Page 51 of Axe Marks the Spot

18

Lindsey

Sir

Hi, Lindsey. When I said to message me later, I should have been more specific. Do you have an answer for me?

(message delivered at 7:05am PT)

The message from Sir, who I now know as Dane—a very nice name, I may add, one that suits him and his salt-and-pepper hair, square jaw, strong arms, and toned ass—stares at me as if it’s going to jump out of my phone and spank me.

Now that’s a weird image. Weird and inappropriate thoughts are floating all around, actually. Ones I’m going to blame on a lack of sleep and being overworked.

I yawn and pour myself a glass of red wine, the cheap stuff that tastes meh but does the job. It’s after seven in the evening, and Kas and I finished a dinner of frozen pizza a bit ago.

I take a sip of the wine and look down at my phone again. The screen is black now, but it’s as if I can still see Dane’s earlier message I’ve yet to respond to. Which means it’s been over twelve hours since I read it the first time and over twenty-four hours since I saw him at the park.

When his question came through five minutes after my shift ended this morning, I was too focused on wrapping up paperwork and getting home to sleep before Fox dropped Kas off to give it much thought. But I don’t have an excuse for ignoring it the rest of the day.

The truth is, I’m still unsure and guilty. The uncertainty comes from all the reasons I know I should end our dynamic and all the reasons I know I don’t want to. I need his help, and I was already starting to see the benefits of working with him.

That’s where the guilt comes in. I didn’t follow through with any of the routines or check-ins I promised. I let stress take over, and now I’m even more overwhelmed—and guilty—not just for breaking the commitments I made to myself but for ignoring Dane’s texts, too.

My phone buzzes on the counter, and my gut tells me who it is before I look at the screen. I think it’s time to face the music. I can’t ignore Dane—Sir—any longer. I don’t think I want to, either. The guilt is becoming too much to handle. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss talking with him.

I take another sip of my wine and go to the living room, snuggling up on the couch under a blanket. Kas is playing her game in her room on the condition that tomorrow, we’ll spend time together since today was a day for me to rest and play catch-up around the house.

I set my wine down on the coffee table and tap my phone screen to unlock it. Nerves swell in my stomach, and I open the message app and prepare for whatever his message says.

Sir

You’ve missed your planned check-ins, and I have not heard from you. Should I take this as your decision to not move forward, or would you like to talk?

Well, damn. I’ve made him mad. Or at least, I think I have. That’s the tone I read it in.

Before I can decide how to answer, another message pops up.

Sir

Or do you want to get in trouble, Lindsey?

I read the message again and again, and my heart races faster each and every time I read it. Do I want to get in trouble? That’s not what I want, right? I mean, I don’t want him to be mad at me, so I wouldn’t want to get in trouble, either. I like it too much when he calls me good girl. Especially when he said it in person.

I’ve thought about that moment a lot in the last twenty-four hours. How the husky timbre of his voice made me feel. How the praise made my body react.

Sir

I see that you’re in the chat and have read my messages. Did you forget I have that ability? Let me know if you would prefer we talk on the phone.

I shift on the couch, not quite understanding why this is turning me on. It shouldn’t. I’m not even saying anything back to him. But maybe it’s because he’s being so attentive and because his messages make me feel wanted, even if I do feel like I’m in trouble.

His messages read as if I could be more than just a client to him, like the way he’s disappointed that he hasn’t heard from me is somehow more than just because he’s my Dom.

But that’s a silly thought, right? We hardly know each other, and we only started working together recently.

My fingers hover over the screen, and a new message comes through before I can decide what to say.

Sir