DESIRE - Gabby & Daniel (Fettered Book 3)

by Lilia Moon

  Mike and Lori are two of my new favorite clients. They’re getting married in a church with all the trimmings, but first they’re throwing a party for all their friends at Fettered. I open my mouth to agree—and then I realize tomorrow is Friday. The day I’d hoped to leave work early to shop for groceries to feed Daniel. And maybe some candles. And bigger towels.

  Emily’s looking at me curiously. “Okay, where did you just go?”

  No place I should be talking about at work. “I have a date, and I was hoping to take some time tomorrow afternoon to get ready.”

  Her eyes go all soft and gooey. “Seriously? It’s about time.”

  It’s about time to throw a certain Dom under the bus. “Damon set me up with a friend of his.”

  Emily’s face goes slack with surprise. “Damon? My Damon? With who?”

  “A man named Daniel.”

  She looks even more shocked. “The one he plays poker with? Mid-forties, dark hair, cute cheek dimple, stupendously handsome?”

  I swallow hard and nod. Stupendously handsome and somehow he still wants to be in my bed. I try to look like a woman who feels lucky about that, instead of doubtful and panicked about what to cook for a man who wants to see me naked again.

  Emily looks insulted and amused at the same time. “I can’t believe nobody told me about this.”

  The hydras in my belly are back, and they make me throw everybody under the bus. “Harlan and Ari are in on it too.”

  “I’m so having a talk with all of them.” She’s shaking her head, but she’s also trying really hard not to laugh. “No setting my employees up on hot dates without asking me first.”

  It’s hard not to smile at her—and the date was totally flammable. “They didn’t ask me either.”

  She picks up her mug, eyes full of mischief. “So, tell me about tomorrow night.”

  It’s like the high-school life I never had. “It’s date number two. I’m cooking dinner for him.”

  She waggles her eyebrows. “At your house, hmm? Very nice.”

  High school wins—and the need for a friend on this utterly alien planet. “He had me naked on the couch on our first date. I’m totally terrified and I can’t wait. But I need to buy towels. And new underwear. And something to cook.” Possibly not in that order.

  “Ooh.” Emily’s eyes fill with wicked delight. “Good for you. You totally deserve some pampering from a really hot guy.”

  My cheeks are the color of holly berries. I’m not sure it’s pampering he has in mind. Or pampering that I want.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daniel

  I answer the knock on my condo door and step backward. “Good morning.”

  Damon walks through first, the rest of the guys hot on his heels. “Quint can’t make it—he’s got a training session with a sub who needs some help learning to say no.”

  The most scary kind. “Club member?” Damon keeps his people safe, even if they’re dangerous.

  Harlan growls and hands me a bag full of microbrew beers. “Yeah. She used to be married to a Dom who never pushed her much, and then left her for much younger pastures.”

  Which likely isn’t helping her hold her ground when someone shows an interest. “Quint’s the best.” He should be—I taught him most of what he knows.

  “She’s a sweet girl. The man who left her is an idiot.” Jimmy hefts a casserole dish. “Doxy sent lasagna. She said you’d know how to heat it up.”

  The food at Friday-morning poker has gotten substantially better since Jimmy got married. Doxy runs a comfort-food catering company, and she’s always spoiling us. “Tell her she’s a total doll and I scored her my mom’s cheesecake recipe.”

  Jimmy snorts. “You tell her. I don’t talk about girl stuff.”

  He totally does—he just likes to make sure his gorgeous pixie bride gets her accolades in person. Which isn’t exactly a hardship to agree to. “Will do. You dealing today?”

  “Nope. Milo is.”

  Milo’s already setting up at the table. He can talk about the innards of a spanking bench for hours, but he’s not much for small talk. He also counts cards better than anyone I’ve ever met, which is why nobody else in the universe will play poker with him. Dealing distracts him some, but not enough.

  I pull out the poker chips, a gift from Jimmy’s last trip to Vegas, and drop them on the table.

  Harlan picks one up and rolls it slowly in his fingers, examining the picture embossed on the flat surface. “I don’t think women bend this way.”

  Damon sits down across from Jimmy. “I don’t think they were worried about anatomical correctness.”

  Milo just snorts.

  I take the last vacant seat. I stack my chips and steep myself in the easy camaraderie. Friday-morning poker has a rhythm that hasn’t changed much in years, and I love it like I love my next breath.

  “So.” Jimmy looks over at me as Milo starts to deal. “I hear you stopped by the club.”

  He took it hardest when I left, even though he understood better than anyone why I needed out. Away from the reputation that had subs kneeling at my feet and never seeing the man at all. “I dropped in on one of the cooking lessons.”

  Jimmy snickers, like a man can when he has a live-in chef. “Next up the Doms will be taking lessons on how to give a pretty pedicure.”

  Damon raises an eyebrow. “If Doxy wanted one, you’d be the first guy to sign up.”

  Milo looks up suddenly. “Cards are dealt. And Doxy doesn’t want a pedicure, she wants a puppy.”

  Jimmy stares at him, slack-jawed. “For real? How do you know that?”

  I grin. He’s smart enough to believe it, at least. Milo hears things from the club subs that everyone else misses. It comes with the territory of being quiet, smart, and wildly observant.

  Harlan snorts and pushes some chips in. “I know a guy who has some puppies. Little black roly-poly ones.”

  Who will probably grow into elephant-sized monsters. “I know a guy who installs waterproof flooring.”

  Jimmy pitches a chip at my head. “Enough out of you.”

  “Not today it isn’t.” Harlan looks positively gleeful. “How was your date, Daniel?”

  I knew this was coming, so I’m ready for it. Gabby deserves privacy and so do I. “There’s a second date happening and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Wait, what?” Jimmy’s staring at me, even as he pushes chips in to call. “You went on a date? Like with a girl? Why am I always the last one to hear everything?”

  There’s no point in not telling him what everyone else already knows. “With a lovely woman who works with Emily. Her name is Gabby.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I know her. I didn’t know she was kinky.”

  “She might be.” It’s Milo speaking again. He flushes when I look at him, surprised. “What? She brings us cookies, so I pay attention.”

  The woman has enough guard dogs to equip a drug task force. “What have you seen?”

  He grins. “Stuff. And that’s all you need to know.”

  He succeeds in making everyone laugh, but I know he’s also answered my question. If he knew anything important, he’d at least point me in the right direction. That’s not true everywhere, but it is at Fettered. And even if I’m mostly a member in name only these days, and Gabby’s not on the membership roster at all, there are plenty of people looking out for us both.

  I fold, and so does Damon. Harlan takes one look at Milo’s face and tosses his cards in.

  Jimmy lays down two pairs and scowls at Milo’s three eights. “No lasagna for you.”

  I grin. And wonder what Gabby will be cooking tonight.

  And whether I can convince her to do it naked.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gabby

  He’s here.

  I look up at the ridiculously handsome man in my doorway, and I have no idea what to say. Somehow, in the last forty-eight hours I expected one of us to turn into a pumpkin.

  He reaches o
ut a hand and touches my cheek. “Hi.”

  I could stand here just like this and be happy.

  Except we’d freeze, because the wind is icy brisk tonight. I back away from him and turn to check the pan on the stove. “Come on in. It’s cold out there, so I made some hot cider, or I have wine if you’d rather. I’m almost done cooking, if you want to come keep me company in the kitchen.”

  I suddenly realize I’m babbling—and there’s no answer. I turn around, and Daniel’s leaning back against my closed front door, watching me.

  He smiles and crooks a finger. “Come here, gorgeous.”

  I feel like the temperature in my house just went up ten degrees. My feet drag me in his direction. “I have chicken frying. I don’t want it to burn.”

  He chuckles, and it does funny liquid things to my insides. “One kiss. I promise not to let anything catch on fire.”

  I don’t know how I got close enough for him to capture, but I did. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me in close and tips his head down to nuzzle into my neck. He breathes in slowly, exhales the same way. And then he tips his head back up and kisses my forehead. “I’m really happy to be here.”

  So not what I was expecting. I lean into his chest and try the same breathing thing he just did. He smells like damp wool, and I realize he still has his coat on. I try a decent welcome again, more slowly this time. “Please, come in.”

  He keeps holding my hand as he sheds his coat and boots. Then he snuggles me into his waist. “Let’s go make sure nothing dire happened to the chicken.”

  He’s so easy here in my house. It’s me who’s a basket of nerves. I feed people all the time, but none of them make me feel this way. I slide us through the archway into my kitchen and point at a stool tucked under the high counter. “Sit there if you like.” It’s not a very big kitchen, and I can barely think with him in it.

  And the parts that are thinking are clamoring to burn the chicken.

  He heads for the stool, giving the frying pan a long, appreciative look on his way by.

  Which is when I realize I don’t have time to ogle him, because everything in my kitchen has decided it’s done, all at the same time. I rescue the caramelized walnuts that are almost ready to burn, pull the roasted squash out of the oven, and scoop the fried chicken out onto a dripping rack. Then I take one more quick look around to make sure I haven’t endangered anything else and give Daniel a flustered look. “Sorry about that. I was hoping to finish before you got here.”

  “And have me miss your sexy chef dance?” He’s grinning, and crooking his finger again. “That would have been very sad. But I think the chef deserves another kiss.”

  It suddenly feels fun to play this game. “Maybe once I have everything served.”

  I turn my back to reach for plates, and two hands run around my ribs and capture my breasts. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He kisses the side of my neck, and it makes me shiver all the way down to my toes. I tip my head to give him better access and he makes a low rumble of approval.

  And then his hands are under my top, gliding over the bare skin of my belly and ribs. “This is a lovely sweater, but I was hoping to convince you to eat naked.”

  I can feel my cheeks heating—and the wetness between my legs. And the fun of this game I don’t know how to play, but want to anyhow. “I thought this was your night to get naked.”

  He chuckles into my neck and snugs me back against his very obvious erection. “Would you like that now or later, pretty lady?”

  The sound that comes out of me isn’t even a word.

  He nuzzles my neck one last time and then reaches around me for the plates. “Let’s eat while the food still smells like heaven.”

  There’s an imp inside me that I never knew existed. “Fried chicken is very good cold.”

  His growl is potent and amused and scrambles my insides. “Food, woman. Then I’m going to tie you up and take my revenge.”

  Oh. God.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daniel

  I shake my head as I hold two plates and watch Gabby load them up with hands that aren’t remotely steady. I’d planned to keep this light for a bit. Instead, I want to tie her to her bed naked and feed her little bites of fried chicken while I make her squirm.

  Which I probably need to save for a night when just the idea of it doesn’t make her squeak.

  I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m pushing, and I didn’t mean to be doing that just yet.”

  She takes in a shaky breath and adds the sugared walnuts to the top of two salads. “I’ve spent the last twenty-six years being a mom and then a grandmother, and it’s taken up most of my time. I’m not used to someone wanting to take my clothes off in my kitchen.”

  Her cheeks are flushing, but there’s something else going on here. I wait quietly.

  She turns to face me, a salad bowl in each hand. “It’s a lot overwhelming, but I think I like it.”

  I can’t kiss her or there will be plates and bowls and salad greens all over her kitchen floor. “You have some fascinating layers to you, Gabby. I like them. I’m going to enjoy searching for more of them.”

  She flushes, and I realize where her mind has gone.

  I grin. “I wasn’t actually talking about that, but those layers will be fun too.”

  She eyes me, and then she snorts. “Both of us need to stop thinking about me being naked for a bit.”

  I love how fast she can put herself back on solid ground, and I might even let her stay there for a while. “Let’s eat. I love fried chicken, and nobody in this town knows how to make it.”

  She leads me to the table. “You grew up somewhere else?”

  A little bit of everywhere. “My family moved around a lot, and I traveled extensively for my work up until a few years ago. I learned to eat bagels in New York, cabbage rolls in Minnesota, and fried chicken in Louisiana.”

  She looks a little wistful. “Traveling must be really nice.”

  “It can be. Or it can be a lot of airports and hotel rooms.” I look around the home that feels so much like her. “I bet you didn’t travel a lot with three girls.”

  “Lots of camping and hiking and searching for the world’s best swimming hole. A few road trips down to California.” She doesn’t look unhappy with the trade-offs she’s made. “I always wanted to do something crazy like spend a month in Venice, though.”

  One of my favorite places in the world. “So go.”

  She smiles at me. “I’m saving for it, actually. And Emily just gave me a really nice raise, so maybe it will happen sooner than I think.”

  I’ve always been able to go wherever I wanted. I suddenly realize, sitting here nibbling on insanely good fried chicken and listening to the snippets of her life, that what I’ve missed out on is having a reason to stay. Which almost makes me feel sorry for myself, except that’s an exceedingly foolish thing to do at the table of a woman who wants to get naked for me later—and who warms my heart now.

  I reach out to stroke her hand. “You have so much self-confidence when you talk about your life and your girls and the choices you’ve made. Tell me why that wavers for you when I’m about to look at you naked or play with your nipples.”

  She nearly drops her chicken. And then she stabs her salad like she’s mad at someone, and when she looks back up at me, I can see it riding in her eyes, along with a big heaping of sad. “I don’t know, actually. I know I sometimes get wimpy about what I deserve, what I’m worth out there in the world, but I’m working on that. This feels different. I raised my daughters to live in their skin and be proud of how they look, and I thought I felt that way too. But you look at me like I’m dark chocolate and you want to eat me up, and I’m not used to thinking of myself that way. I don’t have any idea what to do with that kind of desire.” She goes very quiet and looks down at her plate. “I keep waiting for you to change your mind.”

  My heart aches for her. For the doubt. For what she doesn’t see. But
I also know that I’ve been with women who couldn’t have figured out that much about themselves in ten years of trying, and it’s that strength that’s going to be what walks her out of this quagmire. “I love how honest you can be about yourself, even when you’re not very proud of what you’re saying.”

  She gives me a wry smile. “I worked hard on that one with my daughters too.”

  I pull off a bite of my chicken and feed it to her. “As for the rest, I’m not going to change my mind, and if I do it will have nothing to do with that beautiful body of yours, so you should get used to feeling like dark chocolate.”

  Her smile has that underlying spine I’ve been seeing hints of this evening. “I’m working on it.”

  I take another bite of chicken—a big one this time. Because if she smiles at me with that look in her eyes again, we’re done eating.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabby

  I expected there to be a majorly awkward moment when we finished dinner and I tried to figure out how to take Daniel back to my bedroom.

  He solves that by scooping me up while I’m still licking my fingers.

  He grins down at me, holding me in his arms like I weigh nothing at all. “I’ve been waiting for this part for two days.”

  His eagerness is like balm to my nerves. Some of them, anyhow. I cuddle in as he navigates the small corridor back to my bedroom. “I have some candles, if you like.”

  “Perfect. Light them.” He kisses my forehead, and sets me down on the bed. “I’ll be back in three minutes. I want you undressed and lying on your back, hands over your head, legs spread so I can see that delectable pussy of yours.”

  I stare at him, rocked by the sharp corner he just turned.

  He grins. “Three minutes, Gabby. If you’re not ready when I get back, there will be consequences.”

  I’m scampering off my bed as he leaves, wondering why the heck I’m following orders from a man who just sat sweetly at my table and demolished my fried chicken. My fingers shake as I light one of the candles, so I don’t bother with the rest. Dark is probably good.