Personal Geography by Tamsen Parker Read Free Book Online Page A

feel…nervous. I don’t get nervous. This guy is throwing me off my game.
    He comes back with two plates and sets one in front of me. It’s filled with blackened fish, wild rice, and grilled vegetables. I wait for him to take his seat before laying my napkin in my lap and starting to eat. Holy shit, this is good. Cris Ardmore knows his way around a kitchen.
    “So, Mr. Ardmore, you wanted to speak with me?”
    “I did.”
    “And what did you want to speak with me about?”
    “I don’t know.” His brow creases. “I guess I wanted to make sure…”
    “I wasn’t some sort of sex slave? I’m not being coerced? That’s very gallant, but entirely unnecessary, I assure you.” I take another bite of fish, hoping I appear cooler than I feel.
    “I can see that. You’ll have to forgive me. This isn’t the way I usually do things.”
    “It’s not the way most people do things. But, it’s the only way I do things.”
    He looks surprised but covers it with a joke. “So you’re the world’s foremost expert on this type of arrangement?”
    “Possibly. You’re starting out with the best. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
    “I think you might.”
    He mutters this under his breath, and I’m not sure if he intended me to hear him. We sit in silence for a minute, but I’m getting antsy. Let’s move this along, shall we? “Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?”
    “Lots of things, but I don’t think I’m allowed.”
    “Probably not.”
    I enjoy a few more bites of my food, trying to play it cool, even though I’ve rarely felt less so. Is this what he expected? Is this what he wants? How can I tell? This is maddening. I stab another piece of perfectly cooked zucchini and shove it in my mouth before I let on exactly how discomfited I am. I’m swallowing when he leans back in his chair and takes up his glass of water.
    “This… This is, by far, the strangest date I’ve ever been on.”
    “Is that what this is? A date?”
    “What did you think it was?”
    “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was under the impression that I had signed up for a weekend full of very hot, very kinky sex.”
    This causes Cris Ardmore to have a narrow miss with a spit-take. Instead, he covers his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs into his arm. He really is the cutest. How has he managed to do this for so long and still be such a prude?
    “I’m sorry. I told you I’m not shy.”
    “Ceviche?” he croaks.
    “Indeed, Mr. Ardmore.”
    “I think if we’re going to fuck, you can call me Cris.”
    That’s more like it.
    “All right then, Cris. You can call me Kit. For now.”
    We finish our lunch over a series of verbal parries and thrusts, and when we’re through, I set down my knife and fork and lay my napkin on the table. “Thank you for lunch. It more than met with my approval.”
    “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
    We look at each other for a beat, daring the other person to make the first move, but I’m impatient and clearly don’t play coy.
    “So have I passed muster?”
    He looks unhappy. “This was never about you passing muster. I won’t have you thinking that.”
    Ah, my first glimpse of the Dominant I’ve been promised. I like. He leans back in his chair and studies me.
    “I like to think of myself as a fundamentally responsible person. I wanted to know from you , not the submissive you, that this was something you wanted. I don’t coerce women. I don’t force them. I never have, and I won’t start now. But you clearly have more than your fair share of wits about you and a very clear understanding of what’s going to happen here, so my requirements have been satisfied.”
    His words make me feel startled and raw. Cris Ardmore’s understanding—or, at least, suspicion—of the extent to which my submissive self is discrete from the rest of me is perturbing. Will this man never stop throwing me for a loop?
    I cover the best way I know how. “All of your