Page 16 of Love By Design

“Twice.”

“And you meant what you said?”

“Every word.” I buried my nose in his curls and breathed him in. His hair smelled like lavender and sage, wild and delicate at the same time.

Silas exhaled loudly. “We’re going to lose the bid, aren’t we?”

I didn’t have it in me to lie to him, not after what he’d been though. “Probably.”

Another heavy sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” he said.

“Okay.”

Another silence, longer than the last. The music on the dance floor kept shifting and changing; the only constant wasthe steady bass that vibrated up from the floor and right into the bottoms of my feet.

“Why are you here?” he asked me next.

I huffed out half of a laugh. “I imagine the same reason you are.”

“Jesus, no. I…I didn’t mean…”

I wanted to kiss him.

“Not the exact same reason,” I amended. “But the same result.”

“Fuck.”

I’d never heard him curse before. It made me feel the same way as cinnamon sugar did on my tongue, surprised and pleased all at once. I ignored the feeling, tamped down the heat it stirred between my legs.

“I meant why are you here right now. In this room. With me,” he said.

“Because you said this is what you needed.”

“And why does that matter?”

I knew it was grossly inappropriate to tell the son of my longtime business rival the answer to his question, but the situation was too sensitive to support a lie. That, and it wasn’t in my nature to be dishonest, especially about matters of power exchange and sexual activities.

“I’m not your Dom, Silas. But that doesn’t mean I’m not?—”

“Someone else’s,” he tacked on before I could finish the thought.

“No.” I bit the tip of my tongue until the pain grounded me back into the moment. “This is just how I am, Silas.”

He hummed, and I couldn’t make sense of the sound of it. Didn’t know if he agreed with me or found my answer lacking.

Finally, he said, “This is so embarrassing.”

“For whom?”

Silas snorted and pushed away from me again. “Me, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Are you serious?” He moved farther away, stood up, and it was my first real chance toseehim. Tight black jeans that leftnothingto the imagination, a tight black t-shirt, and battered sneakers that had definitely seen better days. It was wrong to lust after Stanley’s son, I definitely knew that, but there was no stopping my mind from racing through a dozen imaginary and very sexual scenarios anyway. None of which I would ever act on.

Especially not after what had happened to him.