Lila dropped her gaze, coyly batting her lashes. “Master Jared asked me to bring this to you.”
He relieved her of two bottles of water and a dish of Belgian chocolate and set them down on the table just inside the room. When he went to close the door, she crowded closer to him, blocking the way with an elbow.
“Do you have any need for a trained slave this evening?” she asked in a low, sensual voice.
He leveled her with a cold glare and leaned forward, forcing her to take a step back. “Remove yourself from my doorway. I specifically told Jared we weren’t to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. Should I ask him why he ignored my request? A trained slave would never offer herself without instruction from her Master.”
The color drained from Lila’s face. “No, I’m sorry, Master Brian. There’s no need to get Master Jared involved. I-I made a mistake. Please forgive me.”
“A word of advice, it would be better if he were to hear about your indiscretion from you tonight rather than from me over morning coffee.” And with that he shut the door.
How had he put up with this nonsense in the past? He’d never used Lila in particular, but many like her. Once upon a time he’d have invited her in and topped her and Genevieve both. The thought of his previous shallow exploits left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He turned to Genevieve, noticing a peculiar sadness about her. The public scene seemed to have had an almost vampiric effect on her. Her vitality sucked away, leaving behind a frail shell.
Sub-drop. It had to be. Something told him there was more to it than that.
The sense that she was slipping away left him bereft. He had no idea how he’d endure it if she were to leave him. The idea was inconceivable. He’d thought the collar would help ease things between them somehow. The ambivalence in her eyes when she’d opened the box told him otherwise. She’d covered it quickly with a forced smile and a gracious thank-you, but not before he’d caught it.
Pushing his thoughts aside, he grabbed the water and the chocolate then ushered Genevieve into the bathroom. She sat on the stool at the counter, looking lost and sad, her shoulders drooping. He opened a bottle and placed it in her hands, urging her to drink. She took small sips as he dug around in her makeup, searching for a hairclip. After finding one, he twisted her hair up and secured it as best he could. Not perfect, but it would keep her red locks dry for the most part.
He kept a careful eye on her as he stripped out of his clothing and laid it on the counter next to her. “Eat some of the chocolate. It’ll help with the aftereffects.”
As if on autopilot, she set her water down and popped a small piece into her mouth. Hunched over with her arms wrapped around her middle, she stared at the floor as she chewed.
Eager to change the mood, he rounded up several plush towels, a bar of hand-milled soap and a washcloth. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The last time he’d pressed her when she was like this he got far more than he’d bargained for.
Heavy silence surrounded them as he led her into the shower. The warm spray seemed to have little effect on her. She trembled, her arms still folded against her body as though she didn’t have the energy for much else. He pulled her to him, her back against his chest. He lathered the washcloth then began with her shoulders, leaving a trail of soapsuds in his wake. He took his time, relying on the mindlessness of the ritual to help clear the air between them.
Gradually, he felt her relax. Finished with the areas he could reach, he turned her around and placed her against the glass. When he knelt before her, she finally looked at him, confusion knitting her brows. He tapped her ankle and understanding dawned on her face. She lifted her leg for him, allowing him to wash her feet.
“You don’t have to do all this,” she murmured in a small voice. “I’m fine, really.”
“Shut up and let me take care of you.”
The resignation in her answering sigh twisted his heart. She sounded so desolate.
Not knowing what else to do, he washed her other foot, kneaded her calves then lightly glided over her injured thighs. Completed with his task, he stood and pulled her under the fall of water to rinse the soap away. He shut off the faucet then reached for a towel and wrapped her up to keep her from getting cold. As quickly as he could he dried himself off. He then coaxed her from the steamy glass enclosure and dried her as well. Less efficient with her than he was with himself, he toweled off every drop of liquid he could find, taking his time, consoling her with actions rather than words.
In the main room, he steered her toward the large bed. He placed her under the covers then climbed in behind her and pulled her body flush with his. She settled against him as close as she could manage. It felt as if she’d not only inched against his skin, but into his cold heart. Something he’d never thought would happen again.
He stroked her arm long past the time her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. Losing her would kill him. The problem was he had no idea how to keep her.
* * * * *
Dawn cast warm pink streaks across the sky as Brian sat at the table on Jared’s back patio. He hadn’t slept well at all. He’d lain awake for hours thinking about Genevieve and Danielle. It had all been pointless, of course. He wasn’t in the position to change his present any more than he could change his past. Both seemed to haunt him.
Coffee was definitely in order and lots of it. As he poured himself a cup from the antique silver pot, Sophia glanced over the top of her newspaper. She didn’t say a word, merely nodded, gave him a small smile, then went back to reading.
When he’d realized it would just be the two of them, he’d had to fight the urge to go back inside. Whereas Jared delivered truth in brutal fashion, Sophia had a far more subtle way about her. She had a master’s in psychology and a Mensa-worthy IQ. The woman had a talent for getting people to talk. The scary part was that her demeanor was so calm, so soothing no one realized they’d just exposed the darkest parts of their life until it was over.
Her subs adored and worshipped her. Brian kept her at a distance, but then he did that with just about everyone.
The morning was quiet save for a few birds and the sound of waves in the distance. He’d brought his iPad but it seemed an insult to read a digital copy of the news while the print was laid out before him.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Help yourself,” she said, placing the section she’d been reading down, eliminating the barrier between them.
She leaned forward, grasped her delicate teacup and eyed him speculatively.The calm manner with which she sipped her tea seemed innocent enough, but having been her friend for over a decade, he knew better. This was exactly why he’d avoided her since he’d started seeing Genevieve. She saw too much.
“I’m not going to talk about it.” He took a swallow of coffee to shut himself up and promptly burned the hell out of his tongue.
“Talk about what?” she asked in that irritatingly neutral tone of hers.
With a huff, Brian rubbed a hand over his face, fighting the rising compulsion to spill his guts all over this nice mosaic table.
Sophia didn’t press him, but then that wasn’t her way. She waited him out, sipping her tea in silence. Minutes passed.
“So,” Brian began, unable to help himself, “what do you think of Genevieve?”
“She’s intriguing.”
“Intriguing.”
“Yes, and genuine from what I can tell. An interesting choice for you.”
“How is that?”
“Your relationships over the last several years, I hesitate to even refer to them as that, have been more about convenience and less about substance. Given your need to keep things casual—no judgment—I find it interesting to see you with someone who is such a pleasant deviation from your usual companions.”
Pleasant deviation. Genevieve was definitely that and so much more but that was the problem, wasn’t it?
“As an individual she
’s very different from my usual companions. I’ll give you that. However, the nature of our relationship is the same. Casual.”
With grace and purpose, Sophia poured herself another cup of tea. She added a single spoonful of sugar, her expression impartial. An eternity seemed to pass as she stirred the steaming liquid. She finally lifted it to her mouth, stopping an inch or so from her lips, and gently blew across the surface. After taking a small sip, she set the cup on its saucer, adjusting it slightly so that it was in its proper position.
That last little gesture was a tell. Sophia had always had small moments of OCD when she was about to have a difficult conversation. Wonderful.
He took a large gulp of the perfectly brewed Kona and prepared for the verbal chess match to ensue. He should have had his coffee at the breakfast bar. It was too early for this shit.
“I’m curious,” she began, “how long have you been in this relationship with her?”
“We’ve had our arrangement for several months now.”
“I see. And you’ve collared her. That’s quite a commitment for such a casual relationship.”
“Not really. It’s simply a symbol of ownership.”
“You and I both know there is nothing simple about collaring a sub.”
“Don’t try to make this more than it is. She understands and accepts what our relationship is, and more importantly what it isn’t.” Brian downed the rest of his coffee. The now-tepid brew a bitter taste on his tongue.
“Mm. How long has she been in love with you?”
Brian nearly choked. “In love with me?”
“Surely you’ve noticed.”
“She’s not in love with me, Sophia.”
“Would it be so bad if she were? She’s smart, talented, beautiful and submissive. You clearly care for her. Jesus, Brian, you collared her. Stop lying to yourself. You’re well beyond casual and that girl loves you. She looks at you as if you hold her heart in the palm of your hand and she’s afraid at any moment you’ll crush it to a pulp.”
He gritted his teeth to keep from saying something he’d regret.
Sophia reached across the table and clasped one of his hands in hers. “I love you, Brian. Keep that in mind as you listen to what I’m about to say. Danielle has been gone for a long time. It’s time to stop picking at old wounds and let them heal. What happened to her is not and never has been your fault. It was a tragic accident and you need to quit blaming yourself. You can’t live like this.”
“Like what, Sophia?” he snapped, pulling his hand away and clenching it into a fist.
“Pushing everyone away because you’re afraid they’ll leave or be taken from you. You deserve to have love, to be happy. I think you can have that with Genevieve if you give her a chance, but you have to stop bleeding all over her for that to happen. You’re her Dom. It’s your responsibility to provide her with a healthy, stable and safe relationship. If you can’t give her that then you need to let her go.”
He wanted to tell her she was full of shit. He wasn’t afraid. He was cautious and he’d let his sub go when he was damn good and ready. Yes, when he was ready.
* * * * *
Drenched to the skin, he and Genevieve had stumbled into the foyer where he unceremoniously dumped their bags on the floor. They’d arrived home just in time to get caught in a storm. The power was out, making a safe, dry passage through the garage impossible. They’d had to make a run for it, luggage and all.
He was in a mood and had been since he’d had to sit through Sophia’s bullshit pseudo shrink session. His little submissive was in somewhat of a mood herself. She’d sulked in silence the entire flight home and he’d had about enough of it.
He grabbed an LED lantern from the closet and switched it on, bathing them in a ghostly glow.
“Upstairs and out of those wet clothes. Watch your step on the stairs.”
“Yes Sir.” The fatigue in her tone succeeded in irritating him further.
He followed her up, lighting the way. Once inside the room, he set the lantern down, kicked off his soaked shoes and peeled off his socks. They hit the floor with a wet slap. His pants and shirt came off next. He stalked to the bathroom, retrieving two towels, and tossed one in Genevieve’s direction. It landed on the floor at her feet. She sighed as she inched her sundress down and shimmied out of it. She kicked the wet heap aside then grabbed the towel and started drying herself off, all the while looking as though she’d eaten something distasteful.
“All right, out with it,” he demanded as he put on a fresh set of clothes. “You’ve been moping around for the last two days. I want to know why.”
“I haven’t been moping. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“You’re a horrible liar, Genevieve.”
She fastened the towel around her middle, covering her nakedness and glared at him. “Okay, I’m lying.”
“And now the sarcasm.”
She fingered the ring around her neck. “Why did you give me this collar?”
“I have to explain myself to you now?”
“I’d like to know. Why collar me? Why now?”
“Because I own you, you little brat. I can make you wear whatever I want, a collar, a leash…a gag if you’re not careful.”
“So you’re going to gag me again to shut me up?”
“Don’t push me, Genevieve.”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This,” she gestured back and forth between them. “You and me. I just can’t, not anymore. It’s too hard.”
He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The moment he’d dreaded had arrived. He’d known this day would come, but it was too soon. He wasn’t ready to let her go. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I love you, Brian. How’s that for dramatic?”
Her declaration razed him to the ground. “You don’t love me.”
“You don’t get to tell me how I feel!”
“Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? Tell you that I love you? Well I do. I’ve tried not to. Believe me.”
“Why can’t you just be happy with the way things are?”
“Because I can’t keep pretending. You told me there would be nothing make-believe about our relationship, but that’s all it’s been. I pretend not to love you and you pretend to be cold and cruel when things get too intense.”
“Pretend? You think I’m pretending,” he sneered.
“Yes I do, and you know what else I think? I think you care about me more than you’re willing to admit.”
He was about to cross a line he wasn’t sure they would come back from. He told himself it was better for her. “You’re wrong. You’re my submissive, a girl I fuck and punish when I feel the need. You’ll never be anything more than that. Don’t delude yourself.”
Even in the dim light, he saw her face redden and her eyes well with tears. She yanked at the collar as if it were choking her. “Take this off.”
“Genevieve—”
“Take it off now.”
He swallowed hard, went to his desk and retrieved the extra hex key he’d placed there for safekeeping. Numb, he approached her. Her whole body shook as he unlocked the steel circle.
As soon as she was free of it, she turned to face him, her eyes narrow and turbulent. “I quit.”
She’d said the words and it felt awful to hear them. He placed the damn collar in the drawer with the key and tried not to give in to his rising sense of panic. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her.
Wiping her face, she went to the bureau and snatched the extra pair of jeans and t-shirt she kept there. He did nothing, just stood there like an idiot and watched her get dressed.
The soft light of her cell phone shone across her face, highlighting her tear-stained cheeks. “Ivy, can you come get me? Please…just come get me?” Her voice cracked with emotion as she rattled off his address.
She ended the call, jammed the phone
into her back pocket then went to work collecting her things. She removed every trace of her presence from his room and stuffed them into her oversized purse. Toothbrush, gone. Sketchpad, gone. Bathing suit, flip-flops, lingerie, wet clothes, all gone.
He’d have nothing left of her.
He should have stopped her. He should have talked her out of leaving. He should have told her he’d try to give her what she needed. He should have, but he didn’t. He let her pack her things in silence.
Ten minutes had passed when he heard the sound of a car horn. Ivy must have broken every speed limit on the way over. He was hoping she’d take longer. That maybe Genevieve would change her mind before Ivy arrived. Of course that was ridiculous. He hadn’t uttered a word to convince her to stay.
She raced downstairs, snatching her luggage from the puddle on the floor. He had no idea why he followed her. She was leaving him. Did he really want to torture himself by watching her run? He reminded himself that this was for the best. Their relationship couldn’t go in the direction she wanted to push it and after tonight, it couldn’t stay the same no matter how much he wanted it to. She deserved more than he could give her.
Sophia was right. He needed to let her go.
When she walked out the front door, she glanced back over her shoulder, tears obscured by the rain. It nearly killed him to watch the last bit of hope disappear from her eyes.
“You’re such a coward,” she murmured.
And then she was gone.
He found himself in the kitchen, pouring a drink. He threw it back, barely tasting the Irish whiskey, then poured another. After he downed the second, he reached for the bottle again. A green bottle with gold lettering, exactly like the one she’d broken on the first night he’d kissed her.
Anger and grief rose so fast the bottle hit the wall and shattered before he’d even realized he’d thrown it. He stared at the shards of emerald glass as they glittered in the dim light of the lantern and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. Dark and silent, the house felt unbearably empty without her presence. He’d let her walk away. No that was a lie. He’d driven her away.
A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) Page 22