My heart jumped with each jingle of the door, only to relax again when it wasn’t Jude. If I continued this way, I’d have a heart attack before the guy ever showed up. My leg bounced and I chewed the side of my fingernail. It was an awful habit, and yet I could never break it. I managed to nix poor eating habits, cracking my knuckles and popping my gum—but chewing my nails? Nope, that one was ingrained into my DNA.
My phone buzzed from inside my purse and I dipped my head inside, catching the vibrating cell in one hand. I smiled as a text from Omar illuminated the screen.
Thinking of you. Stay safe, boo, and knock ’em dead.
With one glance at those words, I tugged my fingers from my mouth, calmness washing over me. What would I do without that man? I uncrossed my legs, my jittery bouncing knee subsiding. As I typed my response, awareness buzzed over me, shooting pins-and-needles sensation down my arms. When I glanced up, Jude was frozen in the open doorway, his eyes fixed on me. I slapped the phone down onto the table, nudging my toe against my rolling luggage. The weight of it, oddly comforting. Familiarity in unknown territory.
His gait was strong, confident as he made his way across the room. “You came,” he said simply, his eyes traveling over my wig and heavy makeup. I even contoured my face, hoping to look like an entirely different person. A smile tipped his lips.
“I told you I would be here.”
“Yes. You did.” The subtextbut I didn’t believe yousat just below those words. Like kelp floating beneath the surface of the ocean. “Let’s get to it, then.” He slid the chair out from under the table, dropping into it. “You’ll be in my possession from tonight—”
The hot tea burst through my nose and I coughed, pressing a palm to my chest. “Excuse me,possession?”
He blinked, pulling loose papers from a leather folio. “Yes.Possession. Much in the same way that Holly is in Leo’s possession throughout the film.”
Oh, good lord. Panic rose in my chest like a bathtub filling with water. Red flags waved everywhere and yet, I nodded for him to continue. He set the papers down, the lines at his eyes and forehead softening as he draped his hand over mine. His touch sent a jolt of electricity from the soft flesh of his fingers up my arm. My skin prickled, heating beneath his touch and I shivered despite the surge of warmth. “Marly,” he said quietly, “this is the language I use as a Dominant. It’s only words, okay?”
His green eyes were bright and I blinked slowly, moisture clinging to my lashes. Throat dry. Eyes wet. I cleared my throat. “But… it isn’tjust words,” I repeated. “It’s a lifestyle. Your lifestyle. Leo’s… Holly’s lifestyle. Don’t feed me some line about how they’re meaningless phrases.”
As Jude leaned back in his chair, his hand slipped away. It felt deliberate. Intentional. Like he was purposefully withholding his affection because I spoke up which only made me want to fight harder, louder.
“You’re right,” Jude said quietly. “They’re just words, but at the end of the day, they represent action. In this world—” he coughed, covering his mouth with his fist briefly. “Myworld, possession isn’t a negative thing. It means safety. Security. Because as your Dom, as Holly’s Dom, it’s my job to care for you. And you for me. This relationship is all about anticipating each other’s needs and fulfilling them by—”
“By beating the shit out of each other?” I interrupted, regretting it immediately when the soft lines of Jude’s face tightened and his mouth turned down at the corners.
He gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head. “Sadomasochism is only a small part of BDSM. For someone who claimed to do her research, I’m surprised you would say something so… incorrect.”
Incorrect and hurtful. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.” Jude observed me, licking his lips and watching me so closely, my skin tingled under his gaze. If his touch was all heat and fire… then his gaze was the opposite. Cool, collected. “If I do my job right this week, you’ll understand by Monday why those thoughts are inaccurate.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward, taking a stack of papers in his hand. Tenderly, he traced the edges, not saying another word. The slow movement of his finger as it curved around the corner, brushing over the pointy edge had me squeezing my legs tighter together. That touch. So light. Gentle, but firm. I could almost feel it from yesterday when his hands caught my elbows as I nearly fell at the club. “Do you want me to continue?” He didn’t look up from the stack of papers. Couldn’t see me nodding yes. Or maybe he wanted me to speak.
“Yes, please continue.”
From over the paper’s edge, his eyes aligned with mine. We were like the sun and the moon, both orbiting around a common goal. We had hardly anything in common. Two different worlds trying to collide—and so far, failing miserably. “Are you sure? Because in these contracts, I reveal things about myself that I only share with a select few. And I need your word that—”
“You have my word, Jude.” He looked so vulnerable. Sad, even. The contrast was jarring—from the man I saw and met in the audition room, to this man sitting in front of me, nervous and exposed.
“Unfortunately, I need your wordandyour signature on these contracts.” He slid over a short, two-page document. A non-disclosure agreement. “My lawyers insisted you sign this first. It just states—”
“That I am not allowed to discuss anything I see or hear regarding your lifestyle,” I read aloud. Grabbing my pen, I scribbled some notes, adding Omar’s name into the contract, then initialed and slid it back to Jude. “I tell Omar everything. He has to be the exception to this.”
Jude initialed and signed the change. “Then I’ll need Omar’s signature, too.”
I nodded. “Fax it over to him. I’m sure he’s fine with that.”
Jude released a heavy sigh, his eyes drifting closed. “Okay, then,” he whispered. “Until Omar signs his contract, you can’t talk to him about this though. Fair?”
“More than fair,” I agreed.
“Here goes nothing,” Jude murmured to himself, pulling out the next stack of papers. “This is a copy of my Dominant-submissive contract,” he said. “If you and I were entering a true relationship, this is the stage where you would list your hard limits—i.e., things you will never do and I should never attempt—and your soft limits—things that you might be open to eventually.”
I took a long sip of tea. “So, like… anal would be a soft limit.” Oh, my God. Did I just say that to a practical stranger? I’d never tried anal, but all my friends seemed to think it was incredible and I was… well, intrigued.
I stared into my teacup, awaiting Jude’s response. Silence came from the other end of the table and when I glanced up over the lip of my small ceramic cup, Jude was staring. Like,reallystaring. Jaw tight. Eyes shrewd. Lips wet and plump. When I met his eyes, something between us shifted. The air felt tighter, like there was less oxygen between us and we were breathing the same small pocket of air. “For some, yes,” Jude finally said.
“And… um, what would be a hard limit?”
