Slice of Pi 2 Read Online Free Page B

really his style. But Iris intrigued him, enough so that he wanted to see her again. He leaned back in his chair. “I’m technically off on Monday and Thursday. I could come down for the day.”
    â€œTechnically?” Iris raised an eyebrow.
    Owen gave her a sheepish smile. “I usually come in to work anyway.”
    â€œAh, one of those types.” Iris smiled. She pushed up from the table and took one of the business cards out of the dish on the counter. With her back to him, she bent to scrawl something on the back, giving him a (probably deliberate) long look at her ass in that polka-dotted dress. Turning around, she leaned back against the counter and held up the business card between two fingers. “Maybe you should call me on Wednesday. You can take a real day off Thursday instead of a technical one.”
    Owen got to his feet as well and plucked the business card from her hand, reading the number scrawled there on the back. This close to her, he could smell her faint perfume, or maybe it was just the scent of her hair. Whatever it was, it was pleasant.
    One corner of Iris’s mouth turned up in a saucy smile. “Bye, Owen. Thanks for breakfast.”
    â€œBye.” He watched her go, the tiredness gone from her walk, which was more of a saunter even in her red high heels. His gaze followed the curves of her figure until she was out of sight.
    With Iris still on his mind, Owen retreated into the kitchen and started prepping the scones, his body working on autopilot as he began measuring ingredients into the giant Hobart mixer. He’d never been propositioned so directly before. He wasn’t being entirely truthful when he told Iris he didn’t date. In actuality, he used to date quite frequently. But it hadn’t taken him long to learn that not many women wanted to dominate a man in bed. Sure, a little roughhousing now and then, some joking commands, but when it came down to serious play, none of his previous partners wanted in. He ran through a list of past girlfriends as the mixer crumbled the butter in with the flour mixture, remembering the way they’d each taken the request, how each relationship had fizzled thereafter. And it wasn’t like very many BDSM clubs or groups suited a guy who went to bed before dark.
    Outside of the bedroom, he was confident and in command, and he tended to attract women who wanted a powerful figure in the bedroom. They didn’t understand that for all his power, he craved submission. He wanted to be challenged and forced to yield. He hadn’t yet met a woman who was interested.
    Iris, though. She was exactly his type, with her retro-sexy look and flirtatious expression. It was unlikely she’d go for his kink, but at least he was looking at a little strings-free sex. Vanilla sex was better than no sex at all, right? Well, not long term. Long term, he would rather not get mixed up with someone who found his proclivities distasteful. But for a one-night stand, maybe he could suspend his more unusual tastes and get laid by a beautiful woman who clearly wanted him.
    And she did clearly want him.
    Once the scones were in the oven, he moved on to the pastries that wouldn’t start selling until lunchtime. As he mixed and measured, though, his mind kept returning to Iris and her tantalizing promise of fun at the beach.
    That daydream disappeared when his opening cashier showed up a full five minutes late. He could feel the frown etching his face when Sarah came in, breathless and a little sweaty, but the cinnamon buns had to be glazed and he didn’t have time to stand at the door and glare. He didn’t even have to say anything because she was apologizing before she hung up her purse.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Owen. I know I’m late. I know punctuality is your number-one commandment, but my car had a flat and I didn’t have time to change it so I got on the bike and rode down here as fast as I could.” When he