The Training (Book 3: The Submissive Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

you.”
    “He came by my house every day for a long time,” he mused. “I worried the entire family sick. I told him, eventually, that your leaving was my fault. That it wasn’t you.”
    My hand rested on his knee, and I squeezed him gently. “Must be why he hugged me the night of the party. I noticed a change in him that night.”
    “I’m sorry if he ever treated you like our breakup was your fault.” He sighed, a sad, regretful sound. “So much I should have told you.”
    “Which is why from now on, we’re going to talk,” I said. “A lot. And about everything.”
    Talk a lot about everything. Probably what he had in mind for the library.
    He held out a plate. “I know you had an early dinner. Are you hungry?”
    My stomach let out a growl in reply, and he smiled. Why hadn’t I realized I was hungry before?
    Cheese and crackers, almonds, grapes, and dried cherries covered the plate. He set it down between us, and I took a block of cheddar cheese. When that was gone, I grabbed a handful of almonds and ate those as well. He munched on a few grapes and a cube of Gruyère cheese.
    The snack was nice and welcome, but surely he had another reason for asking me to the library. We could have gone on to bed. He could have told me to grab a snack in the kitchen. Why would he want to meet in the library?
    You could ask him
, I told myself. Even though I knew this was my library, it still felt odd to just address him like I would during the week.
    I was beginning to see what he meant about talking.
    We hadn’t done a lot of it the last time I was collared.
    But what should I say?
Thank you for the amazing orgasm?
    He cleared his throat. “I won’t do this every night, but I thought it would be a good idea to come together and talk about how the evening went.” He smiled at me. “Since it was our first night. And only your second time in the playroom.”
    I traced the golden filigree design on the plate.
    “I need for this to be a two-way conversation,” he said.
    “I know,” I said finally. “It’s just . . . odd.”
    “Maybe talking about the oddness will help.”
    We both reached for a grape at the same time and our fingers touched. I jerked mine back.
    “See?” he asked, voice heavy with emotion. “What was that for?”
    I took a deep breath. “Just trying to keep the weekday Nat . . . I mean, man, separate from the weekend one.” I glanced down at the plate. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
    He lifted my head so our eyes met. “Why?”
    “I don’t want to mess up,” I admitted. “I don’t want to overstep.”
    “I think it’s highly doubtful you would overstep.” He gave a small laugh. “You may have difficulties in other areas, but I don’t think showing respect in the library or at the kitchen table will ever be a problem for you.”
    “You say that because this”—I pointed from him to me and back again—“is easy for you.
This
you’re used to.”
    “I would argue that
this
”—he indicated the space between us—“is new to me.” He looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “But, on second thought, perhaps you’re right in other regards.”
    I know I am.
    “The fact remains,” he continued, “that we can’t talk honestly about the scene if you’re not open and relaxed with me.”
    I sighed deeply.
    “Now, just what—” He pushed the plate of food out of the way, took my wineglass and set it aside. “Just what are we going to do about that?”
    My heart started to thump faster. “Beats me.”
    The corner of his mouth lifted. “Beating you wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
    My head shot up. “Sign?” I asked, using my old way to determine if he was joking.
    “Yes,” he said. “It was a joke, and not a very good one. I’m just trying to lighten the mood a bit.” His voice dropped to a low whisper and his eyes darkened. “Come here.”
    I scooted closer, and he took my face in his hands.
    “How am I ever going to get you to relax?” He