“BecauseIworry, Sinclair.” I fix her with a look as I click the belt into place. “Because I’vealwaysworried about you, Since the first day I saw you, before we even spoke.”
She stares at me through the window as I close the door. I stare back, one hand resting on the roof as I exhale heavily, unable to make my feet move away from her to get back inside the car just yet.
Instead, I allow myself the indulgence of looking at her face and into her deep green eyes. It was that brightness I noticed the first time I met her. One that reached out and grabbed hold of me, captivating me in its beauty. Its brilliance. Making it hard to look away.
But it’s the sadness that’s been in them for the past two and a half years that’s made itimpossibleto look away.
“You’ve no idea how much I worry,” I murmur.
She frowns as I tighten my fist against the roof of the car before cursing and stepping back.
And I always will, Princess.
“Your hands are like mitts,” Sinclair says, hands on her hips as she surveys me fastening her sneaker for her again.
“I should get you some new ones, with Velcro,” I clip as I lace them tightly. They’re always coming undone. We’ve spent twomore days training together, and I’ve needed to fasten them for her at the start of every session.
“Can you get gloves big enough?”
I look up at her from beneath my brows. “Gloves?”
“For your hands,” she muses. “If they got cold and fell off, you’d take out half of downtown.”
“Good job we’re out of the city then, isn’t it?” I stand and look at her. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But can we step it up a bit this time?”
“Step it up?” I frown. I’ve been getting her in all sorts of holds that she’s had to think about the best way to try to escape. I’ve kept them varied to help her understand it’s the thought behind her defense that’s important at this stage. Not the strength she uses.
“I mean, with the roleplay.” She twists her lips, muttering when all I do is stare at her. “It’s helping, it really is. It fuels my desire to punch your lights out.” She smirks, but it falters quickly. “But like… I know you’re going easy on me. You can be… worse, you know?”
“Worse?”
“Yeah, like… I don’t know. Grabbier. More realistic. Like you actually mean it.”
“Grabbier?” I arch a brow. “You want me to touch you more?”
She shrugs. “Yeah?”
I step closer until I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “Sinclair, if you want me to touch you in a certain way, you need to ask me to. And you need to be sure.”
“It’ll help me,” she says, lifting her eyes to mine. “What? You think it’s a bad idea? That I can’t handle it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you’re thinking it.” She snorts. “Look, I know I can do better. I want to do better. But I need you to feed that part of me that responds to you.”
I run my tongue over my teeth as I look into her eyes. She’s got them narrowed in her usual defiance, but there’s also fear in there, pleading with me. Fear that I’ll say no and leave her alone and unprepared.
My chest burns with memories. Lifeless eyes. Blood on my hands.
The consequences of being unprepared.
“We do this, and we need a safe word. So if you’re really upset, I’ll know.”
“I won’t be. You can do whatever you like to me.” She lifts her nose, but sighs when I don’t back down. “Fine. Mine can be mitt. What’s yours?”
“What’s mine?”
