by Ford, Hannah
“Text me if you need anything.” He crossed the room back into the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, the cut of his shoulders, the tightness of his ass. He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, which he carefully folded in half. He returned to the patio and handed it to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The rules.”
“What?”
“The rules for tonight.” He stared into my eyes. “Don’t get too hung up on them,” he said. “They seem scarier on paper. In practice, they’re quite understandable.”
He kissed me one more time, his lips salty sweet.
And then he was gone.
***
As soon as the front door shut behind him, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Holy crap.
I collapsed onto one of the cushioned chaises that dotted the lanai. The sun was high in the sky, and it was too hot out to be wearing the jeans I had on. I thought about changing into something cooler, but the curiosity of what was on the paper Callum had handed me was too much.
I curled my feet up under me and unfolded the single sheet.
It was typed in Times New Roman, each paragraph block spaced, with single spaces between the lines.
It looked very, very official.
Rules and Expectations for _______, henceforth to be referred to as The Submissive, dated this ____ day of ____, in the year ___.
My name and the date had been filled in, typed neatly, and the sight of it, there, in black and white, was panic-inducing. The Submissive! That was how I was to be referred to? How many of these contracts had Callum written up? How many women had he brought here? Do the math, Adriana. If he really is only with each woman for one night…
The thought sent a sick wave of jealousy rolling through me. I imagined another woman here, sitting on this chaise, reading this same contract, her name appearing in place of mine. She’d be thinner than me, prettier, better prepared for something like this. I was in way over my head.
My mouth had gone dry, and I licked my lips and kept reading.
1. The Submissive will make any limits she has clear to The Dominant., both verbally and through her actions. The Submissive agrees to safe word as soon as she feels uncomfortable.
2. The duration of this agreement will be for one night only, and The Submissive acknowledges, by signing this document, that she has been made aware of this fact.
3. There will be no personal questions asked of The Dominant, including, but not limited to, his family or relationship history. Personal questions of The Submissive will be answered if she deems fit.
4. The Submissive agrees, by signing this document, that after the one night has expired, she will not contact The Dominant in any way, including, but not limited to, by text message, email, phone call, or in person. If The Dominant and Submissive are to run into each other, either by circumstance or coincidence, the Submissive agrees to act as if she does not know The Dominant.
5. The Submissive agrees not to have any drugs, alcohol, or other illegal substances on her person or in her possession during the duration of this agreement. If The Submissive is found to violate this rule, she will be asked to leave the premises immediately.
6. The Submissive agrees not to disclose the details of this agreement, or any other verbal or written agreement entered into with The Dominant, or the details of their time together, to any party, either verbally or in writing.
Signed,
____________ (Adriana O’Connor) (The Submissive)
____________ (Callum Wilder) (The Dominant)
I blinked at the document. What in the fuck had I just read?
Did Callum really expect me to sign something that said after I let him fuck me to high heaven, I would then agree never to contact him again? And that if I somehow ran into him somewhere, I would pretend I’d never met him?
It was so beyond the possibility of anything I’d imagined when I’d come here, that it was almost impossible to wrap my head around it.
My first instinct was to take Callum up on his promised offer of the waiting car that was there to drive me to the airport whenever I wished.
It wouldn’t even be that difficult, wouldn’t even leave any kind of lasting impression. I’d hardly been here for any time at all. My suitcase wasn’t even unpacked. Hell, I hadn’t even taken my shoes off. I’d be back in the airport in twenty minutes, back home in a couple of hours.
I could slip seamlessly back into my life, no muss, no fuss, nothing to show for it except a cool story of something that might have been. A story I’d actually be able to tell people since I hadn’t signed this ridiculous contract forbidding me to do so.
My decision made, I was halfway back to the living room when the doorbell rang.
I froze.
Callum hadn’t said anything about expecting anyone.
Maybe it was the driver? But the driver had left, and wouldn’t have come back unless someone had called him.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Technically, no one was supposed to know I was here.
The doorbell rang again, and I walked slowly and carefully into the house, making sure not to make any noise. Through the long windowpanes that flanked either side of the front door I could see what looked like a man’s shadow.
That settled it.
I wasn’t going to be opening the door for some strange man.
I turned and walked back to the patio, deciding that I’d wait until he was gone, then return to the kitchen and call the car to come and take me back to the airport.
But I’d only just sat down when a voice called jauntily over the wrought-iron fence that surrounded Callum’s house.
“Hello!”
I jumped in surprise and turned to see a friendly-looking man waving at me, his head poking over the fence. He was about thirty, with dusty blonde hair and a wide smile.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, putting his hands up and chuckling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Jason.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um, hi. I’m Adriana.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized it might not have been the best idea to tell some strange man my name.
“Hey,” he said easily, apparently unfazed. “Is Callum home?”
“No,” I said. “He’s at a meeting.”
Jason shook his head. “Ha! Typical Callum, am I right?”
“I guess,” I said, flattered in spite of myself that this man might think that Callum and I were close enough that I would know what was typical for him.
“Anyway,” he said. “I just stopped by to pick up my tools that he borrowed. I’m putting up a tree house for my son, and I got stalled out without my tools. Is there any way you could let me in the garage?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to get into the garage.”
“It’s on an opener,” he said. “Just go through the door at the front of the house, then push the button and it’ll open. It won’t take long. I’ll meet you there.”
He disappeared back down the winding driveway.
Shit, shit, shit.
What the hell was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t just let some stranger go poking around Callum’s garage, could I? Then again, he seemed totally normal, this guy, and he seemed like he knew Callum.
I scurried back into the house and opened two different doors before finding the one for the garage.
Sure enough, there was a button for an opener on the wall, and I hit it.
All four garage doors went roaring to life, and when they opened, Jason was standing in the driveway as promised, the sun glinting off his sandy hair.
He looked less intimidating than when he’d been standing by the fence, younger and more innocent. He was good-looking in a generic kind of way, and he was dressed in a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and khakis, his sneakers white and sparkling. A pair of Polo sunglasses were perched on his head.
He looked like he came from money, and I felt myself relax a little.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your day,” he said, as his eyes zoomed around the garage. “It’s just that I really need to get this tree house built for Leo. I promised him I’d do it this weekend. I’ve been working a lot and this is my only free weekend for a while.”
“Do you work with Callum?” I asked politely.
“Oh, no,” he said, glancing over at me sharply. “Do you?”
“No.”
“What do you do?” he asked, making his way over to a tool cabinet in the corner and opening it. He began rummaging around inside.
“I’m trying to get a job in publishing,” I said. “I just graduated college.”
“Publishing!” he said, like it was as exciting as if I’d announced I was on the verge of becoming a famous pop star. “That’s great.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. The job market’s pretty horrendous.”
“Jobs are scarce in every industry right now,” Jason said. He was still holding the doors of the tool cabinet open, but then he shut them without taking anything from inside.
“What kind of work do you do?” I asked politely.
“I’m freelance.”
“Oh.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t say anything else. Freelance could have meant a million different things. Freelance writer? Freelance photographer?
“Ah!” he said, his eyes landing on something in the corner of the garage. “There it is!” He crossed the room and picked up a chainsaw.
“Wow,” I said. “Are you cutting the wood yourself?”
“Yup,” he said proudly. “Well, I should get going. Good luck with your publishing career, Adriana.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“And tell Callum I said hi. He’s a good guy, Callum.”
“I will.”
I waited until I saw him disappear down the street, then hit the button to close the garage door.
I returned to the patio and picked up the contract Callum had left for me.
I ran my hands over the printed words then stared out at the sparkling blue ocean. The color reminded me of Callum’s eyes. I remembered how he’d touched me on the plane, his fingers dipping into my panties, leaving me breathless, my body tightly wired with want.
Just for one night, I reminded myself. He doesn’t want to see you ever again after this.
But why should I deny myself the pleasure? This contract didn’t change anything. There was nothing in it I hadn’t already known. By definition, if someone told you they only wanted to be with you for one night, it meant you shouldn’t contact them after that.
And when would I ever run into Callum after this? It wasn’t like I was in the habit of frequenting the circles of billionaire businessmen.
He’d been very good to me, Callum, making sure I was comfortable and laying everything out on the table. Would I have preferred someone like the guy I’d met on that dating app, the kind of guy who promised me something and then didn’t deliver?
No, I told myself. It was much better to know exactly what I was getting myself into.
I wanted to be with Callum.
I didn’t care if it was just for one night.
I found a pen in one of the kitchen drawers, and before I could think twice, I signed the contract with a flourish.
**
After I’d made the decision to stay, I still had four hours until Callum would be home.
I didn’t want to swim.
I was too nervous to eat.
I took a walk down on the beach, letting the saltwater slide up against my toes and the warm ocean air fill my lungs.
When I returned to the house, I sat on the lanai and tried to read a book I’d found, but I couldn’t concentrate on the words. Finally, at around five o’clock, I hauled my suitcase up to the master suite, not at all surprised to find it was another room that took my breath away.
A heavy four-poster bed sat against the far wall, with a balcony that opened up over the pool and gave sweeping views of the Atlantic. The bathroom was bigger than my bedroom in New York, with creamy marble counters and a Jacuzzi tub.
I drew myself a bubble bath and lowered myself into the water, letting the warmth soothe my muscles and my nerves. When I was done, I dried my hair carefully then went to apply my makeup.
But when I saw my reflection, I groaned.
The sun had darkened my skin into a nice bronze color, except for my nose, which was more the color of a blood orange. How the hell had I let myself get sunburned? I’d applied SPF 75 faithfully, even making sure I took the tube with me onto the beach for touch-ups.
Damn my fair skin.
I did the best I could to cover it with my makeup, but my nose was still much redder than the rest of my face.
I stepped into my thong and fastened the matching bra, both of them made from a black satiny material that felt silky smooth against my skin.
I took out my new maxi dress and pulled that on, tying the beaded straps behind my neck and pairing it with a pair of high-heeled strappy sandals. When I was done, I surveyed myself in the mirror. I looked good, at least as good as I could look.
I heard the turn of the key in the lock, and then Callum calling to me up the stairs. “Adriana?”
The sound of his voice, deep and penetrating, sent shivers down my spine. This was it. There was no turning back. Up until now, a part of me had known I had the option of leaving at any time. Even when I was getting ready, the whole thing hadn’t felt completely real.
But now he was here, home from his meetings, ready to do whatever I was willing to let him.
“Adriana?” he called again.
“Yes,” I said, hurrying down the stairs.
He was standing in the kitchen, bags of groceries in his hands. He was still wearing his jeans and dark t-shirt, and I wondered how he could get away with going to a business meeting like that, how he could get away with looking so fucking sexy and powerful even in the most casual of outfits. His eyes lit up and he smiled when he saw me. The way he greeted me, the look on his face, as if he was happy to see me, instantly melted away any doubts I might have had about whether or not I wanted to go through with this.
“There you are,” he said. “Everything’s okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
He crossed the room to me, pulled me close and kissed me hello, a deep kiss, not like the soft one he’d given me before. The kiss intensified and he pulled my body against his, crushing me against his chest, making me feel small and letting me know he was in control.
My knees quivered and liquid heat pooled in my belly.
He pulled back and looked at me. “You look beautiful,” he said huskily. His hands drifted up and slid to the back of my neck, tugging gently on the thin straps of my dress. “I cannot wait,” he said, lowering his mouth to my collarbone, “to get you naked.”
I shivered and pressed my hands against his chest. His muscles were rock hard and defined, and the heat in my belly turned from a simmer into a full-blown boil.
He pulled back again and tweaked my nose playfully. “You’re sunburned, Lemon.”
“Yes,” I said, praying I didn’t start blushing and making the redness of my skin worse. “I took a walk on the beach. I guess I didn’t realize how bright the sun was.”
“It’s sexy.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said, embarrassed.
He took my chin in his hand. “When I pay you a compliment, you are to accept it without question. Do you understand?”
I nodded, even though a part of me wondered what he was talking about. Why was he talking in generalizations like we would ever have a chance for him to compliment me again? After tonight, I would be out of his life forever.
“Come.” He took my hand and led me to the kitchen, where he began unpacking the grocery sacks. “Did you eat?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“I bought some steaks.” He paused, his hands holding a package wrapped in thick white butcher paper. �
��You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“No.”
“Good.” He walked out onto the lanai to light the grill, and when he returned, his eyes fell onto the contract that was sitting on the dining room table. “You signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He began seasoning the steaks, applying a mix of cracked herbs and spices, his hands moving expertly. There was nothing sexier than a man cooking, and I loved the juxtaposition of him standing there in his expensive clothes, his hair perfect, his watch sparkling, while he prepared a meal, an activity that was so primitive and raw.
“Can I help?” I asked, suddenly not sure what to do with myself.
“No,” he said. “You just sit there and look gorgeous.”
“Okay.” I sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, close enough that we could speak without it being awkward. “How was your meeting?” I asked.
“Fine.”
Oo-kay then. We lapsed into silence and I drummed my fingers against the table, searching for something I could talk to him about that couldn’t be construed as personal.
“Oh,” I said, remembering, “your neighbor stopped by.”
Callum stopped seasoning the steaks. “My neighbor?”
“Yes. Jason?”
“Jason?” Callum looked over at me, his blue eyes sharp, his tone clipped. “You didn’t let him inside, did you?”
“No. Well, not into the house. He needed his chain saw.”
“His chainsaw? Jesus!” He shook his head. “You let him into my garage?”
“Yes,” I said, twisting my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”
He took in a breath through his nose then returned to the steaks. “If you see him again, Adriana, please call me immediately. Don’t talk to him, don’t engage him.”
“Okay.” I swallowed. “Who is he?”
“He’s a man who works at one of the companies I recently bought. He’s desperate for a meeting with me, even though he’s been told him that’s impossible.”