Sealing that envelope gave her a strange feeling of finality she wasn’t ready for. She’d liked how things were growing and changing between them. Not only when he slipped into Dom mode, but when he was just Ben.
She’d miss the way he called her angel. The way he’d growl it against her skin. She’d miss the way he pushed her to accept what she was. The way he wouldn’t let her hide from herself or from him. The way he gave her what she’d needed for so long but hadn’t the guts to admit it she’d wanted.
This was temporary. And he’d rather have the money than you.
How long had he known he’d needed a loan? And what would he have done if she’d refused to help him? Would it have strained their Dom/sub relationship? Or ended it completely?
No way to know now, but she couldn’t help but feel a little used and a lot disappointed.
Through all her questions and doubt about what could’ve been, she still felt his pull. She wondered how long she could stay away from him.
Not long, as it turned out. But she’d convinced herself it was a matter of necessity, not personal choice.
She paced, clutching the phone. “Ben? Are you really busy right now?”
“Why? What do you need?”
Then she felt ridiculous and almost gave him a breezy, Oh no reason, just calling to see how you are, rather than coming across as incapable.
“Ainsley? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m inept or that I only called because I needed something, although both those statements are true—”
“Take a deep breath, angel, and tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“My bathroom sink is leaking and I can’t figure out what’s wrong and I can’t get ahold of the landlord.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that. Be there in fifteen.”
She gathered the wet towels and tossed them in the tub. After piling clean towels on the toilet, she sat on the floor, listening to the drip drip drip of water into the plastic pail beneath the sink.
When her cats tore down the hallway she knew Ben had arrived, even before he called out, “Ainsley?”
“In here,” she yelled back. Her heart flipped over when he entered the bathroom. The man looked even sexier carrying a toolbox than he did carrying his toy bag.
Ben flashed her a brief smile and, “Hey,” before crouching down with his toolbox. “When did you notice the leak?”
“After work. I was in that cabinet this morning and it wasn’t leaking then.”
He turned on a flashlight and the beam arced inside the cabinet. He stuck his head under the sink. “Looks like the nut to the cold water valve is loose. Here. Hold this.” He handed her the flashlight and he rummaged in his toolbox. When he found the tool he needed, he scooted under the sink. “Can you point the light where I’ve got the pipe wrench?”
“Sure.” In such tight quarters, she pressed her body to the outside of the cabinet and held the light steady.
A couple of hard clanks, a loud screech and then water spewed forth.
Ben jerked back, hit his head under the sink and yelled, “Fuck.”
“You okay?”
“Hold that flashlight steady.”
Water was still spraying everywhere.
Another loud clank and the water stopped abruptly.
“What happened?”
“Some idiot forgot to turn the water off before he started f**king with the pipe.” He grunted. “That was fun. Can you hand me a towel?”
“Here.”
“Thanks.” When Ben backed out from beneath the sink, Ainsley gasped because he was soaking wet—hair, face, neck and shirt.
“Look at you. I’m so sorry.” Ainsley ducked into the cabinet and used a bath towel to sop up the mess. “What’s the diagnosis?”
“The pipe threading is stripped because the calcium deposits are abrasive. You’ll have to use the kitchen sink until your landlord can get this fixed. I don’t have the right plumbing supplies.”
When she backed out and stood, she noticed Ben had removed his shirt. Look at that. Broad shoulders, pumped-up biceps. Smooth skin. Even as her brain yelled stop, her fingers heard go. She traced the hard ridge of pectoral muscle. “You never really let me touch you however I wanted.”
Ben tipped her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “I didn’t?”
“No. You were always making our…encounters about furthering my education about the Dom/sub relationship.”
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’d let you touch me now.”
“Ben.”
“But you’d much rather I commanded you to touch me, wouldn’t you? Should I? Ainsley, put your hands all over me.”
That deep, Dom voice traveled through her ear and unfurled inside her like liquid heat, like a drug. She had to twist away from him to hide the longing in her eyes. But longing for what? “I can’t.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I should go.”
“But your shirt is soaking wet. You might catch cold if you go home with a wet head. The least I can do is wash and dry it for you, while saving you from possibly getting sick.” Did that sound like a flimsy excuse to him?
“I never get sick.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, you think that’s a good idea, given what we were? Just last night?”
Of course he reminded her of his Dom role at every opportunity. “I believe we can keep our hands to ourselves for an hour or so, don’t you?”
He shook his head no and said, “Yes.”
Ainsley laughed and snatched the shirt. She was surprised Ben followed her to the small laundry area.
“On the way over here I was kinda hopin’ you’d answer the door in heels and an apron. Then you’d say something like, I need a guy with a big tool to check out my plumbing. And I’d reply, I know how to plunge deep.”
“You imagined I’d lured you over here with a fake p**n scenario?” It boosted her ego Ben believed she could conjure up such a sexy scene. “I didn’t know you watched p**n .”
“All guys watch p**n .” He grinned and towel dried his hair. “Them guys that say they don’t are lyin’. We never watched p**n together. Pity. There are lots of scenes I would’ve loved to act out with you.”
She started the washer and her focus caught on his incredible chest again. Right. He needed to cover up. “I’ll find you a shirt.”