My toes curled.

My mind rebelled.

“You have a woman.”

“I’m seeing someone, and like I said, it isn’t exclusive. She sees other guys. She probably fucks other guys. That’s not my business because, again, we are not exclusive. And what I do isn’t her business either.”

Seriously?

He was just not getting that I could take no more.

“So…what? You want me to be the other woman?” I asked.

His head jerked.

“Thanks, Boone. That clears things up about how you feel about me. It’s all better now.”

He was back to speaking softly when he said, “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re not getting it either,” I shared.

“I’m not getting what?”

“I don’t wanna be that to you.”

At that, for some reason, his beautifully formed lips twitched (don’t think I hadn’t noticed his lips, frequently), he dipped his head again, not as close as before, but close, and he said, “Ryn, sweetheart, we both know that’s a lie.”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to be the other woman. I don’t wanna be your spare piece of ass. I don’t want to vie with some other chick for your attention, with some vague hope I’ll win out in the end. I don’t want to wonder the last time your mouth was on hers when it’s on mine. Or when your dick was in her, when you’re inside me.”

“Ryn—”

“I want someone to be mine,” I stressed. “I really do. But before that, I want them to actually give a shit enough to work at winning me. Not making a passing attempt and then expect me to come to heel. I think you know I’m a sub, Boone. What I’m not is a doormat.”

He had nothing to say to that, he just stared down at me.

“And while we’re sharing,” I kept going, even though he wasn’t exactly sharing, at least not as deeply as I was about to, but to end this and maybe get some peace, I was going to. “I had two guys in my life for decent chunks of time, and they both ended up treating me like shit because I opened myself up to them and confided about my appetites. And they thought it was lame, or sick, or whatever they thought. What they made clear they thought is it gave them license to treat me like dirt. And I got hooked up with a shit Dom who ignored my safe word and took things too far and—”

“Stop,” he clipped.

“I’d like this, whatever it is, to be over, Boone. So let me say what I gotta say.”

“You had a Dom ignore your safe word?”

Okay.

Well, hell.

I was on such a roll, I forgot to pay attention to him.

With the feeling beating off him, and into me, I made note never to do that again.

“As you can see, I’m all right,” I assured.

“Name,” he grunted.

“What?”

I jumped when he suddenly thundered, “What’s his goddamn name, Ryn!”

For the first time ever, I touched him.

Curling my fingers around the side of his neck, I said quietly, “Calm down, Boone. I’m fine.”

“Give me his name, Kathryn, because if you don’t, I’ll find him anyway and be in an even worse mood.”

“Laszlo,” I muttered.

“Last name.”

“Boone—”

“Last name, Kathryn,” he clipped.

“Kovack.”

“Right,” he ground out.

Curiosity won over my need to end this torture, so I asked, “What are you gonna do to him?”

“He clearly didn’t have the proper training for the scene. So I’m gonna make sure he gets it.”

He wasn’t wrong about that first.

However.

“That’s not much detail.”

“That’s my way of saying you don’t wanna know, and you’re not gonna know, Ryn.”

I heard his tone, saw his face, and thus mumbled, “Gotcha.”

Honestly, I didn’t feel too badly about Laszlo catching Boone’s bad mood. Trust was paramount between Dom and sub. He didn’t break a rule ignoring my safe word. He broke the rule.

And he was probably still doing it to other unsuspecting girls like me.

Though I reckoned he wouldn’t after Boone got done with him.

“Can we be finished now?” I requested.

“No. Do you dance tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Do you dance tomorrow night?”

“No.”

“We’re going out to dinner tomorrow night.”

At this declaration, Brett’s words came to me, I’d start with saying yes when he asks you to go out with him.

But, I just…

Couldn’t.

“I can’t,” I told him.

“You got plans?”

“No, but—”

“Then we’re going out to dinner.”

“We’re not, Boone.”

“This dance is over, Kathryn.” He took his hand from my hair to curve his fingers around mine at his neck in order to make his point. “Are you not seein’ that?”

I tried to pull my hand free.

Boone didn’t let me.

“Let me go, Boone.”

“Ryn, baby—”

“I can’t do this,” I said.

“We’ll talk at dinner.”

“No, we won’t because we’re not having dinner.”

“Kathryn—”

“I can’t do this.”

He snapped his mouth shut so fast, I thought I heard his teeth clack.

I knew why.

I heard my tone.

It was like it was when I got Brett’s attention.

Small.

Defeated.

But worse.

A lot worse.

Because this wasn’t Brett I really needed to listen to me.

It was Boone.

“I liked those guys,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have given them chunks of my life if I didn’t. And in the end, they treated me like trash.”

His fingers still around mine squeezed.

“My own father stood me up for the Kiwanis club father-daughter dance.”

His face softened.

Man.

Seriously.

That face?

I was totally at my end.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Or whatever club it was, I don’t even know because I didn’t really know my father because he wasn’t around often enough to get to know and that was his choice.”

“Ryn.”

“Bad Dom thought he could do whatever he wanted to me.”

“Ryn.”

“My brother’s an alcoholic. I lost him years ago. He let his wife go, his kids. He let me go, Boone. He didn’t just slip away. He let us go.”

“Christ, baby,” he whispered.

“I can’t with you,” I whispered back. “I just can’t with you. Because you’re beautiful.”

He stilled.

“You’re so beautiful, sometimes I look at you and I can’t believe my eyes.”

Closing his own eyes, he turned his head to the side, lifting my hand and pressing it to his mouth so I could feel his lips against my palm.

Really he did not get that I could take no more.