The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2)

by S. E. Lund

  It was then I knew I had to give him Maureen's message.

  I took in a deep breath. "Drake, there's something I have to tell you." I relayed Maureen's message.

  He sat up, pulling me up with him.

  "Fucking Christ," Drake said, his face blanching. "She actually said staff would call the police if I went to the ward again?"

  He ran his fingers through his hair, then held his head as if he had a headache.

  "I'm sorry," I said and stroked his back. "She said you punched Chris."

  He glanced at me and shook his head. "Yeah I punched the sonofabitch after he punched me. He said he didn’t want a pervert anywhere near his son as long as Liam was a minor. As if I'd be some bad influence on Liam. Christ," Drake said and got up, going to look out the window. "All I wanted was to see him and speak with him, give him the photograph of his grandfather. I don’t care what they told Liam – say it's some distant uncle on someone's side. Let him know he had a relative who was heroic and maybe one day tell him the truth about me. But no. So, yeah, when he punched me, I popped the bastard a good one in return."

  I stood dumbstruck at Drake's anger. I'd never witnessed it before. I'd seen his happiness, his humor. I'd seen his passion. But never real anger. Even when I revealed that someone had seen our agreement, he didn't get angry.

  We went to bed soon after that, and Drake tossed and turned in bed beside me. There was nothing I could do to soothe him and for some reason, he wasn't interested in sex, so I lay there and listened to him sigh for quite some time before sleep finally took him.

  The next few days flew by. I worked at the studio while Drake was out getting his shot or doing whatever it was he did at the foundation or his father's business. He grew progressively achy and tired as the day approached for his procedure, but he never once initiated sex and so I waited, wondering what was wrong and whether it was just the medicine or everything that happened.

  On my part, I'd sketched my drawing onto the canvas and had started to apply paint. By the end of the third morning, it was starting to look like a real painting. I was really happy with it – the lush smoothness of his body in the rumpled covers, the color of his fair skin against the white sheets, his dark hair, the morning light, his beautiful body… it would look wonderful over a bed. Even with his erection, it was artistic rather than pornographic. Still, I was glad Nathaniel talked me into making two canvases. I decided I'd copy the painting onto the second one, but would strategically place a corner of a sheet over his groin to cover his genitals. I could show that canvas to my family and friends, if I wanted to.

  By the fourth day of his shots of Filgrastim, Drake didn't feel much like anything except lying on the couch with a blanket on, drinking tea and eating my homemade scones with jam the way my mother used to make them for me when I was sick. We still hadn't had sex, and it was just as well since I had my period. I was glad that he was under the weather for the duration and didn't try to seduce me. He went for his last shot first thing in the morning while I worked at the studio and I came home after lunch to spend the afternoon with him while he lay on the couch.

  Finally, the day came when Drake was scheduled to do the procedure, and he woke up with a headache.

  He groaned as he lay beside me. "As much as I'm glad I'm able to do this, I'll be really happy to get rid of this headache."

  I stroked his back. "How long before you start feeling back to normal?"

  He rolled over and faced me, dark circles under his eyes. "A few days. It's really nothing. Just a few aches and a headache. Nothing more than what I'd get after a really intense workout or a flu."

  He leaned over and kissed me and then rolled slowly out of the bed, sitting on the edge for a moment, rubbing his head. He sighed and got up, padding naked to the bathroom where I heard him take a pee. Then, the shower started and he stepped inside. I didn't want to shower with him, so I stayed nestled in the thick coverlet, lying in Drake's warm spot, enjoying the scent of his cologne on his pillow.

  "You not going to join me?" he said from the shower.

  "No, you go ahead without me. I'll have one later."

  He hummed to himself as he showered and so the water must have revitalized him. He'd be happy that today was the day he'd do the procedure. From what Maureen had written in emails, and from what Drake's contacts in the hospital told him, Liam was stable but the sooner he got the transplant the better.

  He came out after the shower, a towel around his waist, his hair freshly brushed and I marveled once again at how sexy and beautiful he was. He stood in front of his closet and sorted through his shirts, selecting a deep blue one, which he hung over the chair beside the closet. Then he pulled out some suit trousers in a matching deep blue and the jacket that went with it. He went to his bureau and removed a fresh pair of socks and boxer briefs and started to dress while I watched.

  I lay on the bed, my arm behind my head, and enjoyed the spectacle of Drake dressing. He looked so good naked, his muscular back and buttocks tensing as he dressed. His trousers fit so nicely. I really had to spend more time touching him. Once he felt better and I was finished with my period, I decided I wanted to run my hands all over him.

  "What is going on in that mind of yours, Ms. Bennet? You're being far too quiet."

  I smiled. "I was thinking how nice your ass is and how I intend to touch it and run my hands all over your body when you're feeling up to sex."

  He pulled his shirt on, fastening the cuffs before buttoning the shirt. He left the top couple of buttons undone. No tie today.

  He came to the bed and leaned over me, his eyes intense.

  "I'm sorry we've been so chaste the last few days. I'll make it up to you."

  "You don't have to make anything up," I said, pushing a hank of wet hair behind his ear. "I understand. Besides, I'm under the weather, too."

  "I didn't let you get away with that excuse, so technically, you shouldn't have let me, but I tell you what," he said stroked my cheek. "When I feel better, you can give me a nice massage and pretend you're my favorite harem girl."

  "Sounds perfect. Except, maybe your only harem girl, because you've given up all the others, sending them away because they can't satisfy you any longer. Only me."

  He smiled, his eyes intense and even more blue because of his shirt. He kissed me.

  "Only you."

  Then he stood up and finished dressing.

  "How long will the procedure take?"

  "About six hours, depending on how fast they can process my blood. I should be home later in the afternoon."

  "You're wonderful for doing this."

  "He's my son," Drake said, shaking his head. "How could I say no?"

  I nodded, emotion for Drake filling me that he'd never know his son until the boy had grown and chose to know him.

  He came back and leaned over me once more. "I love you," he said, his eyes on mine.

  "I love you," I whispered, cupping his cheek. "You sure you don't want me to come with you? I'd be more than happy to if you want company."

  He shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll have lots of company. There are nurses who stay with you the whole time. Besides, it's really early and you need to sleep some more. I know this is your heavy day. You stay in bed and take some Advil. Don't even bother to go into the studio. Later, we'll have a nice dinner delivered here and drink some wine for your cramps."

  "Will you be OK driving?"

  "I'll take a taxi there and back."

  He bent down one last time and kissed me. Then, he left me on the bed with a promise to return as soon as the procedure was over.

  Despite Drake's suggestion that I forego a trip to the studio, I was eager to get there and work on my painting. I walked the distance, needing exercise and air, and spent the morning on the canvas. I worked through lunch and when two o'clock rolled around, I put my work aside and said goodbye to Nathaniel, then went back to the apartment.

  Drake didn't arrive home until mid-afternoon. I heard his key in the
lock and went to meet him in the entry. He looked beat, his face pale, dark circles under his eyes.

  "How are you feeling? You look tired," I said as I took his coat and hung it up while he removed his boots.

  "I feel like total and complete crap. I need to lie down for a while. Can you bring me some tea?"

  After I hung up his coat, I took his jacket and hung it up, following him into the bedroom to watch while he undressed. He seemed eager to get out of his clothes and into his sweats and t-shirt.

  "Sure. Do you need some food?"

  "I ate after the donation, but I feel pretty weak so I'm done for the day."

  He went to the living room and crashed on the couch, pulling the soft wool blanket over him, his head on the pillow.

  I went to him and bent down, kissing him, stroking hair from his face. "What kind of tea?"

  "Whatever you want. And some of those scones, too, now that you mention it."

  I smiled and went to the kitchen, glad to be able to look after him. I made the tea, boiling the water and pouring it over the leaves in the teapot. I heated up two scones in the microwave briefly and fixed a tray with strawberry jam and butter, the two cups and spoons for sugar and milk.

  When I entered the living room, Drake had the television on, tuned to the news network and was watching some report on political unrest in the Middle East. I set the tray down on the coffee table and sat on the couch beside Drake. He moved his hip out of the way so I had room. I fixed him a scone and poured the sugar in his tea the way he liked and then I handed him the plate with the scone on it. He sat up a little and bit into it hungrily.

  "Mmm," he said. "These are so good."

  I smiled and put his cup of tea next to him, then fixed my own scone. It felt nice to be caring for Drake for a change, feeding him. It made our relationship more real for me, as if I was also responsible for him and not just the other way around.

  He finished his scone then took a big slurp of his tea, sighing in contentment.

  "I'm sorry I'm not much good today. I know I promised you a scene and that it never happened. It will."

  "No worries," I said, shrugging. "We have time for that. Considering your noble deed, you deserve to be waited on. I'm happy to do it."

  He put his cup down and nestled back into the pillows and under the cover. "I'm exhausted. I hope you don't mind if I sleep for a while."

  "Of course not." I smiled, understanding completely.

  He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Liam received the transplant almost immediately. Drake received news from Liam's oncologist the next day and so all we had to do was wait to see how he responded to the transplant. Although we had originally planned on staying with my parents before we left for Africa, for most of the time, Drake and I stayed at his apartment in Chelsea so we could be alone.

  Since the fight with Chris, Drake had been away all day every day, only to return late in the afternoon. He kept himself busy with the foundation and corporation, his health club and discussions with colleagues on collaborations that were underway. I was pleased to have the time to work on the canvas, but part of me wondered if he wasn't trying to stay away. I worked on my painting, but then waited for him to return in the late afternoon. Drake returned to the apartment in Chelsea for a late supper, and I wondered if he'd want to play out a scene.

  We sat on the couch, his arm around me, and we watched television, but he made no move to touch me. We went to bed with nothing said about the dry spell, and I tried to chalk it up to the stress of the whole transplant and donation. Whatever the cause, Drake made no move that was the least bit sexual. As for me, having his body in bed next to mine, naked, made me uncomfortable, once my period was completely over. I did my best to grit my teeth and wait.

  I lay in bed the next morning, missing the spontaneity of our early time together. I relished those first weeks after New Year's when we were together before the whole Liam development. Something changed in Drake after Maureen showed up with his son. He was still warm and affectionate for the brief hour or so we were together before sleep, but that early abandon he displayed when we were first seeing each other at 8th Avenue was gone.

  I longed for him to just push me down on the bed and make love to me the way he had before. I was ready for more kink, but to be truthful, at that point, I'd take anything from him – kinky or vanilla. I missed his desire. I felt incredibly guilty, as if I was being a bad submissive, impatient for him to initiate sex.

  My fear was that Maureen resurfacing reminded him of his previous heartbreak. She would dredge up all those old feelings of rejection and betrayal. His fight with Chris, his loss of personal control over his emotions seemed to drive him to exercise even more control over me, keeping me at a distance.

  Was Maureen right? Did Drake have a lot of anger bottled up, carefully controlled by his D/s? Perhaps he realized how deeply involved he was with me and that scared him. Whatever the cause, I sensed him pull back a bit, and I feared he was once more using sex – or the lack of it – to control his emotions, keeping his life under control.

  That morning, I got up first and went to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, determined to wake him up and try to seduce him. I was going to test my theory that he was afraid of losing control over himself, get too close to me and be hurt once more.

  I crept back into bed with him and slipped my arms around his body. I kissed his shoulder and lay there, my hand resting on his abdomen, just inches from his groin. I didn’t make a directly sexual move, for that would be beyond the terms of our agreement stipulating that Drake was the one to initiate sex. But any normal red-blooded heterosexual male with a functioning libido would respond to being woken by his lover with her hand touching his bare abdomen inches from his cock.

  I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt him squirm a bit beside me. He lay still as if waiting to see if I would remain like that or would make some kind of more direct move. I didn't. I wanted to see how he would handle things. I hadn't really thought of it until that morning. Now, this morning, my groin was aching as I thought about sex with Drake and I wanted it, but of course, couldn't directly initiate.

  Would he put me off? Would he find an excuse why he couldn't have sex with me?

  He moved my arm from his waist and slipped out of bed without responding. I turned and watched him walk to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his morning erection. He was semi-erect and I wanted him inside of me but of course, it wasn't my decision. I sighed and lay on my back, feeling that I needed to masturbate to get rid of the uncomfortable ache in my body. That, too, was out of the question. He'd said and I'd agreed that every one of my orgasms would be his. Unless he asked me to, I couldn't masturbate.

  I turned over and sighed when I heard the shower start. He'd have a shower, as was his normal routine, brush his teeth and then make coffee for us. We'd sit at the kitchen island and discuss the day, what we had planned.

  I wanted him right then. He had a functioning erection. The only excuse was that he was avoiding intimacy.

  I went to the bathroom and removed my nightgown, then pulled open the shower door and stepped inside. Drake was standing with his face in the stream of hot water, his hands cupped beneath his chin, eyes closed. He turned to me as I entered the shower and frowned briefly, his beautiful blue eyes wary, the bruise on his cheek a faint yellow-green. Then he seemed to get control over himself and smiled but it was forced.

  "Ms. Bennet, why are you up so early?"

  "I'm all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning for some reason," I said and stepped a bit closer to him, letting the water wash over me, my face and hair, then down over my body. He glanced down at me, his eyes roving down my torso, over my breasts, and to my groin. I tried not to look at his cock, but it was terribly hard not to. One look at Drake and I could tell that my proximity had the desired effect and his penis was beginning to thicken again and rise quite nicely.

  "Excuse me," I sa
id and leaned in front of him to get to the soap dispenser. I lathered my hair, the suds slipping down my body, over my breasts and between my thighs. After rinsing my hair and applying conditioner, I began to wash my body off with shower gel, lathering up my hands, then washing every part of me, my body angled a bit away from Drake's, so that I wasn't exactly forcing him to watch.

  But he was watching. I bent down to wash my feet and I heard him make a sound in his throat, like a small moan.

  "Kate…" he said, his voice taking on a chiding tone. "What are you up to? Are you trying to seduce me?"

  "I'm trying to have a shower."

  When I started to rinse off my hair, he leaned over me, his hands on the wall on either side of me, so that I was effectively confined against the shower wall.

  "Katherine…"

  I waited, not saying anything. Not doing anything. Drake's dark hair was wet, his black lashes clumped together, his blue eyes intense. The expression on his face was something between amusement and anger. I couldn’t help but see his lovely erection jutting out from his body.

  Why wouldn't he press himself against me and take me the way I wanted him to?

  "What are you doing?" he said again.

  I blinked several times. Then I realized I was being unfair and breaking the rules at the same time. I knew better than to try to seduce him. I agreed to his terms – that he decided the timing and manner of our sexual encounters. Yet, here I was naked, wet, soapy, bending over knowing how much he would be unable to resist the view. I was topping from the bottom.

  I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just that," I said and shrugged my shoulder, looking away from his very intense expression.

  "It's just that what?"

  I said nothing, merely looked back at him, searching his eyes for his mood. I didn’t want to cause a problem. I just needed him.

  "I'm… horny."

  He smiled down at me, a wicked look in his eyes. "Why Ms. Bennet, I do believe you've been trying to seduce me with your nice wet body and soapy hands lathering your nether regions."