Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
He chewed on the inside of his cheek and dropped his gaze to his lap.
I cleared my throat. “So, while you can always—always—talk to me about BDSM in general terms, I hope you’ll understand that I want our focus on mending everything that’s been wrong.” I reached out and gave his knee a squeeze. “We want to be there for you.”
He swallowed and side-eyed me briefly, as if it was physically painful for him to maintain eye contact.
“Why do you need boundaries?”
“Pardon?”
“You said we needed boundaries—for both our sakes,” he stated. “Why do you need them?”
Oh. Because the lines were getting too blurry.
I released a breath and hoped I was doing the right thing.
“Speaking about kink with you on a personal level makes me uncomfortable,” I admitted. “After everything you’ve been through, you’re in a vulnerable position, and it puts a lot of pressure on me to make sure you don’t get hurt.” I paused. “It’d be like me being your psychiatrist.”
Ironically, I was Chris’s “head doctor,” as he called it.
I’d wanted to spend the rest of my days as a psychiatrist ever since I’d learned about the vocation. But life didn’t always work out the way you planned. I’d burned myself out between leaving the service, finishing med school, and landing my job at Georgetown University Hospital.
The road to recovery had been slow and filled with setbacks, and I could no longer imagine working in a hospital or running my own practice. I could handle stress well in a crisis, but not as an everyday work feature. Just thinking about how it’d been could make me dizzy and break out in a cold sweat.
Chris and Quin had offered me a way out in my becoming their in-house specialist in trauma care and PTSD prevention for operators. It was comfortable but always challenging. It was exciting yet relaxing, because my patients were men and women I knew. We all worked in the same building. There was camaraderie and an informal atmosphere in which I thrived. But aside from Chris, I still maintained an emotional distance from people I called both friends and patients. I was there for them whenever they needed me, but it wasn’t as if I championed how they ran their personal lives.
We had no misdistribution of power at work. We were equals. Same couldn’t be said for Kayden and me.
“Is this about you struggling to see me as an adult?” he asked uncertainly.
Damn. I felt bad for him. “No. That may have been the case four years ago, but absolutely not today.”
That was part of the problem. When he was younger, I’d had zero confusion, for obvious reasons. His early twenties had been my struggle.
Moving on. Carefully. “But you realize you changed a bit around me yesterday, yes?” I hedged. “I understand it’s because you’re comfortable, which I adore, but it turns this into a power exchange. And I can’t use my brotherly powers for evil and make you move back home again if you’re in a submissive mind-set, subconsciously trying to please me.”
I’d done my best to keep it light, and I was ready to collect brownie points if necessary. Hell, I had a powerful weapon hidden away in the glovebox of my car.
His favorite soft cheese.
But first, the last piece of honesty. “I’m genuinely worried now that this is pushing you away again,” I admitted. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m only concerned about ramifications and hurting you. Does that make sense?”
He nodded once but said nothing, and the avoidance of eye contact was back in full force.
I suppressed a sigh and—
“I’m gonna say what you said yesterday,” he muttered. “I’ll think about all this, okay? I’ll mull it over.”
A breath gusted out of me, and I couldn’t help but feel relieved. Mulling was better than bolting.
“Take all the time you need,” I assured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
This had to work. He had to understand.
CHAPTER 4
Kayden Winters
We ate in silence as my brain went into overdrive, shoving one random thought into my skull after another. Chris wouldn’t have planted his ass in the doorway if he’d woken up and couldn’t sleep on the couch for whatever reason. He would have just moved his crap into the bedroom and crashed next to Wade. Wade felt that he couldn’t be honest with me, for fear I was going to escape. They’d literally picked Alaska to prevent me from running off. Trust me, Wade, my wanting to serve you was not subconscious. Crap, crap, crap. The bacon was good, at least. I didn’t want to run away. I just hated being seen as the dumb family member. Also, Wade couldn’t expect me to be open and honest in one swoop—and then ask me to tuck away my submissiveness.
That’s a good place to start. Tell him right now before you chicken out.