Page 66 of Kane

And when Kane kisses me back, slowly, but surely; I know the truth.

He wants this, too.

He pulls away slowly, as the car comes to a stop, and I realize we’ve arrived at our destination. Kane slowly slides over and gets out, opening the car door for me. I’m half tempted to pull him back in here, tell the driver to go to my place, and devour this man for dinner, dessert, and a midnight snack.

But I also know I need to behave. If I want Kane, if I truly want him, I need to play by his rules. Show him how good I can be for him. Show him that his word and my promise is more important than anything else. I need to show him that he can trust me, the same way I trust him.

So I get out of the car. I let him open the door for me, let him buy my dinner, even though it takes everything in me to not offer to pay half, because this place is super pricey, and though I don’t have a ton of money, I have some. Enough that I could pay my half, but Kane refuses to let me.

Dinner is amazing, of course. The place looks like something straight out of a history book, with marble walls and fountains, and there’s a heavy smell of lemon and olive oil and sundried tomatoes that is strangely romantic.

But it’s not the food that has me and my stomach in knots.

It’s just him.

We don’t talk about anything deep or crazy. We talk about coffee and movies, and how he’s never seen like, a good portion of movies I’m pretty sure everyone else has seen. I tell him I hate peanut butter because the texture is gross and he tells me that’s unforgivable. But he still orders a peanut butter chocolate cake for dessert and doesn’t touch any of it.

The whole ride back to my place, I am on pins and needles. I know he’s going to walk me up, if anything because he’s been on with the manners all night like Prince Charming, so I know he’s going to offer and I’m not going to say no. I want him to walk me up.

I want him to kiss me on my doorstep and I want to ask him to come in.

Not because I want to attack this man with every fiber of my being, although, there is that.

But I simply don’t want him to go. I don’t want this perfect night to end.

When the car pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment complex, that knot in my stomach twists tighter.

“I’ll walk you up,” Kane says, the words solid and firm. It’s not a question. It’s a fact.

Kane flickers between firm and gentle like a master of the art. It’s frustrating, but it’s also wildly addicting. I truly don’t know which Kane I like better, or which I’m going to get from moment to moment.

“Okay,” I say, my heart in my throat as he gets out of the car, extending his hand to me. I take it, noting that it’s warm. He closes his around mine, and I look at his tattooed fingers, his black nails, encasing my hand like vines. He squeezes my hand firmly as he pulls me out of the car, and I don’t have to think about squeezing back. It’s automatic.

Cause and effect, like magnets unable to repel.

Neither of us speak as he opens the door of my building and walks me to the elevator. The doors close, and it takes more concentration than I want to admit to keep my distance, but I want to savor this.

I want to savor every moment with Kane that I can, and something tells me he does, too.

I hope I’m not wrong. I hope that I am not about to make an ass of myself.

I’ve never done this before—brought a guy back to my place. I’ve lived with a couple guys—that’s different. But even my doms had strict rules about where scenes were enacted, and I’ve never really felt comfortable bringing strangers, or even boyfriends to my place. I always just went over there because it was easier. Safer.

Because I knew if I did bring someone home, I’d be risking tainting the one place that has always been safest for me. I’d be risking poisoning my sanctuary if things didn’t work out.

But I knew after Kane asked me to dinner tonight, I wanted to risk it. Because something tells me Kane, this—us—is worth the risk, and I’ll never know if I don’t take the jump.

When we get to my door, he stops, his dark green gaze finding mine with a softness that shouldn’t be possible for a man that looks so beautifully terrifying.

I have never been in this scenario, but I know the script. I’ve seen it enough times in movies, so I use it to the best of my advantage. Kane will either play along or he’ll leave me here like a gentleman. And honestly, either of those options are fine by me. Though I hope he does say yes when I ask him what I have been practicing in my head all night since he kissed me in the cab on the way to dinner.

“I had a great time tonight,” I say, flashing my gaze up to him. I stand still, my hands in front of my cock, if only to keep a sliver of distance for the moment.

Kane moves an inch closer, the motion putting his face closer to mine. His dark gaze roves over my face, and he reaches his hand out, running a tattooed knuckle over my cheek so slowly, so faintly, I think I might be dreaming, because it feels so featherlight.

“Me, too,” he says as I move closer, tilting my head up to meet his lips, but he doesn’t kiss me. He lets out a low breath, and I think this is it. This is the moment I’ll know if I’m right or if I’m wrong.

And dear God, I hope I’m right.