Taming Me

by Alexandrea Weis

  I pictured his hand on the bannister of the stairs; the way he had caressed the wood. I let go of my apprehension and tried to concentrate on his hands.

  “You only want to please me.” His voice was steady and firm in my ear. “Letting me touch you, any part of you, pleases me. You need to please me, Lexie.” His hands glided down my back and over the curve of my backside.

  Alarm shot through me. He was kneading my butt with his fingers, and I wanted to turn around and slap him. I forced myself to let go. Taking in a deep breath, I let the air out between my gritted teeth, hissing like a snake cornered by a predator.

  “That’s it,” he murmured to me. “You’re letting me take control. I will not hurt you. I want only to gain your trust. Trust me, Lexie.” His hands moved around my hips to the valley between my legs as his body curled into my back.

  The scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his arms enveloping me was very distracting. When his hand cupped my groin, a sudden swell of lust surprised me. The feel of his hand was highly erotic, making me yearn for him to go deeper. His fingers dug into my crotch, and I arched my back, sucking in an excited breath.

  “There you go.” His voice was breaking down my resistance. “Give in to me.”

  The throbbing started between my legs and slowly rose up my back, causing a rush of desire to overtake me. Without warning, he let me go. The sudden loss of his body heat made me shiver, as if the coldest winds of winter had embraced me. I stumbled slightly forward and he caught my arm.

  “That was very good.”

  Turning to him, I was not sure how to react. I wanted this, needed this to write my book, but what he had done had been so intimate and unexpected.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “To see if you could handle it.” He went to the sofa and picked up his jacket. “Now picture me doing that to you in a room full of people, perhaps with your clothes on, perhaps off. There are no limits at this club.” He paused and arched a dark eyebrow at me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “But you said….” I stumbled, and wiped my hand over my forehead, feeling flushed. “I thought this wasn’t always about the sex. You said at dinner—”

  “I lied.” He shrugged on his jacket. “It’s always about sex, because sex is the ultimate act of submission for a Dom.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with you, Garrett, and I—”

  “I don’t want to have sex with you, Lexie.” He adjusted the jacket around his shoulders. “Nevertheless, if you’re determined to go to the club with me, we will have to practice being a couple. You must look comfortable with me, as if we know each other…intimately.” He moved toward my apartment door. “I’ll come by for lunch tomorrow, and we will practice some more.”

  “You mean you’ll grope me some more.”

  “Your role, as a sub, is to appear as my companion, student, and lover. You must never fear me, and make it look as if everything you do is to provide me pleasure. To do that, we’re going to have to get close to each other, very close. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  At that point, I should have told him to go to hell. My mind was shouting at me to do just that, but my body was having other ideas. If I ended it now, I was guaranteed never to see him again. That was something I was not yet willing to do. That was why I found my voice and answered, “Yes, Garrett, I understand.”

  His smile was one of triumph. Getting me to go along with his plan was in some small way a victory for him. After all, he had called me another Dom, and taming me would be his greatest challenge.

  He opened my apartment door and his smile fell away. “I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty for lunch. This time I will pick the restaurant.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and nodded, slowing walking up to the door. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  His eyes on me, he waited until I was right in front of him. “The question is, Lexie, are you?”

  Without another word, he turned away and headed along the landing to the stairs. After shutting the door, I drove the deadbolt home. Resting my head against the thick cypress door, I felt drained. Snapshots of the entire evening flashed across my mind, and I knew I needed to make some notes. The image of Garrett fondling me in the living room made me push away from the door.

  The things he had said to me whirled around in my head, and an idea hit me.

  Spying my laptop on the desk in the corner of my living room, I went and flipped up the lid. As the screen flashed to life, I pulled out my chair and opened a new file.

  The curser blinked on and off in front of me, and then I reached up to the keyboard and typed a title. “Taming Me.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “This might be just what I’m looking for.”

  Day 4

  When noon rolled around, I was not able to get out of bed. The previous night, I had discovered that the apparent reason for my warm flushes during my time with Garrett was not related to passion, but to the flu. After getting a first chapter down on my computer, a sudden rush of nausea sent me to the bathroom. There I had stayed for the next three hours, lying on the cool white-tiled floor and praying to God someone would shoot me.

  With the light of day I found my nausea, and trips to the bathroom, had eased and I was able to get a little sleep. That was until the pounding began. I checked the time on the alarm clock next to my bed, and groaned. I realized Garrett was probably standing outside my door, prepared to inflict some new torture on me.

  Grabbing at the ratty white cotton robe on the end of my queen-sized trundle bed, I stood and stumbled toward the front door. I had barely pulled the robe about my long nightshirt—the one with the picture of Jackson Square on it—when I flung back the deadbolt.

  “What in the hell, Lexie?” His dark eyes ran up and down my robe. “Why aren’t you dressed? I said twelve thirty.”

  I leaned heavily on the door for support, wishing he would go away. The gray suit he had on was neatly pressed, and his deep blue tie was perfectly knotted. Did the guy ever appear rumpled?

  “Leave me alone, Garrett. I had a shitty night.”

  “What’s wrong?” His hand went to my forehead, and his cool touch felt marvelous against my brow. “You’re burning up.” He came in the door and took my arm.

  “I think it was the gnocchi,” I offered, as he shut the door behind him.

  “I doubt that.” He ushered me toward the sofa. “When did this start?”

  “I was writing after you left last night. Then around midnight, I felt really sick.” He set me on the sofa. “I spent the night on the bathroom floor.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” He stood back from the sofa, his eyes all over me.

  “About lunch?” I rested against the sofa, exhausted. “I didn’t have your cell phone number. I guess I could have looked up your office number, but I—”

  “Where’s your purse?” he inquired, scanning the living room.

  “Why?” I pointed to the modest pine bench next to the front door. “I put it there.”

  He went to the bench I had bought at a secondhand store and opened the black purse I had used the night before. When he found my black iPhone, he dropped my purse and came back to the sofa with the phone in his hand.

  “I’m putting my numbers in here for future reference.” He tapped his numbers into my phone, as he took a seat next to me. “Anything happens…you get sick in the middle of the night, or you get busted for drug trafficking…you call me.”

  I watched his profile, as he inputted his cell and home numbers. “Is that a joke…from you…Mr. Serious?”

  He glanced up at me. His eyes scoured my face. “Have you eaten today?”

  The thought of food almost sent me rushing back to the bathroom. “Now I know you’re being funny.” As I sat up, my hand brushed his thigh.

  Garrett recoiled from me, scooting a few inches away. His reaction confused me. After the way he had touched me the night before, I thought we had been making progress.
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  “You cannot touch me unless I invite you to do so,” he explained. “You are my sub, and any physical contact we have has to be allowed by me.” He placed the cell phone next to me and stood up.

  “Fine, sorry. Look, I’m really not in the mood for more of your lessons today, Garrett.” I stood up, feeling a little queasy.

  “Lexie, sit down, you can’t—”

  He never got to finish his command before I went running from the living room toward my bathroom, my hand covering my mouth. I barely made it to the toilet before the vomiting began again.

  I didn’t recall seeing him enter my bathroom. I only felt his hands rubbing my back, as the violent heaving shook my body.

  “You’re okay,” he said, holding my hair. “I’m right here.”

  When I could finally sit back on my knees, he retrieved a hand towel from a shelf next to my small vanity and wet it. Coming to my side, he began wiping my mouth and chin.

  “You’ve really got some bug there, little Lexie.”

  The cool towel felt so good against my face. When I could finally focus again, I saw him sitting next to me, wedged between me and my vanity. The bathroom was barely big enough for me. Somehow, he had managed to squeeze his over six-foot frame inside.

  “Little Lexie?” I smiled, wavering slightly. “My mother used to call me that when I was a girl.”

  “What does she call you now?”

  The thought of my mother woke me from my lethargy. “It doesn’t matter.” I went to stand, but he stopped me.

  “Come on. I’ve got you.” He scooped me into his arms and stood from the floor. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  I tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. “Under any other circumstances, Mr. Hughes, I would decline that offer.”

  He held me to his chest. His arms were strong and he felt so good around me. Without thinking, I closed my eyes and rested my head against him. It was heavenly to have someone take care of me. To just let go and be…. God, I stunk! I got a whiff of my breath, and the first thing that came to mind was how could he stand holding me so close?

  “I should really brush my teeth and try to take a shower,” I muttered, trying not to breathe on him.

  He gently lowered me to my bed. “Later, after you’ve slept a little. When you wake up, we’ll see if you can hold anything down.”

  I pulled the covers around me, feeling a chill. “We?”

  He tucked the covers around my shoulders. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

  “You don’t need to stay, Garrett. I’ll be fine. You’ve got your business to run.”

  “I’ve got my phone. I can make some calls while you sleep.” He moved toward the bedroom door. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  I turned on my side, keeping him in my line of sight. “I’m used to being on my own. It’s really okay.”

  He reached for the door handle. “You’re not alone anymore, Lexie. I’ll be here, from now on.”

  The click of the door closing was the last thing I heard before falling asleep.

  * * *

  When I woke I was weak, but very hungry. Sitting up in the bed, I freed my body from the jumble of blankets entangling me, and then wiggled out of my robe. Pulling at my damp nightshirt, I got a whiff of my breath. It smelled like I had spent the night in a garbage dump.

  Cursing under my breath, I stumbled to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and putting on a lot of deodorant, I slipped into my comfy gray sweat suit. Standing at my half-closed bedroom door, I smelled something delicious wafting into my room. When I heard someone moving about my kitchen, I recalled everything Garrett had said before I fell asleep. I was flabbergasted that he had actually hung around.

  Gingerly pulling open my door, I peeked outside. The aroma was heavenly, making my stomach rumble. I hesitated, contemplating if I should return to my bathroom and try to improve my appearance for him.

  I waved off the notion, rationalizing that he had already seen me at my worst. “Oh, I must be feeling better.”

  Rounding my bedroom door, I found Garrett in my efficiency kitchen, hovering over my small gas stove and intently peering into a pot. He even cooked with intensity. Gone were his jacket and tie, and he had rolled up his white shirtsleeves, exposing the ropelike muscles in his forearms. If I hadn’t been so sick, I might have been turned on by his arms. My eyes edged downward to the curve of his slacks over his round butt, reminding me of the strong body beneath the tailored clothing. I debated if he belonged to a gym to stay in such good shape, or if he was a runner, logging miles on some out of the way path.

  “You’re up,” he said, sounding cheerful. “How do you feel?”

  “Hungry.” I stepped into my bright yellow kitchen, which I had spent one summer’s day painting not long after moving in. “What’s in the pot?” I pointed to the white stove.

  “Chicken soup.” He went to the unfinished pine cabinets lining one side of the kitchen. “You didn’t have much here in the way of food, so I went to the grocery store up the street and bought some things for you.” He pulled out one of my plain white soup bowls from the cabinet.

  “Garrett, you really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I’m fine.”

  He turned off the burner on the stove. “You’re sick, Lexie. You need someone to take care of you.”

  As he ladled some of the soup into the bowl, I wondered how much of what he was doing was for me, and how much was for his new sub.

  “Is this part of your training?” I motioned to the soup. “You make a woman feel safe and taken care of, so she will do your bidding?”

  The cold hard stare he gave me cut right through me. I knew I had said the wrong thing. “I guess you’re feeling better. You’re back to your old bitchy self.”

  I was an ass. Here he was being nice to me and I attacked him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I wrapped my arms about my body. “I’m just not used to people…doing things for me.”

  “Would you feel better if I lied to you and screwed around on you like your ex-husband? Is that how you want me to be?” He tossed the bowl on the counter, splashing some of the soup on his pants. “Shit!”

  I had never heard him curse before. Rushing to his side, I removed a handful of paper towels from a roll next to my sink and began wiping the stain on his pants. He immediately jumped back and snatched the paper towels from me.

  “Leave it.”

  I leaned back against the white Formica countertop behind me. “What is it with you and being touched? I’m not one of your subs, Garrett.”

  “Then what are you, Lexie?” he snapped. Dropping the paper towels on the countertop, he held up his hands and backed out of the kitchen.

  I went after him. When I reached the living room, he was already rolling down his sleeves while reaching for his jacket on the sofa.

  “I’m not good with people. What I said was wrong, I know that. I’m just trying to figure you out, Garrett. You stay here with me, take care of me when I’m sick, but when I—”

  “I stayed because you needed someone, Lexie.” He slipped the jacket over his shoulders. “You’re not the tower of strength you make yourself out to be. You can ask for help every now and then. It won’t make you weak.”

  A million unhappy memories came rushing back to me, and my gut burned with bitterness. “That’s exactly what it will make me. Don’t you get it?” I shook my head, as he stopped fixing his jacket and glanced over at me. “When you need help, when you have to ask people to help you, you’re weak. You have to be able to stand on your own in this world. When you can’t, you’ll be ripped apart. No one wants a weak, worthless girl around to….” I covered my hand over my mouth, ashamed of the intimacy of emotion I had shared with him. I thought I was able to keep it inside…I had been wrong.

  His features softened, and his brown eyes rounded with concern. “Who told you this?”

  “No one told me.” I folded my arms over my chest, fighting to keep f
rom trembling. “I learned it first hand when I was a kid. Nothing like having a mother who was never around, to teach you to be self-sufficient.”

  “Who raised you?”

  “Nobody really. My grandmother for a while, but she died when I was six. After that, I was on my own. ”

  “What about friends or other family? There had to be someone.”

  I shook my head and went to the sofa, feeling weak. I flopped down on the soft velvet. “We didn’t have any family. Until I was eight, she paid a babysitter to stay with me. After that, all I had were the neighbors around us in the Quarter who would help me. They would make me dinner, go over my homework, and keep me company until she came home…if she came home. Some nights I was all alone.”

  “I can see why you have a hard time trusting anyone…including me.” He took a seat next to me on the sofa.

  I tilted my head back, feeling a little lightheaded. “My mother used to always tell me not to whine about anything. If I wanted something I had to make it happen, me and no one else. I guess what she taught me stuck.” I closed my eyes. “I think I need to go back to bed.”

  His fingers combed through my hair. “You need to eat.”

  The way his fingers brushed against my scalp was so soothing. I just wanted to stay like that for a little while longer, before I had to move again. I don’t know if he sensed I needed to feel him next to me, or if he wanted it too, but he pulled me to him and kept running his fingers through my hair.

  “I want you to trust me, Lexie. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  I sighed and opened my eyes. “I’m working on it, Garrett.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He sat me up and nodded. “Let’s get you something to eat, and then I want to try an experiment.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “What experiment?”

  * * *

  Thankfully, I was able to keep down the chicken soup Garrett had made for me. After he had taken the bowl into the kitchen, he returned to the sofa where I was propped up on two pillows and held his hand out to me.

  “Come with me,” he cooed in his silky voice.

  I was immediately suspicious and hesitated before asking, “What are you doing?”