He got him. She knew him. She understood who he was and what made him tick. It was heady being that connected to someone. “It’s easy to be passionate with you, Julia.”
“And thank you for letting me do that just now in the shower,” she said, trailing her fingers across his shoulder.
“For washing me?” He arched an eyebrow in question.
She nodded. “And for letting me tie your hands.”
“As I’ve said before, I’ve got no issues. No hangups. I’m pretty much game for anything and good to go.”
“I like that.”
“What about you? Anything you don’t want me to do?” He asked as she turned the shower off and handed him a towel, taking another one for herself.
She didn’t answer immediately; instead she folded her towel in half, then in quarters, the long way. He watched her curiously. She raised the towel to her eyes. A knowing grin broke across his face for having gotten her charade.
“Got it. No blindfolding.”
She returned to drying off. “I just like to be able to see, that’s all. Blindfolding is the only thing that I’m not wild about. And it’s not because I have some terrible past with trauma about blindfolding. But the thought of it makes me feel a bit too vulnerable, and for a woman with trust issues, well, I’m not sure it’s the best kind of kink for me.”
She hung up her towel on a hook and he did the same.
“There are many other forms of kink that I’m more than happy to try with you, Julia,” he said, then reached for her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Once they slipped under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, then brushed her hair away from her ear. “I guess I’ll just have to imagine then how you’d look with my tie over your eyes, wearing nothing but stockings, sitting in a chair and touching yourself while I watch.”
She craned her neck to give him a curious stare. “Is that your fantasy?”
He nodded. “It is one of many.”
“Maybe someday, handsome. Maybe someday.”
“I have another fantasy,” he murmured softly in her ear, tugging her closer as they spooned.
“What’s that?” she asked curiously.
“Falling asleep with you in my arms.”
“I think that’s about to become your reality.”
“Lucky me.”
Chapter Twenty
The pancakes were as delicious as promised.
With breakfast finished, they walked past a block full of graffiti art and consignment shops in the Mission district. An up-and-coming neighborhood full of hipsters and Internet startup folks, the shops here bore the evidence of the clientele, but there was an element to these few blocks that bothered him. He didn’t like the idea of her living in a neighborhood still plagued with crime and trouble, even if the numbers were improving. She was an independent woman though and it wasn’t his place to criticize where she lived.
“You like living here?” he asked, keeping the question casual.
“Sure,” she said with a laid back shrug as they sidestepped a sleeping homeless man. “There’s a kickass bakery a few blocks over, some fabulous coffee shops, and lots of boutiques that my sister loves, so I get to see her more often.”
“Maybe we should all do something next time I’m in town,” he suggested and couldn’t deny the touch of nerves in his chest. Last time he’d asked for something more, she’d gone running. But maybe dinner with her sister was something she could handle.
“I would love that,” she said, and his nerves departed with her simple answer. “And you’re going to love Chris. He’s the best.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him in person,” he said, checking the time on his watch, “In about twenty minutes.”
“Let’s get your bag so you’re not late,” she said as they turned onto her block, passing a vintage clothing shop a few doors down. His driver waited in a town car by her building. Clay gave him a quick wave, then headed to her third floor apartment. Her cell phone was still on the kitchen counter. She’d left it there all morning, and he’d been grateful to have her undivided attention, a luxury he’d rarely had with Sabrina. He grabbed his suitcase and tapped her metal table. “Good table. That’s a keeper.”
“I was planning on framing that table because I love what we did on it so much,” she said, then led him back down the stairs and out of her building.
She stopped in her tracks and cursed under her breath. “Fuck,” she muttered, and ran a hand through her hair.
“What is it?” he asked, and his shoulders tightened with worry. He zeroed in on her eyes, then followed her line of sight to a large man built like a slab of meat pacing a few feet away. The man had dark black hair, with a white streak down the side. He was scanning the street, and very quickly set his eyes on Julia.