She turns to face me, her expression a puzzle. “Yes,” she says softly after several tense moments.
I take a minute to survey her. She’s petite, just like I imagined her. Brunette. Big blue eyes whose gaze drifts between mine and the floor as if she doesn’t know where to look. There must be some goddamn mistake, because there’s no way she’d need any help attracting a man. But if it’s my help she wants, I won’t refuse her.
“May I?” I ask, pulling out the seat next to her and moving toward it. She’s timid, and I need to remember my manners.
“Please,” she says. “I’m Brielle.”
“No names.”
“Everyone calls me Brie, though.” She twists her hands in her lap.
“Sweetheart?” I say, and her gaze darts up to mine. “I said no names.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She swallows down her nerves. “But what should I call you?”
“You may call me Dom.”
Our gazes connect, and a flash of desire pools low in my spine. Fucking hell. This should be interesting.
Chapter Four
Brielle
“You want to be fucked hard. Taken and worshiped. Am I right?” he asks, pinning me with that dark, sexy stare. It’s as if he’s reaching into my mind and determining my wants, needs, and filthiest desires before I even speak them.
I lift my glass to my lips before realizing it’s empty. Crap.
He’s moved us over to a booth in the dark corner of the club where he can watch me and all my embarrassing reactions to his intrusive questions without interruption.
“Answer me,” he says. His tone is firm, yet kind, and his eyes haven’t left mine for a second.
A hot shiver runs through me. “Y-yes,” I manage.
My first impression of him is that he is tall. Much taller than me, with a mess of dark hair and the most gorgeous mocha-colored eyes that have flecks of chocolate and caramel. His square jawline screams of masculinity, yet his full lips suggest a softness to him. Nicely sculpted muscles under a finely tailored black suit. Expensive wristwatch. A couple of days’ worth of beard growth on his jaw. Notes of crisp cologne greeted me when he neared, causing my heart to riot.
My second impression, with his commanding tone that demands attention and his direct nature, is that he enjoys being in control. Though, I suppose that’s no surprise. News flash, Brie—he’s a Dom!
He’s handsome, completely gorgeous, and I’m both relieved and nervous. I wonder what he thinks of me.
“Your hands are shaking,” he says. “Tell me why.”
I look down at my hands resting on the table. He’s right. I can see a slight tremble in the tips of my fingers. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I’ve never done this type of thing before.”
He nods once, still scrutinizing me. “Are you sure that’s all? Have you eaten?”
I open my mouth to respond when I realize that I really haven’t. Three cups of coffee and a muffin ten hours ago probably don’t count.
“N-no.” I hate how I keep stumbling over my words, but I can honestly say I’ve never been quite so thrown off in the presence of a man. I was too nervous to eat lunch and assumed I’d eat dinner when I got back to my apartment tonight.
He lifts his hand and signals to the waitress. She strides over a second later carrying two menus. Dom refuses his but hands one to me, then dismisses our waitress.
I sit there, holding the menu and feeling like an idiot. “I’m not ordering and eating if you’re not.”
“I’m not the one shaking from lack of food.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m fine.” I place the menu on the table and move my hands to my lap so he can’t see them.
He leans closer, his eyes pinned on mine. “Lesson one. You need to put yourself first, Brielle. You need to take better care of yourself if you expect someone else to.”
My name on his lips surprises me. He said no names, yet he didn’t hesitate to use it. “You can just call me Brie,” I remind him. “Everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else. And it’s a beautiful name.”
My skin warms at his compliment. “It’s a mouthful. I think it was my parents’ compromise between Brianna and Gabrielle. But honestly, don’t worry, I’m fine,” I add, brushing off his concern.
“I need you to understand something. When you are in my care, I’m responsible for you. I need you to trust me to care for you. And right now, I would like you to have something to eat.”
I nod. He’s abrupt and controlling, but I can’t argue that his intentions aren’t sincere. I pick up the menu again and scan the pages for something that sounds appealing, but food is the last thing on my mind. I see a field-green salad and close my menu just as the waitress approaches again.
“Yes, the field-green salad please,” I say confidently. I want to prove to him that I’m not a complete moron. I can feed myself, for fuck’s sake.
His brows draw together as he watches me. “Are you a vegetarian?”
“No.”
He turns to the waitress. “Can you add chicken or steak to that salad?”
“Yes, either,” she says, looking between the two of us as if she’s trying to figure out what’s going on.
He turns to me once again. “You should have protein, Brielle. It will make you feel better.”
Now that he knows my name, it seems he’s taking every opportunity to use it. The bastard. “Chicken, please,” I say to the waitress, my humiliation complete.