I turned to face her fully. “It did. Until recently.”
“What changed?”
You, I wanted to say. You changed everything. But it felt too soon, too intense, so instead I said, “I think we both started wanting something more sustainable. Something real.”
She took a long sip of her wine, processing that. “Is that why you started teaching these workshops? To find that?”
“Maybe. Or maybe to figure out if it was even possible again.” I turned back to the stove, adding the vegetables to the pan. “What about you? At dinner that first night you told us you were curious about multi-partner dynamics.”
“I remember,” she admitted. “I wanted to understand how it works.”
“And now? After being here, learning about it?”
“Now I think I want it,” she said quietly. “Not the exact same dynamic as Shelly, Harrison and their submissive, but something like it. That level of connection.”
I added the pasta to the pan, tossing everything together with the cheese. “What if I told you that you’re already building it?”
She set down her wine glass. “Sir, what do you mean?”
“This. Right now.” I gestured between us. “The way you spent last night with Lex. The way you’ve been here with me today. You’re not trying to perform or be something you’re not. You’re just present. That’s the foundation.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“It’s everything.” I plated the pasta, the motions automatic while my mind focused on her. “Trust and communication take time, Cami. You can’t rush it just because you want it.”
“Says the man who’s been watching me like he wants to devour me all day.”
The boldness of it surprised us both. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide.
I set down the plates and moved around the island until I was standing in front of her.
“Sir,” she said softly.
“You noticed that, did you?”
“Yes, Sir. Kind of hard to miss.” Her voice was quieter now, breathier.
“Good, because I do want to devour you. Have since the moment I met you.”
“Majesty...” It came out somewhere between a warning and a plea.
“But I’m also patient,” I continued. “And I know that what’s building between all three of us is worth taking our time with. Even if it kills me.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes searching mine. “What if I’m not patient, Sir?”
“Then we’ll work on that.” I stepped back, putting necessary distance between us before I did something stupid like kiss her before we’d properly talked everything through. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
We carried our plates to the small table by the window, refilling our wine glasses and settling into seats across from each other. The first bite made her moan softly, and I had to adjust in my chair.
“This is incredible,” she said. “Where did you learn to cook like this, Sir?”
“My grandmother. She was Italian, very old school about family meals.” I twirled pasta around my fork. “She used to say that feeding people was another way of showing love.”
“I like that.” Cami took another bite, clearly savoring it. “My mom was more of a ‘dinner comes from a box’ person. I had to teach myself most of what I know.”
“You did well. This salad is perfect.”
She smiled, pleased by the compliment, and we fell into easier conversation—trading stories about family, childhood, the random things that made us who we were. The wine flowed, loosening both of us, and I found myself laughing easier than I had with any other woman I’d dated before her.
