And this is the only reason I’m doing this at the club and not at home. I have more confidence at the club. I feel more comfortable there, and tonight, I need all the comfort and confidence I can get. I’m not worried about hurting him. I trust him to communicate with me enough before that happens.
I am worried about losing him. This could very well be too much for him. This could be the wake-up call, the moment he realizes we’ve passed his kink-tolerance threshold, and pegging is just a little too far out of the realm of vanilla, where he’s spent all of his life.
Watching him from across the yard, I think back to the man I knew before the quiz and the app threw him into my life. I try to mentally put myself in those memories, when I thought he was nothing but a brat—and not the kinky kind. I vividly remember the day Emerson came crying to me because his son stopped taking his calls after he found out his dad owned a kink club. I recall how much I…despised Beau for that. But I didn’t even know him.
Beau said it himself—we judge what we don’t understand. And I didn’t understand Beau. Hell, he didn’t even understand himself, which would explain why he came to me so broken and self-deprecating. He hated himself because he didn’t understand his submissive side.
Look at how far he’s come. How is this even the same person? I wasn’t even aware a person’s mind could open as much as Beau’s has. Even now as he slings an arm around Charlie’s little sister, a smile as wide as the sun on his face—and twice as bright—I shove away the misguided memories of the man I thought I knew. And I let that tender feeling, which I know now was the slowly building roots of what would become love, fill every crevice of my body, swimming through my veins as tears fill my eyes.
I love him so much, and I hate that I can’t tell a soul.
But none of that matters because, soon, he’ll be with me in Phoenix, and no one here will matter anymore. We can stay there, not just for six months. If he’s really happy with me there, then we have a chance to make a real life. The forever kind.
“They shouldn’t be bothering you guys anymore,” Fitz says, and something about it draws my attention back to the company I’m standing with.
“What?” I ask.
Garrett smiles. “Fitz took care of those protestor assholes. Found enough dirt on them to scare them away for now.”
“Dirt on them?”
“Yeah. Even the tiniest smudge on their record can be used against them when they think they have the legal upper hand,” Fitz elaborates.
“That won’t backfire, will it?” I ask.
He shakes his head with smug confidence. “Like I said, you should be good for a while.”
“Thank God,” Mia replies, hugging closer to Garrett’s side.
I see the concern etched on Garrett’s face. Having his loved one passing them every day, knowing they could hurt her, fueled only by the ignorant hatred in their hearts, is terrifying. No one should have to feel that way. If it was Beau…I know how I’d feel.
“Thank you for that, Fitz. Really…”
“I’m happy to help,” he replies with a warm, lopsided grin. Such a handsome man. Makes me wonder how often he loosens that tie of his.
Then, of course, I have Ronan next to me, who loosens his tie every chance he gets. Even at fifty-six, he shows no signs of slowing down. I have no doubt that man will be at the club, still drawing a crowd of ladies until the day he dies. And it has nothing to do with the money. The confidence and swagger he exudes, with every subtle movement, is the world’s most potent aphrodisiac.
Suddenly, the sound of metal gently clinking against glass draws our attention to the newly married couple standing by the quartet of musicians stationed near the patio. White string lights illuminate the party overhead, giving the large yard a romantic ambiance.