“I’m not.”
My hands press into the countertop as I lean in. “But how?”
“Do you really want me to sit here and tell you all the ways men don’t see me or when they do, it usually ends with them telling me ‘you’re pretty but just not my type.’” She rolls her eyes while curling her fingers into air quotes.
My brain stalls like a car with a bad clutch on a San Francisco hill. It makes no sense that no one is falling into a lust induced fog when close to her, while I’m constantly losing the battle to get my head out of the clouds.
“I just don’t want you to start whatever this is going to be and think I’ll have something to add because I don’t. I’m practically brand new and have nothing to offer you in return.”
Practically brand new shouldn’t have my knees weakening but I grip the counter for support anyway. Isn’t my number one rule no virgins? Apparently Harper being on the cusp is enough for me to catapult that rule out like it never existed.
I circle the island to get to her. The barstool screeches against the floor as I pull her chair so she’s facing me. “I wouldn’t care if you came here and everything in the folderis marked off as an item you’ve done, what matters to me is you're here.”
Her breath cascades out. “Okay,” she whispers.
“Do you have anything to say about my original statement?”
I didn’t realize how bad I want to know if she watches the way I watch her.
Her tongue darts out and I fight the urge to press my mouth against hers. Timidly, she replies, “I like knowing that you’ve been watching me.”
“Oh, my Sweet Girl, you have no idea.” I turn the chair so she’s facing the island again. “Finish eating and then we’ll go over exactly what you're looking for.”
Harper takes another bite without any further prompting and my gut tells me something I already knew; she is going to be perfect.
“Do I get to see your list?” Harper asks, thumbing the edge of the folder in front of her.
“Of course. I’m not here to hide anything from you.” Loose paper glides across the table into her waiting hand. She looks it over, too fast to register anything, before setting it back down.
“Harper.” Her name comes out as a soft demand. When her eyes lift and meet mine, trepidation fills her rich irises. “You can ask me anything. Nothing is too small or off limits.”
The delicate skin along her throat bobs as she goes back to not looking at me. “Our first time together you were very…um, direct.”
“Is that something you didn’t like?”
Her hands wave wildly, batting away my question. “No, no, I like it. I was just wondering if there’s a name for it.”
A soft chuckle slips out and a rose wave colors her cheeks again.“Out of everything you see on the list, your only question is if there’s a name for how I act in the bedroom?”
“Kinda.” She shrugs, looking between me and the list. “And to know whatever ‘cock warming’ is.”
My next laugh comes out as a bark. “God, you're going to be so fun.”
The way she looks at me stirs my darker desires, the ones that want to own her completely. Steal her away from the world and selfishly keep her to myself. There's nothing wrong with what I like, crave, even. It hurts no one, doesn’t break any laws, and yet it’s an aspect of my life I’m forced to keep deep in the shadows. Not that I’m trying to showcase it but there's always a chance of ridicule. Which is why I don’t date, and my metaphorical punch card to Midnights is overloaded.
“Labels don’t mean much to me but if you want a name for it, I’d say I fall somewhere between a soft dom or pleasure dom.”
A small noise of acknowledgment comes from Harper’s side of the table.
“Do you know what either of those are?”
“Not really.”
“Look at my list and tell me what you see.” Her eyes dart back down, and she flicks through the pages, but a bit slower this time.
Ultimately she shrugs. “A lot of things marked as interested.”
“What’s not marked as interested?”
