Waiting For Me (Beautiful Surrender #2)(10)
Author: Ava Claire

She just stood there, watching me with her glittery eyes. If I didn’t know her, I’d think I needed to repeat myself and drill the point home. But this quiet, after I asked a non-rhetorical question, was one of the many quirks that made up Delilah James.

Sick of her dramatic pause, I narrowed my eyes, trying to impart on her how far away from amused I was. “Answer. The. Question.”

She sniffed, shying away from my stern glare. “I really just wanted to talk. See…who you’ve been up to.”

I arched an eyebrow, then it flatlined. “The waitress at the restaurant gave someone a tip, huh?”

An uneasy smile fluttered over her lips. “You know how my fans are.”

“Yes,” I answered darkly, remembering the tweets and vandalism at my corporate office. “I am familiar with the lengths your fans will go to for you.”

“For me?” she scoffed, tossing her red mane. “You make it sound like I put them up to it.”

My tolerance had a limit, and I was quickly approaching the place where I’d just roar until she went scrambling out the door. Out of my life. “I don’t have the time nor energy for getting into that. I just want to know why you’re here.” She opened her mouth, but I added an addendum. “Try the truth this time.”

She sighed, eyes still downcast. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yes,” I answered abruptly. “You won’t be staying.”

She scowled, crossing her arms tight against her chest. Her br**sts nearly sprung from their spandex confines. “You want to know why I’m here? Okay. I wanted to see who was so special that you not only brought them to our place, but to our restaurant too!”

Maybe I would have been better off just yelling and getting her out as quickly as she snaked her way back in. I must have forgotten—there was no having a rational conversation with her when she got this way.

I’d seen glimpses of the crazy when she asked why I didn’t use pet names with her. I tried to explain that calling her my sub was the greatest pet name I could give her. I’d gotten another taste of her intensity when she invited me to a premiere and I declined. She’d pulled out all the stops, big, fat crocodile tears and all. But the truly unnerving show of insanity was yet to come.

I invited her to coffee to let her know that I had no interest in seeing her sexually anymore. She’d chucked her iced coffee at my head. Luckily, my reflexes kicked in and it landed on some unsuspecting co-ed instead. That’s when I decided to exit, but she stood in my way, screaming that she wasn’t going to let me go. If I was cruel, I would have said that she never had me in the first place. Instead, I turned on my heels and went out the back door.

That same desperation was back in her eyes, her voice. And I was done being polite. I wanted her out.

“There is no ‘our’, Delilah. What we had was fun while it lasted. And just so we’re clear, it was a no-strings attached arrangement. An arrangement you agreed to.”

Tears built in her eyes, her voice raw and loud. “But you knew I was falling for you. And you saw me, you took care of me, then you tossed me aside!”

I knew painting me as a villain was important to her narrative, but it wasn’t an accurate portrayal. I could have told her my story, that I knew what it was like to love and not have that returned. It was the reason for my rules. Not getting attached, compartmentalizing my emotions, keeping my subs at a distance, all of the above kept my heart safe from reliving that hurt. I didn’t let anyone get too close.

Except Melissa.

She was the one woman I wanted to know me. A woman I wanted to know inside and out, as my submissive and more. A woman I was losing precious time with every moment I wasted with Delilah.

“It’s time for you to go,” I said darkly.

Delilah’s tears were in free fall, coursing down her face as she stood her ground. “What, are you going to pick me up and throw me out?”

“Delilah,” I warned. The anger in me smiled evilly at the thought, but I would never put my hands on her, or any woman, in anger.

She squared her shoulders. “It’s okay. You should do it. I’m used to being hurt by you.”

I went rigid like she’d just hit me. It was always my greatest fear that I’d misread a lover and miss some sort of mental issue that created their need to be dominated or spanked. To each their own, but I dominated because I never felt as alive as when I had a woman on her knees before me; discovering herself, and how freeing submission was. It wasn’t about inflicting pain or causing harm for harm’s sake. To hear that Delilah missed that and thought it was all about hurting her felt like a blow to the gut.

“He might not throw you out on your ass, but I will.”

Melissa stood in the doorway, just waiting for the word.

Delilah looked back and forth between us, swiping at her cheeks. “We’re not done here. Not by a long shot.”

7

****

Melissa peered over at me, hesitation dancing over her soft features. “Do you want to…talk about it?”

I dabbed at my mouth, trying to keep my voice relaxed even though Delilah’s words were still echoing through my head.

It’s okay. You should do it. I’m used to being hurt by you.

“Do I want to talk about the train wreck that went down an hour ago?” I gave it to her straight. “Not really.”

My phone sang in my pocket. I retrieved it and looked at the screen. It was my assistant, Jessica. Again. I was tempted to answer it, but I decided better of it, letting it go to voicemail.

She pivoted herself to me, not letting it go that easy. “I think the string of events are pretty self-explanatory. She was into you, you weren’t really into her, she lost her shit.” She raked her golden bangs out of her eyes and on closer inspection, I saw that I misread her. It wasn’t hesitation on her face, or wariness. It was attentive curiosity. Like she was standing at the edge of the pool, weighing the options of dipping her toe in the water or just jumping in.

“I’m asking about her whole ‘you hurt me’ comment.”

I scrubbed my hands down my face with a groan. “I was worried you caught that.”

“It’s hard to miss something like that,” Melissa answered quietly. “And I saw your face. You looked—” She nibbled her bottom lip as she tried to find the right word. “Broken.”

Sticks and stones…what a f**king crock. I knew all too well that words could injure more deeply than any physical blow. I could have withstood a slap across the face from Delilah, but hearing that I hurt her? It gutted me. And looking at Melissa, eyes round with concern, throwing around words like ‘broken’ when I wanted to be her rock…that hurt too. I wanted to be the Dom that protected her from anything and everything. I couldn’t be that and be broken.