.
“It doesn't have to be today if you need to get back to the compound.”
Again, Dillon offered to let him off the hook, but looking at her, he could see it wasn't because she was evading something she wasn't ready for.
She actually thought he had other stuff he'd rather be doing than giving her a massage.
“Today is good. Before we go through the dungeon, I want to be clear. BDSM is my kink, but it doesn't have to be yours. I don't need it to be with you.”
A soft, beautiful smile curled her lips. The kind of smile that wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
“I'm thinking, maybe there are aspects of BDSM that I need to be with you,” she told him slowly. “Knowing where I stand at all times, being able to tell you stuff without it fucking things up between us.
“I'm thinking, I need the rules and the rituals to hold onto when I'm too manic to relax, because it feels really good not to have to carry everything by myself.”
Nasa knew what it took for her to say that, and it wasn't simply relief he felt. He felt the excitement of walking beside her down a new, uncharted path.
He'd never taken a lover who wasn't an experienced submissive. He hadn't ever been completely, one hundred percent responsible for introducing someone to his kinks. He hadn't wanted to be that responsible, but now it was all he could think about.
“Rule number one: Talk to me, no filters, no subtle hints. Balls out honesty about what it does or doesn't make you feel to walk through there.”
Dillon traced an X over her heart and gave a sassy wink.
“Balls out, I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The scary dungeon looked like a high-end nightclub. Nasa told her it had been converted from an old cabaret, which explained the trio of stripper poles at the center of the enormous stage. Comfortable couches and flat lounges surrounded what Nasa said were scene spaces.
Dillon took notice of a jail cell with wooden stocks, a medieval torture rack, a wide array of chains and shackles, and a throne Dillon could picture Nasa sprawled in as he surveyed his domain.
It looked like something out of a movie, but not one she had any interest in starring in.
He let her set the pace of their walk-through, and she wasn't shy about telling him she loved the aesthetic. Dillon felt no desire to experience what it felt like to be tied up and suspended from the big bamboo poles over thickly padded flooring.
She had no interest in being strapped to the enormous metal star and flogged or whipped, but a lot of time, effort, and money had obviously been spent
