It was too bad they didn’t match up better. Bringing him to a high school reunion would be a hell of a lot of fun.
She gave her head a shake. Wake up and smell the after-sex, Kate.
Banner didn’t want her. He’d tried to pawn her off last night, and then he’d fucked her senseless as soon as his friends had stepped out of the door. He wanted to use her, but not keep her. She was sex material, not girlfriend material. When was she going to get it through her head and finally let him go? She was hurting only herself now. And here she thought she wasn’t a masochist.
Tears pricked her eyes. How had she gotten in this downward cycle of self-abuse? Disgusted with herself, she suddenly couldn’t stand being in bed with him. She was such a sucker. Weak and desperate. And to let all those guys see her almost naked—to sit on their laps and probably add her to their spank bank— Fuck! Stupid, slutty girl.
“Mortified” was too weak of a word to describe it. Tears streaming from her eyes, she stood up and looked for her clothes. She slipped them on as she found them strewn about the room. Banner slept through it. At least she didn’t have an audience for her walk of shame.
Silently, she made her way up the stairs in search of her purse. By the time she got to her car she was in a full-on ugly cry. She swiped at her eyes, clearing the blur so she could drive. Then she peeled out of the driveway. She checked her rearview mirror, half expecting to see Banner waving her down at the end of the drive, but it was empty. Maybe he’d heard her leave and hadn’t cared. She didn’t know if she was relieved or not.
Somehow, she managed to stop crying, shower, and scarf down something to eat before work. Her body felt slow and limp, every movement as if she were fighting through quicksand. She must just be tired. Her emotions during the last twenty-four hours were out of control. Last night, she’d felt high, as if she could do anything, be anything. She’d felt sexy and desired and invincible. Now, her eyes were faucets, leaking tears when she least expected it. How was she going to get through work like this?
Was this all because of Banner? Was it the dinner with his friends? She wasn’t PMSing, so why did she feel so broken?
On her way to work, she managed to pull herself together. Her job depended on her being professional, not a sobbing mess. She was strong, objective, never showing inappropriate emotion. That was her role. When other counselors had bad days and cried in the bathroom, took personal leave, or went home sick, Kate was always there to cover for them. She’d called out sick once in the last year, and it had been because she’d nearly been hospitalized from food poisoning.
She thought she had herself together, but when a text came through while she was pulling into the parking lot, her facade fell away. It was Banner.
Why did you leave without saying anything, pretty girl? Are you okay?
Pain speared her, but she choked back the tears. She didn’t have time to respond or have another pity party. She was already late. As she entered the lobby, Bethany was there, greeting her with a smile. It faded as Kate approached her.
“What’s wrong? Did someone die?” Bethany asked.
“What?” Kate tried for a smile, but it felt shaky. “Of course not. I’m fine.”
Her friend gave her a skeptical look.
“What?” She ran her hands down her skirt and straightened her blouse. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Was it that obvious? She felt like she was cracking, one sliver at a time.
Bethany winced. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Shit,” she hissed. After a quick glance around them, she motioned to the bathroom. Bethany followed her in.
“What happened?”
Kate checked the mirror. She’d put on globs of foundation earlier but it hadn’t covered the puffiness around her eyes. “Just some . . . relationship complications. I don’t know. I must be PMSing early.”
Bethany turned her by the shoulders and straightened a few pieces of stray hair. “Well, pull yourself together. It looks like someone broke your heart last night.”
Someone had.
“Either that or take a sick day. You hardly ever do.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I just . . .” She breathed in deeply through her nose, then slowly released the breath. “I just need to relax. I’m fine now.” Her smile was just about passable. “See? I’m fine.”
Inside, she felt as shaky as a toddler’s block tower. One small gust of wind and she’d collapse. But today was a paperwork day. She could handle that. As long as there wasn’t a big crisis, she would be fine.
They stepped out of the bathroom, and she felt hopeful for the first time that day. Commotion to the right caught her attention. She looked to see what was going on. There in the lobby was a big, fat gust of wind, and down her tower went.
Sean was there, verbally assaulting the staff, looking as though he was coming down from a high.
She froze. Her eyes watered, but she held back the tears. She knew it was illogical, but it felt like a betrayal. Of all the things that could go wrong that day, why did this have to be one of them?
Bethany gave her a little push. “Come on. You need to go home.”
Kate let her friend tow her to her car.
“Cry your heart out. Binge eat some ice cream. Take some antidepressants . . . Whatever you need to do. Come back when you feel better.” She held out Kate’s purse, then opened the car door.
Nodding, Kate sat in the driver’s seat and looked up at Bethany. “Thank you.” Her voice trembled, and she felt like melting into a puddle of humiliation.
Bethany gave her a tight smile. “I’ve been there. No worries. Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”
The drive home was filled with numbing silence. She wasn’t sure where to go from there. She’d never felt so empty and alone. Despite having family who loved her, and even friends who would understand this, she still felt so desperately lonely.
Maybe it was because she didn’t understand what was going on. If a client had been verbalizing the things she was feeling—hopeless, confused, illogically sad—she’d have thought depression straight away. But she wasn’t depressed, was she? Would it hit so fast and so hard?
Back in the comfort of her apartment, she changed into a T-shirt and burrowed under her covers. Maybe she’d sleep off whatever this was and be back to normal later.
Pixie jumped up onto the bed and snuggled in next to Kate. How did dogs always know just how to help? Her eyes burned, even though she didn’t think she had any tears left. Still, her pillow was wet and uncomfortable within a few minutes.
She was getting damn tired of not getting what she wanted when it came to relationships. Was it so hard to find someone who could love her the way she was, instead of wanting her to be something else? A thought struck her and slid deep into her heart, making tears come faster. Maybe what she feared for the last year was true. Maybe she really was unlovable.
A knock sounded at the door, startling Pixie awake. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but it was probably Janine, checking up on her. Janine knew some of what was supposed to have happened last night, and since Kate hadn’t been answering her phone, she’d probably gotten worried.
Kate managed to lift her head from her pillow enough to shout, “Come in.” Had she locked it? She couldn’t remember now. Janine had a key anyway, and if it wasn’t her, maybe the person would go away.
The door creaked open, then banged shut. Heavy footsteps approached. It didn’t sound like Janine.
She turned toward the hallway, then sighed. It was just her luck that the last person she wanted to see would show up, completely unannounced.
Banner stood in the entrance of her bedroom, frowning down at her, holding a coffee cup in his hand.
Chapter 12
“Get out!” There was the impression of smeared makeup and wild hair before Kate yanked a blanket over her head.
Pixie supplied him with a welcoming doggie grin and rolled onto her back, practically begging for a belly rub. Too bad her mistress was less receptive.
He glanced around the room, which was done in muted colors, but still had enough sparks of personality to suggest she’d decorated for herself rather than for show. A huge print of John Everett Millais’s The Knight Errant kinked it up and was the only piece of art in the room. What was Kate’s attraction to the piece? Being rescued by the knight or being tied up and at his mercy? With the knight in armor and the woman nude, it definitely made Banner think of terrible, delicious things.
However, it wasn’t time to imagine Kate tied up and at his mercy.
The silence became awkward as he tried to decide what to do. “Why’d you leave like that?” He shuffled his feet. Should he push her for answers or back off? Dominants were expected to be these perfect, in-tune beings, but sometimes he was just as confused, hurt, and clueless as any regular human. “You were gone when I woke up, and you didn’t answer my texts. I even left two voice mails.” Desperate and dorky, of course. Not the smooth words he’d rehearsed on the way over.
He pushed aside the hollow feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. Had he screwed up her aftercare? She’d seemed more than happy when they’d fallen asleep. Why did he get it all wrong when he was with her?