13. Thirteenth Lesson

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Matthews must have felt that I tensed because he leaned back in the sofa and removed his hand from mine. I didn’t dare look at him again, so I focused on the movie. The snowman made me chuckle, and apparently Tilia liked him too because each time my lips pulled into a grin, she was laughing next to me.

I tried to forget that Matthews was sitting next to me, and after a while it seemed to work. My skin didn’t tingle quite as much, and I was enjoying myself. That was until Matthews moved around and his leg accidentally brushed against mine. I was close to jumping, but it came out as a jerk.

Matthews’ hand landed on my leg, and he leaned in again. “Do you want a break?”

My heart raced. What the hell was he playing at? Was this something normal for him? My mind whirled in confusion, and apparently I must have given him some other silent signal because his hand squeezed once before vanishing again.

“Tilia, can we pause the movie for a while?” he asked.

Her eyes were wide, and looked dry—as if she hadn’t blinked once. “No, Daddy. I wanna see.”

“Can you sit alone for a while? We’ll be back soon.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Tilia’s presence worked as a moderator, and I knew that without it I would feel even more insecure. He wouldn’t try anything with her in the room.

“Okay…” Tilia replied, and I wished she hadn’t.

Matthews rose and cocked his head for me to come with him. There wasn’t much to do but follow him outside. No choice.

He looked over his shoulder once to see if I was coming, then he went downstairs and into the kitchen. The room was a lot brighter than the rest of the house, and it felt a bit like waking up. To my relief we ended up on opposite sides of the counter. I wondered if it was deliberate. Perhaps he understood that I needed some space.

“You don’t like me touching you.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement. I didn’t know how to reply. No, I didn’t like it, but at the same time I did.

“You may not be my submissive, Ethan, and we don’t have that kind of relationship, but I still value honesty and communication. I want to know how you work if you’re going to spend time with my daughter.”

I still didn’t know what to answer.

“Okay, look. I touched you to calm you down, it worked at the club so I thought it would work here as well, but clearly it upset you more than anything else. So, would you rather I don’t touch you?”

I was beginning to understand his idea of communication and honesty. No one had ever cleared the air like that with me before. It was made without fuss, and I found that knowing his intention with those casual touches was relieving. He was right, while we were at the club, and in my apartment, his touch did soothe me. But, how could I explain what I felt when I wasn’t sure of it myself?

I tried forming words. They didn’t flow, but it was something. “It doesn’t feel okay.” There, I said it.

“Then I won’t touch you. I’m not here to make you uncomfortable, Ethan. It’s just my first go-to solution as a Dom when someone’s showing signs of distress.”

I wanted to be able to do that: tell the entire truth without batting a lash. Lies came more easily than truths for me. Years living like I had, wired me like that. No one wanted the truth, it was all lies. No one was real in that world, everyone lied, most of all to themselves.

“I’m not used to touching.” I thought it would be harder to say, but as a matter of fact, as the words left me, I felt lighter. It was a simple truth, but a truth nonetheless.

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