Linger

by Lauren Jameson

  They’d been called to the farm to take a look at a mare that was under the weather. Logan had ordered Scarlett to examine the animal, give him her opinion, and then provide treatment, all under his watchful eye. He hadn’t strayed far from her in the past week, all the while observing her, teaching her.

  But he hadn’t said a thing about the relationship they had outside of work. He hadn’t approached her sexually in any way.

  Had she gone too far, making him spank her?

  Was he waiting for her to lead, a submissive to a Mistress?

  The thought upset her so much that her hands shook. The rubber tubing shook, sliding out of the horse’s nostril, and Scarlett swore softly under her breath.

  “Here.” Logan caught the tubing before it could fall. Moving in so close that Scarlett could smell the soap he’d used that morning, he took her hand and placed it back on the tubing, helping to place the tube back in the mare’s nose. Scarlett’s pulse raced as, together, they fed the tubing into the horse’s sinus.

  “Yes. Like that.” Scarlett might have missed it, but she thought she heard a small hitch in Logan’s voice when her fingertips brushed over the back of his hand. “You have to get in far enough that you can pump, but not so far that you damage the sinuses and hurt her.”

  “Right.” Scarlett hated that her voice was weak. But whatever else she was confused about, she knew that she hadn’t imagined the connection between them.

  But how the hell was she supposed to get through to him?

  Was it even possible? Was she wrong about him entirely, and he truly was meant only for a Mistress who would be easy on him?

  The thought of another woman laying her hands on him, touching him, made an inner snarl echo through Scarlett’s head.

  She wasn’t about to give up on this submissive, no matter how stubborn a beast he was.

  She just hoped that he hadn’t given up on her.

  A vibration at her hip startled her, jolting her from her thoughts. Her ringtone blared, and she flushed as she realized that she’d forgotten to turn the ringer to silent.

  Logan’s lips twitched with amusement as he listened.

  “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, huh?” Logan snorted out a laugh. Scarlett felt her face flush even deeper.

  Damn it. Why did the dynamics between them have to be so complicated?

  “I’ll turn it off,” she answered hurriedly, letting go of the tubing.

  “No. Go on and answer it. It’s pretty appropriate, actually.” Logan gestured to the pump end of the hosing that lay on the ground. “Just hand me that before you go so I can start to suction.”

  Scarlett was floored at Logan’s casual reference to everything that had happened between them. What was he saying? That there had been something there? Or that there still was, despite his absolute avoidance of the topic for the last week?

  Damn it. She might be a Domme, but she was still such a girl.

  Throat dry, with no idea what to say, she scooped up the small handheld pump and handed it to Logan. Their fingers met again as she passed it over, and Scarlett felt her pulse skittering at the casual contact.

  Flirtation over equine sinus trouble. How romantic.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, jerking her hand away. Tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, Scarlett quickly strode out of the barn, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and stabbed at it to accept the call and silence the damn thing.

  She’d taken too long. The phone went through to voice mail, then immediately started ringing again.

  SANTANGELO, LUCA

  “You can’t expect me to be as available to you as one of your subs,” she said mildly as she answered, rounding the corner of the building. “There’s this wonderful modern thing called voice mail.”

  “Got you to answer, didn’t I?” Even through the phone, Luca’s voice was smug. “And now I can hear your reaction when I tell you that I’m coming for a visit.”

  “Rich man say what?” Scarlett stopped in her tracks. Luca was a big fan of his creature comforts—and he didn’t count wide-open fields or cow manure on that list.

  “You heard me the first time,” he replied. “I just closed the deal on that chain of restaurants. I’m visiting each one to see what needs improvement, and there’s a location in Billings. And what kind of mentor would I be to get within a half hour of charming Hanover Creek and not visit my favorite protégée and her stubborn submissive?”

  “Ah. There it is.” Scarlett sighed and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “You’re nosy.”

  Part of her wanted to keep Luca far away from here, because . . . well . . . because she felt like a failure, damn it.

  And part of her was desperate for him to come and tell her how to fix the mess she had made between her and Logan, to tell her what to do to make it work.

  “See what a good Domme you are?” Luca asked cheerfully. “You can see my intentions, clear as day, right through the phone.”

  “Shut it, Santangelo.” Despite herself, Scarlett laughed.

  “That’s Master Santangelo to you, babe.” Even though he was joking, the underlying thread of authority in Luca’s voice could be heard at the challenge, even through the phone. “Don’t make me spank you.”

  “In your dreams.” Scarlett’s chuckle was abruptly cut off with Luca’s next query.

  “Since you brought it up, Scarlett dear, how are things with the reclusive doc?”

  Scarlett’s heart stuttered, and then she sighed. It was hard to force out the words—as a Domme it was her responsibility to understand the needs of her sub, to provide for them.

  She was failing miserably, and admitting it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Not very well,” she finally choked out. Threading her fingers in the loose tail of her hair, she tugged with frustration.

  She would be crazy to say that Logan was the one . . . wouldn’t she?

  But the fact remained that she’d never felt like this before and wasn’t sure she ever would again.

  “He keeps trying to make me lose control, trying to make me give him the upper hand, and he fights me every step of the way when I try to lead him elsewhere. And I can’t walk away. It’s . . . We . . .” The frustration she’d felt a week earlier, when she’d forced Logan to spank her, welled up inside her chest. “I really can’t convince you to tell me his story? Not even a hint?”

  Normally, she would have enjoyed prying the details out of her sub, each reveal a triumph.

  But with Logan she was ready to fight dirty.

  “You know I can’t, Scar. It’s not my story to tell.” Luca’s words were thoughtful, and then he continued.

  “But maybe I can help you get it out of him.”

  • • •

  The phone call had changed something in Scarlett’s demeanor. Logan could see that as soon as she strode back into the barn. She stood tall, certain, had that look in her eye that made him so apprehensive in the middle of a scene.

  His heart thudded against his rib cage as he looked her over, noting how stunning she was, even in torn work jeans and a button-down plaid shirt.

  She made him feel things that he’d never thought he could allow himself to feel.

  Coming back up beside him, she picked up the bottle of disinfectant and cheerfully began to squirt it over the nozzle of the pump that he’d just finished using.

  “You seem happy.” His mind screamed at him to leave well enough alone—he’d managed to beat back his need to grovel in front of her for an entire week now, to go back to being just colleagues.

  It was no business of his who had put that spring in her step, no matter that it planted a seed of jealousy in his gut.

  “A friend is going to be in town this weekend, and I’d like to have them over for dinner.” The smug challenge in her eyes when she looked at him told Logan that she knew he was fis
hing for information.

  And yet he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  “You’re asking?” His voice was accusatory, even though he hadn’t intended for it to be.

  “Your house,” she said, shrugging. “Your rules.”

  Oh, really. Logan thought of the scene in the bath and just stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

  It might have been better if he had, but instead he kept on questioning her.

  “What kind of friend?”

  “A friend from Vegas.” Her eyes sparkled, and he knew she was baiting him. Damn it.

  “A male friend?” The beast inside of him snarled.

  A submissive?

  Is this really over already, almost before it began?

  Scarlett, squatting over the equipment, rocked back on her heels and looked at him sharply. Logan’s mouth grew dry as that look came over her, the one that transformed her from Dr. Scarlett Malone, his competent and very attractive intern, to Mistress Scarlett, the woman who commanded his attention with her mere existence.

  He blinked and the two merged, becoming impossible to separate in his mind. He wanted them both—he wanted all of her.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes regarded him intently, and he knew that she was filing his every move, his every breath away in that sharp little brain of hers.

  Logan scowled, hesitated.

  Maybe it would be good if she got involved with another submissive. It would give him some space, a chance to get some control back over his life.

  Why did that thought make him so damn miserable?

  “Whatever pleases you.” His words were curt in an attempt to hide what he was really feeling—until he figured that out for himself, he sure couldn’t let her see.

  She leaned in to him slowly, close enough that he caught that tantalizing smell of vanilla that seemed embedded in her very skin. Casting a quick look around, she fisted his T-shirt in her hand, pulling him down until he felt her breath mist over his lips.

  “Scarlett.” His voice was a warning—they were on a house call, definitely on work time, when he was in charge.

  But he found that the more time they spent together, the more those lines blurred, morphing into something else entirely.

  Besides, they weren’t doing anything inappropriate. Never mind the thoughts that raced through his head when she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “What would please me is to have you say that and mean it.” She pinned him with a stare, her gray eyes luminous in the dim light inside the barn. Logan’s body tensed. The mare that they’d just treated was watching them contentedly, as if they were a reality TV show.

  But as he looked up into Scarlett’s eyes, he felt the worry melt away. Who cared what anyone else thought, as long as he pleased her?

  “We will have a guest for dinner on Friday.” Scarlett spoke as if he would accept it, simply because she decreed it so.

  It was sexy as hell.

  “You will be there with me.” Releasing his chin, she leaned forward until he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. Still not inappropriate, but arousing as hell. “You will be there as my submissive.”

  Logan nodded warily, the jealousy that was lodged in his gut only partially appeased by her claiming of him as her sub.

  “I will take care of all the details. All you need to do is show up when I command it—show up willingly.” Her face was set in stern lines, and Logan sensed that this was it.

  He couldn’t fuck this up again. She might not give him another chance.

  “Understood?” Her fingers dug into his chest, and the jolt of pain made his cock swell.

  “Yes, Scarlett.” Relief washed over him as he said her name. It felt good—it felt right.

  And that was something to turn over in his head later.

  “Good.” Releasing him, Scarlett stepped back, dusted debris from her jeans before turning to pack up the last of their equipment. Logan eyed the sweet curves of her ass, outlined in thin denim, as she bent over, silently cursing that she seemed so calm, so serene—even though he knew she wasn’t—while he was having a hell of a time not just grabbing the swells of those hips and taking her here and now.

  Swallowing, trying to get his urges back in control, he looked up and felt a jolt of adrenaline when he saw a young ranch hand he knew by face but not name standing frozen in the doorway, his avid expression trained on the scene in front of him.

  Logan scowled.

  The cowboy winked, gave him a thumbs-up, and sauntered away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  On Friday night Logan knelt at the base of the stairs, head bowed. He wore nothing but a pair of black shorts that concealed absolutely nothing—shorts like that other male sub had worn back at Veritas.

  His heart was racing and he felt terribly, horribly exposed. But that afternoon Scarlett had left the briefs on his bed, along with a note giving him instructions for the evening.

  He felt raw, not just because he knew that she was about to put him through the ringer tonight, but because a stranger was about to invade his home.

  His safe place.

  He didn’t let many people visit him here. Just when he couldn’t avoid it—like when his good friend Luca asked him to take on a pretty little raven-haired intern.

  But Luca had stuck with him through the hardest time of his life, had made him live when he hadn’t wanted to. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his friend.

  But it was taking everything he had to trust in Scarlett, to remember that she understood his needs and wouldn’t let anyone defile his sanctuary. But he did—he trusted her.

  Her heard her footsteps first and fought the urge to look up. Tap, tap, tap coming slowly down the stairs.

  High-heeled red ankle boots came into view first, then shapely calves—calves that he’d had resting on his back.

  Stepping lightly off the bottom stair, Scarlett circled in front of him, then lifted his chin with the toe of her boot.

  “Look at me.” Sucking in his breath at her words, Logan felt his mouth go dry.

  Scarlett was dressed to kill. Though he wanted to behave, wanted to show restraint, his cock thickened, filled, pressed uncomfortably against the snug fabric.

  She wore a dress that matched her boots, the color of a red rose, and the hem slashed across her at midthigh, leaving him with lots of long, toned leg to salivate over. It was skintight, hugging the curves that she had said were the downfall of her career as a dancer, and in that moment, Logan was fiercely grateful for them.

  Her breasts rose, high and round, from the scarlet fabric that barely covered her nipples. The cream color of her skin contrasted beautifully with the dress.

  Her lips were painted red to match the dress, and her hair had been pulled back in a severe knot on the back of her head, leaving no doubt about which side of the power exchange she fell on.

  She was stunning.

  “I’m pleased that you’ve followed my instructions,” Scarlett started, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Bending just low enough to give Logan a good look down the front of her dress—a purposeful move, he was sure—she trailed a hand down his cheek, a small gesture of affection.

  “You may relax. Stand up if you wish.” He did, watching the sway of her hips as she sauntered to the front door.

  Jealousy stabbed through him when he realized that whoever was on the other side—her friend—was going to see her dressed like that.

  He sank his teeth into his tongue to hold back any words of resentfulness.

  “Oh. Oh, you poor baby!” All traces of the stern Mistress fell away as Scarlett swung the door open, then knelt and reached for something just out of Logan’s range of vision.

  Protective, he strode forward—and stopped a
bruptly when he saw that she had a canine bundle of fluff cradled in her arms.

  “Put it down,” he ordered, reaching down to clasp Scarlett by the wrists. “It could be rabid.”

  She shot him an annoyed glance. “Don’t you think I would know that as well as you?” The puppy whimpered in her arms, and Scarlett shook off Logan’s hands. “It’s not. No extra saliva, no paranoia, no confusion. See?”

  Scarlett held the dog out to Logan. It had matted gray fur, huge brown eyes, and a chunk missing from its left ear.

  It shivered pathetically and tried to burrow back into Scarlett’s chest.

  “This poor guy needs a meal.” Eyes wide, Scarlett looked up at Logan beseechingly.

  “Once again with feeling . . . you’re asking?” He snorted, fully aware that he had no say in the matter. Not that he really minded, not by now.

  She huffed out a laugh, climbing to her feet with the dog held tightly in her arms. “We’re not on the clock yet . . . sub.” Cooing to the dog, she pushed past him, making her way to the kitchen.

  The dog was getting hair all over her fancy dress, and she hadn’t noticed. Or else she had, and she just didn’t give a shit.

  Logan felt one of those padlocks that he’d placed around his heart fall open.

  If the woman could be so caring, so careful, with a stray dog that someone had dumped on his doorstep . . . how careful would she be with him?

  “Do people drop animals out here often?” Turning on one of those impossibly high heels, Scarlett thrust the dog into Logan’s arms, then went about the business of filling one metal bowl with water, another with a sample of dog food that a company had sent him. He couldn’t hold back his grin when she cracked open a pack of ground beef and added a handful to the mix.

  “You’re ruining your hard-assed Mistress reputation.” Logan scratched the dog behind the ears, then set it down in front of the bowls as Scarlett turned to wash her hands. “And not often, but yes, occasionally someone will drop an animal here. I don’t mind boarding them while I look for a home—it’s better than the animals being abandoned.”