Linger

by Lauren Jameson

  “But you gave me the referral. Even if Logan and I hadn’t met, you knew that I was coming out here to live with a big, gorgeous submissive. You could have warned me.”

  “I gave you the recommendation before you beat Mistress Avery off of him.” Luca’s voice still held a hint of irritation. “And it’s not my place to share details about someone else’s sexual preferences, Scarlett. If you don’t understand that, then I haven’t trained you very well at all.”

  Scarlett sucked in a shocked gasp—Luca’s blow had hit home.

  It was an unspoken rule in the lifestyle. If you ran into someone you knew in the club on the street, you pretended you didn’t know them. Even if you’d had someone’s cock in your mouth the night before, if they served you your coffee at the local Starbucks the next morning, you didn’t breathe a word about their preferences unless they gave you permission to.

  “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t anticipate that the two of you would—ah—connect the way you did,” Luca continued. “Fate’s a sneaky bitch sometimes.”

  “No shit.” Flopping onto her back, Scarlett raked a hand through her hair. Kicking off her covers, she stretched one leg out above her at ninety degrees, then clasped a hand around her thigh and brought it in toward her chest.

  Ever since she’d first donned ballet slippers, stretching had helped her to relax. And right now, with confusion and irritation and an unholy ache between her thighs, she could use all the relaxation that she could get.

  “So what’s the problem, exactly?” Luca asked. “Apart from the fact that he’s your internship supervisor. You’ve already got your degree. You’re Dr. Scarlett Malone, veterinary superstar. He can’t take that away from you, and he wouldn’t. You’re coworkers who have the hots for each other. And now you’re together in that big ranch house. And barn. Lots of places to tie someone up in a barn. Maybe do some branding.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Luca.” The laugh barked out of Scarlett’s throat. “Only you would want to use a cow brand for scarification. No, thank you.”

  Letting her thoughts turn over in her head, she pondered Luca’s question. What was the big problem? Shouldn’t she have been happier that the universe had given her a second chance with the man she wanted more than anyone she’d ever met?

  And she was happy. But mixed with that joy was pure terror.

  “I already have feelings for him,” she admitted finally. His face, full of wariness as he lay bound on the hardwood floor, flickered behind her closed eyes. “Which doesn’t make any sense, I know. But I want him . . . Well, it’s more than simple want. And . . .”

  Scarlett hesitated. That dominant streak in her hated to admit failure, but she knew that doing so would allow her to be a good Domme.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take him where he needs to go,” she said softly, feeling her pulse stutter. “He’s got so many walls up. And I want to help him tear them down. But . . . I don’t know if he’s going to let me in.”

  And if he doesn’t, he’ll break my fucking heart.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Luca responded.

  “We never know, do we?” His voice was raw and open in a way it hadn’t been earlier. “Even in the vanilla world—love is about taking a chance on someone.”

  The word love made Scarlett’s body tighten.

  “I don’t lov—” she started to say, but Luca cut her off.

  “And speaking as someone who knows you both. If anyone can get that stubborn asshole to submit, Scar, it’s you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Now, that’s a nice visual, baby.”

  Scarlett almost dropped the towel she’d been wrapping around her body at the sudden presence behind her. She did screech and jump about a foot. Though the air of the bathroom was still thick with steam from her shower, she could make out Logan’s rangy form clearly.

  Fully dressed, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Scarlett. A quick burst of temper that he’d intruded when she was showering, while she was naked and vulnerable, snapped through her.

  He needed to learn some manners. If he was going to spy on her in the shower at five thirty in the morning, then he damn well better have a mug of coffee for her in his hand. A big one.

  “Remember what I said about manners, sub?” Arching an eyebrow in a look of pure challenge, Scarlett let her towel fall to the floor.

  Logan blinked in surprise as she stood, ramrod stiff, and let the droplets of water trickle down her body.

  It was to his credit, she supposed, that he didn’t reach out to touch her, or gape like a fish.

  “You’re not the boss here,” he said finally. Scarlett got a twisted pleasure from watching him struggle to pull his stare up to her face . . . and to keep it there.

  For payback, she left the towel on the floor and continued the conversation buck naked.

  “When it comes to work, I’m not the boss,” she corrected him, arching her back a little to push her breasts forward. His stare flickered down, then back up as he hissed in a breath. “But if we do this, anything outside of work, I am your Mistress.”

  “You fight dirty,” he growled, uncrossing his arms and fisting his hands at his sides. After flicking a cautious gaze at her expression, Logan let his stare rake over her entire naked frame, up and down.

  “If you can handle it,” she added, not bothering to hold back her smirk when he scowled. Daring to push him a little further, she left the towel on the floor, then made her way toward the door. She had to brush up against him to get through the doorway, and she arched her hip into his pelvis as she sauntered by.

  A pained hiss escaped his lips when she rubbed over his cock, which was hard and pressing against the front of his jeans. Scarlett felt a dark thrill of satisfaction.

  “When I said we start at six, I was referring to a normal day,” Logan called after her, and Scarlett stopped, whipping her wet hair to the side so that she could look back at him. “Today I have a few things to show you before we break for breakfast. I’ll see you downstairs at twenty to.”

  “I can’t get ready in ten minutes.” She’d never considered herself very high maintenance, but she’d anticipated having at least the time to apply enough makeup that she felt armored against everything that Logan tended to bring out in her.

  With this ornery sub, she needed every tool she had at her disposal.

  “On the job . . .” he said quietly, and Scarlett’s stomach did a slow roll at the reminder.

  When it came to the ranch, he was the boss. And though it pained her to cede the point, she’d agreed.

  “I’ll be down in ten,” she snapped. She was more annoyed that Logan had somehow gotten the upper hand in this one, even though she’d managed to thoroughly disconcert him by letting that towel drop.

  He was sneaky. And as she slid into her bedroom and closed the door, she realized that she’d just have to be sneakier.

  • • •

  Though Scarlett didn’t wear a lot of makeup when she was outside of the club, she almost always wore at least some. Making the decision to leave her face bare gave her a few pangs—her skin was clear, but she still liked the look of it better with a smooth coat of foundation. And she was pale, washed-out without a bit of eyeliner and some lip gloss.

  But as she smoothed a hand over the wet hair that she’d pulled back into a severe bun, she reminded herself that she was making a deliberate statement.

  She’d be willing to dig down deep into the depths of her soul to explore this connection between them . . . if Logan would go there with her.

  Besides, she thought on a mental shrug as she pushed through the swinging door that led into the kitchen, the cows wouldn’t care.

  Logan was sitting in a chair that he had turned around backward and straddled. He looked good enough to eat.

  Scarlett swal
lowed that thought. With a meaningful glance at the clock that hung over the sink, she arched an eyebrow as she entered, though her naked face made her feel vulnerable.

  “See? On time.”

  “Good.” He stood, moving across the kitchen to snag his cowboy hat from its place on the counter. When he placed it on his head and turned back to Scarlett, she saw the alpha in him come out to play.

  Watching him assume that mantle of power was sexy as hell, showing her that he was strong, strong enough to be with her.

  Her mouth went dry as she watched him transform into the hardworking rancher, the doctor, and a sexy-as-sin man all at once.

  Her pulse skittered when he reached into his back pocket because the motion pushed his pelvis forward and drew her eyes to the outline of his cock.

  “Get your eyes off my dick,” Logan drawled, and Scarlett looked up, flushing. He’d caught her. “You can see more of it later, if you’re lucky.”

  But she refused to be embarrassed. He was a good-looking man; they were well aware of their mutual attraction. Still, she was unnerved that she’d let go of her control enough to do something as silly as ogling his package.

  She had to find some kind of balance to make this work.

  “I’ll decide that,” she reminded him, then nodded to the black-and-white bandanna that now dangled from his fingers. “Trying to gag me will not tip those odds in your favor.”

  “You’ll need this. Every day. Protects you from the dust.” Stepping into place behind her, Logan began to tie the bandanna around her throat.

  “Ask me,” Scarlett whispered, her voice husky even to her own ears. “Ask for permission.”

  She cringed as she spoke. Damn it. She was supposed to let him be the one in charge right now. It just didn’t come naturally to her—and maybe that was how he felt when she insisted that he submit.

  She couldn’t see him during the pause that followed, couldn’t read from his face what he was thinking. Wondered if she’d made a fatal error.

  “May I help you with this?” There was a taunting edge to his words, but that was it—just an edge. As if he was clinging to the control he had while he could.

  “Call me Mistress first, then proceed.” Scarlett held her breath in indecision—would this insistence on formality push him too far, break the magic of the moment?

  To her surprise, he bent over her shoulder, pressed his lips to the seashell curve of her ear.

  “Mistress,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive lobe. A shiver zipped down her spine, and it wasn’t soothed when he laid the folded strip of cotton over the width of her throat.

  Strong fingers followed its length over the soft skin of her neck. When he reached the nape of her neck, he tied it in a precise knot.

  “Ready?” Logan tilted his hat at an angle, looking like an ad for old-fashioned cigarettes. Scarlett’s lips quirked—did he mean the question to have multiple layers?

  She was ready to start her internship, yes.

  But she wasn’t at all sure that either of them were ready for this.

  “Come on.” Logan’s words came out harsh enough that Scarlett found herself jerking back from the tender touch. It was hard to make out the emotions playing across his face beneath the wide brim of his hat, but she suspected that even if she’d had a clear view, she wouldn’t have seen much.

  As if he’d pressed an off switch, all of the aching need that had passed between them vanished. Logan nodded as though she truly were nothing more to him than a new intern he’d just met, then made to leave the kitchen.

  But he did motion for her to go first, a gesture that wasn’t lost on her.

  The second she stepped outside, Scarlett was struck anew by the vast openness of the land. So much open space after the confines of city living made her shiver, a bit of strange unease working its way in.

  “Does it ever freak you out, being out here all alone?” Turning, Scarlett saw that Logan had strode on ahead of her. Sighing with exasperation, she hurried after him, repeating her question.

  Tilting back the brim of his hat, he stared at her, features set in stone. He looked cold enough that Scarlett would have taken a step back, if she hadn’t already discovered another side of this man entirely.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, exactly, by freak me out, since I’m no longer twenty years old.” Scarlett’s mouth fell open as the barb struck her. “But assuming you mean, do I wish I lived closer to people, then no. I don’t. I like to be alone.”

  Resuming his pace, he continued to point out the various buildings as they passed them. “Chicken coop. Storage shed. Stables, with tack room.”

  Mind playing catch-up, Scarlett kept pace with him, staying right by his elbow, which, given the sidelong glance he gave her, was annoying the hell out of him.

  Good. He deserved it after that comment about her age. She was young, sure, but she was certainly not immature.

  “If you like to be alone so much, then why did you offer up an internship?” Scarlett scowled to herself as she tried to keep up with Logan’s long-legged strides. “Pardon me, but that doesn’t seem like the smartest of ideas if you’re looking for solitude.”

  Having reached the door to the stables, Logan stopped abruptly, turning to face Scarlett. Tipping his hat back again, he scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked her in the eyes, expression set.

  “I didn’t offer it. Luca called and said he knew of someone who could really use the experience out here and that he highly recommended I take her on.”

  Scarlett’s mouth fell open, and embarrassment heated her skin.

  “You . . . Oh my God.” She wasn’t used to being disconcerted, and she didn’t much care for the feeling. In that moment, she could have cheerfully whipped Luca with his strongest whip.

  The damn Dom had engineered this whole thing. He’d wanted Scarlett out here, with Logan. For a full year.

  Scarlett wanted to be here.

  Logan was the only one who wasn’t in agreement. But still . . .

  “Why on earth did you agree if you don’t want someone here?” Her words were barely more than a whisper. What he’d told her had pulled the rug out from under her feet.

  She’d given up so much to come to Montana—a potential job, an apartment and roommate she loved, all of her friends.

  Logan released an exasperated breath, then removed his hat entirely. His free hand raked through his hair, and Scarlett found herself distracted by the way the early-morning sun shone off the golden strands.

  “Luca and I go way back. Pretty much anything he asks of me, I’ll do.” His stoic expression was infuriating—Scarlett felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut.

  Furious, she planted her hands on her hips and glared up at Logan. The early-morning sun was harsh, blinding her, but she didn’t care.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Frustration laced her words. “Why did you tell me this? I was counting on this internship. And now you tell me that you don’t want me here.”

  Scarlett thought of how she’d behaved since arriving—carrying on with their fledgling relationship—and shuddered.

  Logan looked taken aback, the startled expression melting into a scowl. “Don’t twist my words around.” He took a step toward her, catching her under the elbows, and Scarlett felt that clutch in her heart that occurred whenever he was around.

  “I’m not twisting anything. You just told me that Luca made you take me on. Oh God. He didn’t set you up to come on to me in the club, did he?” Horror dawned even as she clung to reality.

  She wouldn’t put it past Luca to interfere to that extent, but he’d told her he hadn’t and she believed him. More than that, she felt, deep down in her gut, that there was no way to fake this kind of attraction.

  Logan growled low in his throat, and the fingers holding her elbows squeezed. �
�I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that.” His voice was quiet; Scarlett felt ashamed.

  “I’m sorry. This is all just a bit of a shock—” She bit off her words, and nearly her tongue, when Logan shook her, just the tiniest bit.

  “Just shut up for one damn minute.” Those amazing blue eyes blazed down into hers, and Scarlett felt her stomach do a slow roll.

  “I said that I like being alone. I do. And I said that Luca had put me up to this internship. That’s true, too.” His words were gravelly and he sounded sincere. Scarlett tried to look down, but he caught her chin and forced her to look back up—something she’d done to him before, which emphasized this strange push-pull of their relationship.

  “But I never once said that I don’t want to have you here.” Releasing her so abruptly that Scarlett felt as though she’d been dropped from fifty feet, Logan slammed his cowboy hat back on his head. With one arm—stop ogling his biceps, Scarlett—he gestured toward the rest of the yard.

  “Explore on your own. I’m going to cook. I’m hungry.” Striding away, he called back over his shoulder, “Be in the kitchen in half an hour, or you don’t eat.”

  Scarlett was left standing speechless in the yard. Who, she wondered, was going to come out on top of this one?

  • • •

  As soon as she entered the house, the smell of bacon and eggs and, best of all, coffee greeted her. She hadn’t bothered to come forage for dinner last night, too wound up to eat, so it was the first time she’d seen the kitchen.

  The counters were a dark blue beneath walnut cupboards. Very masculine, it might have seemed too dark, too closed in, if not for another one of those gigantic windows, letting in the spectacular light.

  She’d intended to say something to Logan right away—it had even been on the tip of her tongue—but the view of the bright blue sky, stretching over the jagged mountain peaks, was astounding.