“What time?”
“Six?”
“Early dinner.”
I found her snippiness… sexy. And aggravating. Which was sexy, too. “We have a lot to talk about,” I reminded her. “Where should I pick you up?”
“I think I’ll meet you there.”
Fine. With the way she was chugging down champagne, she’d do the same thing at dinner, and I’d have to drive her home. “Whatever you want, Miya.”
She looked away, but not before I saw the flare of irritation in her eyes. “Don’t placate me.”
What did she want? For me to be myself? If so, why leave in the first place? I’d push her. Keep being this me until she snapped. “I’m not placating you. I’m trying to make you comfortable.”
“Jaxon,” she warned, her nostrils flaring.
My cock thickened in my suit pants. I’d love to push her over the table, flip her hot little dress up, and bury myself as deep inside of her tight cunt as I could get. Instead, I grinned harmlessly. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that.
A blush as deep as her lipstick filled her cheeks. She looked at her plate, but I saw the way she fought her reaction. “That isn’t going to work.”
I couldn’t help myself. I reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. She hesitated a moment before her instincts took over and she leaned into my touch. I drug my knuckles down her cheek and her eyes closed with an emotion so deep, I felt it in my soul. Longing, fear, want, hurt—my emotions churned; hers were a storm too.
I had to calm her storm instead of spurring it on.
I had to close the door on my monster once and for all. I felt regret at the thought—my monster and I had been friends and foes for so long—but Miya was bright enough to outshine the doubt and worry. Plus, this was what I’d been working toward. Putting away my beast in exchange for my beauty.
“Where are you staying?” I asked quietly.
She told me the name of the hotel. “Room 910.”
I gritted my teeth. That was nowhere for her to be staying. Unsafe. She was all alone. Right? Sam had mentioned a boyfriend. Had she bought the boy with her? I couldn’t imagine her with him. Whoever the small-dicked bastard was. “You think that’s good for you? Why don’t you stay at Sam’s place?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I can’t take the love. It’s suffocating.”
I smiled. “Tell me about it. Look at the loser. He’s so damn happy you’d never even know he was like us.”
She peered over at him and smiled tightly. “I think it’s cute. But entirely oppressing.”
I dropped my hand before she could put that brick she’d just dropped back into her wall. “Let me take you back to your room.”
She hesitated.
I was losing her.
“You’re tipsy and I don’t want you driving alone with a stranger.”
She gave me a disbelieving look, looking for an angle. There wasn’t one. That was dangerous.
“All right…” She picked up her champagne and drank it down.
She was drinking because of me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I knew the desire to escape yourself, your truths—it was fruitless. “I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
She snorted out a laugh. “Your best is everyone else’s bad.”
I chuckled, because she was right. Our third course arrived. Miya clammed up after agreeing to let me drive her home. I let her alone, stuffing my face. The lady beside me let out a groan and sank into her seat, shooting me a rueful smile when I glanced down at her.
“I’m stuffed.”
Okay. “Great food.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
She was probably close to my age. Early-thirties. Cute, I guessed. With reddish brown hair and greenish brown eyes. My entire body felt like it was looking at air. No one did anything for me except the woman beside me. Who was currently polishing off the bar to deal with me.
“Jaxon. You?” I figured I’d play along. No one else was talking to me.
“Iris.”
I gave her my hand and a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Iris. How do you know the groom-to-be?” I heard Sam mention that other than Livie’s kids—horrible divorce—she didn’t have anyone. It wasn’t a leap to assume everyone at this table was for Sam.
“I bought out Lust.”
My brows shot up. She ran the BDSM club Samuel had created? He’d sold it before he asked Livie to marry him. And since I’d turned my back to that lifestyle when I lost Miya, I wasn’t inclined to ask.
“I know what you’re thinking. What is a woman like me running a place like Lust?”
I shrugged, hiding my smile behind a bored expression. “Not at all.”
She snorted. “Looks are a cloak for us, Jaxon. I look normal. Inside, I love doling out punishments and wearing skin tight leather.” She gave me a sultry grin, and just like that, I was sitting beside a Mistress. A woman who oozed control and gave out pain like tender. “Say… you’re pretty damn hot. You like a high heel stepping on your cock and balls?”
I couldn’t help myself and leaned close to her. “Is that anyway to talk to a Dominant?”
She pulled back, appraising me. “No shit.”
My monster was offended. But my human side was glad we were more prevalent. “Ex-Dominant,” I corrected in a hushed whisper.
“Huh.” She assessed me and then her eyes flashed to something, presumably Miya, and she nodded in recognition. “Love claims another one.”
When I glanced over my shoulder at her, she was glaring so darkly at her plate, I bristled. I wondered what that must look like to her. Me, chatting up with someone who loved the lifestyle, while she ran from it because of me.
Feeling guilty, I hung my head and positioned my body more toward her instead of my ball crushing friend.
We needed to talk. Now. It was hard enough sitting next to her and to not give in to my true instincts. Which were anything but benevolent. They were, in fact, downright filthy. Time apart did nothing to curb my hunger. Which was at levels I’d never touched before.
“Some things never change,” Miya mumbled under her breath, an air of disappointment swirling around her.
Something told me I’d better do something, or my monster would be the least of my worries. “Everything has changed,” I whispered. “Give me the chance to talk about those changes.”
“Give you?” She arched a waxed brow at me.
I studied that brow. My Miya hadn’t waxed her brows. I loved the sleekness of it, but there had been nothing wrong with her eyebrows before, either. How much of her was different? I swallowed my retort. “Please give me the chance,” I corrected roughly.
She turned away. “I’m going to regret this.”
She didn’t talk for the rest of breakfast. I tried to engage her, but she’d sealed herself up tight. Sighing, I sat back, watching Sam and Livie stare into each other’s eyes. I refrained from tossing Miya’s empty champagne bottle at them and signaled the waiter.
“Sir?”
“Can I get two coffees?”
“Right away.”
“I don’t want coffee,” Miya slurred, glaring so darkly at me I had to wonder, for a brief second, whether there even was anything to save here.
She hated me.
The realization slammed into me so harshly I was breathless. “Then don’t drink it,” I muttered, finding it hard to breathe.
She put her hand on my arm. “What’s wrong?”
I gently pulled my arm free. “You ready to go?”
She thought about it, her flushed cheeks and baby blue eyes bright at the same time they were muted. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” She nodded to herself and then pushed back, getting unsteadily to her feet. She grabbed for her clutch and giggled when she dropped it in her fruit tart.
I watched her, frowning. “You’re shitfaced.”
She giggled harder, putting her hand over her sexy red lips. “No, I’m not.”
“You should have eaten more.” I got up and took her elbow, signaling to Sam with a nod of my head toward Miya and then the door that we were leaning.
He gave me a private smile and a wave of his hand.
I refrained from flipping him off and guided Miya out of the room and down the stairs—which consisted of two trips and one tumble—and then through the waiting area, which had doubled in occupants.
“So many people. Is the food that good?” she wondered.
I smiled, opening the main doors for her. A warm rush of summer air greeted us. “You didn’t eat enough to determine that.”
She pulled her elbow free of my hand and looked sad. “It’s hard to eat around you.”
“Why?” I forgot what a brave drunk she was. Maybe I could spin this to my advantage.
She opened her mouth to answer just as the valet slid up and asked for my ticket. Rifling through my pocket with a glare, the moment was gone; Miya had walked over to the curb and her face was aimed at the sky, eyes closed.
I felt my control slipping in a way I wasn’t used to. With Miya, I needed it ten times more. I always had. Everything else around me could fall apart. But not her.
Not my Miya.
I went to stand beside her. The valet brought my Lexus around and tossed me the keys over the hood, immediately turning away for the next customer the moment I didn’t give him another tip. I planned on opening Miya’s door, but she made the move too quickly, sliding into the front seat and staring straight.
I gritted my teeth. She needed time and patience. I had to give them to her. I got into the driver’s seat and was immediately assaulted by the scent of roses and honey clinging to her every inch. It was warm in the car, but I didn’t want to blow away her scent by turning on the air.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
I glanced over before pulling out onto the road to find that she was already sleeping. Her face was aimed at me, her bright red lipstick slightly smeared. My lips lifted before I could stop them, and though I wanted to touch her, I left my hands on the wheel.
And inhaled the air in the car like it was the only oxygen left in the world.
7. – Miya
Confusion tasted like moldy champagne on my tongue.
My head hurt, and my stomach turned. I sat up, blinking around. I saw the tacky beach painting on the wall and recognized that I was in Portland. I lay back down, trying to figure out why I was in bed wearing a red dress next. Pieces of the morning came back to me.
Oak-soaked whiskey scents and dark unfathomable eyes.
“Jaxon?” I sat back up and looked around. My TV was on, and his suit jacket was thrown over the back of the desk chair in the room. My dress had ridden up in sleep. The lights outside shone onto my bare thighs. The space beside me in bed was warm.
Horror settled in my bones. We’d slept together?
The worst part was that I didn’t even remember it.
Which was a good indicator that I was in over my head already. Why did I think I could keep up with that man?
I heard a sound, and then the front door opened. Jaxon saw me sitting up and sighed in relief. He had a bag in his hand with the name of the gas station across the street on the front.
“Headache?” he guessed, tossing me a bottle of ibuprofen. He set down a small plastic jug of orange juice beside it.
I let my head hit the pillow again, too nauseated to move. Or talk. I pried open the aspirin, squinting at it, and then awkwardly downed some tablets with the orange juice poised on my cheek at an angle.
“What time is it?” I croaked, cringing. I sounded like, well, like I’d drank a bottle and a half of champagne and passed out. The clock on the desk had been wrong since I’d gotten the room.
He sat on the foot of the bed, his untucked gray dress shirt wrinkled, and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. “Midnight.”
I groaned. “No way.”
“Way.”
I heard a smile in his voice. I didn’t look to see for sure, but then again, with Jaxon I never had to see anything for it to be real.
“So much for dinner,” I hinted.
He grunted in agreement. “I’m starving.”
I glanced over at the bags. “Is that what’s in there? Snacks?”
“No, actually.” He pulled the bag onto his lap and started taking out items. “It’s an apology.” He produced a single pink rose wrapped in plastic. He handed it to me.
I took it cautiously. My bare feet touched his lower back, and I drug my toes across his belt.
He took a deep breath and then pulled out a disposable camera. “I realized when you left, that I didn’t have any pictures of you. Except for the ones we took together when we went to the Oregon coast. Do you remember?”
I swallowed hard and bobbed my head.
“I wanted some pictures. Just in case.” He palmed the camera and then set it down on the bed beside us both.
The next item he pulled out was a box of condoms. I felt my brows draw down at the sight of them and then my blood got hot.
“What are those for?”
“I had my vasectomy reversed. The doctors don’t know if it will take or not. But we’d need this.”
“Just in case,” I heard myself whisper.
He bought a camera to remember me by. But he also bought condoms to have me now? A pink rose for me to hold in the moment? Was he as torn as me? Afraid the other would leave, unsure whether we wanted that, which answered all our questions. We didn’t want the other to leave.
I heard my loud swallow. I wasn’t nauseated anymore. My heart was begging me on her knees with her palms pressed together to let her out for Jaxon again. She missed him. Needed him. Wanted his strong arms around her and his rough parts to touch my soft ones. But she ignored her scars and it was my job to prevent her from getting anymore.
The last item he took out was a pair of cheap toy handcuffs. He tore them from the package and then held them in each of his palms. He ripped them apart.
“I’m not a Dominant anymore, Miya. I haven’t touched another woman since you left. Haven’t looked at one. I’ve been seeing a sexual and cognitive therapist once a week for two years. I live alone. I work eight hours a day. I’ve been holding my breath for two years, baby. I just want to breathe again.”
The sadness in his voice was a punch to the gut. It was so deep, so real. I could feel it. The idea that he’d hurt as badly as me—because I had hurt, deep and true—was so profound, I found myself truly picking apart his words for what they were.
Pleas.
“I still love you. I still want you. I still need you. But I know this isn’t about me breathing. This is about the fact that you’re still holding your breath. I’m here. Like I’ve been since you left. And I’ll suffocate forever if it means hearing you inhale just one time.”
Tears turned his earnest form into a shimmering mirage. I blinked them away; this was real.
“But I know you’re afraid. Of me. Of feeling what you feel. Or even what you don’t feel.” He took a deep, pained breath, like the idea of me not feeling the same about him anymore killed him. “So as hard as it is to deny my instincts, I’m going to give you space. But just know, I don’t want it. And I don’t need it, Miya.”
His handsome fucking face was killing me right then. I’d never seen him look so open, so vulnerable. He still looked like the Jaxon I left, but he wasn’t the same man at all. I couldn’t breathe. I was elated and regretful. I missed that man, but I wanted to get to know this one.
He still loved me.
He hadn’t been with anyone else.
You had, my heart whispered meanly. You are still. I told my heart to shove it up her innocent ass. I could do what I wanted. He had. It was only fair I explored other options. How would I know what I wanted if I didn’t know what I didn’t want first?
He’d had a vasectomy reversal. The weight of that made it hard to breathe. I sat up, feeling better from my hangover—everything els
e, not so much—and lost my cool. That was huge. That was saying yes to things that weren’t even mine anymore. Kids. Marriage. Forever. He’d denied me those things. Said they weren’t possible.
And maybe they hadn’t been, until I left, and he realized a few things of his own.
“I’ll go.” He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket, stuffing that disposable camera in his suit pocket. “I wanted to talk to you before I left, and make sure you were safe.”
I didn’t want him to leave. I had so much to say but knew I wouldn’t say it. I’d said everything I ever needed to say time and time again. Now it was his turn to talk.
He bent down to place a kiss to my cheek. And then he left.
Leaving me with a pink rose, a pair of broken hand cuffs, and tears in my eyes.
Though it looked like nothing had changed.
Everything had.
***
The amount of sheer lavender-colored tulle was making me dizzy.
It smelled like fabric and cool air. Every breath I took hurt my nose. I stood in the middle of the dressing room, spinning on my heel as I took it all in. Livie and I were getting fitted. She’d had an addition put onto her wedding dress; any minute she’d appear out of her dressing room and I would have to ohh and ahh.
I hadn’t seen Jaxon since he left my hotel room. He’d left himself behind, though. The presents; the rose was on my nightstand, in an old glass jar from a yogurt I’d gotten from room service. It was still alive. I’d tossed the handcuffs, and then felt bad, getting them out and stuffing them back into my bag. I’d tucked the condoms in my purse. Just in case.
I could still smell him. My stomach dropped and lifted so many times as I thought about him; I was going to puke all over the smooth gray carpet.
“Are you okay?” Livie called out.
I frowned. “Yeah… why?”
“I can hear you breathing hard.”
I froze. “It’s, uh, stuffy in here.”
“It’s freezing, Miya. My nipples are so hard I’m afraid I’m going to tear my dress.”
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