He turns to face me. “I don’t want you to make do. I want you to have what you need.”
Should I ask?
“Tell me.”
“A ballet barre is helpful. Or a pole. Don’t suppose you have one of those around here.”
“Not down here.”
“Wait. Does someone have a pole?”
He nods. “Phantom. I’m sure he’d let you use it but I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I’d rather not work out in someone’s bedroom either.”
“So a barre and a pole. What else?”
“Um, a mat or two. Everything else is perfect. I can do my cardio and my strength training. The other things are to practice my routines.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
A protest rises immediately in my chest. “You don’t have to. I don’t expect you to modify your permanent space for me. It’s wasteful.”
A knowing smile spreads across his sexy face, and last night’s confrontation rushes back into my mind. To him, I’m a permanent part of this space too.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Not yet. I’m gonna stretch a bit, I think.”
He nods, walking across the space and sitting on a workout bench. I watch as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. He’s very casually dressed, in just black athletic pants and a white T-shirt, but damn is he hot. The knowledge that I have full access to him is heady. I can touch him, kiss him, invite him to fuck me, whenever I want to.
I finish off my coffee, then start my stretching routine. Sitting on the floor, I work my calves, glutes, and hip flexors. Tonight’s performance is pole based, which I love, but it also takes a lot out of me. I should probably do some free weights to prime my muscles.
When I glance at Specter, he’s tapping on his phone, his brow creased with concentration. Does he have a lot of money or is it somehow communal like the living arrangements? I can’t decide how I feel about him spending money on me. Outside of theclub, I generally don’t allow it. I’ve learned the hard way that when men spend money they expect full access, but Specter is different. He expects my full access regardless.
I shake my head as I bend forward and touch my forehead to the floor, increasing the stretch in my hamstrings. I’m so in over my head, but what are my options? Even if I somehow slipped past him, where would I go? My own apartment is likely a very bad idea, and I don’t have many other choices. That’s what led me to call him in the first place.
What I can’t figure out is why I still want to run. Shouldn’t I be soaking this up? I mean, I’m living in a damn mansion, for fuck’s sake, with a sexy as hell man catering to my every whim. What is in me that makes me see this as danger instead of safety?
“Hi, yes, I have questions.”
Specter’s voice cuts into my reverie. I discreetly watch him as I move through my stretches, pretending I’m not paying attention as he asks about delivery schedules.
“And you have mats too? What sizes?” He nods, his gaze flicking up to me.
I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
“Perfect. Can I pay for priority shipping and install?” He nods again, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Tomorrow? Excellent.”
I watch him navigate the transaction, ignoring the enormous amount of money he must’ve just dropped for me. When he ends the call, he crosses the space, stopping at my feet and towering over me. I suddenly feel very small.
“The barre, pole, and mats will be delivered and installed tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” is all I manage.
“Avec plaisir.”
I tilt my head at his use of French. “Ah.Quand as-tu appris le français?”
