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“Yeah. Anyway, I didn’t tell Fiona that we slept together. I knew it would just cause more problems, but she saw the card with the dress. And it…didn’t go well.”

The waiter appears with our food and we both wait until he’s disappeared to keep talking.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. I should have been honest with her from the beginning.”

“Maybe, but sending you the dress obviously didn’t help things.”

“The dress is beautiful and I love it.”

His brilliant smile is back. “Good. For the rest of the evening, my goal will be to cheer you up. How does that sound?”

There’s a tiny tension that releases in my shoulders. “That sounds lovely.”

We eat and chat and Thomas keeps his promise. He tells me funny stories about him and his brother’s growing up. He asks me more about New York and how I like it there and if I like my job. He orders champagne, and by the time we’re finished eating I feel so much lighter. And then, “Would you like to dance?”

There’s delicate music coming from another part of the restaurant, but I didn’t know they had a dance floor. “I’m a terrible dancer,” I say.

“That wasn’t a no.”

The thought of dancing with Thomas, being close to him, is appealing. I nod, and he stands, taking my hand. He leads me through the restaurant to a huge open room where there’s a dance floor surrounded by tables. There are a few couples dancing, but the floor is mostly empty. I flush, embarrassed by the idea of all these people watching me dance, but Thomas doesn’t hesitate. My hand is in his, and his other hand is on my waist. I’ve never been a good dancer, but this feels okay. For the first time I understand why a partner leads. Thomas guides me, pushing, pulling, twirling me across the dance floor.

In no time at all I’m not thinking about the fact that I can’t dance. I’m noticing how close his body is to mine, looking up into those incredible eyes and feeling lightness and joy and growing lust. I know I’m not going home tonight and I can’t wait for that. I feel like we’re suspended in time, just the two of us and this music, moving together. I’m not sure how being with someone like this can make me feel euphoric and settled at the same time, but it does.

A few songs later, he pulls me away from the dance floor. “You ready to get out of here?” he asks softly.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

I know my way to the bedroom this time, so I head there right away, and I hear Thomas laughing behind me. I kick off my heels on the way, turning and crooking my finger at him. I want to undress him, and this time he lets me. I push his jacket off his shoulders, and then his shirt. I use my hands to trace the lines of him, from his chest down to his waist. I like watching the way he reacts to my hands, the shudders and tremors. And then I reach his belt. His pants fall in a pile on the floor and his underwear follows. His cock is already hardening and I stroke it, watching it grow in my hand.

Thomas spins me around, practically growling. He peels down the zipper of my dress, pushing it to the floor and unhooking my bra. Lips press against my spine and I have goosebumps across my skin. He pulls me back against him, and his cock is hot and huge against my back. “I have a question,” I say.

“Go for it.”

“Just how dominant are you? Are you fully into the kink or just a little? Your answer isn’t going to scare me away.”

He makes a low, groaning sound against my skin. “I like it. Just enough to add a little dynamic, but not so much that I want to tie you up,” he says. “Yet.”

I have images in my head of being tied to the bed while he has his way with me and I shiver. They’re not bad images. They’re very, very good images. The way he’s touching me and with those thoughts in my head, I’m so turned on that I’m soaking through my panties. Thomas senses my stillness. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” I say, too quickly.

He chuckles darkly, and I feel it tug at my core. “You were thinking about being tied up. And you liked it.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t have anything to do that tonight, but I’ll keep it on a list for next time.”

I turn to face him, pressing up against his body. “Then what’s tonight?”

“Tonight I want you to ask permission.”

“For what?”

He smiles, hot and slow. “For every orgasm.”

A thrill goes through me. “And if you say no?”

“Then you’re not allowed.”

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