by Sherri Hayes
“Does your head hurt at all?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I realized she was blushing, and kissed the side of her head. “Does the fact that you like when I pull your hair embarrass you?”
Brianna didn’t answer right away, and her fingers went to work on the buttons of my dress shirt. I held her and waited.
“I shouldn’t like that,” she whispered.
I couldn’t stand not being able to see her face any longer, so I shifted us so I could look into her eyes as I spoke. “What makes you think you shouldn’t like it?”
She glanced down. I tapped under her chin, and she looked back up at me. “I don’t like . . . pain.” The last word came out strangled.
I brushed my fingers from her temple to her chin and back, never taking my eyes off her. “What you went through, from what you’ve told me . . . from the evidence I’ve seen on your body . . .” I sighed, trying not to let the anger those thoughts evoked in me take over. “What was done to you was extreme. There are very few people who would actually enjoy the level of pain you endured.”
I let that set in before I continued. “Remember the lesson with the cane?”
She nodded. “It’s not the object, it’s the person using it.”
I smiled. “Good girl. And how do you think that applies here?”
Brianna looked down again, but I could still see her face clearly. She was thinking, trying to figure out the puzzle I’d given her. I had no doubts she would, however. It would just take her some time and thought to wrap her head around something she’d probably never considered.
Time ticked by, and the light coming through the window changed from sunlight to the artificial lights of the city. I reached over and turned on the lamp so we wouldn’t be sitting in the dark.
“Pain is relative?”
“Meaning?”
“Everyone is different.” She hesitated. “And . . . it depends on the person?”
“Very good.” I kissed her forehead and smiled. “Pain isn’t bad any more than a cane. It’s the individual who is administering it, and the person who’s receiving it, and the situation they’re in. As long as they agree on the level, the use, then it can be pleasurable.”
She nodded, then appeared to think very hard about something again.
“I’m scared.”
I pushed her hair back behind her ears. “What has you scared?”
“I shouldn’t . . . I shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t—”
“Sweetheart, there is no right or wrong about what we like and what we don’t like. It just is.”
“And you . . . you like to pull my hair?”
I chuckled. “Yes. I like it a lot.”
Now that the crisis appeared to be over, I changed positions again and tucked her head back into the crook of my neck.
“You should never feel ashamed or embarrassed about something you enjoy. Or something you don’t enjoy, for that matter. “
“What if . . .”
“Go on.”
“What if I don’t like something you do?”
I continued to caress her as we talked. Even though she was calm, I knew from experience that could change in an instant.
“First, we would talk about it like we’re doing now. If it were something you truly didn’t like, however, or were uncomfortable with doing, we wouldn’t do it again. It’s called a hard limit.”
“A hard limit.”
I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself, but I answered her anyway. “A hard limit is something you absolutely, under no circumstances, want to do or try.”
She was thinking again.
“Do you have . . . hard limits, too?”
“Of course. Everyone has hard limits, even if they don’t call them that.”
She was quiet.
“Would you like to know what some of mine are?”
“Yes.”
“You already know I don’t do any type of toilet play. I also have blood play and needles on my list of hard limits. “
She shuddered in my arms when I mentioned needles. There were no marks on her skin from needles, but if it were done by someone with experience, there wouldn’t be. It was a lot like acupuncture, although the needles weren’t always as small. Considering the level of pain Ian preferred, my guess would be they were larger needles rather than smaller.
It took her several minutes to completely relax again in my arms. When she finally did, I glanced up at the clock and realized it was getting late. Her assignment was going to have to wait. It wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t want to get into anything major this late. The day had already been emotional for her, and we’d accomplished a lot.
I helped her up, and we walked hand in hand into my bathroom where I helped her strip. At my prompting, she did the same for me before we entered the large shower.
I kept everything chaste, more because I wanted to give her time to process everything than the lack of want. She glanced down a few times at my erection as if waiting for me to act upon my obvious desire. I pretended not to notice, concentrating on getting us both clean instead.
After drying off, we climbed into my bed together. I hadn’t been lying to her when I said I might never let her sleep in her own bed again. Even though occasionally I’d wake up in the middle of the night and be startled by her presence in my bed, once my conscious mind kicked in I was filled with a sense of contentment seeing her lying there surrounded by my sheets and pillows, completely at peace and trusting.
It was usually those times when I couldn’t resist pulling her into my arms and holding her. She’d woken up more than once, stiff and frightened. The second time it had happened, we’d ended up staying up for more than an hour talking through it. As with everything else that frightened her, she didn’t want to shy away from it, and she’d been embarrassed to have reacted as she had.
Gathering her into my arms, I laid her head on my chest and kissed her forehead. I longed to tell her I loved her. My heart ached with the want to tell her.
Her fingers played absentmindedly with the brown hair below my navel. I sucked in a breath as she dipped a little too low, and grabbed her wrist.
She stilled.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Brianna, but I just want to hold you tonight.”
When I let go of her, she retracted her hand and tucked it up under her chin.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Brianna?”
“I talked to Cal today.”
I closed my eyes, hoping this wasn’t bad news.
“And what did Ross have to say?”
“He . . . he invited me . . . us . . . to a concert.”
“What kind of concert?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I . . . I didn’t ask. I should have . . .”
“Shh. It’s fine.” I soothed, running my fingers through her hair like she enjoyed. “Would you like to go?”
“I don’t know if . . . what if I can’t . . .”
Sitting up, I brought her with me. Once we were facing each other, I repeated the question. “Would you like to go?”
“I think . . . I’d like to try.”
I nodded.
“I’ll call Ross tomorrow and get the details.”
Lying back down, I tucked her into my side and resumed petting her hair. We’d made great progress over the course of the evening. She was getting better at communicating her thoughts and feelings every day, even if sometimes she was unsure of them.
I had no idea what Cal was intending with this concert, although considering Brianna’s birthday was only two weeks away, I hazarded a guess that was the underlying reason. Why he’d picked something so public was beyond me, but I doubted I’d ever understand Ross and his motivations or thinking. Hopefully, after talking to him, I’d have a better idea. If Brianna truly wanted to go, I wanted to attempt to make it a positive experience for her.
Brushing my lips against her hair, I realized she had already fallen asleep. Smiling, I lay b
ack against my pillow and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was another day, but for now, Brianna was safe and happy. I couldn’t ask for anything else.
Chapter 14
Stephan
Monday hadn’t gone as planned, and Tuesday wasn’t shaping up to be much better. It seemed every time I turned around something needed my attention. There was also the process of introducing the new CFO to his job and the other employees. After going through all the feedback from the board on Monday morning, I’d called and officially offered him the job with a bonus if he could start immediately. Lucky for me, he accepted.
Michael James spent the morning with Human Resources going through his contract and all the necessary paperwork, while Jamie and I tried to get his office in order. Jamie made sure everything was clean and that Michael had the office supplies he needed, while I organized spreadsheets and reports to make it a little easier for him. The other executives and I had been trying to keep up with the workload, but we’d only been able to deal with the most pressing issues. Michael would have plenty to keep him busy when he finally sat down in his office.
At lunch, I spent some time in the gym before calling Brianna to see how things were going. Hearing her voice always brightened my day, and this time wasn’t any different. She was currently reading a book about a man who’d left his home on a ranch to go in search of a bride in the big city. I’d noticed that as we’d become more intimate, she’d begun to pick up more romance-driven books. Of course, Lily had also brought a stack with her the last time she’d come to visit—something I’d not realized until one night when I’d seen Brianna reading a book I hadn’t recognized as being from my library.
We spoke until Jamie buzzed, letting me know I had a call. Regretfully, I said good-bye and let her get back to her book.
I picked up line one. “Stephan Coleman.”
“Stephan, it’s Oscar,” my lawyer answered.
Taking a seat at my desk, I reached for a pen. “Tell me you have good news.”
“I have good news. I was able to get a judge to approve a restraining order against Jonathan Reeves. They’re planning to serve him with it today at the motel where he’s been staying.”
“Good. The sooner the better.”
“I agree. If what you’ve told me is true, he needs to be kept as far away from his daughter as possible.”
“Are you doubting me, Oscar?” I asked, joking. I knew he wasn’t, but I couldn’t resist commenting on his wording.
Oscar didn’t answer immediately. “No. I’m not doubting you.” He paused again. “I’ve known you for a long time, Stephan. Since you were in diapers. I don’t ever think you’ve joked with me once in all those years. It’s good to hear, and I can only guess it’s because of Miss Reeves.”
I leaned back in my leather chair and smiled. “I love her.”
He sighed. “Stephan, I love hearing you so happy, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t voice my concerns. Hearing you talk about Brianna Reeves, saying you love her . . . if it were anyone else, I’d be thrilled. But as your lawyer, I have to be upfront and honest with you. This is dangerous. Very dangerous. Especially with you going after Pierce.”
“I know the risks, Oscar.”
“I don’t think you do,” he said, interrupting me. “You are clearly involved with this girl. And considering you’re a healthy twenty-four-year-old man, I’m not going to even pretend to assume it’s platonic. Do you have any idea what a prosecuting attorney could do with that information? I’m a good lawyer, Stephan, but even I can’t work miracles.”
“I won’t walk away from her, Oscar. That’s not up for negotiation.”
“I’m not telling you to. What I am saying is stop putting your sausage into her honeypot.”
His voice was forceful and meant to drive home his point, but his choice of wording made it impossible to take him seriously. I understood what he was saying. I did. But that wouldn’t change anything. As long as it was what Brianna wanted, I wouldn’t change anything. Not even if it meant having to stare down the proverbial barrel of a gun.
“I appreciate the advice.”
He sighed.
“I might as well be talking to a brick wall, right?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I heard some movement on his end. “Just be careful, all right? From what you’ve told me, this girl is vulnerable. The right attorney could work that in their favor. Who knows, Miss Reeves might even turn on you herself given the correct motivation.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not saying she would,” he said, defending himself. “I’m just saying I know some crafty lawyers out there who, with a little incentive—like, say, lots of media coverage—could spin this into a front-page story and launch a political career. All I’m saying is be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Oscar.”
He sighed again, and I could almost see him shaking his head at my words.
“I’m sure you will. Now, I’ve sent you over Mr. Pierce’s financials to look over via courier. You should be getting them sometime today. “
“I’ll let my assistant know to expect them.”
“Call me if you need anything else, Stephan. I’m going to go help some clients who might actually take my advice.”
“Thanks, Oscar.”
He grunted. “You’re welcome.”
Since I already had my phone in my hand, I decided now was as good a time as any to call Ross. Looking up his office number, I dialed.
There were two rings before a woman answered. “Ross Builders. How may I help you?”
“Is Mr. Ross available?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Ross isn’t in the office much anymore. His son has taken over running the business for the most part. Would you like to talk to Cal?”
I closed my eyes and begged for patience. “Yes, please.”
“One moment.”
At that point, I was forced to listen to some of the strangest music I’d ever heard. It wasn’t jazz, although that was the closest genre I could fit it into. Instead, it had an abrupt start-and-stop feel to it every thirty to forty seconds. I had to wonder who had selected the hold music.
“Thank you for holding. This is Cal.”
“Nice hold music you have there, Ross.”
“Why thank you, Coleman. Our receptionist picked it out. She loves jazz. Thought it would soothe the customers.”
“That’s not jazz.”
“Did you call to insult my receptionist or to talk about Anna?”
“She told me you invited her to a concert.”
“I did. Are you going to tell her she can’t go?”
Twisting in my chair so that I was facing the window, I looked out over the city toward the building that housed my condo . . . and Brianna. “No, but I’d like some more information. Where is it and who’s playing?”
“It’s at a club downtown. My girlfriend’s brother is the manager of the club, and he can get us tickets. The band’s local, but they’re rumored to be in talks with a couple record labels, so they’re good. I know what you’re thinking, and I’ve already talked to Brian, the manager, about getting us a booth in the back so Brianna won’t feel so crowded. There’ll be a lot of people, but most of them should be up front, closer to the band.”
“Seems you’re starting to pay attention.”
“I know you don’t like me, Coleman, and quite frankly, I’m not a big fan of yours either, but I do care about Anna. I think she needs to get out and socialize, make friends.”
“So it will be you, your girlfriend, me, and Brianna?”
“And three other friends.”
“Who?”
“Calm down. They’re friends. I wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put Anna in danger.”
I stood and walked to the window. Spending the evening with Ross and his friends wasn’t my idea of fun, but I’d do it for Brianna. Plus, he was correct o
n one thing—Brianna needed to socialize.
“When, and what time?”
“Next Friday night at Crazy Lewie’s. Seven o’clock.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. I’d never been to Crazy Lewie’s, but I knew where it was. They prided themselves on live music and local talent. “Send our tickets to my office. We’ll meet you there.”
After a few more mumbled words, Ross hung up. How that man ran a business with such poor manners was beyond me. Given their ability to donate large sums to the foundation, however, they had to be doing well. Maybe it was just me he was rude with. He did seem to be getting better with Brianna.
I was impressed he’d thought to arrange for a table in the back to give her space. She would still be uncomfortable with so many people around, but Brianna did need to get out more. She couldn’t stay shut up in my condo forever.
Brianna
I was really getting into my book when the phone rang. The hero, Jack, had just met Ronnie, a sassy waitress. He’d been checking her out, and she’d noticed. She’d just “accidentally” spilled his drink in his lap. I didn’t want to stop reading. I wanted to see what happened next, but I knew I needed to answer the phone. It could be Stephan.
“Hello?”
I heard a sigh on the other end of the line and knew immediately it wasn’t Stephan.
“Anna.”
Cringing back into the couch, I almost threw the phone when my father spoke again. “Don’t hang up. Please. Just hear me out.”
I didn’t know what to do. “What . . .” Closing my eyes, I reached up and held tight to the collar Stephan gave me. “What . . . do you want?”
“I’m sorry I scared you before. I didn’t mean to. I just . . . I needed to get you out of there, away from that man.”
All I could do was shake my head as I curled into a ball in the corner of the couch. A minute ago, I’d been lost in a world of promised romance. Now I was clinging to the only piece of Stephan I had at the moment and trying to not let my fear take over and send me into a spiral of panic.
“I’m asking for you to listen to my side of the story. That’s all. Will you do that?”