Page 57 of Renegade
Chapter Fifteen
Gemma
It’s close to midnight when I let myself into the empty, darkened apartment I share with McKenzie. I’ll be glad when she gets back. I miss her. Especially now, when I could use a heart-to-heart with my best girl friend to help me work through my feelings for Walker. I’m miserable. I love him. I’ve always loved him, but it’s different now. Now I know what it’s like to be with him, completely and unequivocally—the connection we have on every level is deeper than I ever could have imagined. But I know I can’t have him. It’s obvious he’s not interested in anything more than the friends-with-benefits agreement we had while we were in San Francisco, and even that had a definite and finite end to him.
For a minute last night, when he punched Valor and said I was his, I dared to hope that he felt the same as me, but he meant it from a friend perspective. Walker has always been protective of me; it’s one of the many things I love about him. But that’s all it was. If he wanted more—if he wantedme—he certainly wouldn’t have sent me home to be with Declan, for crying out loud. The things we did together, the way he saw me and all my vulnerabilities and made them into something beautiful and profound, literally changed my life. But to Walker, it was probably just all part of a day in the life of a dominant.
I open the refrigerator, thinking I should eat something, but even the leftover Chinese food just reminds me of Walker. I wish I’d let Charlotte pick me up from the airport. She could have spent the night and we could have eaten pizza and drunk wine and I could have told her everything. But I texted her before I left and told her that since I was already going to be late getting in and my flight had been delayed once, I’d just get an Uber home. She didn’t answer, so I’m hoping she finally took my advice and went on Tinder and is having wild, crazy sex right now. I sigh. Someone should be; it certainly isn’t me.
I decide to shower and go to bed. But I can’t escape thoughts of Walker. It seems like so much longer than a week ago that I stood under this same spray, wishing I’d find the man who could handle me—not only the one who could give me an orgasm, but who had the strength and control to make me feel safe enough to be vulnerable for once in my life. I shut the water off.
Well, I found him, but I can’t have him. I choke on a small sob. Maybe someday I’ll find someone who can make me feel the way Walker did. Or even half of what I felt with him.
I’ve just climbed into bed, trying not to remember the night that started it all—when I did the same and encountered Walker’s naked body—when my phone pings, alerting me that I have a text message.
Walker! I texted him to let him know I was home safe, like he’d asked me to, and he responded, but his text was short and to the point. I hastily grab my phone. But it’s not from Walker.
Hey beautiful. I’m back earlier than I expected from my business trip. Any chance you’re free tomorrow? I’d love to take you to dinner and…talk.
Declan. Somehow, I’d forgotten all about him. I reread his text, trying to remember the way I felt when he lightly gripped my throat and kissed me, what seems like a lifetime ago. I felt something then, even if I can’t quite summon up the memory of it now. It’s a start. Maybe that’s just what I need—someone to erase the memory of Walker.
I just got back myself, I text back.I’ll be ready at six.??
…
Declan is just as attractive and commanding as I remember, but I can’t help comparing him to Walker. They are, in many ways, polar opposites. Declan is sophisticated and urbane, and clearly used to having the best of everything, while Walker, a foster kid from the wrong side of the tracks, had to work for everything he has, and has made himself into the man he is.
The waiter comes to take our order, and just as I start to speak, Declan orders for both of us. It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest, but since he ordered what I was going to anyway, it seems petty. However, after the waiter leaves, I feel compelled to say, “I could have ordered for myself.”
“Of course you could have,” Declan replies with a small smile. “But that’s one of the pleasures I enjoy as a dominant—taking care of my submissive’severyneed, whether it’s the food she eats, what she wears, or how many times I make her come.”
Declan and I stare at each other for several long moments as we both wait to see if I’m going to protest. But I don’t. After all, I love the way Walker takes care of me.I call the shots, not you.Walker’s words—which had sent little tremors of desire vibrating through me—echo in my head. Why should it be any different with Declan? But with Walker, I never felt overrun, or like my opinion didn’t matter. I let it go, determined not to ruin the evening.
After we get over that bump, the rest of dinner is pleasant, and it helps get my mind off Walker, at least for a while. We talk about Declan’s daughter’s wedding and his business trip, and I tell him a little about San Francisco and completing Liam’s bucket list, leaving off the parts about the missing guns, the Dominion, and the sexual exploration I enjoyed with Walker.
“So Walker is just a friend?” The concentration with which Declan is staring at me as he awaits my response belies his casual tone.
“Definitely,” I say resolutely.
He raises his eyebrows. “Usually, there’s at least a little sexual tension between men and women who are friends. He didn’t seem particularly happy to see me at your apartment.”
“Walker is just protective of me. I’m like a little sister to him. We’ve been best friends for nine years. If we were going to become anything more than friends, it would have already happened.” I try to sound reassuring instead of heartbroken over that statement. But it’s the truth. Over the last week, Walker and I did things together that forged a connection that went deeper than friends. We met each other at our absolute limits. If Walker and I don’t have anything after that, it’s never going to happen. The sooner I accept that and move on, the better. I give Declan what I hope is a sultry look. Fake it till you make it, I always say.
“I’m glad you got back early,” I say. “I’ve given your proposition some thought, and I’m definitely interested. Would you like to come over to my place to, um…talk about the specifics?”
He signals for the check and takes my hand from across the table. “There is nothing I would like more.”
As soon as the door closes, Declan presses me against it, his mouth devouring mine. His lips feel different than Walker’s—softer, somehow, and less insistent, without that hard edge of insatiable hunger that’s always there between me and Walker. He kisses me deeper, his tongue invading my mouth as he pins my hands over my head, and I try to give myself over to the sensation. But I can’t seem to get into it. I turn my head slightly so that his kiss lands on the corner of my lips.
“Maybe we should have a drink and talk first. Actually talk,” I suggest.
He smiles as he releases my wrists. “As you wish.”
“Is wine okay?” I ask as he follows me into the kitchen.
“Perfect.”
I grab a bottle of cabernet, two glasses, and the wine opener, setting them on the counter in front of him.
