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I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to help myself. Can’t deny Kipp at least some measure of comfort, even though I’m well aware this goes beyond comforting. But most of all, I can’t stop myself from wanting him.
I knew the moment I first met Kipp that he and I were kindred spirits in opposing forms. Call it intuition. Call it a hunter’s instinct. Whatever the reason, I could sense the side of him that so desperately longed to let go. That little rabbit heart, beating fast, waiting to surrender. And God, how I want to be the one he’d show his belly to.
But I can’t. Can’t ask that of him. Can’t demand it.
The thing that really gets me is that I don’t think he knows it. As far as I can tell, Kipp has no clue he has a submissive streak a mile wide, and that fact, more than anything, makes it nearly impossible for me to resist this man who’s currently looking up at me with wonder in his eyes.
The things I could show him.
It takes maybe half a minute before the ring slides over Kipp’s knuckle. I pull his finger from my mouth and set the gold band gently onto the coffee table. Kipp’s chest rises and falls, his pupils nearly blown as he stares up at me, waiting. Seeing what I’ll do.
“There,” I say softly. “You’re all set.”
“Um, thanks,” he mutters, expression shifting to confusion. “So, uh, you really want me to get laid, huh?”
He chuckles, a nervous sound, and I internally curse, frustrated with this situation, the question I can’t truthfully answer, and the fact that I want Kipp to be mine, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.
“I just didn’t want you to hurt your finger getting it off,” I say, brushing his hair off his forehead. It’s not exactly a lie.
Kipp’s voice halts me as I stand. “Teddy.”
I close my eyes for a long second before turning. Kipp sits up, looking so lost that it tugs at me again.
“What’s going on here?” he asks.
My heart thumps, a near painful thing.
“You said something that night,” he goes on. “Before we got married, I remember you saying you wanted to own me. What does that mean?”
“Kipp…”
“I always felt like you were ignoring me,” he says, driving a nice little knife between my ribs. “If we ran into each other, you were perfectly nice, but it’s like you went out of your way to avoid me. Until Friday night. Why?”
Because I couldn’t stand watching you pick another man that wasn’t me.
I scrub over my eyes.
“Do you want me?” Kipp asks quietly.
Fuck.
“Doesn’t matter,” I answer. “We’re not having sex, Kipp.”
He makes a frustrated sound. “Then why do you keep flirting with me and, like, giving me finger blowjobs? I don’t get it.”
I heave out a breath. “You’re right. That’s not fair of me to do, and I’ll stop.”
“No,” he says quickly, blue eyes flaring wide. “I don’t want you to stop. I just… I don’t understand, Teddy. And I’m not trying to push you past your boundaries. I won’t do that. But you keep saying ‘we’re not,’ not ‘I don’t want to’ when it comes to us fucking. And I don’t really know how to take that.”
When I don’t speak, unable to come up with a suitable response, Kipp’s face scrunches.
“Sometimes it seems like you want me,” he says quietly, looking so vulnerable it physically hurts. “But sometimes…” He shakes his head. “If you don’t, it’s fine. Just say so. I’d rather know, okay? Then I can stop making a fool of myself chasing after someone who clearly has no interest—”
“That’s not it,” I interject, unable to let him believe for a single second I think him foolish or undesirable. My throat is tight, voice hoarse when I speak, but I can’t help it. “Kipp, if I have you, I won’t be able to stop.”
Silence falls.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper.
