I glance up at him. “Hey yourself.”
The bright city lights cast shadows under his strong jaw. His gaze finds mine. “Last time I saw you,” he says, “you were a slutty little submissive wearing pink collars and fuck-me heels.”
I snort on a laugh. “Last time I sawyou, you were a slutty playboy who hit on anything with a pulse. Some things change.” I put my hand on my chest, gesturing to myself. “…And some things do not.” I give him a hard but amicable shove, putting some space between us.
He tucks his hands in his pockets as we walk. The ground is covered in snow salt and my boots crunch on it. “So this is you? Dove 2.0?”
“Same Dove. Just…slightly improved. Some of the kinks worked out.”
“Not all the kinks, I hope.” There’s that Prince Charming, Carver grin. “I like him. By the way. Dorian. Big improvement over the last guy you were with. He was a dick.”
“Yeah…”
Even the mention of Shawn feels like cracking grains of sand between my molars. I knew that was one of the dangers of coming here tonight. People were going to want to talk about it. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Luckily, Carver doesn’t push it. Instead, he asks, “So what’s the deal with the two of you?”
“How do you mean?”
Those green eyes hunt mine. “Are you exclusive?” He’s walking close and our arms brush.
He’s propositioning me. I realize: I haven’t been propositioned to in a really, really long time. Not by anyone I would consider sayingyestoo, anyway.
It’s been a year. I’ve healed. I’ve moved on from Shawn. I’ve even cut my teeth on dominating.
Could I do it again? Could I let someone dominantmeagain? Could I ever let myself be vulnerable like that again?
Carverwouldbe a good test-drive dom. I’m familiar with him. We’ve played before, and we’re good at it. I like the heavy thud of his hand when he spanks. I like the way he grips my throat. I trust him to respond to safe words and respect my limits. More importantly, I trust him to stop if, halfway through, I decide I can’t continue.
But even the thought of doing a scene with him makes my ovaries shrivel up inside of me.
The truth is: I don’twantCarver.
I want…well.
I glance ahead. Dorian has paired up with Phantom. They’re talking and I find myself entranced by Dorian. The quick step of his long legs. The way he shoves his hands in his pockets. The way that, every now and then, he turns his head back as though to make sure I’m still behind him.
I’m attracted to this guy for just existing. But I can’t tell Carver that. I can’t tell him that I want someone else—someone who will probably never want melike that.
But that’s a problem for another day.
I shake my head. “I’m not playing with other people. Thank you, though.”
He nods his head. It’s ano hard feelingsnod. “Cool. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
Dorian glances back at me again, but this time, he breaks away from his conversation. He stops and lets us catch up to him before walking in step with us. “What are we talking about?” Dorian asks.
He looks directly at Carver when he says it. He has a murderous look in his eyes. It’s like he cansmellCarver’s pheromones.
“Shooting the shit,” Carver grunts, then he holds up a hand. “Yo! Princess! Slow down a sec.” Carver moves ahead, joining up with Princess instead. I can hear him say, “What the fuck’ve you got under those heels, jetpacks?
Dorian and I are on our own again. But he won’t stop glaring at Carver’s back.
“Hey. Look at me.” Those blue eyes obediently snap to me. I grin. “Smile, baby girl.”
Dorian attempts it. It looks like a Jack-o-Lantern grimace.
“Are you having fun?” I ask.
“Your friends are…”
