Undeniably His: Bliss Series, Book Five

by Hall, Deanndra

  “Not that. I mean, why is he interested in me?” Boone Lawson is drop-dead gorgeous and most likely hung like a horse. No, I didn’t look. Should’ve, but didn’t. And I’m guessing he’s wildly rich, as successful as that company of his is. He could have any woman he wants. “He could have any woman he wants,” I say, echoing my own thoughts.

  “And that’s exactly who he’s gone after,” Brian says, shaking his head. “Shit, woman, all those years in the industry, being stared at by millions of men, and you can’t figure out why a man would want you? I have to admit, when I came back to town and caught sight of you, I couldn’t believe you were the same Melina Roberts I’d known all those years earlier. You were a pretty girl then, but you’ve become a beautiful woman. Very beautiful. And you’re sweet and kind too, not stuck up and bitchy like a lot of women who look great. You’re approachable. I think that’s what’s attracting Boone.”

  “Or maybe these,” I say, hoisting the twins upward.

  Brian’s expression is thoughtful. “You know, Boone strikes me as the type who might ask you to have those removed sometime down the line.” I’m sure my face shows my confusion when he says, “Melina, not all guys like big tits enough to insist on fake ones. Some of them like natural. Think about what he does for a living.”

  Yeah. The great outdoors. I’d never thought about doing that, but I have this feeling if a guy like Boone asked me to, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Chapter Four

  I’d like to pick out something comfortable for tonight, but I have no idea where we’re going. Most of the time it’s just a lazy Saturday morning, but you could run the city of Portland on the nervous energy coming off me, I’m sure.

  When noon rolls around and he hasn’t called, I start to get a little depressed. He really did a number on me. I was sure he was genuine, but I guess he’s just a big ol’ fake like the rest.

  It’s almost two and I’m doing some laundry when the phone rings. I just grab it and snap out, “Hello.”

  “Hey! You okay?” that bear hug of a voice asks.

  Shit. Sound cheerful, dumbass. “Yes, sir! Sure am. And you?”

  “I’m good. Spent the morning talking to conservation officers about different kinds of traps they could be using in relocation projects.”

  “Relocation?”

  “Yeah. Problem animals like overloads of raccoons, skunks, even bears.”

  “Oh!” Well, that makes sense. And now I don’t know what to say.

  But I shouldn’t have been worried about that. “I was thinking on the way home … How about a really relaxed place? Maybe a pub or something? Nice but no crazy dressing up? That would give us a place to sit and talk.”

  My heart is jumping up and down with excitement. A man wants to talk to me! That’s a new development in my life for sure. “That sounds good. Where? Want me to meet you there?”

  “I absolutely do not. I’ll come and pick you up. What time will you be ready?”

  “What time do you want me to be ready?”

  That gets a hearty laugh from him. “Spoken like a true submissive! I dunno. Six maybe? Club opens at seven. Give the go-getters an hour to scene and then we can work whenever we want. How does that sound?”

  I want to scream, YAY! It sounds AWESOME! Instead, I reply, “That sounds perfect, sir.”

  “Good. Shoot me your address in a text and I’ll see you at six.”

  “Yes, sir. So what’s appropriate attire for the place you have in mind?”

  “Comfortable jeans and a tee or lightweight sweater. Nothing fancy. I’ll be in jeans and a tee,” he says, and I can’t wait to see that thin cotton knit stretched across those pecs. Yum.

  “Okay, sir. Thank you and I’ll see you then.”

  “You can bet on it, sweetie. Bye.”

  He called me sweetie. The only man who’s ever called me that was Dave. This really is a new chapter in my life.

  I’m so nervous as I’m getting ready that I keep dropping stuff. I drop my eye shadow palette and break the lid. I drop my blush brush in the toilet and squeamishly fish it out. I almost fall leaning over to pick up my eyelash curler. The appropriate word here would probably be wreck.

  I’m finished thirty minutes before he’s supposed to be here, so I sit down and try to relax, but it’s not working. How long has it been since I went on a date? Have I ever been on a date? I’m not sure. Maybe in high school, but that was a long time ago.

  The ticking of the clock is driving me insane, and I’m having a hard time holding it together when I hear someone set an alarm on a vehicle. A quick look tells me it’s two minutes before the hour. He’s prompt. Not wanting to appear too eager, I let him knock, count to ten, and open the door.

  And I’m sure he can hear me suck in a breath. Holy shit, he looks incredible. It’s really tempting to ask him to turn around and walk ten paces away from me just so I can see his ass in those jeans, but the front view is too delicious. And that smile. I think the neighborhood just got a double dose of sunshine. “Hey, I think I’m a little early. You ready?”

  “You’re not early,” I say and grin. “You’re right on time.” Then I realize I’m standing here awkwardly. “Oh! Come on in, sir, please!”

  “Thanks.” As he walks past me, he leans over and kisses me on the cheek, and I’m struck by how innocent and tender that is. I’ve never been treated this way, and part of me simply doesn’t know what to think.

  The other part loves it.

  “Nice place. You own it?” I nod. “Very nice.” He’s being generous. It’s not that nice. It’s a little two-bedroom house, if you can call the smaller one a bedroom. I use it as a giant closet. That’s about all it’s good for.

  “This was my biggest investment when I started making decent money. Want something to drink, sir?” I ask as he stops in the middle of the room.

  “We can do drinks, but I figured you were probably getting a little hungry. I know I am,” he says when he turns back to me, and there’s that smile again. I mean, his whole face smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing.

  “I am kinda hungry,” I answer in agreement.

  “Good. The place I was thinking about is just a honky tonk sort of joint, but the food is good and they don’t get stirred up if you sit there forever.”

  That makes me giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a honky tonk!”

  “I think you’ll like it.” He reaches out for my hand as he makes his way toward the door and I take it. God, I wish he’d stop at the door and kiss me! But instead, he opens it and leads me out, then stops on the steps while I lock the door. When I spin to face him, I catch sight of his vehicle for the first time.

  It’s a big silver Land Rover, and I’m stunned. I know what those cost. The guy does have money, and a lot of it. “I’ve never ridden in one of these before,” I say without thinking.

  “Guess there’s a first time for everything,” he says as he opens the door. When I struggle to climb up in it, he points to an assist handle on the door frame but as I grab it, I feel two strong hands encircle my waist and lift me. In a split second, I’m in the seat. “There ya go,” he says and pats my thigh. “The first of a lot of firsts, I hope.”

  And for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. Unless this guy is a really, really good actor, I’ve got a shot at this. The engine in this thing is very quiet and it’s easy to chat while he drives. We’re headed into a part of the city I’ve never been in, and then the area becomes more suburban. That’s when I realize the houses I’m seeing are expensive ones. Must be his neighborhood.

  He wheels the Rover into the parking lot of a good-sized building. Across the front, on a tin sign that looks like it has bullet holes, it says “The Sinkhole.” The building itself isn’t shabby, just rustic, and I’m wondering what it looks like inside.

  I don’t have to wait long. The Rover’s door pops open and he holds out a hand to help me out of the vehicle. My feet hit the ground, he reaches out, and we stroll hand in hand to
the door. Once he opens it, I step in and try to get my bearings in the darkness.

  I know I must be grinning from ear to ear. There’s a huge jukebox over against the back wall, and the ceiling is higher back there. That’s because there’s a stage there, and those scaffold-type things are hanging across the front, big can lights mounted on them. The floor back there is beautiful, shiny wood―dance floor. New Country music is pouring from the jukebox, not too loudly, just enough to provide ambience. We’re met by a girl in a pair of cutoffs and a red check shirt wearing western boots. “Hi! Welcome to The Sinkhole! Two?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Boone replies politely and the girl smiles, then grabs two bundles of silverware and two menus and sashays away from us. I wonder if Boone’s watching her cute little ass sway as she walks but, honestly, if I were him I’d be watching it. She’s adorable and not more than twenty-one.

  “Here ya go. Y’all enjoy,” she says in a way that tells me she’s been instructed to say ya and y’all. I don’t think that comes naturally to her.

  “Do you want me to sit across from you or beside you?” I ask him.

  He points to the other side of the table. “Across. Easier to talk that way.” True to form, he waits until I’m seated before he sits down.

  “What’s good here?” I ask him as I pick up the menu.

  “I’ve never had anything that wasn’t good, but some things are better than others. Their baked sweet potatoes are good and so is their roasted broccoli. The smothered chicken is good. The steaks are always great, and they’ve got a pork chop that’s to die for. Depends on what you like.”

  “I like steak,” I answer.

  “Good. What vegetables? You’ll get two.”

  “The sweet potato and the broccoli,” I tell him. I don’t want him to think I don’t value his recommendation.

  “Drink?” he asks as the server steps up.

  I shrug and sort of duck my head. “Could I have a beer?”

  He grins. “Sure! What do you like?”

  “I don’t know. Pick out something for me, please. Nothing hoppy.” Not being much of a beer drinker, I don’t know what’s good. I hope to god I like it well enough to finish it.

  “Do you have a good Irish red?” he asks the lady.

  “Sure do. Just rolled the keg in this morning.”

  “Then we’ll take two,” he says.

  “Can I put in an appetizer for you?”

  Boone looks to me, and I just shrug. “Nah. Don’t think we need one, but thanks.” As soon as she walks away, he rolls his eyes. “When she comes back, we should just go ahead and order. It’s hard to talk when there’s someone constantly interrupting. And we have a lot to talk about.”

  Oh, shit. I hope this isn’t something bad, and I have no idea what to say. “The food smells good,” I finally come up with, my voice a little shaky.

  “I think you’ll like it. On Friday and Saturday nights they usually have a live band starting at nine, but we’ll be gone by then unless you’d rather stay here than go to the club.”

  “No! I want to go to the club!” I almost bark, and then I feel my cheeks burning. The last thing I wanted to do was look eager or desperate, and he’s going to skewer me, I just know it.

  “Good. I want to go to the club too,” he says, never acknowledging how ridiculous I sounded. The server comes back with our beers and he takes over, ordering for both of us. I like that. I mean, I wouldn’t have liked it if he hadn’t asked me what I wanted, but he did. Oddly, that one action, ordering for me, makes me feel like he wants to take care of me. Please, please, please, don’t let this guy be playing with me, my brain whines.

  Our conversation until the food comes is just light banter, things we’ve seen being built around town, places we like to go. He tells me about his favorite vacation when he was a child, which was to Florida to Disneyworld. He’s from Alabama, so that makes sense. Mine was a trip we took to Disneyland in California―pretty similar. I loved the idea of being a princess. That was the very last trip we took before my dad fell into the bottle, but I don’t tell Boone that part.

  The food is good, and the company is even better. He’s easy to talk to, has a quick smile, and he’s really funny too. Turns out he has three brothers, and he entertains me with stories of mischief they got into when they were kids. When he asks about my siblings, I tell him I have four sisters and two brothers. I don’t tell him that three of the girls and one of the boys is in prison. That’ll be sometime later when I trust him more.

  We finish eating and the server clears our table. “Do y’all need anything else?” she asks, and Boone looks to me.

  “Maybe some water,” I tell him.

  “I’ll have another beer and she needs a water,” he answers her.

  “Coming right up.”

  “Is it just me or are they hovering?” he asks me and I shrug. “Maybe it seems that way because I’m wishing we were alone.”

  Okay, that’s it. I’ve had all I can take. “Sir, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure! What?”

  “Are you for real? I mean, are you just playing with me? Because if you are, I can handle it if you’ll do me the courtesy of being honest about it.”

  He doesn’t even hesitate, just lays his open palm on the table, and I know what that means. I put mine in it and his closes around it. “Melina, with me, what you see is what you get. I had hoped that was coming through loud and clear, but I get it―I really do. I know you’re used to guys playing you and using you, but that’s not me, babe. I’m not like that. If I hadn’t been attracted to you, you might’ve seen me play with a few subs but not many. I liked being married, just not who I was married to. I don’t do things halfway, I don’t play with people’s emotions, and the Golden Rule is very much alive and well within me. I’m a gentleman, but I’m not always gentle. You’ll find that out soon enough. But I go with my gut, and my gut tells me you need me as much as I need you.”

  I can feel myself dissolving, turning into a weepy puddle there at the table, not caring if other people see me, and I’m trying to speak, but I can’t. My vision is so blurry that I can’t see anything, but I feel his hand drop mine, and I assume he’s running for the door. I don’t even realize he’s slid into my side of the booth until a strong arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me close. I want to say something, but I can’t seem to form words. All I manage is to squeak out, “I’m sorry, sir,” before my head falls against his shoulder.

  I feel him kiss the part in my hair before he whispers, “Shhhhh, babe. It’s okay. I’m sorry you’ve been treated that way for so long, but that’s over, at least as long as I’m around.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumble again.

  “Stop it. You cut your hair and colored it, you bought new clothes. You’ve got a new job. You’re trying to kickstart a new life. Can’t you accept that this part of your life might get a jumpstart too?”

  “Hard to believe,” I say, trying to conjure up a scoffing tone.

  “I bet. Just let it unfold. We’re not going to force anything, but I also don’t think we should run away either. You okay now?” I nod against his shoulder. “Let me finish my beer and then there’s something I need to discuss with you before we go any farther.”

  “Okay, sir.” I’m still sniffling when he moves back to his side of the table and grabs his pint glass. It’s gone in just a few seconds. As soon as he sets the glass on the table, he straightens and his demeanor changes to one of complete seriousness.

  “There’s something about my lifestyle that we need to discuss and if you can’t accept it, we may have a problem. That doesn’t mean we won’t have a relationship, but it may restrict it. Regardless, I don’t want you agreeing to something you don’t want just because you want a relationship with me. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. Here we go.” I’m watching his face, but he doesn’t seem nervous, and I take that as a good sign. “I told you I have three brothers.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sir.”

  “My mom and dad have been in a D/s relationship all their married lives. We didn’t know what it was, but we knew our parents were different from the parents of our friends just by the way they treated each other and interacted. There were other differences too, but nothing overt, just this underlying current of respect and service to each other. They expected good behavior from us. What I didn’t know at the time was that they were inadvertently grooming all of us to become Dominants.”

  My eyebrows hike upward when he pauses. “That’s interesting.”

  “Yeah. Not your typical upbringing, but in Alabama, it didn’t look that different from everyone else’s upbringing. Respect for elders, honor, truthfulness, service to others, politeness. The marks of true gentlemen. They expected it, and not measuring up wasn’t an option. I lied to my dad one time about something that happened at a ballgame and I got the whipping of a lifetime. And I was fourteen―not a little kid. His rule was that as long as I was living under his roof, I wasn’t too big for him to bust my ass, and he proved he would. My oldest brother, Brandt, was in trouble all the time.”

  “Real problem child, huh?”

  “Oh, you’ll find out more about that. So anyway, that’s the path our lives took. Well, most of us. Brock and Blake are Dominants too. Brandt, nope. He’s a preacher.”

  “Preacher?” I blurt out, then slap my hand over my mouth.

  Boone just laughs. “Yeah. Preacher. To say he disapproves of our lifestyles is an understatement. He’s been plenty verbal with Mom and Dad too. Of course, Dad tells him, ‘You keep talking like that and I’ll take you out back and whup your ass.’ And he’s not kidding. He would. That goes back to that ‘respecting your elders’ thing.”

  “I would think so!”

  “Damn straight. But anyway, here’s the reason I needed to talk to you about this. We were never afraid when we were growing up that we’d be penniless and destitute if anything happened to Dad. We knew one of his brothers would take care of us and Mom. No question. I didn’t know why until I was older. All I knew was that the family was extremely close. When Brock and I got old enough, Dad pulled us and Blake into his office one day and talked to us, and we found out why that was.” I can’t even imagine what he’s going to say. “My dad was one of five boys and two girls. Their parents raised them the same way they raised us. Once they were all grown and married, they were expected to care for their sisters and their sisters’ children if anything happened to their husbands. But among the boys, they went an extra step. They were expected to spend time alone with their brothers’ wives. We’re not talking in the bedroom here, but we are talking intimacy, as in deep conversations, date nights, things like that, and that includes spending an evening with them, but not for sex. Just cuddling, talking, spending quality, uninterrupted time together. That starts when one of us first meets a woman and goes on throughout our married lives. If anything were to happen to one of us, we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the other brothers would step up and take care of our wives and children.”