Page 224 of Wait for Him

She's wrecked. Completely fucking wrecked. And while I'm nowhere near finished reacquainting myself with this woman, I'm also not an idiot. She's had enough intensity for one night.

"You were incredible," I tell her, kissing the top of her head as I carry her off the stage.

My Domme.

I fucking love saying that in my head.

She's completely asleep in my arms by the time we make it back upstairs. Glory follows with our clothes and a basket she tells me is for aftercare, opens the door for us, sets everything inside, and disappears without another word.

I like Glory.

Susan could never.

I lay Rose carefully on the bed, and she doesn't even stir. For a minute I just stand there looking at her, ridiculously proud of what she trusted me with tonight. Not because I got her off in front of a crowd. I mean, I'm definitely putting that accomplishment somewhere on my internal résumé, but that's not the part that has my heart feeling too full.

She gave me complete control.

I grab the cold towel from the basket and sit beside her. I ease her awake slowly, pressing it over her forehead, then her cheeks and the sides of her neck.

"I need you to drink some water, baby."

She's so groggy, it's adorable. She doesn't say a word, just lets me lift her head and bring the bottle to her lips. She drinks in slow little sips without opening her eyes, completely trusting my hand behind her head to do the steering.

Fuck, I love taking care of her.

Once she's had enough, I lower her back onto the pillow and pull the sheet over her. I still can't get over how much she's changed in a year. The white streak in her hair. The muscle she's put on. The little differences I keep discovering every time I touch her.

Still Rose, though.

Thank fuck for that.

***

“I can’t believe you own a fucking sex club, Rose.”

We’re in the back of the car on the way to my place, and Rose is straddling my lap, moving against me in a way that tells me there’s a very real possibility we won’t make it all the way home before one or both of us loses what little control we have left.

Today doesn't feel real. None of it. I'm sure it'll hit me tomorrow, probably all at once and at the least convenient possible moment, but right now my brain has given up trying to process anything beyond the woman in my lap.

I woke up this morning expecting to get married. By this afternoon, I'd been left at the altar, except even that doesn't feel like the right way to describe what happened. There was no devastation. No humiliation. If anything, when Rian walked away, the first thing I felt was relief so immediate and overwhelming that I hated myself for it.

I should've been heartbroken.

Instead, I could fucking breathe.

The conversation afterward was a hell of a lot more amicable than I had any right to expect, and eventually I'm going to have to sit with what that says about the last year of my life. Not tonight. Tonight I have a much more pressing issue.

I pull back enough to look at Rose.

“You own a sex club.”

She laughs against my mouth. “We've established that.”

“No, I don't think you understand. You.” I gesture vaguely at all of her. “Own a fucking sex club.”

“Yes.”

“You're a lawyer.”