Page 87 of Regal Feather
“Same old story.”
Santos straightened. “If someone said shit…”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” I bet it would’ve happened if I’d worn something more out there, but I’d stuck to a pair of nondescript jeans and a sweater. Sure, it had flowers in it, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen me with makeup before because one of them had called when I’d been about to head out. There had been looks the first few times, but they were shut down quickly. If I knew who was responsible, I’d totally ask my parents to givethem a raise, but it wasn’t a topic that had ever come up. “It just bothers me that I’m a glorified pen pusher. Nothing new.”
“Just as I’m a glorified bodyguard?”
I pursed my lips. “Well, I’m sure you’d be able to actually bodyguard me if something went down. Unlike, you know, if I had to actually manage anything about the estates on my own.”
Santos stepped closer. “Why don’t you turn off the treadmill, babes? I can give you a workout if that’s what you want.”
Was that what I wanted? I’d wanted slow conversation in bed, and morning breath, and snuggling. I hadn’t forgotten about that movie-inspired fantasy.
A workout that didn’t involve my legs numbing down sounded good too, though.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ev
“What’s on your mind?”
“You keep scaring me,” I complained.
Sure, this time, we’d been snuggling in bed like I’d wanted the other day after waking up together, but I’d been thinking. Deep thoughts. Thoughts I should leave well along, but clearly, that wasn’t happening.
Fucking Tony.
He was supposed to be the level-headed Dom, not the one pushing ideas into my head.
Could I even blame him? I’d disregarded the idea of a Dom for the two of us five minutes after dropping my phone. I’d certainly done it after finding Santos in his room the other day, and after seeing that maybe playing with the power everyone said subs had wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But he had still planted the seed, and now I was thinking about it for different reasons. Reasons I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud. I’d already terrified Santos enough, making him feel inadequate, like he had to be one specific thing or another if he wanted to keep me.
As if we weren’t a given.
“You keep thinking too loud,” he teased. I grumbled when he snuck a hand across my stomach that was colder than it had any business being. Why he could never stay fully under the covers was a mystery that would remain forever unsolved. “What is it?”
“Ugh.” He was way too awake for whatever time it was. 08:13, according to the alarm clock I’d turned off last night. So…not that early, but it felt like I hadn’t slept at all. “It’s nothing.”
“Sounds like nothing, yeah.”
He was teasing, too, great.
“I need to pee.”
And chuckling, too.
Morning people were a fucking enigma.
“Go forth. But you’re not getting out of telling me.”
We’d see about that.
At least, I wasn’t asleep enough I lost all filters, and kept that as an inside thought.
Of course, keeping it as an inside thought didn’t keep the whole thing in forever. Santos pretended it was all good after I was out of the bathroom, and he declared he was baking muffins for breakfast. I didn’t even know he could do that, but apparently he’d spent a lot of time around the cooks on base or something. Not sure they ate a lot of muffins while at work, but maybe they just exchanged recipes to kill the time? Santos had always had a better memory than I did, so it would track.
It was after I’d insisted on cleaning up, and he’d insisted that we should go to the beach or something, and I had nodded right away, that he brought it up again. I’d just started to get used to the salty smell that got stronger by the cliffs when he nudged my arm.
“So?”
