Divine Solace: 8 by Joey W. Hill

know what he would do.
    A peculiar stillness took over his expression, a look that
stole some of her breath, such that she had to find it again to sip the wine.
He adjusted his movements to her, so she could raise the glass to her lips with
her fingers still overlapping his. His gaze was on her face as she lowered her
eyes to what she was doing, took a reassuring gulp. When she loosened her
fingers, he took the glass away, set it aside. Reached out and brushed a drop
of the wine from the corner of her mouth.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Why me?”
    “Lyda asked me how I felt about you,” he said. “I said I
would be anything she agreed to let me be for you this weekend.” He gave her an
amused look. “It was the Goth discussion. It made me hot.”
    She snorted at that, then made herself push him away. His
proximity made it hard to think. She really needed to think. “Can we
just…ease back? Please? This isn’t my world, and to say I’m over my head is an
understatement.”
    “Sure. Why don’t we eat?” He moved back to the chair, pulled
it out for her. In answer, she pointed him to his chair.
    “As much as I appreciate the gentleman routine, I’m safer
getting my own self seated.”
    He grinned at that and complied, moving to his chair, though
she noted he waited until she was seated to take his own chair. Her little
dining set was a four-seater, small enough that his foot brushed hers before he
adjusted his legs out of her way.
    She was thinking of something else he’d revealed, close up
to her like that. “Do you have a tongue piercing?”
    “I do.” Fortunately, he didn’t open his mouth to waggle it
at her, something she found quite non-appealing. When she remarked on that, he
made a face of agreement. “Yeah. Women enjoy what I can do with it more than
the looks of it. Not so different from another part of the male anatomy,
right?”
    His comical look toward his lap made her chuckle. “I think
women tend to find it more exciting…aesthetically, when they’re aroused,” she
agreed. “When they’re not, it does look a little odd. But that’s not casting
stones. I’d say the same about female genitalia. Wouldn’t you?”
    “Absolutely not.” He used the tongs to dish salad into a
smaller bowl for her. “I could stare at close-ups of pussy all day long.”
    “Which explains a great deal about cinematography in the
porn industry,” she said dryly.
    He winked. “True.”
    They worked on the salads. After finishing most of her wine,
she felt ready to dip her toe back into more uncertain waters. It was helpful
that Noah didn’t push, staying with general discussion of her plans for the
kitchen, questions about the neighborhood, her collages. She sat back.
    “How did Lyda react to you saying you’d be anything I
wanted?”
    “She agreed.” Noah rose to get the plates of lasagna, which
he’d put back in the oven to stay warm. “You might think of me as bait, Gen,
but I’m thinking Lyda was considering me a less intimidating tour guide. She
suspected you’d like to learn more about us.”
    “You didn’t call her Mistress that time.”
    “She’s not completely hung up on that. She always says I’ll
know exactly when to call her Mistress. She’s right about that.”
    The statement was fraught with images Gen could bring into
focus far too easily. As Noah put the plates on the table, her gaze coursed up
his body, back to the base of his throat, the part of his body that seemed to
be her particular obsession. “You know, I really have no idea what to think.
Whether to feel appalled, intrigued, nervous…or send you away.”
    “The most important thing to remember is you’re in charge,
Gen. You can do whatever makes you feel best.”
    “But I don’t know how to do that, how to ignore your
feelings.”
    “You’re not.” That emphatic note entered his voice again,
commanding her attention. He met her gaze. “When you touched me at the chair,
why did you do