Page 64 of Freefall

“First of all, she wasn’t Daisy's teacher at the time. I didn’t even know Daisy existed.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “And it wasn’t a one-night stand.”

“No?”

He shakes his head, a dark strand falling into his eyes.

“You had a relationship with her?” I guess.

“No. She was…my sub. Just for a day.”

A frown creases my forehead. “What does that mean?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

I should say no.

“Yes.”

He lets out a quiet breath. “We met at a club. She wanted to experience a particular dynamic for a day. We agreed on boundaries beforehand, and then…”

“You told her what to do?” I finish, leaning against the car, my arms folded across my chest as if I’m trying to keep my galloping heart from leaping out.

“I gave her rules,” he clarifies.

“And if she broke them?”

His gaze flicks away for a second. “Harper.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to dodge the question.”

He takes a small step forward, just enough so that I have to tilt my head slightly to meet his stare. “I punished her.”

The words burrow into my chest, where they bloom into something ugly. I’ve never considered myself a jealous person, but I can’t help picturing it—Ms. Dawson at his house, following his every order. And not just her, but others. How many have there been? It shouldn’t matter. We weren’t together. I made sure of that. I left.

“You’ve done this with other women?” I grit out.

“Yes.”

“Always just for a day?”

He nods once. “Anything longer gets complicated.”

Complicated. Like us.

“You told Bennett Daisy was your daughter.”

If he has whiplash from my abrupt change of subject, he doesn’t show it. “I know. I’m sorry, Harper.” He takes another small step forward. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

We stand there, letting the silence stretch between us. I study him for a moment, debating whether to ask my next question. I shouldn’t, but I do anyway. “Would you…” The words get caught in my throat, but I manage to get them out. “Do it for more than a day?”

Once again, he doesn’t seem fazed by my sudden return to our previous conversation. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Who’s asking.”

I know I should let it go. I know where this is headed. It’s insanity in its purest form. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. There’s a reason I left. I gave him an outlet for his control, but he couldn’t separate the different parts of our relationship. Now, here I am giving him the same power. The same control over me. The problem is, I want to hand it over as badly as he wants to have it.

“I am.”