And if he’d meant what he’d said earlier—that he loved her and wanted to keep her for himself as more than just as a kinky sex partner—she could accept the “slave” label and make things work.
What was a label, anyway, but a futile attempt to classify something so people could understand it? Some things weren’t meant to be labeled and classified. Some things were so deep and personal that they couldn’t even be explained in words, never mind words other people outside the relationship could understand. D/s was like that.
Whether Banner wanted to call what they had Master/slave or Dom/sub or whatever, it didn’t matter. It was special, and it was theirs.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she kissed his shoulder, hoping he felt the love in his dreams. The next day would be an interesting one. She had to find a way to express all of this. Were there even enough words? Maybe the timing was wrong. After what had happened with Rook, the last thing Banner needed was more crap to think about.
It would kill her, but she’d hold it in for now. She’d gone this long without acknowledging it. Another few days wouldn’t matter.
***
Waking up was like fighting through quicksand. Her eyelids felt like they were glued shut. Why was she so tired? The events of last night rushed through her mind, jolting her awake.
Crap.
Last night had been a shit storm. And now she had to help her . . . Master? Finally, she peeled her eyes open and took stock of her surroundings. Banner’s ceiling. Warmth cocooning her bare body. And there he was, staring down at her.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said. “Rook is doing really well. Meadow just took over for my mother, and I need to be there at two.”
“Thank goodness.” He looked so relieved that it made her smile. She crinkled her nose. “How long have you been awake . . . and staring at me?”
He chuckled. “Not long. And you’re cute when you’re sleeping. Not my fault.”
Her heart fluttered as she stared up at his face—his beautiful face and bright eyes and gorgeous, kissable lips. How had she not fallen in love with that face sooner? Maybe she had only been fooling herself. But now she felt it so deep inside her, so deep in her bones, that she felt like swinging from the rafters and screaming it. It was impossible to ignore.
Instead, she sighed.
Not the time. Let him heal.
“I was expecting you to be long gone by now,” he said, resting his head on his arm.
“Hmm?”
“It seems to be your go-to move. When things get intense, you run.”
Guilt swept through her. How terrible it must have been for him. She’d had trouble thinking past her own panic before. Now she just wanted to stay there forever, in his bed, in his arms.
Her gaze dropped from his face. She feared she’d see pain in his eyes and blurt something stupid. “I’m sorry about that.”
It was silent a moment, and she pretended there was something interesting on her fingernail.
“Why did you stay?” he whispered, as if he were afraid of the answer.
Moving to sit up against the headboard, she tiptoed around the truth. “I was worried about you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I care about you, obviously.”
“Care?”
She jerked her gaze up to look into his eyes. Was he pushing her on purpose? When she thought she’d find teasing, there was worry there instead. His jaw clenched tight as he studied her. Anxiety and pain were written on his face, as well as maybe a bit of hope. Did he want her to say it?
Swallowing hard, she dove in. “Yes. I care about you immensely.” Tears welled, but she blinked them back, staring at her hands.
Silence stretched.
She dared a glance at him. He frowned, then nodded slowly. It felt as if her heart were being sliced in two. She couldn’t bear to see him this way. Was he hoping she’d say more and she’d just let him down?
Fuck. Why wasn’t there an instruction book on this?
She sighed, frustrated. “Fine.”
He cocked his head. “Fine, what?”
“The timing is wrong, and I’m probably doing this wrong, but if you’re gonna force me, then . . . fine!” She glared. “I love you, Banner. And I’m sorry about what happened last night. I wish I could take that pain for you so you didn’t have to feel it. And I’m sorry for the last month with Ambrose. But I wouldn’t take that away, even if I could, because it made me realize how perfect you are for me. And I’m sorry the timing sucks for me to say I love you, but it’s true. Feel free to kick me out the door, but you brought me to this and . . .”
“Shhh.” He put a finger over her lips.
She froze, her eyes brimming with tears. He was going to reject her. Any second, he was going to tell her to leave. Her throat closed up, and she struggled to breathe.
“The timing doesn’t suck. The timing could never suck to tell someone you love them.”
Her tears spilled over, and Banner wiped them from her cheeks. Her lip trembled, but she tried to make her voice steady. “You . . . you love me, too, right?”
If he said no, she’d just die. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited for his answer. Maybe she’d misread him yesterday. Maybe she’d just made a complete fool of herself. Maybe—
“I adore you.” He smiled.
“Adore me? Like . . . like a sister or—”
“Absolutely not.” He pulled her tighter. “I hate to have to tell you this, but I have an awkward and intense affection for you.”
She giggled, then felt like a dork for giggling. “What does that even mean?”
“I’m in love with you, Kate.”
Her body froze, too afraid to move for fear she’d wake up and find this was all a dream. When he just stared at her, she finally croaked, “Why?”
He barked out a laugh. “Why? What kind of question is that? You can’t just go around asking people why they love you.”
“Sure I can. I just did.”
His adoring gaze when he rolled her onto her back surprised her. Sexy, demanding, dominating, silly, and now loving—this man kept her guessing, but she was enjoying learning the different facets of his personality.
He kissed her gently, trailing tickling fingers over her ribs and down to her waist. Kate shuddered, feeling an answering warmth gather between her legs.
“Mr. Jennings, are you trying to seduce me so you don’t have to answer my question?”
It was far too easy for him to pull her arms over her head, and then hold her wrists in one hand. He kissed her again, and she pressed against him, trying not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl.
“No, I was merely distracted by your beauty.”
She grinned, feeling giddy. When she looked at Banner, his expression was the same. She had never thought a Dom could be hot and lovesick at the same time.
He grimaced, then smiled. “I know you don’t want to do the twenty-four-seven slave thing, but we’ll find a way to be together. I can compromise. I don’t need perfection. The important thing is that I have you. We can work out the rest as we go.”
“I’ll be your slave,” she blurted.
He drew back. “What?”
“I decided it doesn’t really matter what you call us. Words . . .” She shook her head. “They only mean what you make them mean.”
“No, you don’t want that. I won’t force you into something you don’t want.”
“I do want it. I mean . . . I want what we’ve been doing. If that’s what you would call a Master/slave dynamic, then I guess . . . I guess that means I’m already your slave. I have been for months.” As a second thought, she met his eyes and added, “Your slave. Not just anyone’s. Only yours.”
A confused grin flashed for a second before it disappeared. “Are you sure? This isn’t something you pretend to be into to make someone happy.”
With a sigh, she switched to a kneeling position. “I’m absolutely sure. Don’t you want me, Master? I missed you so much this last month. I missed our conversations, your humor. I missed you calling me Trouble. I even missed your discipline.” No. It was more than that. “I craved your discipline. Most of all, I missed your collar. I missed feeling like I belonged to you.”
The damn tears started again. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed something that at first had seemed so degrading. Just one strip of leather. So simple and seemingly insignificant. But the last month had felt empty without it. And Ambrose’s . . . It just wasn’t the same.
It couldn’t have been the same, because she’d been Banner’s all along.
She watched the emotions flitting across his face. The feelings she had for him made her want to jump up and fling herself into his arms. Her body and heart had known him as her Master for ages, even when her mind had been too proud to admit it. It had been too scary to acknowledge that they had wanted the same things. She’d spent so long convinced they were on different pages, that seeing where their needs and desires intersected had been almost impossible. But as much as she’d hoped to make things work with Ambrose, it had proven again and again that her submission already belonged to his best friend.
Banner stared at her for long enough to give her a mini-panic-attack. Had she not proven it enough? Did he not believe her?