DomNextDoor by Reese Gabriel Read Free Book Online Page B

he could produce it. She continued sucking him and holding him
fast, her hands wrapped around his waist.
    Finally she released him, having licked him clean.
    Grant pulled her to her feet. “And what exactly was that
supposed to be?” he asked, finding it more than a little difficult to muster
any real discontent over her actions.
    “If you don’t know by now,” she teased, “we’re both in
trouble.”
    “We’re supposed to be friends,” he reminded her.
    “So I was just doing a solid for my good pal.” She offered a
grin and a wink. “You could say thanks.”
    Grant arched a brow. “You know what we call girls like you?”
    “I can hardly imagine.”
    “We call them brats. They are submissives who try to
manipulate a man into taking control.”
    “Sounds complicated.”
    “It can be. If the couple doesn’t work together.”
    “And how would we be, as a couple, I mean?”
    “Like fire and ice,” he said without hesitation.
    “Which one am I?”
    “It depends.”
    Tristy put out her hand. “Still friends?”
    “Always.”
    Her hand was small in his, so easily enveloped. He felt such
a strange combination of desires—to protect, to consume, to possess.
    “I will hold you to it,” she declared as she turned toward
the door.
    He unlocked the door for her and let her out. Quickly he
closed it behind her. Before she could see the expression on his face. There
was pain there and he knew it. Not the sort of thing you showed a friend.
    At least not the ones you were in love with.
    * * * * *
    Tristy didn’t look back. When she was safely inside her
apartment she locked the door, not that it would protect her. Not from the
things she was feeling. She felt foolish and stupid and…betrayed.
    Not by Grant.
    How could she blame him? He had done nothing to her. He was
the perfect gentleman always, ever above board, never deceiving or leading her
on.
    He was and always would be a friend.
    But why not more? What the hell kept them apart?
    Was it just the BDSM, which she played at but still feared,
or were they both afraid of a real relationship? Did they feel unworthy of
happiness?
    She needed time to think. And her life back on track. She
definitely needed some non-Grant time. Some nice long baths, pay-per-view
movies. Maybe get to know herself a little better.
    Then maybe she could look for someone else. Someone not in
her building. It was a good solid idea.
    So why was she wiping tears from her eyes?
    * * * * *
    It was well after midnight when the knock came on Tristy’s
door. Bleary eyed, she looked at the television and realized she had fallen
asleep on the couch.
    In a flash it all came back to her, the memories of the last
twenty-four hours, the excruciating highs and lows.
    Grant.
    Was it him knocking? It had to be. Should she answer?
    Her heart pounded. She wanted to tell him to go away. Then
again she wanted to let him in and tell him off. Didn’t he realize what time it
was? Decent people were trying to sleep. Not that she felt very decent.
    Resisting the urge to slide the chain across the door,
Tristy used the peephole. A quick gasp followed. It most certainly was not
Grant.
    Brian. Of
hello-let-me-lead-you-on-and-then-tell-you-all-about-my-lovely-wife-and-kids
fame. Not that he had even had the decency to tell her himself. She’d had to
find the information on his cell phone. The suspicion had obviously been there.
She had just been ignoring it all along.
    “Tristy, I know you’re in there, I can hear you breathing.”
    Just barely , she thought. “Go away, Brian, you
shouldn’t have come.”
    “I know. I’m an even bigger ass than I already was, but
look, I came to apologize,” he said.
    Tristy waited for the hidden agenda.
    Five…four…three…two…one.
    “And…and maybe to talk a little?”
    Blast off! “There isn’t anything to talk about.”
    “I just want to make it right.” She could hear the slur in
his voice.
    “You’ve been drinking.”
    “A little,” he confessed.