by M. S. Parker
I picked up my phone and made the call. He answered on the second ring.
“What are you doing Friday evening?”
Chapter Seventeen
Dean
Eating dinner with Dalton and Juliette was going to be beyond awkward. A part of me was still annoyed at Dalton for telling me to stay away from Kyndall, and more of me was pissed on her behalf because of the things he'd said to her about her finances.
Except when she called me to ask about going, she'd said he'd apologized for all that – her side of things, not mine – and I'd gotten the impression that she wanted to forgive him.
I wanted that too. I wanted her to be happy, to have a relationship with her brother that wasn't awkward and upsetting. And I wanted my friend back. In some ways, my friendship with Cross worked better with Dalton as a part of it. His usually easy-going personality was a nice counterbalance to our more aggressive, competitive way of doing things. Our occupations alone showed our different natures. Cross and I were two type-A businessmen who were focused on work, and whose charitable contributions normally consisted of writing checks, versus the elementary teacher who tutored underprivileged kids and took the occasional trip with Habitat for Humanity.
It was that last thought hitting me as I got into the car that made me understand why Dalton's disapproval bothered me so much.
Some part of me didn't think I was worthy of Kyndall, and having admired the man Dalton was, I feared he saw that about me too. He knew she deserved better. She deserved someone more like him. Selfless enough to sacrifice for someone else's good. Compassionate toward people the rest of the world rarely acknowledged. Generous even when he didn't have much to give.
It was a strange feeling. Unfamiliar. I never claimed to be a saint, but I'd never considered myself a bad guy either. No shady deals or kicking puppies. No playboy, love 'em and leave 'em tendencies. Only a moderate amount of youthful indiscretions, and none of them too bad.
I was a good guy.
Just not good enough for her.
Maybe Dalton was right. Maybe I should stay away from her. Let her find someone better, someone worthy of her.
Except I didn't think that was possible. No matter how many men out there were better than me, more charitable, more deserving, none of them would ever really be good enough for her.
And I wasn't selfless enough to walk away and let her find someone else.
Shit.
The part of domination that I liked the most was control. No matter how much power a Sub had to stop a scene, the time they relinquished their control to me was what made me want to be in this world. Everything was so pure, so simple. Giving pleasure brought me pleasure. There were no ulterior motives, no wondering about what the other person was thinking. A Sub gave up their power and trusted me to keep them safe. I maintained control to give them that safe space.
Kyndall had taken that from me without either of us realizing it. I could be in control of a scene with her, but her power over me went far beyond what a Sub usually had. Keeping her safe no longer only meant respecting her limits and bringing her sexual pleasure. I wanted her protected and happy in every aspect of her life, and there was no possible way for me to be in control of that.
I was unable to tell what bothered me more, not being able to control that aspect of her life, or that I wanted to. The fact that I'd chosen to spend time with her not for sex, nor for a scheduled event for which I needed a date, was new enough. Everything else was nearly overwhelming.
One thing I knew for certain, however, was that each passing day made Kyndall more important to me.
The driver opened the door for me, and I took a slow breath as I got out. The heat was oppressive for the minute it took me to walk from the car to the door, and I felt a brief longing for the cooler English climate. I wondered if Kyndall ever missed Cambridge like that. She'd never mentioned it, but then again, she didn't talk about much other than her family, and not even much about them either.
I frowned as I took the elevator up to her floor. I hadn't realized it until now that Kyndall and I may have only spent a short time talking, but she'd never really said much about the last few years of her life. I'd told her about my parents, about my time at Oxford and the creation of my first online company. I hadn't said much about how much money I had, but I'd liked that she hadn't asked. I supposed my respecting her secrets about her own finances made her hesitant to ask about mine, but none of that explained why she didn't talk about MIT often. In fact, I suddenly realized, the only reason I knew she'd gone there was when she told me she lived in Cambridge for college and I'd asked which college she’d attended.
I promised myself that I'd remedy that. I wanted to know everything about her so I could understand her better, so I could better know the man I should be for her. And because I wanted to know everything there was to know about the woman I was falling for.
My parents had never been the sort to show much emotion, though I never doubted how much they loved me or each other. That meant I didn't have much of a grasp on the sorts of things one could expect in a relationship. They'd given me the sex talk, and had always made sure I knew to treat others with respect, but the concept of romantic love was something I wasn't sure I understood beyond the surface. Even the story of their own courtship had been told with minimal depth, made more with the head than the heart.
I didn't want the surface with Kyndall. I'd already told her that I wanted to try to pursue a relationship, but even now, I wasn't sure how deep that meant we would go. Or what that actually meant.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I was floundering, unable to determine which direction to go or what to do. I wasn't even entirely sure what I wanted, not beyond the immediate desire to be with Kyndall in the here and now. All of my plans for the non-profit were pushed to the background until I understood what else was going on.
When I was six or seven, my parents had taken me to a carnival outside of London. My first one. I'd been so excited that I hadn't known what ride I wanted to go on first, only that I wanted to experience all of them. Even the ones I wasn't yet old enough to ride. My parents had indulged me, letting me lead them from place to place, finding every single ride I was able to go on, talking with every carny in sight. I'd played every game and lost them all, but I hadn't cared.
On our way back to the car, I'd spotted a ride that I hadn't noticed before. It was one of those that spun around in circles, and I'd always been one of those kids who would spin themselves around in chairs until they couldn't walk straight. My parents hadn't liked the idea of me going on it, but they'd let me anyway. When I'd gotten older, I realized they hadn't thought I'd be tall enough to ride it, which was what had happened at a few of the other scarier rides. Except at this one, the height sign must've been pushed lower into the dirt because I just managed to reach the line.
I'd been thrilled, and even though my parents had predicted I'd throw up, I hadn't. What had happened, however, was that I hadn't been able to get through the exit gate on my own. I was dizzier than I'd ever been, barely able to stand up, much less walk. My father had ended up carrying me back to the car, and I'd had to close my eyes because the world had been tipping in all sorts of crazy directions. When I read Alice in Wonderland a couple years later, I remembered thinking that I could relate to what it must've felt like to fall down the rabbit hole.
Being with Kyndall made me feel like that all over again. Like I was a child, spinning out of control, loving it and fearing it at the same time, knowing that I'd never see the world the same way again. Like everything had been turned upside-down, and I didn't know which way was up...and I didn't care.
As I stopped in front of her door, I pushed those thoughts and feelings down, determined to make tonight work. While I wasn't ready to give my feelings for Kyndall a name, I would do whatever was in my power to make her happy, and tonight, that meant dinner with Dalton and Juliette.
She opened the door a few moments after I knocked, and the smi
le that spread across my face was both automatic and genuine.
“You look lovely,” I said as I ran my gaze down her body.
She gave me a skeptical look. “I'm wearing jeans and a plain shirt.”
I shrugged. “Doesn't make it any less true.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, so I was pleased with the result. I loved the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, how that small dimple showed in her cheek. I held out my hand, and she took it. In the other hand, she held a wine bag.
“Was I supposed to bring something?”
“Nope,” she said as we walked to the elevator. “I wanted to bring the wine.”
I looked down at her, understanding. “You want to see if Dalton's going to ask you how you were able to afford an expensive bottle.”
She gave me a sideways look out of the corner of her eye. “If I say yes, will you think less of me?”
“Never.” I chuckled as I kissed the top of her head. “I think it's quite brilliant actually.”
When Juliette opened the door a couple minutes later, Kyndall gave my hand a quick squeeze, as if she knew how much I was dreading this, and then moved to give her sister-in-law a hug.
“Dean.”
I looked over Juliette's shoulder to see Dalton standing there with Anthony in his arms. I gave him a polite nod and followed Kyndall into the apartment. I knew I wasn't imagining the tension, but it definitely seemed different than it was at the club. Less animosity, more...awkward. It wasn't until Juliette made a comment about the club, however, that I figured it out.
Dalton was respecting Kyndall's decision to date me, and we could get past the age difference. What he was still struggling with wasn't even the fact that he knew Kyndall and I were having sex. It was that he knew the kind of sex we were having. Dalton was a Sub and had been for years. He wasn't new to this lifestyle so he could understand in a way that other people might not have been able to, exactly what it meant that his sister was sleeping with a Dom.
When he saw me putting my arm around Kyndall, touching her, smiling at her, he knew that she wasn't simply in my bed, but that I was teaching her about the sorts of kinks that I liked. And since Cross, Dalton, and I had discussed our preferences, he knew the parts of BDSM that I would be doing with his little sister. Spanking. Bondage. All sorts of things.
A wave of sympathy went through me. I might not have had a sister, but I could still understand how much stranger it had to be for him, having a completely different sort of understanding of my relationship with his sister than anyone else would.
“Anthony's about ready to go down,” Dalton said as he shifted his son from one shoulder to the other.
“Here, let me.” Kyndall held out her hands.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “He goes to sleep easily for me.”
“All right.” Dalton transferred Anthony into Kyndall's arms.
“I'll be back in a few.” She glanced at me, and I gave her a nod to let her know that I'd be fine.
Juliette looked from Dalton to me and back again. “I'm going to check on the chicken.”
And just like that, Dalton and I were alone in the living room. I looked around, trying to figure out something to comment on, some way to make small talk until one of the women came back and filled the silence.
“I apologized to Kyndall for acting like an ass,” Dalton said.
“She told me.”
His eyes met mine, and there was a hardness in them that I'd rarely seen. “I also told her that I'd work on things with you.”
“I'd like that,” I said honestly. “Our friendship means a great deal to me.”
“But not enough to stay away from my sister,” he said baldly.
I shook my head and gave him a truthful reply. “I don't think I can stay away from her unless she tells me to.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I suppose that should make me feel better, knowing that you're not just screwing with her.”
“I'm not,” I said quickly. “I promise you that, Dalton. I'm not messing about with her. It's not like that.”
“What's it like then?” he asked.
As much as I would've preferred to keep my thoughts to myself, I knew that the only way Dalton would ever start to trust me with his sister was to be honest. “I'm not sure.”
“That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, Dean,” he said dryly.
“I know.” I ran my hand through my hair. “We're still trying to figure things out between us, but I swear, I want to see where this thing between us goes.”
As much as I was trying to be honest, I couldn't bring myself to tell Dalton just how far I thought I was falling for Kyndall. Even if I wasn't still adjusting to it all myself, I couldn't tell him before I told her.
And I was nowhere near ready for that confession.
“All right,” he said, his tone grudging. “I can't say it won't be weird for me, especially if I see you two together at the club, but I'll accept it.” His eyes narrowed as he gave me a hard look. “But if you hurt her, I'll kick your ass.”
I nodded. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it. The best thing about most guys – especially American ones – these sorts of conversations tended to be on the short side.
“One more thing,” Dalton added as he glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway. “A favor, actually.”
“What's that?”
The expression on his face changed to something almost like desperation. “Please don't bring her to the club in something too...revealing.” He paused a second before adding, “And please don't perform on stage. I couldn't handle that.”
I smiled, grateful it was something I wouldn't even have to think twice about. “No worries. I won't be letting anyone look at your sister like that.”
He scowled at me. “Except you.”
I grinned. “Except me.”
He sighed. “I suppose that will have to do.”
“What will have to do?” Kyndall asked as she came back into the living room.
“Nothing,” Dalton said quickly. “Dean and I were just having a discussion.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow.
“It's okay,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “We've worked things out.”
“You have?” She looked at Dalton.
“We have,” he said. “Now, let's go open that bottle of wine and help Juliette get dinner on the table.”
And that, apparently, was that.
Chapter Eighteen
Kyndall
When I offered to put Anthony down for the night, I knew I was taking a risk leaving Dean and Dalton together without me, but they'd both promised to put forth an effort, so I figured it was worth it to see if it was possible for us to have a civilized meal together.
Then I came back into the living room to find them behaving as if nothing had happened. There was still a bit of awkwardness there, but none of the tension I'd felt before.
Men.
The three of us went into the kitchen to help Juliette finish up, and as the guys carried things into the kitchen, I pulled Juliette aside.
“Did you say something to them?”
She shook her head. “I thought you did.”
“No.” I looked toward the sound of their voices. “I have no clue what happened.”
She gave me a searching look. “Does it really matter?”
I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head. “Not really.” I picked up a plate of steamed vegetables. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When I was here before, you and Dalton were arguing, but when I saw you at the club, you guys looked fine.” I flushed but forced myself to continue. I needed to know what happened, how they'd gotten past it. My own parents had rarely argued, at least not in front of us kids. “What happened?”
She leaned back against the counter, clearly considering my questi
on. “Eventually, he realized that he was out of line for what he said, and I acknowledged that he hadn't meant things to come out like they had. He apologized, I accepted, and we moved on.”
“So you two are okay?”
She smiled as she straightened. “We are.” She started past me, then stopped to look back. “Communication, honesty, and not holding grudges. Dalton and I may not have had the most traditional courtship, but those parts of any relationship are important, no matter what the other particulars are.”
“Thanks.” The last of the unease I'd felt melted away. I still didn't know where things were going to go with Dean, but I felt a lot better about the possibilities now.
The rest of the evening passed by without a hitch. We ate and joked and shared. It was the first time I'd truly felt like an adult when talking to my brother. We took care around subjects that could lead to anything controversial, but I knew that things would only get easier from here.
By the time Dean and I were walking toward the door, I felt like I was on cloud nine. I didn't want the night to end, and since we were only one floor up from my apartment, it'd be easy enough to make sure it didn't.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” I asked as Dean and I stepped onto the elevator.
He put his hands on my hips and pulled me against him as the doors closed. “I was hoping to.”
He leaned down and nuzzled the spot under my ear that made my stomach flutter. The doors dinged open, and I took his hand, pulling him after me. The moment we were inside my apartment, his hands were on me, sliding under the back of my shirt, then down over my ass.
I kissed his throat, the scrape of stubble against my cheek and lips turning me on more than should have been possible. I wanted to feel that sensual abrasion against my inner thighs.
