Page 11 of The Dom with a Safeword

Jude’s masculine chuckle filled the front foyer as they stepped in.

“Someone who shares her adolescent sense of humor,” Sabrina grumbled to herself. “Fantastic.”

“It was funny,” he said, his gaze glued to Q, a smile touching his lips. “A sense of humor is a great asset.”

Q grinned stupidly. “Um, I don’t think I said thank you. For the other night. It was kind of you to –”

“It was nothing,” he cut in. “Just trying to be the gentleman my mother taught me to be.” He winked.

Sabrina watched them. Was Q blushing? Oh, this was going to be good. After that last asshat of a boyfriend, Q needed someone sweet – someone who would treat her right. Even more importantly, she needed action. In the last six months they’d lived together, a pattern had emerged. When Q got needy, she also got a little handsy – not that Sabrina ever stopped her. The dressing room incident, she tried not to think about. A mistake, she chanted in her head. They had recovered. Everything had gone back to normal. Except for the enormous monster of guilt eating its way through her belly. But being Catholic – she wore guilt like a second skin.

She held back a sigh.

It wasn’t fair what she was doing to Q. Her friend deserved someone with a better sense of self-identity, not some insecure, immature, practically virginal germophobe. Someone who could love her the way a girl should be loved. Someone prettier who said the right things, who didn’t put her foot in her mouth all the time. Someone…just…better.

So what was her excuse for flirting back when Q started it? Well, everybody wanted to be wanted, didn’t they? Not to start a pity party but what man wanted someone like her – with her big mouth and too honest opinions?

Having been raised in a strict religious family, most of the guys she’d dated were carefully picked from the already slim selection of their Roman Catholic Church. Those little boys couldn’t handle Sabrina’s big personality. Sure, everybody liked a flirt in a skirt. Not everybody liked what came out of her mouth. “One woman shouldn’t have so many opinions,” her mother often said. Ironic because she was the most opinionated person Sabrina had ever known.

Q liked her short skirts, maybe too much, and she didn’t mind her brash personality either. Q could handle her – laughed at her even. She always did attract the weirdoes. A smile tugged at her lips when she pictured telling Q she thought she was weird. She’d laugh and say, “You’re surprised by this?”

She did love Q. As a close friend loves another friend. Didn’t she? How the hell should she know? It wasn’t like she had a whole lot of practice when it came to relationships. A whole three boyfriends. She should have figured this out in high school like normal people. But she was too busy memorizing Hail Mary’s. Well where was Saint Mary now while she was stuck in freakin’ sexual purgatory?

Q’s booming laugh shook her from her thoughts. Jude was making her laugh already? A small fire started in her chest. That’s my job. She gave her head a shake. No. She wouldn’t be selfish with Q. Jude would be good for her.

She studied the first room they entered – a grand foyer. Or, what used to be grand. Now cracks ran the length of the walls and the beautiful picture window was stained and lined with chipped crown molding.

“Why would anyone rent a dump like this?” she said with a grimace.

“Sabrina!” Q scolded. “Be nice.”

Jude raised his brows. “I only moved in a few weeks ago. Want to give me a little break, sweetheart?”

“Sorry,” she murmured. She wasn’t.

“She’s not,” Q stated bluntly.

Damn, Q knew her too well.

Jude chuckled then motioned through a set of double doors. “Come on. The living room is better.”

“You said you knew the history of the house,” Sabrina said, following close behind him. “I’m very interested to know. It might help with –”

A heavy metal riff sounded behind her. Q’s ringtone. She yanked her phone from her back jeans pocket and looked at the number. “Shit. It’s about work.” Putting it up to her ear, she signaled them to keep going then stepped onto the front porch. “What do you mean you can’t make it to the Johnson wedding?” Her harsh tone faded as Jude ushered Sabrina into the next room.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, peering around the impressive space. Sun beamed in from the arched windows on the other side of the large room. The frames had been newly painted – she could tell from the sheen. The hardwood floors shined with polish. A TV hung on one warm brown wall. Next to it were two built-in bookshelves stacked with a few DVDs and video games, and a couple of empty beer cans. She tsked at Jude. “No books? For shame.”

He grinned. “Just wait ‘til we go upstairs.”

“Is that how you lure girls to your bed?” she asked with a smirk. “Come upstairs and see my impressive book collection.”

“Would it work?”

“Maybe,” she answered with what she thought was a mysterious shrug.

“Noted. So what’s the deal with you two?”

She looked toward the porch with a frown. “What do you me –” She stopped, realizing he’d picked up on their…complicated relationship. “Oh. Nothing. We’re just friends.” With what she thought was a perfectly passable expression of determination she looked him in the eye and said, “I’m straight.”