Colton snorts. “Did he?”
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously so I’m gonna go.”
“No, no,” he protests. “I am. It’s all just so different from what I’m used to.”
Colton has been with his partner since college. Darius is perfectly respectable, down to his pressed khakis and well-kept fade. I try not to think about what their sex life is like because I don’t like to think about my best friend naked, and the idea of lights-off sex bores me to tears.
Though, that’s not entirely true…
“I’ll text you when I’m home.”
“How long do you think this is going to take?”
I step into my bedroom and look at the clock on my bedside table. It’s barely after ten and I’m due to meet Ronan at eleven.
“The club closes at two, so I imagine I’ll be home before three.”
“I’m going to set myself an alarm,” he says.
I can’t stop myself from laughing at how sweet and protective he is of me. I met him the day before he met Darius and we’ve been inseparable ever since. He was the first to celebrate with me when I signed my first big design client.
There’s nothing Colton can’t do for me.
Except this.
“I promise I’ll be smart and safe.”
“What do they say? Safe, sane, and consensual?”
I bite my tongue. That’s what a lot of people say, but that’s not what I’m after, and that’s not what Ronan has promised me.
“Yep,” I answer.
I kick off my lounge sweats and force my legs into a pair of snug leather pants, slide my arms into my favorite black leather harness—the one I bought three years ago that I’ve only ever had one occasion to wear for myself—and then put on my boots. I study myself in the mirror. What will Ronan think of me when he sees me like this?
“I’m gonna head out, Colton.”
“Alright. I’ll talk with you before three,” he says.
“I’ll text you.”
“Good luck.”
The call ends and I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a little soft around the midsection, but that’s what hours at a drafting table will do to a body. There’s nothing to be done about it now anyway.
Before I can talk myself out of this—and with Colton’s worry sharp in my ears—I drive myself to Rapture, show my ID, and climb the stairs to the private play loft. That’s where Ronan told me to be.
I get there before him because it would have been rude to be late. Sitting on the couch to wait would be rude, too, so I kneel beside the table. There’s a bed in the room, which is…forward, and eyebolts scattered around the walls and ceiling. A talented Dom could get really creative with the rigging in this place. There’s a cabinet that I assume holds toys, but my legs are shaking so I don’t want to get up and check. I’m not convinced my muscles would carry me that far.Before I can make the decision, the door opens and he’s there.
Ronan is just as handsome in person as in his profile picture from the hookup app we met on. He’s dressed casually in dark, soft looking jeans with a black button up, and he’s rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Tattoos lick out from beneath the material and snake down to his wrist, cutting off sharply where the cuffs of his shirt sleeves would rest.
The light in the room is dim, but his eyes are bright as sapphires. He closes the door behind him and comes inside, appraising the space like I was just doing, and then he sits on the couch, close to where I’m kneeling.
“Kevin.” His voice is a low rumble.
“Ronan.”
“I’d like for you to call me that all night,” he says.
