I know I shouldn’t read it now.
But the whole world of Kathryn Chase’s most intimate fantasies and desires was in the palm of his hand. How could he fucking not?
As soon as he unfolded the first flap, he heard the cry.
“Waaaahhhhh!”
That would be little Tameka. The terrified girl who was balled up in a corner, too afraid to speak up and let anyone, including her mother, know exactly how much pain she was in. Turned out she’d been cradling a broken finger.
Crap.
Refolding the page and slipping it into his back pocket, his fingers brushed the top of Kathryn’s phone. How the woman had managed to keep going this long without it was beyond him. Take my phone, and I think my heart would stop.
No point fussing over it now. He made peace with the technology now burning a hole in his pocket and double-timed it in the direction of the screams. He couldn’t do much if they were realigning the bones in prep for splinting, but he could be there for Tameka. Smile, and let her know it would be all right.
Nearly three hours later, the waiting room was silent, the seats all empty except the one Jake was slumped in.
If his once-a-week EMT work had taught him anything, it was that peace was a fleeting concept that never lasted long. This was just the lull before the next storm. But at least for now, it meant Jake’s work for the night was finished.
Patiently, he unwrapped Kathryn’s preference sheet, anticipation pulsing through his veins. Months of wondering was over.
With the last flip, he scanned the sheet—a clean one where nothing had been checked off or filled in. Nothing disturbed the laser-printed letters, lines, or boxes. Nothing but a small note written thoughtfully at the bottom.
I’m not exactly sober as I write this, so bear with me. The truth is, when it comes to this world—your world—I’ve stared at more than one preference sheet with fierce determination, and have come to the sinking conclusion that I have no idea what I want. I didn’t think I wanted to share you, or be shared by you.
Scratch that. I don’t want to share you. Or be shared by you.
There. I said it.
But I also don’t want you to feel the need to go somewhere else, or hide your true self. You fought your way back from death. The least I can do is love you enough to believe in us and explore. Get to know you. Know myself. Is anything less really love?
P.S. - I’m sorry I called you an ass.
P.P.S. - What do you think of fire play?
Staring at the page, Jake reread it. A few times.
What’s with the sharing? And who the hell would I share with? And . . . fire play?
Obviously, Drunk Kitten had a freaky side. The one that involved multiple partners? Not happening. But the one that liked the heat?
Any day or night, kitten. Fire good.
Thinking hard, he tried to peel back the meaning behind each word. They could be the cryptic ramblings of a bender gone wrong, but Kathryn wasn’t drunk when she handed it to him. If she thought there was a chance in any universe he’d be playing pass the kitten, she was wrong.
He refolded the note and tucked it away. Gentle Jake wouldn’t have much time—maybe a few seconds of chitchat to hash it out. Master Jake would do the convincing.
I feel a serious spanking coming up. That and a ball gag are definitely in order.
There was a certain impatience that came with being a Dom. A raw and carnal caveman side that embraced primal instincts like smacking, grabbing, nipping, sucking, licking, and last but not least, fucking. Doing all these things to unyielding satisfaction, and doing them as soon as the urge struck.
Raw, unadulterated Jake was ready to burst out. His huff more of a grunt, Jake shot to his feet and dragged his knuckles and throbbing dick up and down the halls, ready to fuck some sense into his sub.
Stay calm. It’s not like she asked for a threesome.
No, it was so much worse. Somehow in her overactive imagination, the woman had convinced herself that he wanted a threesome.
It’s bad enough that I’ve got three people in my head at all times as it is.
First, there was Gentle Jake. The voice of reason who insisted that with Kathryn, it was prudent to stay calm and talk things through. Then there was Master Jake, who always believed a firm hand on her beet-red ass was all the talk that was needed. Finally, as it is with all hot-blooded men, there was Caveman Jake, who tended to fall back on three simple words to solve all of life’s complex problems: must, fuck, and now.
Every last one of the horny sides of Jake came to a screeching halt at the cafeteria. In his rush, he nearly breezed past the doorway.
But there she was. Leave it to the ponytail high on her head to give away her position. Having a casual dinner. Front and center with her fucking ex-husband, Carter.
There were a lot of things that could be explained away. Kathryn fleeing to an all-expenses penthouse getaway, courtesy of his credit card. The drunk dial at nearly four in the morning, with one-hundred-and-one ways of calling him an ass.
Even her engagement ring being tossed aside and left behind. The precious jewel that represented his renewed belief in love and marriage. Honesty and trust. A token of faith that he could actually love again. Love and be loved for who he truly was.
But this? Making it sound like he wanted the threesome, when all the while, it was Kathryn that wanted it. Wanted him. Carter fucking Reeves.
Maybe it was time to rip a page from Kathryn’s playbook. His turn to walk away. Or run. For once in his life, completely bypass the big, bad Dom inside and say the word that would end this roller coaster ride once and for all.
Red.
Just walk away and let her go.