The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2)

by S. E. Lund

  "And then I apologized and tried to explain but you never returned an email or phone call."

  "I was crushed. You made me feel like a monster. I knew that if I went back to you, you'd break up with me eventually because that was me – dominant, controlling."

  "I was so," I said, struggling for words. "So naïve back then. I really didn’t understand myself or what was happening between us."

  "Me as well. Kate, I want to apologize for being a first-class jerk in the way I treated you. I had all these needs I didn't understand. I understand them now."

  I looked at his face and didn’t see any deceit on it, but he was so attractive, his face so innocent in its masculine beauty, I had no idea if he was putting it on or being truthful.

  "Give me a chance," he said, leaning closer, his finger brushing my cheek. "Let's have coffee. Dinner."

  At that moment, a flash went off and I turned, holding my hand over my eyes to see what it was. A photographer, hanging around outside the venue taking pictures in case a celebrity exited.

  "Fuck off," Kurt said, turning his back to the photographer, sheltering me as I stood against the brick wall of the building. "Jerks," he said, looking down at me almost possessively. "I really missed you, Katie," he said as if he couldn't accept what I was saying. He moved closer to me, leaning his arm against the wall beside my head as if trying to block my exit. "I thought we were such a good match. I was really hurt when you broke it off."

  The cameras flashed as someone else left the club – someone deserving of the paparazzo's notice. Kurt leaned closer, his finger tilting my chin up as if he was going to kiss me.

  I pulled back. "Stop. I have a boyfriend," I said, touching my collar. "A serious boyfriend. We're going to Africa in a few weeks, to live there for six months."

  "My loss," he said softly. His gaze moved over my face. "I missed those pretty green eyes of yours," he said, smiling. " "I always thought I was just your type, Kate. A marine like your old man, a volunteer, dominant… If you feel like giving it another chance, call me." He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. I pulled my hand away.

  "Tell me about your new man."

  "He's a doctor at NYP. A volunteer with Doctors Without Borders. A neurosurgeon."

  Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Neurosurgeon? Not Morgan…"

  I nodded. "Drake Morgan, yes."

  Kurt frowned, his hand on the wall beside my head. "He's your old man's friend. He's really well-respected, but jeez, Kate. He's forty, isn't he? A bit old for you, don't you think?"

  "He's thirty seven. Only six years older than you."

  "Seven."

  "Seven," I said, frustrated. "I'm in love with him and he's in love with me. I can't meet you or have coffee or anything." I turned and walked to the street, looking for my father's limo. It wasn't in sight so I took out my cell and texted the driver, requesting that he take me home earlier than I had indicated. He texted me back that he was getting gas and would be about ten minutes.

  That was too long. I started walking to the street, planning on hailing a taxi.

  "Kate," Kurt said, catching up with me again, standing far too close to me. "Let me at least give you a ride home."

  "I have a limo service – and a boyfriend."

  He sighed and smiled softly. "When you're free again, keep me in mind. I felt like we never really made a true go of it."

  "We did make a go of it. It didn’t work out." I turned to him. "I'm happy with Drake."

  "If you're ever unhappy with Morgan, please keep me in mind. I've learned a lot about things since we broke up. I've grown up, Kate. If things don't work out with you and Morgan, give me a chance."

  "Things are working out with us," I said, turning away.

  Luckily, an empty taxi pulled up. "Goodbye, Kurt," I said, never so happy to be out of a man's company.

  "Goodbye, sweetheart," he said and blew me a kiss. I frowned as I closed the door. Kurt stood on the curb and watched, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face as we drove off.

  I fumed on the drive home, upset that Kurt felt so empowered to push me, and upset that I hadn't told him to fuck off the way I had before, just a year earlier. I was so unnerved to see him out of the blue. I knew he'd been away in Africa, flying for some regional airline, and so had no expectation that I'd ever run into him at a DWB function.

  There he was, looking as gorgeous as ever, and seemingly, still interested in giving me a chance. I had no interest in him – Drake was all I needed. Kurt was just a bad memory from my past that served to show how naïve I was back when I was with him.

  I couldn't wait to get back to Drake, check on how he was doing, feeling somewhat guilty that I'd left him alone and had run into Kurt. It wasn't my fault he was at the fundraiser – I had no idea he was even back in the US – but it would have been much better if Drake had been with me to show Kurt that I wasn't available. I hoped it was the last time I saw him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Drake was asleep on the couch when I got back, his head turned to the side, the blanket pulled up to his chin, a pile of used tissues on the coffee table. The television was on, set to a news channel. He looked pale as he lay on the couch, his nose red, and I wondered if the medicine he took prior to the procedure hadn't weakened his immune system. I hung up my coat as quietly as possible, shucked off my boots and tiptoed to the doorway to watch him from a distance, not wanting to wake him. I'd let him sleep and wake up when he was ready.

  I went into the bedroom and undressed and then went to the bathroom to take off my makeup and brush my teeth. I slipped into my robe and nightie, then went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I wasn't hungry, so I sat at the kitchen island and read on my eBook reader, my ear trained to the living room in case Drake woke.

  He had slept for another two hours. Finally, about 8:30, I went into the living room to stand beside him. I listened to him breathe for a few moments, marveling that this gorgeous intense complicated man was mine – all mine. The floors creaked a bit as I shifted position and he rustled under the covers, his eyes blinking open. He stretched, trying to sit up.

  "There you are," he said, smiling. "What time is it?" He looked at his watch and frowned. "Have I been asleep all this time? When did you get back?"

  "I was back pretty early, but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you."

  He yawned and stretched his arms. "I missed you."

  "I missed you, more than you can know," I said as I sat on the side of the couch. I leaned down and kissed him, my hand cupping his cheek.

  "Why did you miss me, Ms. Bennet? What was it that you missed?"

  "I wish you'd been there with me. I couldn't wait to get out of there."

  "Was Nigel there at least?"

  I nodded. "Yes," I said. "We had a nice visit, such as it was."

  "Anyone else I'd know?"

  I hesitated, uncertain whether to confess that Kurt had been there. No need to upset Drake or make him jealous over nothing. I didn’t care about Kurt. Drake didn't know Kurt. Kurt could only be a problem between us, so I didn't mention him.

  "Captain Donnelly was there. You'd know him from Doctors. Dave Mills was, but I didn't speak with him. I'm sure the regular crew was there."

  "Sorry I wasn’t up to it, but I'm sure your dad appreciates that you went in his place. It's good PR for his campaign to be seen giving away his money to a non-political social cause."

  "I suppose," I said, wanting to change the subject. "What do you want for supper?" I didn’t want to go into any detail about who I spoke to at the event. I didn’t want to lie to Drake, but I didn't want to have to tell him about the uncomfortable meeting with Kurt. I'd tell him later, when he was feeling better. "Should I order in from Clair?" Clair was a local restaurant that Drake frequented and ordered takeout. "Something light – maybe some fish and vegetables? A salad?"

  "Sounds great." He sat up a bit more. "I needed that nap. I feel like an old man falling asleep in front of the television."

/>   "You're hardly an old man," I said, remembering what Kurt had said earlier. "You're in your prime, Drake. Prime Grade A Manflesh."

  "My manflesh is still a bit sick tonight, I'm afraid."

  "Just as well," I said and tucked a hank of his dark hair behind his ear. "I'm under the weather anyway."

  "A bit hung over from the Anisovaya?"

  I nodded.

  "You should have taken some aspirin and drunk copious amounts of water."

  I smiled at him and pecked his cheek. "Always the doctor."

  I went to the phone and checked the number for Clair, ordering the fish and seasonal vegetables as we agreed.

  Drake moved over on the couch and pulled back the blanket.

  "Come and snuggle with me," he said. "I need some affection. And more Tylenol."

  I was only too happy to get more Tylenol for him and snuggle into Drake's arms, my lingering guilt over speaking with Kurt making me want to give Drake extra attention. I was so glad the event was over. I'd refuse to do anything with DWB for my father until Drake and I left for Africa, not wanting to run into Kurt again.

  I had everything I needed in Drake and wanted to forget about Kurt as quickly as possible.

  Drake felt considerably better the next day, refreshed after a very long sleep. He still had a cold but his throat wasn’t as sore. It was almost ten o'clock when Drake finally roused. I'd been up for an hour, and had showered and dressed. I was making coffee when he stood in the doorway and he watched me pour myself a cup.

  "Good morning," he said and came to me, tilting my chin so he could kiss me on the cheek. "Why didn’t you wake me up?"

  "You needed more sleep. I didn't want to bother you."

  "I do feel a lot better this morning than last night. I was exhausted even lying on the couch all evening."

  "How's your cold? Are you almost back to normal?"

  He shrugged. "It's better. I don't think I have a secondary infection. Luckily, we have nothing to do except enjoy each other's company."

  I smiled and slipped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest.

  "Luckily."

  Despite his cold, Drake found things to do to keep himself busy for the next two days and so I did as well, spending time at the studio, working on the second canvas. You couldn't identify Drake unless you knew him. I was cautious enough about Drake's reputation that I didn't even want my painting to be recognizable. I knew it was him though, from the shape of his chest, the squareness of his jaw that was visible just under the shadow of his arm, the black hair, and the way his hair trailed down from his navel to his groin, hidden under the sheet.

  On the third day, Drake was up early as usual. He'd showered and was standing at this closet with only his boxer briefs, socks and unbuttoned shirt, humming to himself as he selected a tie to wear. I was still in bed under the covers, enjoying watching him do such a mundane thing as dress.

  "What's going on in that mind of yours, Ms. Bennet?"

  I smiled to myself. "Just admiring the view."

  "Oh, you were, were you? See something you like?"

  "Something I like very much."

  He selected a tie and then turned to face the bed, smiling as he threaded it around his neck and began tying it. "You can have it later this afternoon, if you want. I've deprived you for the past few days. I don't want you unsatisfied."

  "I've been very busy the past few days working on a project," I said.

  "How's your painting going? Can I see it?"

  I shook my head. "Not until it's finished, but it's a gift for you."

  He smiled. "I'm glad you're painting again. I was worried that you'd be really bored with nothing to do, now that you've withdrawn from courses and took a leave from the paper."

  "I'm glad to be painting again."

  Then I thought about Kurt and I knew I had to tell Drake.

  "There's something we have to talk about, Drake."

  He smiled and bent down to kiss me. "Sure," he said. "I'm a bit rushed, but later, when I get home."

  He kissed me again, smiling softly. Nothing in his behavior suggested he had anger bottled up inside of him. Nothing in our sexual experiences suggested that he had a sadistic streak. Dawn and Sunita's warnings rang hollow.

  While Drake finished dressing, I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth quickly so my breath would be fresh. I snuck back under the covers and waited for him to come and say goodbye. He finished dressing then came over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.

  "You look so delicious Ms. Bennet," he said, his eyes twinkling like the old Drake, "I think I'm crazy to leave you here all warm and snuggly under the covers."

  "You have things to do. I'm glad you're feeling so much better. Can you join us for lunch at my parent's today?"

  He nodded and ran his fingers down my cheek. "Should I pick you up or will you get a ride over to you father's?"

  "I think I'll walk. I've been locked inside the studio for a couple of days. I need the exercise. I'll meet you there at 12:30?"

  "Sounds like a plan." He kissed me again and smiled. "Then, after lunch, I want dessert. In other words, I want you," he said and slipped his hand down under the covers to my breast. "I have to make up for lost time. I hope you're ready for me, because I'll be more than ready for you."

  A thrill went through me at that and I smiled. "I'll have a hard time eating my lunch when you talk that way."

  "Good. I'm feeling very deprived. I'm sure you feel that way as well."

  I shrugged. "You were sick. But now…" I bit my lip and raised my eyebrows.

  He smiled and squeezed my breast. "Now I feel almost my old self. I think I want that massage you promised."

  "Your wish is my command, oh Sultan," I said, fluttering my eyelashes.

  "I wish that you'll give me a very long and very sensuous massage when we get back from your father's. Use some nice scented oil, have some soft music in the background, light some candles…"

  "Sounds heavenly."

  He checked his watch and sighed. "Now I do have to go." He leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. "Hold that thought."

  Then he was gone.

  I sat in the kitchen in my robe and slippers, eating a bagel with cream cheese and drinking my coffee while I read the New York Weekly. Despite hating gossip, I read the society page and there, on page six, was a picture of Captain Donnelly receiving a check from me at the fundraiser. There was an article accompanying the picture, stating that my father had sent me in his place to donate money to DWB at the annual fundraising event. There was a line about me being his youngest child, and mentioned that I was a graduate student in Journalism at Columbia.

  Then, farther down below after a section on my father's potential candidacy for the house seat, there was a series of pictures from the event. At the bottom, a picture of me with Kurt – one the photographer had taken when we were outside. In the image, Kurt leaned over me against the wall in the darkness. It looked very suggestive, my face in shadow but the impression was one of two people who were very intimate. The caption read Kate McDermott and Escort Share A Private Moment outside ZONE.

  My heart sunk and I felt the blood rush from my face.

  If Drake saw it, he'd get the wrong impression. That photograph was chosen because it did look suggestive and no doubt, the editors thought that it would titillate the readers to know something personal about my father and me. Now, I regretted not telling Drake about meeting Kurt. Now, I'd not only have to recount the events of that evening, but I'd also have to explain why I didn't say anything. I had no idea that anyone would be interested in a photograph of me. I was nobody.

  I wanted to throw the paper in the recycling bin by the front door, but knew that would be proof of a guilty conscience. I had to fold the paper up and leave it by the couch where the papers usually were placed. I had to hope that Drake would be really distracted by the prospect of he and I having sex and wouldn't have time to read the paper and so it would become yes
terday's news and he'd miss reading the edition entirely. I had to hope no one showed it to him, or told him about it.

  I'd have to tell him about it but oh, I regretted my bad decision not to tell him that I'd seen Kurt at the fundraiser.

  What a mistake.

  After a couple of hours at the studio, I was standing at the drawing table where Keith worked, since Nathaniel was at home for the morning. Keith's work was really dark and political, a commentary on the city's poverty, his paintings showing the juxtaposition of the homeless and extremely wealthy. I sat at a table and turned the pages of his catalogue, which had been used at a recent gallery showing. Over my shoulder, Keith described each one, telling me the history of each piece.

  I glanced back and saw that Drake was standing in the entry, watching. Keith turned and took a step back.

  "This must be your boyfriend," he said softly. He'd seen my painting and must have realized who Drake was.

  I stood up, realizing in an instant that Drake would be jealous. It didn't matter that the scene he happened on was completely innocent. He'd just be jealous that I was with some strange man he didn’t know. I wasn't naïve enough to think he'd be unaffected.

  I went to him and took hold of his coat's lapels and pulled him down to kiss me.

  He did, dragging his gaze away from Keith with obvious reluctance. He kissed me finally, paying attention to me, his arms going around my waist possessively.

  "I thought I'd pop by and see how you’re doing."

  "Almost done. Just finishing up the last touches."

  "Can I see?" he said and went to the canvas, which was over by the far window, facing the other direction. I ran to the painting and tried to block his way.

  "I don't want you to see it just yet, Drake."

  He tried to sneak by, taking my shoulders and pushing me gently out of the way. When I resisted, he tickled me and I couldn’t help but squirm in his arms, giggling.

  "No, Drake!" I said mock angrily, trying not to grin.

  Just then, Keith came over and tried to block Drake from seeing the canvas.