Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  “I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying that it would be very easy for you to fall into bed tonight and then tomorrow have regrets. You think I don’t know you well enough to understand all those doubts running through your mind with regard to your career and me being your boss, but I do. I know what your priorities are, Sasha, and I respect them, but I won’t let you take the easy way out and chalk this up to a lapse in judgement.”

  It irritated me that he could read me so well, but it was also a relief. I wasn’t always the best at expressing my emotions, and having him do it for in this case wasn’t a bad thing. Unfortunately, my body wasn’t getting the sex-is-off-the-table memo. I’d been aroused since his leg touched mine in the restaurant. “What are the rules?” I was suddenly very curious.

  “If you make the conscious decision to move forward, we start with the question of whether or not you’d allow me to be in control in the bedroom. We can go over details and negotiate the rules, but you’d have to agree to that fundamental principle first.”

  “I think I may have hallucinated.” I moved towards the kitchen and poured a large glass of water, needing to sober up. Meeting his eyes, I watched while he leaned against my countertop awaiting my next sentence. “Let me get this straight. By you saying you’d be in control, are you telling me you’d want to be dominant?”

  He nodded, and I noted there was no amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t joking.

  “And by that admission, you’d want me to be submissive?” The very idea was laughable.

  “Not the way you’re thinking of it, but in a sense, yes, I would be in charge. But make no mistake. I’d do this for your pleasure more than mine.”

  His voice was doing funny things to me, so I gulped down more water. I couldn’t believe we were standing in my kitchen having this conversation. “Maybe I like to call the shots with the men I date.” Quite frankly, if they didn’t like it, then too bad, I almost added.

  “Yeah, and how has that worked out for you?”

  His smug look made me want to wipe it off. “I’m not into long-lasting relationships, therefore it’s worked out just fine,” I retorted.

  He chuckled softly and moved, boxing me in against the countertop. With his forearms on either side of me, he leaned in. His voice was low and gravelly as he murmured against my ear, “I was talking about the sex, honey. How was the sex?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss my sexual history, let alone admit it lacking. Meanwhile, his nearness was wreaking havoc on my senses.

  He pulled back and danced his fingers down my arm. “Actually, I could tell you how it’s been for you.”

  I shivered at his nearness and sexy voice. “Do tell,” I challenged on a whisper.

  He smirked, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. “It was fine. And the word fine is a throwaway word. It’s what you respond with to the doorman when he asks how your evening was: “Fine, thanks.” It’s what you say to the client when they ask how your flight was: “fine.” But it shouldn’t be the way you describe your sex life. Hell, maybe the first time was okay and promising. The second time, perhaps a little bit better, but by the fifth time, you realize that’s it. That was the main act with the encore. But it was fine, so you stick it out for a while. After all, it’s nice to have a reason to wear something new and lacy with someone to notice. Nice to get dinner with someone. But then you find yourself bored and staying late at work even when you don’t have to because, frankly, the alternative isn’t as appealing, and that’s not so fine.”

  “Okay, enough.” I moved one of his arms and stepped out of reach to lean against the opposite counter. He’d touched a nerve, hitting too close to home on my sex life or at least the one that I could remember.

  “I only tell you this because I’ve been there, and now it’s time for something better than fine.”

  “Three years ago, was this—I mean were there rules?” I was looking at a man about whom I’d once thought I knew almost everything.

  “No, not really, but three years is a long time. Now I know what I want.”

  “Okay. Are you going to tell me what these rules are?”

  “Not tonight, but we can discuss them over the holidays if you decide this is something you want to pursue. We’re not rushing into this, Sasha, and it’s not going to be something we do because we’ve been drinking or you’re jealous. You need to be sure.” He moved closer, his hands framing my face. “I’d better go and let you get some sleep.”

  “Do you have to get a hotel room now that your plans have changed?”

  “Is that your way of asking if I’m leaving here to go see Jamie?”

  I smiled, not willing to give him the satisfaction that I’d been thinking of the possibility. “Either that, or looking for an excuse for you to stay here tonight.” His expression was pure desire and I took the moment to put my hand on his cheek.

  He closed his eyes like he was savoring my touch. “You have no idea how much I want to explore that scenario, but you have a lot to think about.”

  “About being submissive?”

  He smirked. “I was thinking more about whether or not you wanted to pursue it at all given our working relationship. But if you did, then yes, you’d need to think about whether you’d be willing to let me be in control in the bedroom.”

  Right, my career. How the hell had I gone from panicking about the perception of sleeping with my boss to hyper-focusing on what Brian meant about rules? He’d completely thrown me for a loop with this new dynamic. “I’m having a hard time seeing you as dominant. And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure that sort of thing would turn me on.”

  His carnal gaze was possessive and as sexy as sin when he dipped his head and his lips crashed down on mine. My body instantly ignited when his tongue touched mine, and his hand wrapped in my hair. His kiss was all consuming. Then his hips shifted into mine, and I could feel his obvious desire against me. Jesus, this man could kiss. Then, as sudden as he’d started, he pulled away.

  “Still think you wouldn’t be turned on?” he asked, his breathing shallow.

  At least he wasn’t unaffected, I thought, feeling all out of sorts. “I, um, that was better than what I remember from Miami.”

  He grinned, leaning his forehead against mine so that we were eye to eye. “Yes it was. I’m staying in Josh’s guest apartment tonight so you know.”

  Smiling, I was glad he’d told me.

  He sucked on my lower lip one last time before heaving a regretful sigh and pulling away. Walking towards my front door, he gave me one more look over his shoulder before leaving.

  Holy shit, the world as I knew it had been turned upside down in one evening.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  While waiting at the airport for my flight home the next morning, I kept replaying the previous night over in my mind. But instead of feeling panicked, I was disappointed that I’d been left with no more than a scorching kiss.

  Taking out my phone, I quickly texted Brian a question I couldn’t shake.

  “You and I both know I’d be terrible at being submissive. Why me?”

  After arriving at my parents’ house and while sitting in the driveway, I read his response for the third time.

  “You’re dominant in all things. Doesn’t it get tiring? Don’t you want to let go and have someone else take over and call the shots in one aspect of your life?”

  Curious, I had to ask, “What kinds of things are we talking about? Furry cuffs and sex toys or like hardcore whips and chains? Details please.”

  I was surprised when his reply came quickly.

  “No details until you agree. But in answer to your questions, I’m not into whips and chains. Furry cuffs are a bit cheesy. And YES to the other.”

  Realizing what the other referred to, I blushed hotly. Jesus, he capitalized YES to sex toys. I was having a hard time picturing a man I’d known all these years, who I called a friend, colleague, and now boss, being into these ty
pes of things. You think you know someone. I’d always pictured he’d be sort of clumsy and goofy in bed. The type of sexual partner who’d make me laugh and be comfortable to be around but who wasn’t going to make me burn with desire. And now I was aroused beyond belief merely over text messages. His next one came in before I could respond to the last.

  “How’s the head? And how was the flight?”

  Normal conversation. Okay, I could do that. “Head is all right, although I had to take some Tylenol to get it there. Flight was good. I’m about to go into the house, but I’ll talk to you later. Safe travels to Virginia.”

  ***

  I appreciated the fact that I was able to spend the holidays with loved ones, but my home town of Beaufort, North Carolina was a reminder of the most traumatic event I’d ever experienced. I’d always felt like a piece of me was missing while growing up, but never understood why until the year I turned sixteen and discovered I was adopted. My life as I knew it changed drastically. It didn’t help that since my father had been the Chief of Police for many years, I couldn’t go one foot into town without running into someone who knew me and what had happened. Small towns. Gotta love them.

  Breathing deep, I focused on the good memories. I loved the beauty of my childhood home with its historic tall ceilings and wooden floors built over a hundred years ago.

  My younger sister and her family lived on the other side of town. This was probably a good thing at the moment because being under the same roof with four children would only emphasize my slight hangover.

  It had been a few months since my last visit. My sister had delivered baby number four. As with the prior three, I’d made sure I went to the hospital, gave a lavish gift, and picked up a meal from the local restaurant for their first night home. I may not be very good with babies, cooking, or all the other domestic stuff, but I was a kick-ass big sister in ensuring I was home for the births of my nieces and nephews.

  “Hi, Daddy.” I embraced my big bear of a dad after walking in the front door. My father might not share my blood, but I was hard pressed ever to think of him as anything other than my dad. He’d retired from a career in law enforcement two years ago. I knew that most found his six-foot-four-inch stature and big barrel chest intimidating, but to me he’d always been a big teddy bear. He was a true Southern gentleman. Although he didn’t typically have much to say, people listened when he did speak. His hair got a little grayer and thinner each time I came home, but to me he was perfect.

  “Hi, sweetheart. How was your flight?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was fi—, I mean, good, thanks.” I smiled. Brian had turned me off of the word fine. “Hi, Momma.”

  My mother came into the foyer and hugged me too. She wore an apron over her sweater and pants, showing the evidence that she’d been hard at work in the kitchen. My mom might be sixty, but she could easily pass for ten years younger, with hardly a gray hair on her head or a wrinkle on her face. She might have gained a little weight in the last couple of years, but in true Norwegian heritage style, she wore the curves impeccably.

  “Sweetie, look at you, you’re wasting away.” Leave it to my mom to always think I’d lost weight as an excuse to push butter-laden food on me for the next few days. I knew she loved me like I’d been her own from birth and that keeping me fed was her way of letting me know how much she missed taking care of me.

  After making my way up the stairs to my childhood room, I put down my bags and took a moment to fight the disquiet over being in this space. Then I thought of Haylee who had lost her father a few years ago and her mother last year, and I felt appreciation for having a family to come home to over the holidays.

  I went downstairs and hugged my mom again.

  “Now, then, what’s this?” she asked, turning and touching my chin. I was thirty-two years old, but she had a way of making me feel fourteen again.

  “I love you, Mom,” I responded thickly.

  “I love you, too. Everything all right? Any new men in your life?”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at the question. In my town, most people were interested in my love life or lack thereof. At church tonight I would have that question asked at least a half-dozen more times. “Everything is good, and nothing to talk about in the other department.”

  I nipped a piece of bacon that would go into some sort of side dish tomorrow and got ready to help with the preparations. Cooking wasn’t my forte, but it wasn’t that hard to chop or mix something, and I was certainly capable of washing dishes. Being in the kitchen, especially during the holidays, was a requirement for any Southern woman.

  “Well, I know I don’t say this enough, but you know I’m real proud of you, don’t you, Sasha Jayne?” She had turned and was studying me, her eyes reflecting her words.

  The tears pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”

  My parents hadn’t judged, but I’d known it had hurt them that I’d been hell-bent to leave this town at eighteen and had never looked back except for the occasional visit. They’d lovingly raised me. But even they hadn’t been prepared for the true circumstances of my adoption and birth to come out the way it had. My therapist called that revelation the traumatic trigger that had started my anxiety attacks. I called it the worst day of my life.

  “Here, you can chop apples for the pie. Tell me about work. What’s new there?”

  I knew she didn’t care much about the world of advertising, but I did share a couple of pieces. Then I switched to Haylee’s upcoming wedding details as I knew this was a subject my mom enjoyed.

  “You’re leaving for the wedding from here?”

  “Yes. I’m driving over to Charlotte the morning of the twenty-ninth and taking the plane down with some others.” A buzz of anticipation hit me about seeing Brian again. He’d be taking the same plane.

  “I’m thankful you’ll be home for a few days at least. The kids will be happy to see you, too.”

  I gave my mom a smile, trying not to feel guilty over the fact that it would be the longest few days of my life. There was nothing she could do about the fact that I had anxiety while being home. It was a part of my past I’d learned to reconcile. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I miss you and Dad.”

  “We miss you, too, but you know we’re not here to make you feel bad about coming home. You’ve got your own life and we understand that.”

  I appreciated the fact that my parents had never put that kind of pressure on me.

  “Now, then, after you finish chopping apples, why don’t you go with your father into town? He’s gonna pick up some pizza for tonight and lunch on the way home. I’ll finish up in here. I only have the one more pie, and then I think we’re set. We’ll see your sister and family tonight at church, then they’ll be over tomorrow afternoon, giving them time to be in their PJ’s in the morning for Santa.”

  I finished up my task and made my break for it to accompany my father for the pizza pickup duty. It would give me a chance to go by the store and get some good bottles of wine. I loved my family, but alcohol wouldn’t be their top priority for tomorrow’s menu. I’d need a few glasses to get through the day with my sister.

  ***

  After lunch with my folks, I drove to a commercial business park on the outskirts of town and took a deep breath upon parking in front of the familiar office. Not even my family knew that I continued to see Dr. Marcia Evans when I was home.

  Even though it had been months since my last visit, my therapist smiled warmly like we’d seen one another only days ago. The older woman had always reminded me of Blanche from the Golden Girls. She was sassy, Southern, and didn’t mince words. I’d been seeing her since I was sixteen years old, so to say she knew me almost my whole life wasn’t an exaggeration.

  Her office hadn’t changed much. Maybe some new furniture over the years, but the familiarity of things like her framed pictures on the walls and flower-printed curtains set me at ease. Being a clinical psychologist specializing in anxiety, you could
n’t go about remodeling your office without throwing your patients into complete chaos, I imagined. The thought made me smile.

  “Sasha, you look lovelier every time I see you. When did you get in?” she greeted.

  “This morning. Thanks for agreeing to see me on Christmas Eve, Dr. Evans.”

  She looked at me thoughtfully. “You know I always have time for you. And although I’d miss seeing you, you do know that I wouldn’t be offended if you were to find someone to talk to in New York.”

  It wouldn’t be a session with Dr. Evans without her suggesting in a subtle way that she’d like me to see someone more often then maybe twice a year. “I know and appreciate it.” I acknowledged her suggestion as I did every time.

  “How was your anxiety level this time coming home for the holidays?”

  Huh. It dawned on me that I’d been so preoccupied with Brian and what had transpired last night that I hadn’t experienced the apprehension I normally did when traveling home. “I, uh, it was better this time.”

  Dr. Evans had the super power of knowing when I was holding something back and immediately arched a brow. She sat back with her interest obviously piqued. “What was different this year?”

  I was hesitant to make Brian part of this session. She’d heard about him a little over the years as someone who I’d confided in about my social discomfort, but that was about it. “I went out of my comfort zone last night by accompanying a friend to a speed dating night. I can’t say that I’d ever do it again or particularly enjoyed it, but it definitely tested my boundaries.”

  “That’s good. But given that getting off the plane to drive home has always been a trigger point for your anxiety, I’d like to know what was on your mind instead of the usual in those moments.”

  There wasn’t a non-awkward way of saying ‘sex toys’ to anyone. I felt my face heating just thinking about it.

  She put down her pen and regarded me thoughtfully. “I’m not here to judge or criticize your choices. However, if something in your life is impacting your anxiety levels, either positively or negatively, then it’s important that you tell me.”