by Lynda Aicher
“I don’t,” he stated without emotion. “I’ve had a sub, once. My ex-wife. And that didn’t turn out so well.”
“You think?” she snarked, encased in self-preservation mode. But regret hit almost immediately. He’d opened up to her, and she’d just shoved it in his face with the same callous disregard she detested in her father. His lack of a response spoke louder than words. “Sorry. That was crass of me.”
He rolled closer, the bed shifting to warn of his intent. She stiffened, expecting his touch but not receiving it. He came to her side instead. His presence bounced off every nerve ending that tried to absorb and reject him at once.
“We were young,” he started, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. His shadow presented a regretful image she tried to hold strong against. “It started out as bedroom games for me. It’d morphed into more before I’d fully comprehended that it’d happened. I was a new officer with a new marriage and an infant on a new base. I’d switched into survival mode, taking over when I saw her struggling, setting down a structure and tasks for the day without thought to what that meant. For her, that ended with me having a sub whose true desire was to be a slave.” He turned his head toward her. “All I’d wanted was a partner.”
Again, her thoughts were a scramble of questions with no clear response. A mix of pain laced through his words. He clearly took responsibility for what’d happened when there’d been two of them in their relationship.
“You can believe me when I say I don’t want a sub.” He straightened, his bearing returning to one of confidence. “Sexual control is something I gave up—until you. That night in the hotel room was…too damn perfect.”
Her urge to snark out a defense was muzzled by her agreement. That night had been…perfect. It was why they were here. Why she continued to think about him and want more.
“And now?” she finally whispered.
“Do you have to ask?” He ran the back of a finger down her arm. Goose bumps popped up in a prickle of awareness that never truly left around him.
She squeezed her eyes closed, struggling to sort through her thoughts and emotions. He upset the defined line of her life. He presented problems and complications that held no promise of good. And yet, she was still sitting there when she could’ve walked away at any point.
He started to rise. Her heart leapt, her hand snaking out to halt him. He stilled. Her pulse pounded out each hard beat in the sore spot on her neck. His bite mark.
He slowly lowered until he was sitting again. Why had she stopped him? What did she want? Did she need to define it? Did he?
They should, yet…
Her swallow did little to clear the lump in her throat. Was that fear? Doubt? Self-preservation?
“Sexual control is something I’ve never given up—before you,” she finally said. The admission pounded at the defenses she’d erected so long ago. The pressure to conform to an expected role had been immense and giving even a little had been seen as a weakness to exploit.
His quick intake of breath cut a sharp hiss through the silence. “Why me?”
“I don’t know,” she told him honestly. “You were safe at first. Someone who knew nothing about me and had nothing to gain from me. You?”
“The same.” He waited a beat. “And now?”
She stared at him through the darkness, exposed yet somehow grounded by his words. He had that ability when so few did.
“I think we’re good.” Her statement came out far more certain than the mess of indecision roiling within her. Project what you want, not what you are. Words to live by from her mother.
“Are we?”
I hope so. And when had hope gotten involved? Her lips quirked at her inane thoughts. She had this, right? Fear fled when confronted, and she didn’t even know what had her so damn scared.
“Yes. I think so.” She ran her hand down his arm to clasp his hand. If she owned it, it became hers to wield. “There are times when I may choose to give some of my sexual control to you, but it ends there.”
“Of course.” He shifted to face her better, his voice low. “I never assumed otherwise. In fact, I have no desire for more than that.”
The darkness provided safety, but it also hid so much. She had nothing to go on except for his words and her own instincts.
She inched back on the bed, drawing him with her. He came easily, lying over her in a way that was at once too intimate and absolutely right. Her internal sigh left her mystified, yet he was here, and she didn’t want him to leave.
She framed his face with her hands and drew him into a kiss. The gentleness in his touch had her heart fluttering despite the hesitation that still lingered. She’d be fine. They’d figure it out. It was only a kiss.
But the tender way he took her that time was so much more than a kiss. The lazy roll of his hips, the soft murmurs, the slow build that hummed over her skin and caressed her heart cried the lie she was trying to tell herself.
Her release came on a gentle swell and prolonged shudder that shattered her fears while building new ones. She gasped, holding him close. Her neck throbbed with the reminder of the power she’d given him. But it was only as strong as she allowed.
And that’s what made them equal.
Chapter Eighteen
Matt leaned down to brush a kiss on Kennedy’s forehead. She stirred, stretching an arm over her head as her eyes fluttered open. Her frown dug in as her fog appeared to clear.
“Don’t get up,” he told her before he placed another kiss on her temple. “I have to go. But I didn’t want to just leave.” Walking out after the night they’d shared was way below his standards.
“What time is it?” She stretched to look at the clock on the nightstand, dropping back with a groan. “It’s Sunday.”
His internal clock had set itself to the ass-crack-of-dawn long ago. It didn’t matter the day or how late he’d been up. “Go back to sleep.” He brushed the hair from her face. She was already settling back into the mattress. “I’ll let myself out.”
Her little smile said “okay” and “that’s it?” at once. Expectations hadn’t been set, yet they’d covered a lot of ground last night. He took a step back, hesitated. He could leave it like this, as just another sexual encounter. It’d be safer. “Lunch this week?”
A full smile bloomed at that. She closed her eyes, tucked a hand beneath her cheek. “That sounds good.”
He shook his head in mixed wonder and happiness. He was too far past safe to stop now. He gave her thigh a playful smack that had her flinching away. But her eyes remained closed and her smile increased.
“Goodbye, Matt.” Playful amusement lifted her tone.
“Goodbye, Kennedy.” He headed to the door before he succumbed to the temptation to crawl into her bed and turn that smile into a cry of pleasure.
He laid her dress over the back of the couch and turned off the lights downstairs before he left, ensuring the door was locked behind him. The sun was still nestled below the horizon, keeping its light to itself. A quick check of his phone had his guilt soaring. He’d silenced it before the benefit performance and had never turned it back on. The series of concerned texts from both kids derailed the assumption he’d made about them being asleep last night.
He should’ve texted, but he’d told them he’d be late. And what would he have said? I’m getting laid, don’t wait up?
A harsh scrub of his face didn’t dislodge the confusion or the guilt, but he wasn’t sorry about spending the night with Kennedy. There was something good there, something he couldn’t pass off.
He sent a quick text to let them know he was fine even though they’d clearly be in bed now. They never rose before ten on weekends and that was considered early to them.
The highway was basically empty, thankfully. It allowed him to make the drive on autopilot while he sorted through the change in his life. He hadn’t expected Kennedy. Hell, he hadn’t expected most of the major changes in his life—not that Kennedy necessarily classified a
s major. But she was something different.
And that was good.
That nugget of happiness spread with each mile that passed. No regrets. No dread. No doubts or what-ifs? And they had a lunch date this week.
Like that was a major accomplishment or something. Fuck. He was acting like a teen with his first crush. Twenty years was a long time between first dates, though. He’d been a college student the last time he’d dated. And the last woman he’d called a girlfriend had become his wife after she’d become pregnant.
Honor was a lost trait that’d somehow been ingrained in him. Not somehow. His father had fled, leaving his mother to raise him on her own. He’d refused to do that to his kid.
He frowned when he pulled up to his home. The lights were on in the kitchen, the house lit up inside like there was a party going on. Did they forget to turn them off? Had something happened?
He hung his head when his daughter appeared in the window. She was up. That probably meant Ben was too. He had a welcome party he really didn’t want.
The cool morning air offered little in the way of relief from the embarrassment that was trying to edge its way up his neck. His tie was shoved in his pocket, his shirt open at the collar, his coat and pants wrinkled.
The walk of shame in front of his kids was not on his To Do list.
He blew out a breath, hitting the garage door button a little too hard before he entered the house. Three sets of eyes held him pinned to his spot. Damn. At what point had his mother joined the party?
They were seated around the dining table directly adjacent to the kitchen. The entire space was best described as efficient. The updates he’d made kept it from being old, but there was no way anything in his home would be described as luxurious. It fit them, though, this home he’d worked so hard to make for his family.
He closed the door with precise care, set his keys on the counter before turning to face them. It didn’t matter that he was over forty, in that moment he felt like the kid instead of the parent.
“Morning?” he ventured, leaning back against the counter. His attempt at casual landed with a solid fizzle. Excellent. “Can I ask why you’re all up?”
“What?” Dawn’s aghast expression smacked of the same overexaggeration she applied to most things. “Are you serious? Have you not checked your phone? We’ve been worried about you!”
He made a pointed movement of pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking his texts. “I sent you a response. I said I was fine.”
“Twenty minutes ago!”
Ben sat back, his smirk released behind Dawn’s back. He raised his brows, speculation clear. Yeah, he knew exactly where his dad had been—or what he’d been doing. It was probable they all did. How fucking wonderful was that?
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I assumed you’d be in bed. I told you I’d be home late.”
“But you never go out.”
Accusation rang from his daughter with a hint of something he couldn’t identify. Anger? Worry? Concern? Jealousy?
He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot his mother must’ve brewed at some point.
“When did they call you?” he asked, looking to her.
“I believe the first text was around one.”
He scowled at his kids, but his daughter glared back, defiant. Ben on the other hand shrugged in casual dismissal. More like himself than Matt liked to admit, Ben tackled the world with a practical calm that often masked his true feelings. At close to six feet with growing years still left in him, his son already had a commanding presence. Matt’s concern lay in what Ben chose to do with the authority he seemed at once aware of and blind to.
The first hit of caffeine sped down Matt’s throat and brought the rush of patience he clearly needed. He took in his family and saw the love behind their overprotective watch. He was lucky they cared so much. He would’ve done the same thing for any of them if they’d acted out of character.
“I’m sorry, Sunshine.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Dawn’s head, pulling her in for a hug against his hip. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” He looked to his mom and son. “I didn’t mean to worry any of you. I apologize for not responding.”
His daughter softened into his side. “Where were you?”
And there was the question he’d hoped to avoid. He held in his wince, but he didn’t miss the smile behind his mother’s strategic sip of coffee or the smirk on his son’s face.
He blew out another breath, slung his tux coat over the back of the chair and took the last seat at the table as he rolled up his sleeves. His seat. The four of them had consumed hundreds of meals there together. Every scratch, marker stain, scuff and worn spot on the wood came with memories of projects, conversations, games and arguments that’d taken place around it. It only seemed fitting that they’d be having this discussion here.
Not that he’d expected to have it so soon or so early in the morning. And that was his own damn fault.
He stalled by taking another drink from his mug. He let the formality bleed from his posture and mindset now that his dress uniform was removed. How much detail did he give?
“I went to a benefit in the city. A very upscale affair with a lot of potential business contacts.” He’d told them that when they’d joked about his tux before he’d left last night.
“And you were connecting with them until five in the morning?” Dawn asked.
Ben snorted, but his mother only lifted her brows, her amusement uncontained. Dawn’s persistent attack under presumed naivety was bordering on annoying.
Matt studied his daughter, seeing beneath the messy bun and sloppy pj’s to the little girl scared of her world changing. And he couldn’t blame her. His choice in women hadn’t worked out so well for her last time.
His ex-wife had given up all rights to her children at the order of her Master. He’d wanted her full loyalty without distraction, and in return, he provided the security and structure she craved. Matt would never understand how she could abandon her kids, but in many ways, he was grateful that she’d ended the harm at that.
He grabbed Dawn’s hand, giving it the reassuring squeeze she still needed even at eighteen. He’d always tackled the tough questions head on. From their mother to where babies came from to safe sex. There was no point in changing a path that’d worked well to date.
“No, Dawn.” He held her gaze, waiting for acceptance to take hold. It didn’t. She drew her hand from his, crossing her arms in a show of stubbornness as her eyes narrowed. She was going to force him to say it. To what point?
Ben watched them like a man calculating the odds and taking internal bets on the outcome. But he didn’t cut down his sister or smack talk when the topic was ripe for both. Maybe his mother was right, and he worried too much about Ben.
“I was with a woman,” he finally said, laying his personal life out for his family to inspect. “We left the benefit together, and I went back to her place.”
He let that digest. That was as far as he was going when it came to details. Describing how he’d lost himself in her stunning beauty as he slid into her, or how deep their connection had run when she’d given herself to him, wasn’t going to happen.
Dawn looked away, her face crumbling. Her sniff was a jab to his heart. Fuck. He glanced to his mother, who only offered a shrug. Yeah, this was his mess to clean up.
Ben sat forward, his scowl darkening his features. He kept the black curls he’d inherited from his mother buzzed short. The effect added an edge to the boy on the verge of becoming a man.
“Why are you upset?” Ben asked his sister, annoyance clear. “He’s allowed to have a life. Do you really think he’s been celibate since Mom?”
“Ben!” Dawn berated before Matt could. Her open shock said she might’ve thought exactly that or had wanted to think that.
“What?” Ben shot right back. “He’s allowed to get laid.”
“Ben!” This time it was Matt who brought dow
n the hammer. “That’s enough.”
Ben slumped back in full disgruntled teen mode. His glare transferred his frustration without the need of the added scowl. “I was defending you,” he mumbled, holding his own against Matt’s stare.
“I understand,” he conceded. “But you don’t need to be crude. Sex is about more than getting laid, or it should be. I thought we’d talked about that.” How did he convince hormonal teens that all sex had an impact? Even mutually casual sex.
“Did you use a condom?” Dawn quipped, her sulk in full defiant mode.
No. He hadn’t. And that had been careless of him.
They’d jumped that discussion under the unspoken understanding of safety standards established by the Boardroom. Regular testing and pregnancy precautions were required for all members. That didn’t excuse his negligence.
“I’m going to go,” his mother said, standing. “There are some things a mother and grandmother doesn’t need details about.” She winked at Matt, squeezing his shoulder as she passed his seat. He started to rise, but she waved him back. “I can walk home by myself.”
He looked to Ben who was already moving. “I’ll walk you, Grandma.”
“I’m fine,” she sputtered. Even at this early hour with little to no sleep, she was the picture of collected efficiency. Her cardigan was years old, yet still looked new, as did the cotton pants that were an in-house staple but rarely worn out of it.
“I’ve got you,” Ben said, sweeping in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t keep up.” He grabbed his sweatshirt and was out the front door before she could say more.
She shook her head. “Keep up,” she muttered before shutting the door behind her.
Silence fell once they were gone. It swirled around Matt in a mess of reprimand and understanding. He ached for his daughter, but he wasn’t willing to give up the possibilities with Kennedy. Not even now.
“Dawn,” he ventured. She shot him a side-glance, sniffed again. Both kids had inherited his stubborn streak. “You and Ben are always my priority. It was wrong of me to ignore my phone. I regret the worry I caused you all.” He spoke every word with the measured honesty they required. He’d been selfish, and it’d hurt them.