His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2

by Skylar Kade

  She flicked her attention to his face. His jaw was tight and lines of anger radiated from his eyes.

  “With them? No. They decided in the hall that I was too uppity for a ‘slave’ and wanted to teach me a lesson.” She shuddered, too overwhelmed by the evening’s events to suppress it.

  Gabe snorted. “Sounds like the Hope I knew, full of fire and rebellion.”

  Her spine straightened at the frustration in his voice.

  He turned, and she half hoped Gabe would leave. Instead, he grabbed a chair from against the mirror and plopped it in front of her. He straddled its hardwood seat, leaning his muscled forearms on the short metal back.

  “Hey, don’t lay this shit on me. The jackass is a Super-Uber-Dom. Even called me ‘slave’. What a douche.”

  “I see your mouth hasn’t improved at all,” he said. “I’m surprised your Dom hasn’t disciplined it out of you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What Dom? I haven’t even been to a club in years, and you know how much I hate stupid Tops.” She scoffed. “Little boys playing king of the castle. It’s pathetic, really.” She jutted her chin at him. “And my mouth is more than fine, as you damn well recall.”

  He smirked. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten that, baby. But you seem to have trouble recalling that all work and no play makes Hope a very stressed-out girl.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been just lovely.”

  In a flash, he had her pressed against the mirror, one hand pinning her wrists against the cool surface. She’d not realized just how close he was sitting until that point.

  Her heart kicked into overdrive and her mouth went dry. Wetness trickled from between her thighs. Damn him for knowing how to push her hot buttons.

  “Don’t you lie to me, Hope O’Shea.” His voice held a familiar warning. “You need a good topping, I can see it in your eyes. And don’t get me started on what your hard nipples say you need, cara.”

  Gabe had a big Italian family from his mother’s side, and that word had become his sole term of endearment for her. Damn him. He always managed to croon that word, his deep, rumbling voice caressing her heart into almost melting for him.

  She struggled against his hands, wanting to hurt him, wanting to hold him. “You…you asshole, you have no right telling me what I need.”

  He pressed his body to hers until she had no way of moving. His words tickled her sensitive earlobe. “You know I’m right. I can still read you.” He rubbed against her. “Can you read me?”

  The thickness of his erection burned through her slacks, and even as her mind rebelled against it, arousal primed her body.

  “So you have a cock. Big fucking deal.”

  He nibbled her earlobe and laughed, the vibrations tingling through her body. “Nice try, pussycat. All growl, no claws because you want me too.”

  Eyelids heavy, she fought against the tempting lust. “I made that mistake once. Never again. No more Doms, no more kink.”

  His brow crinkled and he rubbed a hand across his chest as if he’d pulled a muscle or something. He lifted her from the floor, pulling her legs around his waist, opening her to him. She should have stopped him, but it felt so good after years of celibacy. “As I recall, it was far more than ‘once’. And it wasn’t all bad, cara.” He brushed his cheek against hers, the rough hairs of his goatee a sensual abrasion against her skin. “You left me with so many unanswered questions.”

  She needed to find a way out of this, and soon, before lust hogtied her logic and she did something she’d really regret. That soothing blankness, of knowing she’d turned over all control to someone else, someone she trusted, beckoned her.

  But she didn’t trust him anymore.

  Hope pulled on every bit of anger toward Gabe that she could still muster at the moment. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Not my problem anymore.”

  Though part of her wanted it to be. She’d come to terms with her role in the downfall of their budding relationship, learned from her mistakes, but that didn’t mean it would be wise to let him in again.

  “Again with the language. Maybe you need something else to occupy your dirty mouth.”

  He kissed her, their lips meeting as if it had been two minutes, not two years since their last kiss. His mouth, warm and wet, tasted of peppermint and that flavor uniquely Gabe’s. She’d been addicted to it once upon a time. They say just one taste can pull an addict back from abstinence and Hope couldn’t risk it. She tore her mouth away and struggled until he set her down and took a step back.

  “That was bad, very bad. You had no right.” Pacing to clear her head and put some space between them, she walked the length of the mirror and back, feeling Gabe’s eyes on her the whole time.

  He interrupted her whirring thoughts. “So Jax—you met him a few times, here actually—has invited me to go to Maison Domine this weekend. First month back in Cali, and he’s got me socializing once again.”

  She froze and stared at him, thrown by the change of topic. But she shed her confusion when his words registered. “The Maison Domine? And yes, I remember Jaxon. And his Lara.”

  He’d resumed his seat in the chair, looking casual and relaxed. But she recognized the tension in his eyes, the pupils dilated from lust.

  “Yes, cara, that one.” Heat rippled through her at the nickname. “And I seem to be in a bit of a pickle.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. And I think you can help me. I’ll be helping you in return.”

  Wary, she nodded for him to continue. He patted the back of the chair. “Come stand here and we can talk.”

  Step by anxious step, she drew closer, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood. My, what a big cock you have.

  “Tell me about this trade you have in mind.” She reached him and he wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping her in close to him. With her heels, she managed to have a couple inches on his sitting form. Not much, and without them, he’d be within perfect kissing height.

  “You’ve lost weight.” His voice sounded accusing. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

  She shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t be content with her explanation. Knowing him, he’d take her to the nearest smoothie place and make her drink a protein shake. His controlling, caring ways had driven her nuts even as they made her feel cherished.

  Part of her knew this little interlude could tear through her hard-won centeredness, but that voice of responsibility was shouted down by her hormones. Though her relationship with Gabe had been a failure, the sex had always been spectacular.

  She ran a hand through the stubble on his scalp. “Why’d you cut your hair? And where have you been the past two years?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  She nailed him with a glare and refused to answer.

  He rolled his eyes. “It kept falling into my face while I was working.”

  He ignored her second question. Alrighty then. His hands traveled up and down her thighs, sensitizing her flesh. Her fingers, with a mind of their own, continued their tactile exploration of his scalp.

  Having his strong hands touch her again calmed her soul. Oh fuck.

  Laughter in the hall made her jump back from his embrace just before Melina slinked in, pout on her bright red lips. Her hair was red this week and she wore her trademark white leather minidress and thigh-high gladiator heels.

  “Hope, my dear, I’m so sorry for those brutes. I keep telling my boy that we need better screening of clients, but he’s the business brains behind the operation, so when he says that it would be a bad idea, I listen. After this, maybe he’ll be singing another tune.” Her lively face shifted to glee. “Oh, maybe I can punish him for the decision, and then punish him for changing his mind and being fickle!”

  Her wicked laugh had Hope split between compassion and jealousy for Melina’s subbie boy.

  Melina shifted her gaze to Gabe, who had stood to face the door. “Well hello, Gabe. And why aren’t you at the booth you’re renting from me? Go,
sell your wares! Your new shop won’t advertise itself. Oh hell, your creations are so divine they very well could.”

  “I didn’t get to congratulate you on your new business earlier,” Hope said, trying to keep her tone light.

  “Yeah, you and I hadn’t quite gotten to all the formalities.” His voice held a mocking edge. “Melina was kind enough to let me set up a small showcase in the main room.” He turned to Mel. “And I have my assistant running it. She’s completely capable, I assure you.”

  Hope wondered how much this bimbo assisted him with before she reminded herself that Gabe meant nothing to her anymore. Must be the hormones. And the stress. Even she didn’t believe herself on that one, which meant she stood in dangerous territory.

  “Well, Melina, are you available now to go over your design plans? It’ll be a welcome respite from tonight’s excitement.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. Now is just fine. The bouncers can keep those men on ice in the laundry room—cramped and hot is what they deserve, I’d say. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be your first client!” She turned to Gabe. “Darling, if you will escort Hope to my office, I’ll be right along. Thank you for watching after her for me.” She gave him a coy smile.

  “You know I live to serve, Mistress Melina,” Gabe deadpanned.

  “You, my dear, are ever the charmer. Now scoot along. And give my love to that beautiful assistant of yours.” With that, she breezed out, leaving things more awkward than they had been when she entered.

  The evening’s frustration, coupled with hearing about Gabe’s “beautiful” assistant, had Hope struggling to keep the ire from her voice. “So why don’t you just take your lovely assistant with you to Maison Domine? I’m sure you’d have a lovely weekend.”

  His smirk made her want to slap him—or kiss him. “Miffed, are we?”

  Hope couldn’t help but growling. “What ‘miffs’ me is you thinking you still know me.” She turned to leave but Gabe blocked her way.

  “We’re done here,” she bit out before moving around him.

  Gabe stopped her with a hand around her neck. He put just enough pressure to make her knees give out beneath her. Damn him for remembering.

  He pulled her against him with one arm wrapped around her back. “But, cara, you haven’t even heard my proposition yet.”

  Suspicion almost washed away the lust coursing through her veins, but Gabe kept her off balance with a tender kiss to her forehead. His tenderness took the edge out of her voice.

  “Then tell me.”

  “Come to Maison with me this weekend. All I want is time to talk with you. You left so suddenly, not to mention you disobeyed by leaving before we’d talked things over.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I still owe you spankings for that.”

  Hope couldn’t help but shudder. Gabe could spank her to both tears and orgasm—sometimes both together. And he always knew which one she needed, even before she realized it herself.

  “That’s…not fair.” Her eyes fluttered closed, weighed down by lust. “But I can’t, I have to work,” she gritted out. All her time needed to go into her current projects and to finding new clients.

  He sighed and stepped back from her. “It just so happens that the owner of Maison Domine wants to have the place redecorated. Must be something in the kinky waters because she and Melina aren’t the only ones, either.”

  He had her attention now.

  “Katrina and I are good friends. I could recommend you for the job. And a handful of others.”

  She needed his connections. “That would be very kind of you.” She licked her lips, nervous yet seeing the value of his proposition.

  He brushed a thumb across the dampened spot on her bottom lip. “Of course, you’d need to come with me this weekend to meet her and check out the site. I remember you like evaluating your clients’ needs face-to-face, or at least you did when you worked for a company.”

  And that was the kicker. “If that’s your proposed agreement—I come to the club and you introduce us—then what’s in it for you?”

  “Me? Why, I’ll have you at Maison for the weekend.” His feral grin made her heart jump. He’d always worn that look before a good bout of discipline. She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know, I know, no promises beyond talking. I’m okay with that.”

  Jerk, still being able to finish—hell, start—her sentences. But despite all her internal red flags, he had her by the pocketbook. She needed this job.

  “Are you in?” He drew closer, the fire in his chocolate eyes mesmerizing her.

  God, she shouldn’t, but she’d rarely been able to defy the force of his personality, not that she’d ever wanted to. His dominance had meant fewer things for which she had to be responsible in her already stressed-out life. And he’d been gentle, caring, earning her trust.

  Until their final night…

  And that thought sprayed icy-cold water over her lust. “Gabe—”

  He pulled her into the circle of his arms. It felt so good to be there again, like coming home.

  “Give me—us—this weekend. Your business deserves it, at the very least,” he said, his chin resting on her head.

  Dominant Gabe, she might have been able to resist. Tender Gabe? She was a goner.

  “We should talk about what happened.” His whispered words had her struggling against his strong arms.

  The possibility of that conversation pressed against her like a giant weight. But he had a point…maybe. “This is a really bad idea.”

  “You can leave whenever you like, and I’ll still give the owner your referral.”

  How could she refuse that? “Yes.” The unspoken ‘Sir’ vibrated through the room.

  “I’ll meet you up there Friday night. Since I know you changed your contact information, give me your card and I’ll email you details and directions.”

  She pulled the slim business card case out of her jacket pocket and handed him one, warmed by his admission that he’d tried to contact her.

  He nodded and said, “I’ll see you Friday.” One final heated look and he was gone, leaving her weak-kneed and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

  Chapter Three

  Friday afternoon snuck up on Gabe. Opening the shop had him buried under work, which made the days pass faster than he and his brother consumed Nana’s garlic bread. The club would be a welcome reprieve from real life.

  The drive to Maison Domine never failed to impress him, and his shoulders relaxed beneath his black motorcycle jacket. High in the mountains of the San Fernando Valley, the club sat far enough from Los Angeles to feel like an escape, yet not too far for a motorcycle ride. Roads curved and wove through the foothills and occasionally revealed glimpses of the sprawling LA metro area below. Once he drove high enough, blue sky and patches of greenery dominated the view.

  Last year’s fires had left their mark—swathes of mountainside were burned, but snippets of plants were making a comeback, their sprouts poking through the soil. He caught sight of a few red-tailed hawks and a kestrel, their graceful soars and swoops impressive even after so many years of bird watching. Hope had gone with him a few times, just as entranced by the different species of birds as he.

  Tension crawled back into his chest, along with an echo of pain from their breakup. If he could call it that. A bad night together, a mistake on his part, true, but something they should have worked through together. And when he went to visit her the next day, her apartment window held a For Lease sign. She’d kept that from him, that and ghosts from her past that he still hadn’t identified.

  Part of him, that blasted optimist, thought maybe she’d changed, maybe she would be more open with him now. Maybe she’d stop keeping secrets. That would go a long way toward rebuilding trust. In a kinky relationship, too much could go wrong without proper communication, and he needed the assurance that his sub was enjoying and benefiting from his ministrations, especially during a scene.

  He scoffed at the ridiculo
us thoughts as he took a hairpin curve around the mountainside. Hope may not even give him a chance to touch her this weekend, much less do anything that would require trust between them. He’d had to bribe her just to talk with him.

  Trust might be asking too much. Hell, it had been two years ago.

  He’d seen the effects of that firsthand on their final night together. He gripped the handlebars tighter, his gloved hands digging into the rubber-covered cylinders. Revving the engine, he sped up, needing the momentary thrill to clear his mind.

  Curve after curve swooped by and nothing mattered but the pavement and the world flying by outside his tinted visor. Losing himself in the rumble of his Harley and the classical music piping through this helmet speakers, Gabe resolved to use the weekend as closure, for better or worse.

  An hour after leaving Sherman Oaks, he came to the modest side road marked only with a sign reading MD. He turned right onto the asphalt and was, once again, glad he had a motorcycle. Trees loomed tight to the snug single-lane road. Though their high canopy provided much-needed shade during the summer, they made it a bitch to clear the snowfall during the colder months. Gabe laughed, recalling the time Hope had lost her passenger-side mirror driving down a one-way street tight with parked cars on both sides. Hopefully the trees would not exact the same revenge.

  At last, he broke into a large clearing. To the right sat Maison Domine in all its sprawling log cabin glory, to the left, parking, and past all of it—nothing. Maison topped one of the smaller mountain ledges, affording a priceless view of the foothills, and beyond them, the valley. The sunset compelled his attention, and Gabe regretted not being able to photograph it. He’d decided to leave his camera equipment at home, lest Hope’s gorgeous body tempted him to take sexy, erotic pictures of her. He imagined bringing Hope out there, wearing nothing but his collar and cuffs, the sky reflecting its colors onto her pale, pale skin. The insistent erection he’d had since last Saturday night throbbed in anticipation.

  “Down, boy. Sex is not part of the deal. Talking only.”