Chapter 7

Grif was bouncing in place, occasionally rubbing his arms to keep from getting cold. It might have
helped if he’d stopped to put on a shirt. It was cold at night in the hills of Malibu, and unlike inside the
club, out here in the parking lot there were no heat lamps raising the ambient air temperature.

After Davina had safe-worded out of the scene, he’d been in shock for a minute or two before he pulled
it together enough to put on his pants and race after her. They’d never even come close to her needing
to use a safe word, and had done things far more intense than a public blowjob.

This was more than that and you know it. You weren’t just her top, you were her Master. She called you
Master.

And it felt so, so good.

He hadn’t seen which way she went when she exited the Sub Rosa Court, so had guessed and gone
for the Den. She hadn’t been there, and her bag hadn’t been in her locker. That was his fault for asking
someone to move it.

That was when he should have put on a shirt, but instead he raced for the Subs’ Garden, practically
skidding to a halt at the gate. Las Palmas may not have many rules for behavior inside the club, but
one of them was that Doms, Masters, and Owners were absolutely forbidden from entering the subs’
private space. He’d waited, hoping a sub would be headed in that he could give a message to. When
no one came by, he’d instead gone to use the intercom system to page Davina. Normally that was used
to summon subs to a particular play space once their top was ready. He’d asked for Davina to meet
him at the gate, then raced back so he’d be ready and waiting when she got there.

Half an hour later, she hadn’t appeared. He’d been seriously considering saying fuck it to the rules and
busting in when Gabriela, Master Leo’s submissive, arrived at the gate. He’d explained that he needed
to see her, that he was worried about her, and begged the other woman to tell Davina he was waiting.



Gabriela returned fifteen minutes later, a line between her brows, and told him Davina was fine, and
would not be coming out.

That had knocked him back a step, emotionally if not physically, which had led to his current state—
standing bare chested and bare foot in a gravel parking lot at three in the morning, hoping the woman
he loved would come out soon.

There that phrase was again. The woman he loved.

The woman he needed to make sure was okay. The woman he would walk across fire for if she only
asked it.

He’d hurt her. And he didn’t know how.

She’d used her safe word and walked away, as was her right, but he would be lying to himself if he
didn’t acknowledge that a part of him was angry—with her for not communicating. With himself for not
sensing that she was at her breaking point.

Had he been too rough when he fucked her mouth? They’d done a few double penetration scenes, and
he’d even fucked her mouth while she was in suspension bondage, which was far more stressful.

Maybe one of the chains had been cutting into her and he hadn’t noticed, but she was normally so
good about telling him if there was an issue like that.

Then again, normally she didn’t call him Master.

He closed his eyes and willed his dick to stay calm. It was difficult, given how fresh the memory of the
way she looked at him was. The way she’d said Master as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gravel crunched, and he opened his eyes.



Davina.

She was in street clothes—expensive looking jeans, boots that made her almost as tall as him, a thin
white shirt and a sweater-jacket belted at the waist. Her hair was loose, pulled forward over one
shoulder. She carried a designer bag in the crook of her arm, and had her phone in her other hand.
She was looking at the screen. That was a good thing, because she didn’t notice him until she was two
meters away, close enough that he could see her face in the lights coming from the trunks of the titular
palm trees, each of which was lit by a combination of rope lights and upward facing landscape lights
that illuminated the underside of the fronds high above.

Davina yelped when she looked up and saw him standing at the back of her car. “Jesus, Grif. What are
you doing?”

She sounded so normal, that for a moment he was taken aback. “Uh, waiting for you.”

She tossed her hair off her shoulder. “No need. I’m fine. You must be freezing. Go back inside.”

“Davina, we need to talk.”

“Let’s not.” She dug in her bag for her car keys.

“Davina, we’re better than this.”

That stopped her. “Better than this?”

“Than pretending that scene didn’t go sideways.”

Her mouth worked and she looked away. More light fell on her face, and now he could see that her
eyes were red-rimmed.

She’d been crying.



He’d made her cry.

Grif reached for her.

Davina held her hands up, as if warding him off. His heart broke. Was she afraid of him now?

Grif shoved his hands into his pockets and took several steps back, giving her a clear path to her car. If
she was scared, the last thing he wanted to do was to make her think he was forcing her to stay. As
much as he might want to throw himself bodily onto the hood of her Lexus and force her to discuss this,
he wouldn’t do that.

“Grif, I get it, and you’re probably right, we need to talk about it, but right now I just…can’t.”

“Can you tell me what…what I did wrong?” He ran a hand through his hair. “The last thing I would ever
want to do is hurt you. I—” love you.

He forced his mouth to stop moving, but there were so many things he wanted to say.

I think about you when I’m not with you. I wonder if you’re with someone else. If you have a family. If
some other man gets to hold you close as you sleep at night.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I know this is going to sound like a line, but it’s me. What we did…it
brought up some stuff for me. From my past.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected. “From your past? What do you mean? We’ve talked about all our past
BDSM relationships.” That was part of the strong foundation they’d built this relationship on.

“I told you about the relationships that mattered.”

“Clearly not, if something in your past made you safe word out of a mild scene.”



“Mild? That wasn’t mild!” Even in the muted light he could see spots of color on her face. “I was worried
about how I looked.”

This conversation was making less and less sense to him. “What? Why?”

“Grif, I can’t do this right now.” Davina stomped past him, and it took everything he had not to reach out
and stop her. To hug her and beg her to tell him everything. “You don’t know every detail of my past. So
what? We don’t even know each other’s last names.” She opened the door and tossed her bag into the
passenger seat.

“Don’t walk away, Davina.”

“I’m walking away from tonight. If you want to keep going next time we’re both scheduled to be here,
that’s…I’d like that. But not like tonight.”

She slid into the car and a moment later it started up. Grif watched, shivering, as she backed out of the
parking spot, then rocketed out of the lot, driving faster than was advisable.

He stayed there for a long time, hoping she’d come back.


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