“But he’s not your friend?”
The caveat in his tone was undeniable. Brandon wasn’t just asking a question. He was making a statement. He’d certainly made himself clear last night, and he was doing it again now.
“He’s my co-worker,” she said, feeling a little stupid now that she’d actually laid the syrup on when talking to Antonio that morning on purpose. The last thing she would’ve imagined then was that it would come back and bite her in the ass in this way. “Subordinate actually, but I prefer to see them all as co-workers.”
“You call all of your subordinates sweetie?”
“Okay,” she said, straightening out a little. For someone who liked cutting right down to the chase, he sure was dragging this one out and painfully so, since they both knew what he was trying to insinuate. “First of all, no, I don’t. Second, I’ll just admit it because I don’t want this to become an issue moving forward. That morning I was extra nice to him because you were standing right there listening. You’d been pretty curt with me up until then, and I just wanted to make a point that I wasn’t the anti-social one. I can be very nice when people are nice to me. But no, that was the first and last time I ever called him that.”
His continued heavy stare dug into her. Now that she knew how closely he was paying attention to even the smallest of things, she wondered what was going through his mind. To her surprise, his stern expression softened. “You are very nice,” he said, kissing her softly, “and very beautiful.” He kissed her chin then moved down to her neck and sucked, making her squirm in response. Kissing his way back up to her lips, he stopped, and their eyes met again. “He shouldn’t be an issue. I was gonna let it go actually. I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of something so trivial, but after seeing the surprised look on his face today, it made me wonder just why the fuck he’d be so surprised that you were with someone, so I had to ask.” He smirked, though it wasn’t as playful as his usual smirks. “As of right now, I’m not fond of any guy so willing to go out of his way for my princess, but I’ll take your word that he’s nothing more than your eager-to-please subordinate. Just be warned. Unless you want me to really hate the guy, please never let me hear you call him sweetie again.”
“I won’t,” she whispered with a smile, and Brandon took her mouth in his again.
Her insides churned with a mix of excitement and nerves as he kissed her slowly but incredibly meticulously, not missing a single spot of her hungry mouth. She wondered even through her suddenly aroused state how long it would take for her to get used to Brandon’s emphatic way of getting straight to the point when it came to certain things. There’d be no guessing games in this relationship about things of this nature. That was for sure.
By Thursday, they had their routine down. That evening, Brandon had to make a run because she was getting low on the wrap for her ankle, even though it wasn’t nearly as sore as it had been days ago. He still insisted she continue to wear the wrap. He also said he’d be stopping to pick up dinner and a few other things he was getting low on from the market. As usual, he refused to take any money from her.
From the first day Regina had stepped foot into Brandon’s meticulously organized apartment, she’d been even more overwhelmed with concern over what she’d gotten herself into. She was almost embarrassed now that he’d been witness to her less-than-organized place. She wasn’t a slob or anything, but Brandon’s apartment was a perfect exhibit of a neat freak bordering on OCD.
Regina had teased him about it, and he shrugged it off, explaining he hadn’t always been this way. Being a Marine had a lot to do with it, and then becoming a drill instructor had made him even worse. Only Regina was the one using the word worse. He’d used the phrase “helped me become even better organized, not just at work but in my personal life.”
This was the first time she’d been left alone in his place all week. Trying not to be nosey but incredibly curious, she peeked into his closet. Already she’d walked around his front room, looking through his neat but sparsely decorated shelves a little closer than she had all week. Most of the week she’d had glimpses of his well-organized closet from when she’d seen him go in and fetch something, but he’d always quickly closed the door.
She took in his clothes first. They were perfectly hung and separated by color with his uniforms off to one side. Many were still in their plastic coverings from the cleaners, and his shoes were neatly lined on the floor. The see-through totes in the above shelves were all the exact same size and stacked just so. Something in one of the totes caught her eye. It looked too much like a pair of handcuffs.
Tilting her head, she tried to make out the other things in the tote, but it was hard to tell from where she was standing. She saw what looked like rope and some kind of harness with buckles.
Glancing back at the open bedroom door, she wondered if she dared take it down and peek in. Indulging her curiosity by being nosey and looking into his closet was one thing. Digging into his drawers or even totes was pushing it. She decided she wouldn’t go there but did continue to look through his clothes. She’d seen him in uniform many times and seen his laid-back jeans and T-shirt look on the weekend and evenings, but the only time she’d been witness to him all dressed up was the night at Gaslamp. Yet he had many civilian dress shirts hanging in his closet. Really nice ones too. For someone who kept to himself and made no attachments, he had an awful lot of socializing clothes.
She moved one particular shirt aside because the color, a deep royal blue, was eye catching, and she could only imagine how incredible the blue in his eyes would stand out when he wore this. Then her hand hit something hard, hanging against the wall. It caught her attention because it was long cold and slender like a weapon maybe? But it wasn’t. It was a metal stick? She spread the shirts apart to get a better look, and her jaw dropped. There wasn’t one stick but two, only they weren’t sticks. They were riding crops, and hanging right next them on its own individual hook as well was a long black wooden paddle with a red heart painted in the middle.
Her head jerked up to the tote on top. Those were handcuffs. Holy crap! Was he really into this stuff? As much fun as she’d had in college, there had been several things she’d never tried. This was one of them. As nervous as it made her, there was a slow bubbling inside her. She’d never trusted anyone to tie her up, and she hated to admit it, but her sexual life with Ryan while sweet, safe, and very loving had also been very vanilla. It never even crossed her mind to ask him to do anything kinky to her.
Pushing away painful thoughts of Ryan, she wondered instead if Brandon would be bringing this up once she was ready and how he’d bring it up. Would he just spring it on her? The way he’d closed his closet so quickly all week made her wonder if he’d bring it up at all or if that was another of the few topics he seemed to skirt and she wouldn’t get to explore.
Forcing herself to stop thinking about it, she moved into his kitchen. She’d been in there for a few minutes, looking through the neatly lined cans of food in his small pantry and noticing how orderly everything his fridge was. He must really think her a slob. Since she’d only been here a few weeks, she hadn’t bothered to clean out her fridge even once yet. She didn’t have a whole lot in it, but it definitely didn’t look as if it could pass the white glove test as Brandon’s did.
She heard the front door open and smiled. He’d been gone just over an hour, and she was already excited to see him again. Only he didn’t come into the kitchen, so she walked out to meet him. He’d dropped off some bags and a box of food on the table, but he was gone. Worried that somehow he’d gotten wind of what she’d been doing while he was gone, she actually glanced around, expecting to see cameras she’d missed all week, but there were none. What if he’d had some kind of sensor on his closet door that went off, alerting him she’d been snooping? There was a phone app for just about everything these days, and, of course, that would be just her luck.