Secured Heart (Windy City #2)

by Measha Stone

  His cell interrupted his mental planning for their next evening together.

  “Hey, George,” he answered, recognizing the number on the screen.

  “Hey, Kendrick.” There was a heavy pause before he continued. “I just wanted to be sure Kelly was all right.” His voice sounded strained.

  “All right? Why?” Kendrick sat up straight in his chair and immediately looked at his watch. She wasn’t due to give him a call for another hour.

  “She didn’t call you?” Another pause. “I just ran into her at the deli on Wabash. Right after she’d run into Ted.”

  Kendrick’s blood turned cold. “How long ago and was she okay?”

  “About half an hour ago, I guess. I told her we should call you to come pick her up, but she insisted she’d give you a ring as soon as she got in a cab.” His voice fell into that awkward place when you’ve just realized you’ve ratted out a friend and that friend was now in a bunch of trouble. But Kelly didn’t really know George. They weren’t friends, but Kendrick was, and now he was angry.

  “Maybe her cell died,” George offered.

  “Uh-huh. Was she okay? Did you see him?”

  “Yeah. When I walked in, he was oozing his slime. She gave as good as she got, though. She didn’t back away from him; instead, she threw of her own insults his way before she managed to get around him and out of the deli.” George sounded proud of her. “Unfortunately, he’s too dull witted to have understood them.”

  “He see you?”

  “Yeah, I stepped in front of her as she made her way out. He turned away when he saw me.”

  “Thanks, George.” Kendrick was already standing and heading to the kitchen for his keys. “Did she say if she was going home?”

  “Nah. I only talked to her for a second. Luckily, she remembered me checking her into the club the other night and wasn’t too spooked by me.” George gave a little chuckle. “But she looked tense. That’s why I was calling…to see if she was okay.”

  “Thanks.” Kendrick stepped out into the hallway of his apartment building. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  The elevator doors opened, and they said their goodbyes.

  Kendrick made it to her apartment in less than fifteen minutes. Sunday traffic combined with his determination had aided him. He took the stairs to her building two at a time and jammed his finger into her doorbell.

  There was a crackle on the intercom.

  “Kelly? It’s me,” he said, hoping he was answering the right person.

  A loud buzz rang, and he pulled the front doors open.

  Her apartment door unlocked just as he stepped off the stairs.

  “Kendrick?” She looked concerned as he rounded the stairs and filled her doorway. “Are you okay?” Her gaze swept over his body as if to find some injury or reason for his abrupt appearance.

  “That’s what I came here to ask you,” he demanded before reminding himself to calm his tone. He didn’t want to scare her.

  “Me? I’m fine.” She tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her question came out slow, as though she were trying to find the reason in his expression.

  He took a moment to look past her. The couch facing the door was littered with papers. A glass of white wine sat abandoned on the coffee table, and there were several piles of folded clothes sitting on the loveseat. Her tousled hair and casual sweats gave her a comfortable spending-the-day-in look, but did not take away from her deep beauty. Her V-neck shirt dipped between her breasts, giving him a full-access view of her cleavage. The urge to slide his finger into the opening tugged at him.

  “You’re busy.” He motioned to the mess behind her with his chin.

  She looked over her shoulder and shrugged in response. “Grading papers and doing laundry.” She eyed him again. “I wasn’t supposed to call you for another half hour.”

  “That’s right.” He nodded. “May I come in?” he asked when she continued to stare at him.

  “Oh! Sure.” She laughed warmly and stepped to the side. She locked the door behind him and leaned against it.

  “So, what’s wrong?” She tilted her head to one side again. “You have that look in your eye. The same one you had the afternoon you drove me to the police station.”

  “I talked to George this afternoon,” he said by way of explanation.

  She continued to look at him with confusion lurking in her eyes.

  “He said he bumped into you at the deli.”

  “Oh, George! Yeah, I saw him.” She pushed away from the door and went about moving the pile of jeans from the loveseat and motioning for him to sit.

  He remained standing.

  “What?” she asked with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

  “He said you had an altercation with Ted.” He found himself folding his arms over his chest and widening his stance. Some habits never died.

  “An altercation?” She laughed. “I ran into him. Literally. He said some asshole shit, and I said some equally asshole shit, although with much more wit. I left and bumped into George at the door.”

  “He said you told him you were going to call me.”

  “Yeah,” she said with more heat, “because I was. Half an hour from now.” She crossed her own arms over her chest, or rather under her breasts, pushing them further out toward him.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, and not travel down to the deliciousness that awaited him below her neck.

  “You should have called me right away. Ted is dangerous.” He took two large strides toward her until he stood toe-to-toe with her.

  “He’s an asshole. If I call you every time I bump into an asshole in this city, I’ll have to upgrade my cell package.” Her eyes softened, her hands fell to her sides, and she looked damn kissable. She had a point. She was bound to cross paths with Ted or any other number of douchebags in the city on a daily basis.

  The idea of Ted or any of them hurting her, even with words, made the hairs on his neck stiffen in anger. He wanted to protect her, to veil her from any injury she may ever face from the outside world.

  “Okay.” He conceded with a smile. “Then let’s just focus on one asshole. If you see Ted, you aren’t to speak with him. Even if he speaks to you, you just walk away and call me. Right away. Not later in the day or even fifteen minutes later. Right away.” His hands traveled down her arms as he spoke.

  “Fair enough.” She nodded in agreement. “I can’t promise not to speak to him—”

  He pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. “I didn’t ask for your promise,” he corrected in a deeper tone, hoping she grasped the severity of his words. “I told you not to speak with him. You will do as I say in this, or you will be punished.”

  CHAPTER fifteen

  Say What?

  Kelly stared up at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  How had the conversation turned so serious so quickly?

  The afternoon had been going so well. Most of her papers were graded, she had just finished folding the last of her laundry, and she was about to enjoy a glass of wine. She hadn’t expected to be staring up at such a stern-faced Kendrick only moments later.

  She wouldn’t deny his words and the tone in which he delivered them made her insides gooey, but she wasn’t sure she liked that he could get her to react in such a way so quickly.

  “Punished?” She breathed out. He had mentioned punishment before, but that was during a sexual situation.

  “I told you it’s not like in the books.” His tone gave warning. “I don’t do bedroom play.”

  “Wait a minute.” She took a step back. “Hold on,” she said, as she moved around the loveseat, placing it between them. “Ted is the asshole. I just went to lunch with a friend. Why are you looking at me with those cop eyes of yours?” she demanded.

  “Cop eyes?”

  “Yes. When you get all protective and angry, you have cop eyes,” she explained with an air of exasperation. She didn’t expect the smile to creep into his eyes so quickly, or th
e deep laughter to bubble from his chest, but she was realizing that most of what she found with Kendrick was what she least expected.

  “Okay, I’ll put away my ‘cop eyes’.” He grinned. “But that doesn’t change that there will be rules between us. Some that you find unfair. If you don’t follow those rules, then yes, I will punish you. Discipline and obedience go together,” he explained.

  “Do I get to have a say in these rules?” She quirked her head to the right.

  “Yes, to a degree. There are some—like this one in particular—that are in place for your safety, and although I will always hear you out, that doesn’t mean you have veto power.”

  “And if I say no to this rule?” she pursued.

  “Do you want to say no to this rule?” His breath was heavy, as though he were getting tired.

  “Well.” She thought to herself for a moment. “No, not really. It’s not unfair, except you won’t let me defend myself.” She pointed at him with that thought.

  Kendrick walked around the sofa and pulled her to him; her face pressed against his chest. She could smell the scent of his aftershave and sighed at the comfort it brought her.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to defend yourself. It’s that I don’t want you engaging in any situation that could harm you.” He kissed the top of her head. His hands roamed over her back in a soothing motion. “I think it’s time we talked.”

  She groaned.

  “No, not a bad talk.” He laughed.

  “Did you eat yet? I can make us some sandwiches.” She pulled away from him.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. The small sign of affection warmed her through to her toes, and she found herself grinning up at him.

  “Didn’t you just have lunch?” he asked with a humor-laced tone.

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Okay. How about some coffee, beer?”

  “I’ll have water.” He kissed her forehead. “You can finish your glass of wine I seem to have interrupted.” He let her go and waved a hand in the direction of the mess on the table.

  Once the coffee table had been cleared of all her papers and the rest of the laundry had made its way into the basket beside the TV, Kelly sat on the couch with her bare feet tucked under her and a glass of wine balancing on her knee. Kendrick insisted on sitting on the loveseat during their talk.

  She had noticed the tightness in his jeans when he had held her, so she figured he was trying to keep his composure for the conversation at hand. She hoped he wouldn’t try to be so controlled once they were done. She wanted his lips on her again, but not so chaste—warm, deep kisses to her lips, throat, and breasts.

  The idea of his mouth moving along her body caused her to need to reposition herself on the couch. She moved a bit then smiled over at him. “So, you wanted to talk.” She cleared her throat.

  “The bag next to the desk over there… What’s in it?” he asked, pointing to the Macy’s bag.

  “New T-shirts,” she answered.

  “Cleavage free?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes.” She squirmed in her seat again. The man was causing more emotional arousal than should be allowed on a Sunday afternoon.

  “I don’t play in the bedroom and leave the kink behind. It’s part of me. It’s what I am all of the time.” His tone suggested he was divulging some big secret to her. “That means if you’re mine, you fall under my jurisdiction at all times. Twenty-four hours a day.”

  She grinned into her glass of wine. “Hence, the rule making.” She waved her hand and placed her glass on the coffee table. She hugged her knees to her chest and concentrated on him. He was the first man in years to have even the slightest idea of what he wanted in a relationship, and the first ever she’d met who was able to articulate it to her. And the idea of being his, focused her thoughts.

  “Yes.” He put his water on the coffee table untouched. “I know we went over some of your sexual boundaries.” He had the audacity to pause in order to take in her blush.

  That had been one awkward conversation, and one she was glad to have had on the telephone.

  “But we didn’t talk about the outside the bedroom rules. To be honest, I intended to go slower with you. To show you what you’d asked for and that was it, but I can’t. It’s all or nothing with me.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, telling herself not to jump onto him and kiss him senseless. Since meeting him, she wanted nothing more than to be his, even without understanding what that entailed.

  He shook his head. “Your impulsive nature will be the death of me.”

  “Your reasonable straight-forward approach to everything is exhausting. Take a chance, jump, leap.” She slid down the couch, until she was sitting as close to him as she could.

  “You have to know what you’re saying okay to; you can’t just say okay.” He pointed a finger at her. “Especially with this—with us.”

  “Okay. So, tell me.”

  “First, tell me what it was like shopping today, when you bought those new shirts.” He jerked a thumb toward her purchases.

  It had been exhilarating. At the register, the cashier had kept glancing at her because of the stupidly-happy-n-giddy grin she’d had on her face. Knowing she was buying the shirts for him, at his direction, it didn’t just make her panties wet…it made her heart swell. Jessica had been kind enough to give Kelly a knowing grin, but not comment on it.

  “It was nice.” She downplayed the emotions she’d had. No need to scare him off just yet.

  “Nice?” He laughed. “That’s it?”

  “Well, I mean, it was different than other shopping trips. Is that what you mean?” She felt the familiar sensation of heat creeping up her neck, heading for her face. She had not blushed so much in her life as she had in the last week she’d known Kendrick. Ignoring the flame was the only course of action.

  “Different how?” He pushed.

  “It had more meaning than other trips,” she answered, letting her eyes wander over his expression. He look appeased, pleased with her answer. “It sort of felt…I dunno…like you were there. You weren’t there, where you? You weren’t spying on me?” She let her feet drop to the floor and leaned closer to him.

  He laughed heartily. “No. I wasn’t there. I was working all morning, up until George called.” His hand brushed against her knee as he reached toward her face, sending a shiver through her when his fingertips gripped her chin.

  “But I’m glad you felt that way.” His soft voice shook her. Did he know how much his stare undid her? Just his eyes melding with hers made her ends unravel, and she wanted nothing more at that moment than to make him pleased.

  “So, what am I saying okay to?” she asked quietly when he made no move to kiss her.

  He released her and sat back on the loveseat, and she tucked her feet beneath her. “I mean I know the shirt thing and skirt thing.”

  “I want you to understand why the shirt and skirt thing, though. I love your body.” His gaze swept over her with a grin. “Even in sweats, it’s too hot to share, even visually with anyone else.” He continued.

  The blush was threatening to creep upward again.

  “Simply, I’m selfish, and I don’t share. If we go play at the club, it would be different—”

  “Why?” she interjected.

  “Because there it will be obvious that you are mine, and there will be no touching by anyone else. When we are out at lunch, I don’t like feeling other men’s eyes devouring you.”

  “Some guys feel proud of their girlfriends when other men are attracted.”

  “I’m not one of them,” he said simply. “I admit it’s selfish, but it’s my preference. And when you’re mine, my preference rules.”

  “Always? For everything?”

  “Not everything. That’s what we need to talk about. I mean there are areas of your life I won’t touch. Your career, your finances. Things like that. But for some things, I have the only say.”

  “For example?” She pulled a pillow into her l
ap and gripped it hard.

  “Your orgasms,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  She swallowed. How could he talk so casually about something so mind blowing?

  “They belong to me, which means unless you have my permission, you may not have one.”

  “The other night I didn’t have to ask.”

  “We hadn’t set up our boundaries then.” He shrugged.

  “So when we have sex, I have to ask?” She tried not to sound so damn vanilla, but she knew she was failing miserably. Orgasm control wasn’t a new subject to her, but not one she had readily considered with Kendrick.

  “If I haven’t given you permission, yes. Same goes for masturbation. You’ll need to ask before touching yourself.”

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. The conversation continued to veer into stranger territory than she’d imagined.

  “Do you masturbate often?” he asked, resting his right foot on his left knee and folding his hands on his knee. He looked so casual, so at home, while she felt like her insides were going to explode all over the living room.

  “Often enough, I suppose.” She hoped her voice wasn’t shaking as much as her nerves were.

  “How often?” He pressed. “When was the last time?” he asked when she remained silent.

  “Last night,” she whispered. “Twice.” Their late night phone call about all of their sexual wants and boundaries had left her in much greater need of her vibrator than most nights.

  “Impulsive and greedy.” He grinned.

  His cockeyed smile coupled with the way he was staring at her made her want to leap over to him and start kissing him, everywhere.

  She cleared her throat. “Can we get back to the punishment thing?” Her voice squeaked slightly at topic, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “That part is easy and difficult. The easy part is that if you break a rule, you’ll earn a punishment. The hard part will be taking the punishment because if you fight it, there will be more punishment.” He eyed her silently for a moment. “I don’t like punishments. I like obedience. I like submission. I like giving you pleasure and getting pleasure in return.”