He packed up his personal gear and signed out, his mind working overtime on the drive home. He figured he had one shot to get it right and he didn’t want to blow it. But what the hell was he going to do? At the very least, he wanted to talk to her. In person, not on the phone or with other people around. Just the two of them.
He shot Bella a brief text and, with a rush of anticipation that nearly made him dizzy, he waited for her reply.
* * *
Bella yelped when the phone she’d just picked up vibrated. There was a text, from Marcus.
Can I see u 2nite? Need 2 talk.
Shit, she didn’t know how to answer that. God knew she wanted to talk to him, to see him, but his rejection still stung. Last night’s I don’t want to be alone hadn’t sat well with her, either. It was like rubbing salt in a festering wound. She bit her lip with indecision, then hit Reply. Why?
As she waited for his answer, she grabbed her work stuff and headed out of the library. Before she got very far, her phone buzzed again.
Are u still @ work?
Exasperation flared. Leaving now. WHY?
He still didn’t answer her question, instead, posing another one of his own. Meet me on the Creek? Plz?
The Carroll Creek Promenade sat right behind the library, and she often ate her lunch out there. Her heart sped up, in spite of her confusion. Was he there now? She walked to the back patio of the library and looked around. She didn’t see him, but he could be anywhere along the promenade. Where R u?
On my balcony, watching u. Look up.
Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her chest. He stood on the balcony of one of the condos on the other side of the water, leaning casually against the brick wall in a pair of loose lounge pants and a dark T-shirt. Even from here, she could see his bare feet. And the intensity in his gaze.
She blinked, surprised. He lived downtown? How much more about him didn’t she know? She nearly snorted out loud. Hell, that was a stupid question. They’d had phone sex, and they’d had almost-sex in her house. She knew more about his sexual preferences than she knew about the man himself.
Her phone buzzed again. Will u plz come over?
God, she was tired, and she didn’t know if she could handle this tonight. She could ignore Marcus, go home and be miserable. Or she could take a chance and see what he had to say. She might still wind up miserable, but at least she wouldn’t be a coward.
She crossed the metal bridge connecting the two sides of the promenade. By the time she was over to his building, he was downstairs waiting for her at the door. Still barefoot, still with that intense look on his face.
They walked up the two flights of stairs in silence. He hadn’t said a word yet, hadn’t even touched her. When they got to his door, he held it open and ushered her inside.
It was definitely a man’s space. Big furniture, dark colors, lots of electronics. But it was neat and uncluttered. Poster-sized photographs of Italy hung on the walls, and family pictures sat on every table surface. The living room was large, with windows overlooking the creek, and the space was open to the kitchen. Pots hung from a rack over a small island, and all kinds of cooking gadgets sat on the counters. This was a lived-in home, and she loved it.
But she wasn’t here for the décor.
At the sound of the door closing, she spun around. Marcus strode toward her, a dark, dangerous look on his face. He kept coming, closer and closer, until he’d backed her up against the glass door leading to the deck.
“What are you doing?” Her breath caught in her chest, but instead of fear, her body reacted with a rush of heat that flamed her face, hardened her nipples and wet her panties. She brought up one hand between them to ward him off, but Marcus caught it in his and held it over her head, up against the glass.
“I missed you. Give me your other hand.”
His voice was cool, his words nearly matter-of-fact, but there was no doubting the dominance behind them. She shivered, desperately—and strangely—wanting to comply, but held her ground. He wasn’t getting his way that easily. “No.”
He smiled slightly. “Give me your other hand, Bella.”
She tucked her hand behind her back, between her and the glass door. “Make me.” Jesus, she needed a filter for her mouth. What was up with her daring him to take control? She hated that. Loathed it. Yet here she stood, goading him to do that very thing.
“My pleasure.”
Instead of grabbing at her arm like she’d expected him to, he played dirty. He leaned in close, nuzzling her hair. With his free hand, he feathered his fingers over her collarbone, barely touching her but searing her skin with each caress. His lips and talented tongue followed his fingertips, and she couldn’t hold back her moan or the goose bumps that rose on her flesh.
“Give me your hand.”
He murmured the words as he licked a path from her collarbone to the swell of her suddenly aching breasts. She arched forward and he laughed, low and sexy as anything she’d ever heard. He nipped at the skin, then laved the small bite with his tongue again. When he reached the scooped neckline of her shirt, he hooked a finger in it and looked down, baring her secret indulgence. Her favorite lacy black bra left little to the imagination. He let out a whistle.
“Oh, I do like this. I’d like to see more of it.” In spite of his words, he tugged her shirt back into place. “Later.”
His lips trailed down her arm, stopping only to suckle gently at her skin before moving further. Behind her back, her hand clenched and unclenched against the glass as he continued his sensual assault.
If he’d come at her with physical aggression, she’d have shut him down right away. But he teased her patiently, letting her decide if she was going to go along with this new game he was playing. Her head told her to shut him down anyway. Her body told her brain to shut the hell up. Her breath rasped in and out, and a bead of sweat slid down her back. She squeezed her eyes closed as she counted to ten, but she was wearing down.
“Give me your hand, Bella. I’m waiting.”
He could’ve grabbed her hand easily, but he let it be her decision. That’s what did it for her. She locked eyes with him, her throat tight with some emotion she didn’t want to—or couldn’t—name, and tentatively placed her left hand in his right one.
“Good girl.”
Why those words sent a thrill down her spine, she’d never know. But they did. And so did his actions, when he laced their fingers together and raised their arms until he had both hands high above her head, pressed against the glass. Her heart sped up when she realized anyone outside on the Promenade could see them, and it sent a rush of moisture between her thighs. “Marcus, please.”
“Please what? Please kiss you? It pleases me, so that’s what I’ll do.” He ducked his head and took her lips in a hard kiss, nipping at her lips, urging her to open her mouth and let him in. “Or maybe you’d like me to do this, instead.”
He tilted his pelvis forward until his erection—Jesus, was that really all him?—pushed up against her belly. She whimpered and tried to move closer to him, but he kept her right where she was, at his mercy.
“Does this feel good?” His words were soft, but his body was hard where it touched hers.
It felt great, but something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the Marcus she knew. She fought the need to give in, to let herself fall under the sensual spell he was weaving. It was hard to focus, but she made herself ask the question anyway. “What do you want from me, Marcus?”
* * *
Bella’s body trembled beneath his, straining not to get away, but to get closer. Marcus wasn’t even sure she was aware she was doing that, but he was. And he let that knowledge lend him the courage to answer her question.
“I want you.” His voice sounded deeper than usual, roughened by the need that threatened to overwhelm
him. He clasped her hands tighter, slid his thigh between her legs, pressing his body closer to hers. “But tonight, I want to be in control.”
Her eyes widened, and her chest heaved with every rasped breath. He dropped his head and kissed the tip of her nose, startling her even more. He kind of liked seeing her off balance, the way he always felt around her. It ramped his own arousal even higher.
She swallowed. “I don’t like being dominated.”
“Really. Is that why your breasts are swollen right now, and your nipples are beaded? I can feel the heat coming off you, can see your pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. That’s aroused, Bella.”
She flushed. “That’s only because you caught me by surprise.”
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t buying that at all. “Maybe.” He dipped his head again and caught her mouth in his. Her lips tasted like ripe strawberries, tart and sweet at the same time. He licked his way around them like a cat lapping at cream, and then deepened the kiss. Her tongue was soft, slick, and it took little imagination to picture her on her knees, that tongue wrapped around his dick. He was the one who groaned that time, the image ripe in his mind. “Or maybe you’re lying to yourself about what you need.”
She froze, turning to ice in his arms, and he swore under his breath. He leaned back to see what was wrong.
Hurt glittered in her eyes. “So now this is about me? I’ve been upfront with you about what I want out of a relationship. You said you couldn’t handle it, and I left it alone. I left you alone. Why are you doing this?”
Shit, he’d screwed up again, hadn’t he? Time for some honesty, before she walked out on him forever. “Because I’ve missed you. Because I find myself thinking about you all the time. Because I told you I only like submitting some of the time.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by a quick bite of anger. “So you thought you’d pull the Dom routine tonight, and see what happened? See how I’d react?”
He flushed at the bald words. “Yeah.”
She pulled away from him, her motions jerky, and he stepped back, reluctantly letting her go. Silently, she stalked to the other side of the room and picked up her things, staring at him for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“It might have been nice if you’d asked if I was interested. I told you, I don’t like being controlled, especially not emotionally.” She stood in the doorway, her body rigid with tension. Her eyes got a faraway look in them as if she was remembering a particularly painful memory. “The last guy I dated liked things a little wild, as long as he was the one doing the dominating. When I tried to change things up where I was the one calling the shots, things got—” she paused, twisted the strap of her purse in her hands, “—ugly.”
Marcus growled. “Tell me he didn’t hurt you.”
Bella laughed a little half laugh that was more sob than humor, and a sheen of tears covered her eyes. “Not physically, no. But verbally? Yeah. At first, you don’t know what to do when your boyfriend calls you a cock-tease or a frigid bitch, then laughs and says calling his sub names like that is part of being a Dom. You think, okay, maybe he’s right. I’ve heard of subs being called slut, or slave, and loving it. So I let it slide. Then one day I tried to get him to switch roles with me. I wanted to see what it was like on the other side, to be the one tying the knots and holding the ropes. He blew a gasket. The things he said to me—” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “He messed up my head enough that you’re the first man I’ve dated in over two years.”
Marcus’s heart twisted painfully. Jesus, if he’d known what she’d been through, he might have handled things differently. He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t done yet.
“You might be right. Before I figured out what you were doing, I was aroused. I won’t lie about that. But rather than honesty, you went for manipulation. I’ve been through that before, with Trent, and I’m not going through it again.” Her chin tipped up defiantly. “I’m worth more than that.”
She didn’t slam the door, didn’t even close it. She simply walked out, leaving him standing there, alone.
“Fuck.”
Chapter Ten
Bella drove home carefully, fighting hard to keep her tears at bay. She felt betrayed and emotionally shattered, but more than that, she was disappointed. She’d trusted Marcus, thought he was different, but he’d let her down. Right now all she could do was compare him to Trent. He hadn’t called her demeaning names, but he’d pulled the same men should be in charge bullshit Trent had pulled.
Frustrated, she slammed her work stuff down on the kitchen counter, sending her keys and her mail skittering across the surface and onto the floor. She bent to pick up the mail with a curse.
The devil on her left shoulder gave her a high-five for her attitude, but the angel on the right shoulder told her to calm down and think. She ignored the holier-than-thou bugger—the one who was probably right—and with shaking hands poured herself a glass of wine, which she took with her to her bedroom.
As she waited for her bath to fill, she stripped off her clothes and tossed them into the hamper. She took a sip of wine then set it on the edge of the tub. She was still angry, but now she didn’t know if she was mad at Marcus or at herself. After all, she’d been completely aroused—and, okay, a bit freaked out because she wasn’t expecting it—when he’d walked her back against the door.
Her introspection was interrupted by the ring of the phone. Instinctively, she knew it was Marcus. She debated whether to answer but decided against it. It rang three times before the machine picked up.
He cut right to the heart of the matter. “I’m so sorry, Bella. I seem to say that to you a lot.” A long silence came across the line, and she imagined him scrubbing his hand across his face. “I honestly didn’t see what I did as manipulation.” Another pause. “Anyway, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Again.” He swore, and disconnected.
She lay submerged in the steaming water of the tub for nearly half an hour, turning his words and her memories of her relationship with Trent over in her mind. By the time she was finished with her bath, the only thing she was sure of was that she’d just turned into a prune.
Sleep was a long time coming.
* * *
Marcus collapsed onto his bed in the training center’s dorm with a sigh of utter relief. Three days into his first week of refresher training and he felt like a rookie all over again. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one. There were seven other guys in this group, and two women. And most of them looked as if they’d been put through the wringer.
He’d almost forgotten how physically exhausting it was to hump hose. Not that he was complaining. He’d also forgotten the satisfaction that came from attacking a fire and taking it down.
Olivia Watterson, one of his classmates, poked her head into the open doorway. “Want to grab some dinner, Aiello? I’m already sick of training-center food. I hear there’s a great pub in town, and I could really go for some fish and chips.”
Marcus debated, but only for about a minute. He needed to get away from this place for even an hour or two. The staff had run them from sunup to sundown for the past three days, including one middle-of-the-night simulated call. “We have clearance to leave?”
She nodded.
“Everyone else going?”
“Just you, me, Cassidy and Gibson. The others decided to go to the Chinese buffet.”
A small frisson of relief that this was a group thing passed through him. He liked Liv—she was a good paramedic, and it looked as though she was a good firefighter, too—but he’d been getting strange vibes from her all day. “Give me a few minutes to wash up.”
A wicked gleam entered her eye and, even though he wasn’t interested in the least, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Go away, Watterson. I don’t need any help.”
“Pity.” Her faint British accent ma
de the word as sharp as a whip. She turned on her heel, her voice carrying over her shoulder. “Five minutes, and we’re gone. With or without you.”
The pub was just the place to unwind. Good beer, good food, good music. Good company too. Judd Cassidy from Station One had been in Marcus’s very first training class. He didn’t know much about Melanie Gibson, except that they’d given Mel a raft of shit about her name and she’d taken it with good humor. Liv had come to the States for college, fallen in love with Maryland and stayed. He enjoyed the banter between the four of them, although he mostly listened. They’d all needed this break.
Judd and Melanie went off to play pool, leaving him and Liv alone at the table. God, he really hoped this wasn’t a setup. He’d forced himself to put Bella out of his mind while he worked and trained, but in the quiet hours, all he could do was think about her and his unbelievable fuckup. He was thinking about her now.
“You’re terribly quiet.”
“A lot on my mind.” He shrugged and softened the words with a small smile. “So, what do you think so far?”
She grinned. “I love it, but I’m bloody exhausted. Even so, I’m glad we got this opportunity. What about you?”
“Me too.” They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping beer. “Five years off the line makes a big difference, though. I’m more out of shape than I thought.”
Liv chuckled, and took her time looking him up and down. “Nothing wrong with your shape, Aiello.”
Firefighters and paramedics razzed each other all the time, but this had a very definite sexual undercurrent to it. Interestingly enough, it didn’t do a thing for him. There wasn’t room for any other woman. “I appreciate the thought, Liv. I’m truly flattered. You’re a beautiful woman—”
She cut him off with a resigned wave. “But you’re not interested.” She visibly forced cheer into her voice. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.”
She’d taken it better than he’d expected, but he still felt as though he owed her an explanation. “Another time, and I’d have been interested. I mean that. But I’m involved with someone.” If that’s what you can call it.
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