Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis)

by Zurlo, Michele

  A lightbulb went on in Lydia’s head. If she looked up, she would see it hovering there, mocking them both with cartoonish abandon. He’d dumped her and disappeared for nine days because he felt guilty about busting through her hard limits.

  Lydia leaned back in her chair, relaxing for the first time in over a week. “If she doesn’t use her safe word, it’s because she doesn’t want him to stop.”

  He pinched a pencil between his finger and thumb, lifting it only to let it drop against the table. His expression turned mulish. “Perhaps she’ll feel pressured to not use it even if she really, really wants to. A submissive needs to know she’s always in a position to call a halt, that there will be no retribution. Ever.”

  “Neither one of them are new to the D/s lifestyle,” Micah said. He peered at Wilder expectantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  Lydia tried to catch Wilder’s eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. She turned back to Micah. “I agree. He should go ahead and do what he originally planned. But I don’t think we should tell her we rejected her changes.”

  Isla laughed. “Oh, honey, I’d love to have you under me for a scene or two. We can’t do that. I’ll prepare a statement letting her know we rejected her changes. Nobody but her Dom will be allowed to touch her. If she still objects to anything, we’ll instruct her to use her safe word or offer her the option of deferring her wish.”

  “And inform him of her new limits.” Wilder shoved his papers back into his folder.

  Lydia bristled. “Can’t we put something in there about renegotiation? That’s always an option, right?”

  Brock bobbed his head up and down. “Sounds good. They have two days together following the event. Plenty of time to talk and discover new things about each other.”

  Everyone agreed, and the meeting ended. Lydia tried to catch Wilder, but he lit out of there.

  She went to her office to finish up a few things before ending the workweek and to hide for a little while. Within five minutes, Micah opened her door. He entered without an invitation, bringing Everett and Jude with him. The atmosphere became positively oppressive.

  Jude closed the door. Micah and Everett settled into the chairs opposite her desk. Jude crossed the room to stand behind Everett. He’d trimmed his strawberry-blond goatee so that it was shorter and slimmer. She wondered if Sara still liked it.

  Lydia didn’t mind the visit, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what any of them had to say. In the past week, each of them had been solicitous and kind, going out of their way to make sure she was all right. She’d been surprised all her new friends hadn’t suddenly abandoned her. After all, they’d been Wilder’s friends first.

  She folded her hands on her desk. “So it’s safe to assume that everybody knows my business?”

  Micah rubbed a hand through his short black hair. “When you have an intense discussion with your former Dom in front of three other people, there’s little to no chance it’ll stay private.”

  “I see.” She had been so focused on Wilder that she hadn’t really noticed anybody else.

  “Brock kept trying to get you back on track. Isla and I went for a neutral position.”

  Lydia pressed her lips together. “I apologize for putting you in the middle of it. It’s not my intention to make you take my side.” They were Wilder’s friends and employees. They worked with him and for him. It was unfair to put them in any kind of position.

  “We have.” Jude flashed a sad smile. “You’re willing to fight for what you want. That’s an admirable quality in a person.”

  Lydia didn’t know how to fight for what she wanted. Her discussion with Wilder had gone nowhere.

  “This is a key to Wilder’s house.” Ever tossed it on her desk.

  She knew Wilder didn’t live at the apartment. He’d kept a few changes of clothes there, and every other day or so he’d take a bag out and bring a new bag back. He had never taken her to his house. She had no idea where it was. “Okay.”

  Micah sat forward in his chair. “You’re going to have to take the direct approach if you want to have a future with him. His head’s buried too far in the sand for him to understand the point you were trying to make, and he thinks you were ignoring the point he was trying to make. But damn it, Lydia. I knew the moment I met you that you were made for him. It’s not why I hired you, but it’s definitely why I assigned him to your wish even though you didn’t really have a wish. I’m not sorry about that.”

  Scanning Everett’s and Jude’s faces confirmed that they agreed with Micah. Everett smiled at her, a lazy, charming smile that he used frequently. “We also have the code for his alarm.”

  Lydia thought about what they were offering. They believed in a relationship that didn’t exist. One person fighting for a relationship didn’t make for a successful endeavor.

  “I don’t expect you to be sorry.” In the absence of anything in her hands, she picked at her cuticle. “He was a good Dom. He did his best to fulfill a wish I didn’t really make. He’s a good man, but I’m not sure I agree that we were made for each other. Besides, this wasn’t his wish. It wasn’t a wish at all. Mine was incomplete, and his was nonexistent.”

  Jude frowned, a move that emphasized his goatee. “You’re wrong. We all made wishes—Wilder, Everett, Micah, Isla, Jessalyn, Eva, and me. Two years ago, we split a few bottles of wine. It was late. There was a bonfire. Jessalyn thought we should all make wishes, so we did. Eva got her wish when she met Pete. The rest of us are taking a little longer. We didn’t put them into writing or make them official. That would set Macy into a flurry of activity, and she’d neglect actual paying cases. But we did make wishes.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, as if saying that much in one sitting had knocked his world off-kilter. Micah’s lip curled bitterly, and Ever appeared equally lost in an unpleasant thought.

  Lydia’s heart went out to Everett, in love with a woman completely turned off by his kink. She didn’t know who had caused Micah pain, but it was obvious he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “Are you honestly telling me that Wilder wished for me?”

  Micah steepled his fingers, briefly pressing them against his lips. “Tell me you didn’t fall for Wilder the first time you saw his face.”

  And heard his voice, and felt the kiss of his flogger. She couldn’t look at Micah or Everett or Jude, so she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Don’t do this.”

  Everett leaned closer. He closed his hand over hers, halting her attempts to ruin her manicure. “Lydia.” He spoke sternly, catching her attention but failing to deliver the obedience he wanted.

  She froze.

  He made his argument in a soft tone. “Eight years ago in Fort Lauderdale. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  Her heart stuttered and thudded hard. Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. It was one thing for Wilder to remember her, but it was something altogether different for her to know he’d bragged about his conquest to his friends. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters.” Everett squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You broke his heart. For months, he jumped every time the phone rang, and you never called. He hasn’t spent more than a week or two on any relationship since then.”

  Now she looked up, fury replacing the pain, and she regarded Wilder’s twin with all the vehemence she had saved over the years. “I broke his heart? Bullshit. He left. He stood me up and left the state to get away from me. I waited at that restaurant for him for two hours. It didn’t even occur to me that he wouldn’t show. I worried that something bad had happened. But when I went to his hotel room, I saw the maintenance staff in there, tearing down the structure he made. They said he’d checked out. The people in the next room said he loaded his suitcase in his car and left earlier that afternoon.”

  Those waiting tears scalded her wrist where they fell. She jerked her hand from Everett’s grip.

  From the periphery of her vision, she saw Micah shake his head, his eyebrows dr
awing together in confusion.

  “It doesn’t make sense that he’d wait for my call. He never gave me his number or even his last name. I had no way to contact him, even if I was desperate enough to stoop that low after what he did to me.” And she had been. Over the years, there were moments when she desperately craved the sound of his voice or the feel of his arms holding her tight.

  In one of her weak moments, she’d struck up a friendship with Master V. Her virtual friend had provided her with support when she most needed it. But that was in the past too.

  “That’s not true.” Micah came around the desk and grabbed her by the upper arms, shaking her a bit in the process. “I was with him. His father had a heart attack. We had to catch the next plane home, but he insisted on stopping by your hotel room. I watched him slide a note under your door. He had a hell of a time getting it under the weather stripping.”

  Lydia thought back to that day. She and Brigit were tidy people, so it would have been out of the ordinary to find paper on the floor near the door. There had been nothing. She and Brigit had returned from shopping. She had dropped her bags on her bed, disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up, and flown out the door. The towels had been changed out, so perhaps housekeeping had picked it up, but why wouldn’t they leave it on a table or dresser? Had Brigit seen it first and hidden it? She had resented all the time Lydia had spent with Wilder, claiming that he was ruining their vacation. Or had Wilder made a mistake and put it under the wrong door? There was no way to know for sure.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I never got a note.” And then she recalled the pain on his mother’s face when she talked about his father. A heart attack. Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes. Then she opened them and regarded Everett sympathetically. “Your father died.”

  Everett’s eyebrows shot up with an ironic twist. “No. He ended up having a triple bypass. Scared the shit out of all of us. Started jogging, eating right.”

  Micah released her arms and clasped his hands over hers. “He passed away last winter after a car accident. His car hit black ice, and he lost control, hit a tree.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t quite know what to say. The loss clearly still pained them all, and words were so inadequate.

  All this time, they’d both thought the other abandoned them, and their misunderstanding had killed the trust between them. Her courage faltered. If Wilder really wanted to be with her, why wasn’t he arguing his case? Why were his friends here instead?

  Micah gave Everett and Jude pointed looks. “Can you give the two of us a moment alone?”

  They filed out of the room. Lydia wished Micah would go. At the end of the day, Micah was still Wilder’s friend. She needed to talk to one of her own, and Isla seemed like her best bet.

  “Lydia, don’t you think it’s time to take a chance? The past is no longer holding you back, and you understand why Wilder is reluctant to approach you now. If you want him to fight for you, you have to give him a reason. Right now, he doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know what you want.”

  She disengaged her hands from his and stood, putting distance between them. “Look, you’ve dumped a lot of information on me. I need time to think, to process everything.”

  He nodded and rose to his feet. “You need to talk to Master V.”

  Her heart stopped. She’d been very careful about her online friend, only contacting him from her personal laptop in her apartment. While she wished she could talk to him, she didn’t trust him anymore. “How do you know about him? Have you been spying on me?” Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer.

  Micah spread his hands. “I have a confession to make, and I know you’re going to get mad if you’re not already, but please try to understand my reasoning. I’m Master V.”

  Lydia gaped at him. She’d told him things she’d never shared with another living soul. She’d considered him a mentor and a savior.

  “I didn’t go looking for you. You aren’t the only sub I mentor. I didn’t even realize who you were until the night when you mentioned Oasis by name. Then I put the clues together, and I figured out who you were.”

  She thought back over the past two years, feeling betrayed and used. But part of her rejected those notions. Micah hadn’t divulged any of her confidences to Wilder—otherwise Wilder would have known about her feelings for him a long time ago. Micah watched her with an anxious expression, as if her acceptance mattered.

  At last she nodded. “Then you signed off abruptly. I didn’t think much of it until you said things about Wilder that I never mentioned.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  She stared at her feet. “There’s no point in being angry. Like you said, you didn’t try to influence my decisions. You were my friend.”

  “Were? Lydia, I’d like to think that no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends.” He held his arms out to her. “Our friendship wasn’t one-sided. You helped me through more than a few rough patches.”

  She wasn’t willing to give in just yet. “What does the ‘V’ stand for?”

  “Vermont.”

  “You’re Master of the whole state? That’s some ego you have there.”

  He crushed her in a hug. “It’s a sign of a healthy Dom. Now, what do you say about going over to Wilder’s and surprising him?”

  “What if he throws me out?”

  Micah released her from his embrace, but he kept his arm slung over her shoulders. “He won’t throw you out. You’ll be lucky if he lets you leave.”

  She didn’t know about that, but she was ready to take the chance. However, just going over there and barging into his house wasn’t going to get her what she wanted. She knew Wilder better than that. He would see it as an invasion, a tool to finish the argument that had come to a stalemate.

  She needed a plan.

  “Micah? Can you help me write a new wish?”

  Chapter Eleven

  She put a lot of thought into what she should wear before deciding on the same yoga pants and oversize soft cotton shirt she had thrown on almost every morning Wilder had stayed with her. It was fitting since she was surprising him in the early-morning hours. Because she didn’t know what he would or wouldn’t have in his refrigerator, she had stopped by the grocery store on the way home from work and bought all the things she’d need to make the potato hash he loved.

  His house was down a long, winding road that turned out to be his driveway. The imposing structure looked like it had been a lodge at one point. Huge brown timbers rose from the earth in elegant lines, framing huge windows. Lydia swallowed at the opulence, but she loved the house, and she hadn’t even been inside.

  All was quiet. Everett had given her the alarm code. Her heart raced as she punched in the numbers. One mistake would set it off. The security company would call, or the police would come, and that would ruin the mood before she ever opened her mouth.

  The red light changed to green, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The foyer opened to a two-story living room. Along the back of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows let in faint strains of morning light. They would show spectacular sunsets.

  She didn’t think she had time to gawk. He could give her the grand tour later. Through a wide doorway to her right, she could see a counter and a sink, evidence of a kitchen. She headed in that direction and set to work.

  HE DREAMED OF bacon, coffee, and another familiar scent he couldn’t place. The smell was so strong, it roused him from the sound sleep into which he’d tumbled sometime after midnight. He stumbled from bed and followed his nose. If Everett wanted to come over and make breakfast, he wasn’t going to refuse.

  And his brother wouldn’t expect much in the way of conversation. Neither one of them really talked before the second cup of java. Of course, given the death stares he’d had from Micah the day before, he might find his friend downstairs waiting to chew him out. But with the heavenly scents coming from his kitchen, Micah seemed unlikely. The man couldn’t
do much more than boil water. Even that was an iffy proposition.

  Nope, Ever had inherited the best chef genes out of them all. The man was a damn fine cook. Like Lydia.

  He rubbed at the pang in his chest, and then he stopped cold in the archway leading to the kitchen. Familiar black yoga pants hugged her firm, heart-shaped ass. Her shirt hung loose from her shoulders, obscuring her figure all the way to her hips, but he didn’t need her to be naked to know what it hid. Images of her haunted his every waking moment and followed him into his dreams. He’d blown two chances with her. Had he finally gone insane?

  Bacon sizzled in a pan. She used a pair of tongs to turn them. Then she bent and took something from the oven. The warm scent of homemade biscuits grew stronger. She set the sheet pan on the marble countertop and turned to face him.

  She smiled, and he detected her hesitancy. “Good morning, Sir. Breakfast is almost done. How about some coffee?”

  He wanted to take her in his arms and never let go. He should get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. But none of those things happened. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  She pointed at the breakfast table near him. “Everett gave me his key and the alarm code.”

  Wilder looked at the table. A lone key lay atop a plain file folder. That addressed his second question. He lifted his gaze to look at her. A jolt ran through him, as it had every morning he spent with her, at the sight of her loveliness.

  He couldn’t let her cook for him. He couldn’t take advantage of her. “Lydia.”

  She turned away, attending to that heavenly hash on the stove. It had tiny, cubed potatoes, red peppers, cubanelles, and a few secret ingredients she’d refused to identify, not that she made it quite the same way twice. He’d raved over the dish the first time she’d made it. This was the only dish he’d requested again. For the most part, he loved seeing what she thought up to surprise him.