“We will swim later,” he declared, and I blushed at the thought of doggie paddling around in front of him.
“You’re blushing again, Lemon,” he said, walking back over and wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulled me toward him until I was resting my cheek against the hardness of his chest. The gesture was somehow intimate, and I closed my eyes, letting the warm breeze kiss my cheeks. I could feel the beat of Callum’s heart through his shirt, hard and steady, a stark contrast to my own heartbeat, which beat a staccato rhythm from his closeness.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize.”
“Right.” I shook my head. “I just… it’s a bit overwhelming.”
He pulled back and looked into my eyes, tilting his head and looking at me with a look I could only describe as fiercely protective. He pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. “Don’t be overwhelmed, Adriana,” he said. “Tonight is about pleasure, your pleasure above everything else. Nothing will happen that you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with and excited by. Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
But I wasn’t sure how that was possible, since I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure I was completely comfortable even being here in the first place.
“There is a car waiting take you back to the airport whenever you choose,” Callum said. “The number is on the counter in the kitchen. There is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about if you decide you don’t want to stay.”
I bit my lip. The thought of staying here with Callum for the night, of the things I was sure were to happen, made my stomach flutter and sent a shiver of nervousness skittering up my spine. But the thought of leaving, of not spending this night with him, filled me with a sadness and longing the likes of which I’d never felt before.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “No, I want to stay.”
He smiled then leaned down and kissed me again, his hands cupping my face, his kiss gentle and reassuring.
When he pulled back, he glanced at his watch. “I have to go to a meeting,” he said. “You’ll be okay here?”
It was a question, but it was worded half as a statement.
I nodded.
“There’s food in the fridge, and of course you can use the pool,” he said. “The master bedroom is upstairs, at the end of the hall. You can use the bathroom adjacent to it. I should be back around six.”
“Okay,” I said, my throat going dry. I wanted to ask him what we would do when he got back, if he was going to take me anywhere, what we’d be doing. But I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well. And I was also afraid that if I knew the answer to some of the questions swirling around in my head, I would end up leaving while Callum was at his meeting.
“Text me if you need anything.” He crossed the room back into the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, the cut of his shoulders, the tightness of his ass. He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, which he carefully folded in half. He returned to the patio and handed it to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The rules.”
“What?”
“The rules for tonight.” He stared into my eyes. “Don’t get too hung up on them,” he said. “They seem scarier on paper. In practice, they’re quite understandable.”
He kissed me one more time, his lips salty sweet.
And then he was gone.
***
As soon as the front door shut behind him, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Holy crap.
I collapsed onto one of the cushioned chaises that dotted the lanai. The sun was high in the sky, and it was too hot out to be wearing the jeans I had on. I thought about changing into something cooler, but the curiosity of what was on the paper Callum had handed me was too much.
I curled my feet up under me and unfolded the single sheet.
It was typed in Times New Roman, each paragraph block spaced, with single spaces between the lines.
It looked very, very official.
Rules and Expectations for _______, henceforth to be referred to as The Submissive, dated this ____ day of ____, in the year ___.
My name and the date had been filled in, typed neatly, and the sight of it, there, in black and white, was panic-inducing. The Submissive! That was how I was to be referred to? How many of these contracts had Callum written up? How many women had he brought here? Do the math, Adriana. If he really is only with each woman for one night…
The thought sent a sick wave of jealousy rolling through me. I imagined another woman here, sitting on this chaise, reading this same contract, her name appearing in place of mine. She’d be thinner than me, prettier, better prepared for something like this. I was in way over my head.