Andie fiddled with her appearance in the rearview mirror of her car, and she had no idea why. What did it matter what she looked like to Eric? It had been six years since they had seen each other and everything that connected them was in the past. They were brand new people, no longer tied to each other by familial values.

Strangers. That's what they were. Strangers with a past that no longer tormented Andie as it used to.

At least... that's what she told herself as she stepped from her blue corolla, scuffing her beige ballet flats on the pavement.

Stopping to scowl at the imperfection, she licked her thumb and bent down to rub furiously at the stubborn mark, which was scraped permanently into the faux leather of her shoe.

Throwing her head back she growled her frustrations to the starry night sky before dropping her head into her heads and rubbing at her temples.

Who cares, she told herself as she straightened her spine and turned to close the car door behind her. It was Eric. He's just a person she used to know. A colleague now. Her boss at the very worst. A scuffed shoe meant nothing.

Head high, shoulders back, Andie slung her wallet purse over her shoulder, and walked proudly into the resaurant, scuffed shoe and all.

Andie's earlier conversation with Eric was brief. He asked her when she was going to be in town, to which she confessed to having arrived the day prior. Startled to find her here despite her reservations on moving from Chicago to Florida, Eric asked to see her as soon as she was available—tonight, if possible—to which she agreed because no matter what emotions turmoiled deep inside her heart, she wanted to see him too.

Part of her reflected on her growth over these last six years. Had she grown as much as she thought she had if she was still so eager to please him? But this was just dinner... Customary—expected, even—for two people who were coming together for the first time in many, many years.

She had to push it from her mind. It would do her little good to overthink it.

The restaurant was seated near the water on the Rivers Edge Marina. As Andie walked up the wooden ramp, dried from the salty sea, she could hear water slapping against the boats that bobbed up and down on the water. The air smelled of sea, and the breeze that tugged at her hair almost eased the anxieties from Andie's chest.

She had settled for a soft black dress this evening, and as she entered the busy establishment that smelled of steaming seafood, she tugged nervously at the hem.

"Breathe..." she told herself as she stopped in the foyer to scan the restaurants patrons, none of which resembled her former step brother. Her eyes darted all over, and she had to force herself to slow down, which felt nearly impossible as her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

She couldn't believe how nervous she was. In her vigilant scanning of the restaurant, she made a mental note of where the ladies room was located, because she was fairly confident she was going to throw up.

Breathe, her voice soothed her, just as she felt like peeing her panties. "I'm going to die," she countered, feeling utterly foolish for arguing with herself in a public setting.

Lifting her head to swallow down the bile that threatened to bubble up her throat, Andie noticed an outdoor patio overlooking the marina. Perhaps he's out there, she thought as she took slow measured steps to prevent her wobbly legs from giving out beneath her.

Or perhaps he just hasn't arrived yet, dummy, her thoughts laughed at her. It was a possible conclusion for why she hadn't found him yet.

But then she rounded the corner that took her back into the cool evening, and that's when she saw him.

Sitting four tables down the line of outdoor wicker chairs and glass tabletops, at a table sized perfectly for two, he sat.

Eric...

Even though he was seated at the side of the table that faced her, he didn't see her. His upper body was swiveled around, and his dark piercing eyes were trained on something at the other end of the restaurant.

Curiously peering around one of the pillars that seperated the outdoor seating from the rest of the restaurant, Andie spotted another entrance—the main entrance—that opened up to the parking lot.

Andie had parked at the street-side parking.

Eric had no idea that she was there.

Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, Andie tilted her head as she took a moment to watch him.

He looked taller somehow... And his once dirty blond hair now looked more chestnut. He looked slimmer as well; the slopes of his cheeks and the hard muscles around his jaw more pronounced than she remembered.

A nervous habit of his caught her attention and forced her eyes down to his hands. He had thrown one arm over the back of his chair, and his thumb tapped impatiently—no, anxiously—on the noisy wicker of the chair. She imagined he had no idea what a racket he was making, but, to her relief, none of the other patrons seemed to notice either.

And then he started to turn. Andie's heart stopped in her chest, and she took one retreating step backwards as if she was actually considering running for it.

But not before Eric's eyes turned forward and landed directly on her.

The thrumming of his thumb stopped. In fact, everything stopped. As far as she was concerned the patrons in the restaurant froze exactly as they were the second Eric's eyes landed on her. The candles lit on each table stopped flickering, and the waves that slapped against the boats stilled. It was just them, and in that moment, it felt like they had all the time in the world to just stare at each other.

Six years, Eric thought to himself. How had he managed to keep away from this girl for six long years?

With a great deal of pain...

How long had she been standing there? Did it matter? No, nothing mattered. Not anymore. She was here, and that was the end of it. He finally had her here, after all of these years, to try to make up the damage he had left behind.

Rising to his feet, he took in her size. She hadn't grown an inch since he last saw her as a skinny little sixteen-year-old. But she was most definitely not a little sixteen-year-old now. Her body was all woman and God help him, he felt as out of control now as he did back then.

Everything had changed, and yet, nothing at all. He still wanted her. The distance didn't help, the years apart didn't help; he was as starving for her now as he was over half a decade ago.

What the hell was he going to do?

Andie's long lashes blinked as if she were just regaining life. She was nervous, of course. He didn't blame her, he was just as nervous as she was.

She unfolded like a statue when she took her first step forward. Her graceful legs carried her slowly towards him, reawakening every dream he had tortured himself with over the past six years. Dreams of Andie showing up in his life, whether he wanted her or not, and making him see reason. Dreams he wished would have come true long before tonight.

In three long strides, he closed the distance between them, until they stopped in front of one another, just a breath away from touching.

Six years, his heart groaned.

Andie nearly cried when Eric leaned down to gently envelope her against his chest. He did it so carefully, as if he thought she might break, or as if he didn't trust himself.

His chest was hard and warm, and his shirt was soft and smelled of earth and spice, and... him. When her arms found their way around him, his grip tightened. He held her so tightly that it felt as if all of her broken pieces were being put back together.

Her eyes closed against the wave of pain and longing that she was sure had been far left behind. What she learned then, however, was that it had merely tucked itself away until it had reason to resurface. Apparently, reuniting with the man who caused the pain and longing, was enough reason to remember all the sadness she felt every time he graced her thoughts over the past six years.

Andie hated herself for crying, but she just couldn't help it.

She loved him. All the time and space between them didn't change that. Her self growth and personal achievements amounted to nothing in that moment, because she felt just as she did when she was sixteen—helpless, lost, and very much in love.

Eric seemed to understand, for when they released, he wiped at her tears without saying a word. He simply smiled; a sad smile that she didn't understand.

"Shall we sit?" His deep baritone reverberated through her bones, and unable to find her voice, she nodded and allowed him to pull out her chair and guide her into her seat.

"Thank you," she finally mustered as he was rounding the square table to his own seat. He paused to smile at her, staring for a moment, before resuming his short journey to his chair.

Once seated he leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together.

"How are you, Andie?"

Her rebellious heart fluttered at the sound of her name on his lips.

Andie nodded. "I'm good," she swallowed before continuing. "A little tired, maybe."

"A trip from Chicago to Florida is bound to be exhausting. You should have told me you were coming and I would have helped."

"It was uh... a last minute decision, really. It's not like I had a lease to break or a house to sell."

"Yes... How is Morgan?" He asked, reminded of the roommate arrangement between the girls when Andie mentioned how relatively simple it was to relocate.

"She's good." Andie smiled, comfortable on the easy topic of her friend back home. "She's actually trying to get her masters. But the school she wants to attend requires five years of professional work between an undergrad and masters. She's trying to find a way around it."

"She's a smart girl, I'm sure she will find a way."

The conversation lapsed momentarily, and Andie, eager to keep herself busy, reached for the glass of water graciously placed on the table by a passing waiter who said he would return momentarily with bread.

"You look different," he commented matter-of-factly. "Did you dye your hair?"

Her glass still to her lips, Andie gulped down the water in her mouth while her free hand lifted to touch her hair.

"No," she mumbled around a piece of ice. "How does it look different?"

"It's a little darker. More golden blond than the yellow blond I remember."

"Oh." Andie returned her glass to the table. "You look different too."

"Oh?" He smiled, and she almost felt as if he were teasing her for being so nervous. A blush warmed her cheeks, and the words locked in her throat once again. She mustered a single nod of her head as a reply.

"How so?" he pressed.

"Your hair is darker. And you seem taller... And... I don't know. You just seem different."

Nodding along, as if he understood, his smile remained fixed on his face.

Eric couldn't wipe it away if he wanted to. His Andie, who wasn't so little anymore, was as skittish as a newborn fawn, and he feared anything could frighten her away.

She might be six years older than the last time he saw her, but he suddenly found it increasingly difficult to be with her and not resume his usual antics. He wanted to tease her as he used to and watched the blush creep up her neck. He wanted to use his voice to make her squirm in her seat.

What Andie didn't know, is that Eric hadn't given up the activities they had begun six years ago. After Andie he developed an affinity towards it, and acting on that affinity was one of the only things that kept a sound voice in his head when he was near to returning to Andie, and taking her from her home, to demand that she drop everything in her life, and be with him—and only him.

At times, during his first year away from her, he found no qualms with her age. It was his practices as a Dom, and the sound voice in his head, that kept him from giving into the thing he wanted more than anything else.

Andie.