Young, Allyson - Madness [Club Pleasure 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Allyson Young

  There had been a few loose pairings but nothing serious, and Olivia believed that she had hidden her obsession with Cameron Fraser, dark, handsome, and serious Cameron. He was five years older than her and seemed to have lived a lifetime already. She was leaving for another year of college in a few days and wanted a few minutes alone with him, hoping to find out if he harbored any similar feelings for her. She didn’t feel she could leave without at least asking. She had felt his eyes on her during the summer, when he thought she didn’t know he was looking, and he kindled feelings in her she had only read about in romance novels, erotic and otherwise. He seemed different than the other guys, somehow, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was oldest of them. Olivia sensed something deeper, darker, and didn’t want to leave without knowing what it was between them, if anything. It seemed that they talked about mostly everything else. They learned about one another, and Olivia told him things about herself she had never told another soul and thought he had been as open with her. Except there was that dark something…but more importantly, they liked each other. That indefinable something wasn’t discussed, and she had a sense that, if they didn’t address it, she would be missing out on something very important and special. She had experimented with sex infrequently. No one had made her body as aware of its potential as Cameron did, just by turning those azure eyes of his on her.

  The volleyball game had deteriorated into dunkings in the lake, and someone was struggling to get a bonfire going with wet wood. It would soon be dark, and everyone would be huddled together around the fire, telling tales and horror stories and planning for the next summer. Everyone would swear that they’d be back to connect, and so it had gone, at least in the two years she had been part of the group. The number ebbed and flowed as people moved on in their lives and a few teenagers hit the age of majority and were included as replacements. Olivia had never heard of anyone being turfed from the group or declined entrance, and there were no tales of heartbreak or even of any group activities really getting out of hand, despite the usual pranks. It felt comfortable, like family.

  Olivia caught the door before it slammed as it always did and allowed it to close silently behind her. She felt a bit anxious, like she was changing the rules somehow, then shrugged and began to search for Cameron. There was no sign of him in the kitchen or great room, and the bathroom door stood open. She was about to head back to the beach when she heard it, a whimper coming from the far bedroom. The bedrooms were off-limits, everyone knew that, unless someone was ill or needed privacy to change. Mr. Donovan was happy to loan them the beach house but didn’t want any funny stuff, as he labeled it, going on there. He was a devout Christian, a family man, a respected businessman in the town who owned the golf course and adjoining properties. He appreciated the fact that Aspen Grove didn’t provide much in the way of activities for their age group aside from the local bar and supplied his summer getaway for their summer parties. It was tradition and never abused.

  She hoped no one was ill. Olivia hadn’t noticed if anyone had left the game before her, other than some taking the usual brief bathroom breaks. If she hadn’t been watching Cameron so closely these past weeks, she might not have noticed him leave either. She swallowed and then quietly walked down the hallway, prepared to offer assistance if necessary, especially as the whimpers were escalating in volume and were now accompanied by a strange cadence of sound she couldn’t identify. Somehow Olivia knew it was a woman’s voice and she was in trouble, so Olivia hastened to the door, already raising her hand to knock. She stumbled to a halt, the slightly open door giving her a line of sight into the bedroom, reflected by the huge mirror on the dresser. She could hardly take in what she saw. Jennifer Barnes was kneeling on the bed, nude, her hands tied to the headboard, chest on the mattress, legs apart, ass high in the air. Her face was turned away from the door but clearly reflected, her eyes shut tightly and her mouth open, those whimpers coming louder now. Cameron was behind her, clad only in his jeans, his tanned, muscular chest gleaming with sweat as he thrashed Jennifer’s thighs and buttocks with his belt, saying filthy, sexy things to her in a low, dominant tone as he did so. A massive erection tented the front of his jeans.

  Olivia didn’t know if she made a sound or not, but suddenly Cameron’s eyes met hers in the mirror. He ceased his movements as their gazes locked. Olivia felt like her soul was being sucked out of her body. She couldn’t take a deep breath. She was vaguely aware of a flush of arousal flooding her, then Jennifer whined a complaint and it broke the spell. Olivia whirled and ran out of the house and kept running, ignoring the calls from her friends, running until she found her car down the road. She left her towel and other sundry items behind and never did go back for them. Olivia packed and left that night, cobbling together a hasty explanation that satisfied her parents and presumably the other members of the group, because their subsequent e-mails and infrequent phone calls made no mention of her abrupt departure other than to tease her. Everyone accepted that she had forgotten the dorm rules of being in residence three days before the first day of college or forfeiting your spot. Everyone accepted that Olivia Drader, planner supreme and possessed of a steel-trap memory, had forgotten those rules.

  It was unfortunate that her memory replayed the scene in the bedroom during her dreams and her waking hours for a long time to come. This then was Cameron’s darkness, a need to dominate and inflict erotic pain on his partners, availing himself of the beach house and hoodwinking Mr. Donovan, risking discovery to further spice things up. Olivia now knew this about Cameron without him ever having to explain things to her. She didn’t question how she knew, she simply did. She wished she hadn’t looked for him that night. She wished she hadn’t seen what she had seen. But most of all, she wished it had been her on that bed instead of Jennifer, and that was the biggest betrayal. Olivia hadn’t been mistaken about the attraction she felt for Cameron. But he had chosen someone else, and she hated him for it.

  Olivia abruptly sat up in the hotel bed and impatiently pushed her damp hair back. She struggled out of the cocoon of blankets and went to the bathroom to find her brush. She was upset with herself and not a little dismayed. She had hoped that memories of Andrew would flood her consciousness as they had done over the past months, not the ones of what she referred to whenever she even thought about it as “the event that changed my life.” She had finished her degree and never looked back. Visits home were infrequent, and when her parents moved to Europe, there was no need to ever go back. She was extremely careful during her visits to avoid Cameron, getting in and out of town like a thief in the night, staying home with her parents rather than seeking out friends or checking out the Grove. Over the years Olivia lost touch with everyone and subsequently even the offhand remarks about Cameron that were included in e-mails or shared when she occasionally saw someone from the group, ceased. She effectively compartmentalized all thoughts of him after the first few months of emotional upheaval and moved on, sequestering her own unborn, dark sexual longings in the process and shutting that part of her life down. Olivia knew enough about psychology to understand that she was denying herself, using some sort of defense mechanism, but simply didn’t have the wherewithal to address it. She knew Cameron had affected her heart and couldn’t allow herself to go there. And now here he was again, front and center, probably because she had come back to where it had all begun. The irony was not lost on her. She had even purchased the house where her betrayal had taken place. The thing was, she had been caught up in a life of her own making, one that held no sex, no children, but certainly a life full of love and caring, a life that had broadened her knowledge and interests, and one she believed she would never regret. Until Andrew died.

  Olivia clambered back into bed and quite suddenly fell asleep. When she awoke in the morning, it was well past the time she usually rose, and for a moment she was tempted to try for another couple of hours. The rattle of a chambermaid’s cart outside her door dispelled that thought, and she hopped out of bed and mad
e her way to the bathroom, her feet sensing the trek of hundreds of others in the plush carpeting. Today would be about the house, and if she had time, she would stop by the golf course.

  In just over half an hour, she was dressed and nicely made up, ready for the day. She opted to try the restaurant, rather than room service, and tucked her key card into her purse, grabbing a light sweater as she headed out the door. For the first time in a very long time, she felt optimistic. She had faced her past and dealt with it, she decided, and hadn’t given Cameron Fraser one more unnecessary thought. She would manage never to see him again. He was probably just visiting anyhow. Jennifer probably still lived here.

  Chapter Two

  Olivia managed to take in a deep breath and steady her hands as she reached for the coffee carafe. Cameron was at a far table in the restaurant, engrossed in some sort of document that was spread across his table and anchored at each corner with what appeared to be the sugar container and salt and peppers. Why on earth was he still here? Was he staying at the hotel? Living back in the Grove? Surely he was just visiting. She didn’t dare look his way again for fear he would feel her gaze on him and come over to talk to her. This was a nightmare. Everything she had kept locked up tight inside was pushing against its prison walls and threatening to deluge her. It wasn’t fair. She had thought it through last night and believed it was over. But instead it was like the intervening years hadn’t taken place. Only her superb training as Andrew’s wife had gotten her through that brief moment in time in the hotel lobby. If he hadn’t taken the hint and left, heaven knew what she might have said to him. And she was above that, past that. So why was her body aching? Please God, she wasn’t one of those fictional creatures who fell once for a man and was doomed to be with him or alone forever! No, of course she wasn’t. She hadn’t been alone. She had been married, if in name only, and was now a widow, and a wealthy one at that. Cameron didn’t live here. Her careful inquiries had established that fact. He must be visiting someone or just passing through. Her life would go on as planned and she would forget ever having seen him. Starting right now. She slipped from her seat and made her way to the till, quietly asking the clerk for her bill. She scribbled her name and room number across the bottom and added a tip, carefully keeping the small cubicle with its cash register between her and Cameron’s line of sight, ignoring her body’s clamoring and attributing its hunger to her missed breakfast. She went back to her room and spent a few minutes composing herself before carefully exiting the hotel without seeing Cameron. Olivia didn’t like to think she ran from anything, but there were times when discretion was indeed the better part of valor. She quickly made her way to her car and was inside and starting it up almost in one motion. She then latched her seat belt and put the Beemer in gear, forcing herself to drive sedately out of the lot to go and view her new home.

  The house looked much the same on the outside as it always had, albeit with new and improved, eco-friendly exterior products. The windows were no longer casements, but awning style, more appropriate for the climate. The front porch looked inviting and Olivia could envision heavy planters gracing the steps, perhaps with some ivy twining up the pillars. No jasmine or other flowering vines. She loved the sound of honeybees but was terrified of wasps and resistant to having them drawn to the porch. The landscaping was going to be the last thing done and the lawn was in sad repair, although the huge oaks had been retained as per her instructions. They would be pruned, having been assessed by a local arborist, and pronounced healthy. However, given the stress of construction, any trimming should wait until the following year. She exited the car to follow the temporary pathway and trod up the wide steps to poke her head inside the front door. There were several large pickup trucks in the drive and at the curbside, so she assumed her contractor was present, and she could hear male voices from within the big house.

  “Mr. Fortune?” she called.

  A large, fit man appeared in the doorway to the living area. She had seen his picture among the e-mails sent regarding the house, and only his hair seemed different, and that probably because he was covered in dust and wore a hard hat perched atop his large head.

  “Mrs. Foster,” he said, “I didn’t expect you! Here, let me help you navigate some of the debris. And I’ll find you a hard hat. Regulations, you know. And call me Steve!”

  Olivia allowed Mr. Fortune, Steve, to plunk a horrid yellow hard hat on her head and take her arm. He led her toward the kitchen, explaining that all the permits were fine, the inspection done, and now that the security specialist was there to oversee the installation of the system, they could complete the sheetrock and in no time she could pick out her colors and make things pretty! Olivia thought for a moment he might pat her head and managed not to correct his condescending tone.

  “I’ll introduce you to him while he’s here. You might have some questions or changes. Fraser! Here’s the new owner, man.”

  Olivia literally felt her heels catch on the wooden subfloor as Steve tried to move her along via the grasp on her arm while her legs simply ceased their forward momentum, independent of her brain. She felt as though someone had punched her in the chest for the second time that morning. How could this be? She tried to be a good person, a kind one, and she so didn’t deserve this. Maybe she had done something unforgiveable in another life and now it was time to pay up. Cameron Fraser stood staring at her, quickly masking his shock, a totally different expression standing in his eyes.

  * * * *

  Cameron moved quickly toward Olivia. She looked nearly ill given her pallor and trembling mouth, and Fortune looked for all the world as if he were dragging her along like a recalcitrant child, his large frame dwarfing her slenderness. He reached down to her right side and took her hand in his to shake it briskly. Her fingers were unresponsive and felt like ice. He marveled at his own ability to recover from the surprise as quickly as he had and suddenly appreciated how much her cool and collected response the night before had cost her. Olivia wasn’t at all unaffected by his presence, and he felt himself rise to the challenge. She was well defended, but he had considerable experience at breaching emotional walls. He had to convince her that he was back in her life and that they needed to spend some time talking. As well as other things. Cameron didn’t want to get ahead of himself and tried to dial things back. Her response the previous evening had cooled his jets, put him off, but now that he knew she was hiding her feelings, well, all he wanted to do was strip her bare and connect with her on the deepest level of his being.

  “You must be the new owner of the Donovan house, Mrs. Foster,” he said. “I knew you as Olivia Drader all those years ago so I didn’t realize it was you who had purchased it.”

  He locked eyes with her and felt her withdraw her hand and watched as she visibly pulled herself together.

  “Hello again, Mr. Fraser,” she replied, her cool tone back, as was her composure.

  Steve looked between them and laughed. “Well, I guess no need to introduce old friends. I’ll leave you to it then!” He went back to his crew.

  Cameron reached to take Olivia by the elbow and usher her outside, but she slipped away from his grasp and hurried outside ahead of him. She stepped gracefully down the temporary path of plywood and pallets and stopped in the shade of one of the oaks. Cameron joined her there.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were the new owner, Olivia,” he repeated himself, “when I bid on the job, for the house and the golf course. I would be happy to discuss the system with you.”

  Olivia stared back at him, and he was unable to read her. It disconcerted him, because he thought he had just begun to get a handle on her. Someone or something had taught Olivia well. She then gave her head a tiny shake and the light caught the blue black of her glossy hair. Cameron wanted to stroke it and wrap it around his fingers, release it from its confines.

  “I’m sure that whatever you and Steve discussed will be suitable. If there are any issues, then we can address them at that time. I’m late for
my next appointment, so if you’ll excuse me…”

  Cameron found himself refusing to move aside and let her by. He didn’t think he would ever have the opportunity to talk with her again if he did and didn’t question why he had an overwhelming need to do so. He simply went with his gut. She was running away again, and this time there was no reason for it.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner, Olivia,” he said quietly. “I feel as though I owe you an explanation.”

  She shook her head, more vigorously this time. “You owe me nothing, Cameron. I had never thought to see you again and was somewhat startled. It’s been what, twelve years? More? People change, move on. Forgive me if I sound rude, but I have no interest in hearing any explanations.”

  “Then just have dinner with me.”

  “Why?”

  Cameron was taken aback. Why indeed?

  “Because I want you to.” He heard the dark, dominant tone in his answer and knew it registered by the flash in Olivia’s eyes before she tipped her head back that royal inch and dismissed his presumption.

  “Well, then I suppose I am rude, Cameron. I don’t want to have dinner with you. And before we argue the issue, I’ll tell you why. Because we may have to see one another in the next few months unless you have someone else to replace you. Seeing you, spending time with you, feels awkward, and I don’t make time in my life for that or for any other feelings that encumber me. I don’t have to.”

  Cameron wanted to spank her, steal her breath with his mastery, break that self-possession, and find the woman he remembered from all those years ago. He wanted to find out what had happened to her during the intervening years that she felt she could separate herself from life the way she seemed to think she could. Instead, he pulled her to him, taking advantage of the fact that she couldn’t pass him without sinking deep into the torn-up lawn and losing her shoes, and kissed her. Olivia struggled in his arms, but he easily subdued her with his superior strength and height, and kissed her breathless. The attraction, the chemistry, boiled up between them, and he felt her knees weaken, felt her muffled whimpers against his lips and felt deep satisfaction in her surrender. He wanted to drag her to the nearest level surface and take her, make her come again and again under his touch and take his release deep inside her body. This should have happened all those years ago if only he had taken the chance. He raged against his hesitancy and the waste of those intervening years.