Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  She missed him. A lot.

  “Answer me, Sophia. Can you accept me as I am? Do you love me?” Oh, Christ! What did I do to deserve this stubborn wee lass? He almost smiled because it was written all over her face that she loved him. He raised his head and the hunger that flared in his eyes made heat pool in her belly.

  I can’t, Alistair Connor, don’t push me. “I’m not the right woman for you.” Well, I am. But I need a few days.

  “I think I should be the judge of that.” His thumb began to stroke the column of her neck and his gaze went to her mouth.

  His heart stopped as he waited for her answer.

  I do. She couldn’t confess. She was too frightened of what would happen if she did. “I’m sorry, Alistair Connor. My answer is still no,” she informed him firmly, finding strength from deep within. “I don’t believe in great changes. You are who you are. I am who I am.” Her head dropped and her hair curtained her face.

  All right, Sophia. You have earned a few hours. He contained his impatience. “Sophia, you are an intelligent woman. I’ll email you some links for you to read about healthy, kinky sex. And I expect you to do your homework.”

  “Please, give me some space. Please,” she whispered, barely holding herself together. All she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and confess that she loved him.

  “I will no’ go away, Sophia. I will no’ let you out of my sight. You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” Irritation ran under his smooth tones. He was angry with himself for not being able to convince her. And with her, for not giving in to the feelings that were begging to be freed. “Woman, you would try the patience of a saint.”

  “You, as you have told me time and again,” she declared with a sneer, “are no saint, my lord.”

  “A point you would do well to bear in mind. I’m no’ so easily discouraged, Sophia. Do you think you are going to dispatch me this easily? You are entirely wrong. I’m staying in the suite at the end of the corridor.”

  “I am not dispatch—” Oh, Alistair Connor.

  You love me. I can see that. Why are you keeping me at bay? “I will see you at lunch. And you’d better eat. I don’t like a skinny woman.” Alistair had run out of patience. He needed to leave her before he threw her over his shoulder, locked her in his room, and made love to her until she said yes.

  Pausing in the middle of the room, he looked over his shoulder. “At least Gabriela missed me.”

  When he reached the door, Sophia whispered, “You’re a heartless, ruthless manipulator.”

  He looked back over his shoulder again, and smiled triumphantly at her, his forest-green eyes flashing. “I always knew that was one of my finest qualities.”

  She had planned to feign coldness and send him away before he could see how much she had missed him.

  But Sophia knew she could not; would not.

  She could not pretend to be impervious to the love she saw shining in his eyes. She would not.

  For reasons only God knows, she had changed something inside him.

  And he had changed something inside her too.

  Chapter 8

  At the indoor pool of the hotel spa

  5:03 p.m.

  A huge pane of glass separating the indoor from the outdoor section of the pool, let in the afternoon light as Alistair struggled for a rhythm, lap after lap. The automatic movements that always helped him empty his mind, that had always freed him from the memories that tormented him, were useless against the good memories flooding his mind. Even the water around him felt like Sophia’s smooth hands when she caressed his body under the shower.

  The pool was too small to allow him the necessary tiredness. But that wasn’t all. He couldn’t get Sophia out of his head. He had noticed something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A resignation that didn’t bode well. At least, not for his plans.

  He dived under the separation to emerge on the outside and appreciate the outstanding view of the Patagonian landscape.

  On the terrace surrounding the outdoor pool

  5:13 p.m.

  Edward feigned horror and put his hand over his mouth. “So, now you know what I meant before, dominatrix.”

  Sophia tenderly pushed a blond lock back from Edward’s forehead, running her fingers in his hair, and tugged the ends, frowning teasingly at him. “I’m going to whip your hide every day from now on, Edward.”

  “Ah, mistress, you already do,” he mocked.

  “Maybe I have to do it harder then.” She tugged his hair harder and then let it go. She sighed. “How can I be a dominatrix if he is a…dominant? A manipulator? A tyrant?”

  “As if you weren’t as well, Sophia.” Edward smiled at her. “Well, I’ll partially agree with you. He is a consummate manipulator.”

  Sophia’s lips twitched. “I was wondering whether you’d noticed.”

  Sophia and Edward stopped their conversation as Felipe approached, saying, “That Jacuzzi looks good. Are you coming?” As Sophia shook her head, he took a seat beside her, looking at the steamy Jacuzzi with longing. “Have you decided to accept his proposal?”

  Sophia sighed. “My answer is still no.”

  “Let me tell you, Felipe,” Edward’s smile was impossibly naughty, “there’s precious little point in her trying to resist. Even if she weren’t already snared, he will do anything and everything he can to have her.”

  “I’ve noticed that too.” Felipe chuckled as Sophia’s eyes rolled heavenward.

  “Neither you, Sophia, nor Gabriela are able to resist his charms. You called him a tyrant. I don’t doubt he is,” Edward said, “but that’s probably just as well. You need someone to put you in your place. Now, if he wants to don his leather outfit and wield his whip to do it, that’s even better.” He put a hand over his heart and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Get the picture?”

  Sophia gasped, indignant.

  Edward laughed, as did Felipe, not knowing that Edward’s teasing spoke of truth.

  “You are impossible, Edward. This is serious.”

  “We are serious, Sis. No one, not even powerful Gabriel Leibowitz was able to completely dominate you. It wouldn’t be so bad if Alistair put you in your place, sometimes.”

  Slowly, Sophia faced him, her eyes thin slits. “Let me tell you something, Brother. No one is going to put me in my place. I can be wooed and charmed. Dominated, never. Never.”

  Felipe’s lips curled up. “It’s almost the same thing.”

  “It’s completely different!”

  Edward sighed. He understood what Felipe meant. He also knew Sophia was right. So he stood to put an end to what could be an unending discussion. “I’m going in the Jacuzzi. Are you coming?”

  A movement in her peripheral vision made Sophia swallow her negative answer and forget about her surroundings.

  Alistair’s sculpted torso appeared from the pool. He rose from the water, throwing his head back in a beautiful movement that made drops of water fly in the air and small rainbows appear as the sun shone through them.

  Her mouth went dry. She had never seen a more sensuous and beautiful sight. She wanted to plunge her hands in his long wet hair, glide them down over his strong neck, broad shoulders, large chest, and flat washboard stomach.

  No. He doesn’t tempt me. Not at all. She lowered her head and closed her eyes to the magnificent sight. You’re a liar, Sophia. You want this man with all your might!

  “Join me.” The request came out like a command from his hoarse throat. Sophia did this to him. Just looking at her set him on fire.

  Sophia opened her eyes and saw his bare feet almost touching hers in her H. Stern Havaianas. Her gaze wandered over his long, sinewy legs, hovering over his already semi hard arousal barely concealed by his Vilebrequin Moorea cut shorts.

  Mmm. I want… Unconsciously, Sophia licked her lips. She wanted to be one of those pink octopuses imprinted on his shorts.

  Her eyes climbed up his tapered waist where she liked to dig her nails in w
hile he thrust into her, lingering over his luscious dark-pink mouth and ending up in his wondrous forest-green eyes.

  He stood rigidly before her, his expression inscrutable.

  Sophia. If you keep eyeing me like I am edible, I am going to drag you to my room and indulge you. Alistair could see her mind working on her expressive face. She was debating whether she should run or not.

  For a long moment, he simply held her gaze, his own veiled, impossible to read. Then he held out his hand and repeated, “Join me.” I want to hold your slick body in my arms in the water.

  I can’t. You are going to be mad if you see what I have done. From the corner of her eye, Sophia noticed that Edward and Felipe had moved to the far corner of the terrace and were entering the Jacuzzi, feigning blindness and deafness. She bit her lip as she carefully draped her hair over her back.

  Alistair tsked and his mouth softened fleetingly as he lowered his teeth on his own bottom lip.

  “You know what that does to me. If you stop biting your lip, I promise not to bite.” His green gaze remained intense, focused on her face. “Join me.”

  Her eyes locked on his, she released her lip and shook her head, saying in a throaty voice, “I’ve already showered.”

  He laughed and bent to whisper on her lips, “Liar.” He took her left hand and made her stand up. He placed her hand on his chest, running it down and stopped at the band of his shorts. “You know you wouldn’t resist me.”

  She tried to free her hand from his.

  He hesitated for a split second, before putting the tip of her index finger in his mouth, and slowly, so very slowly drew it out. “I see you’re still using our commitment ring.”

  Her fingers closed in a fist and she looked down at the Cartier ring on her right hand. He had branded her as his. “Oh, yes, force of habit,” she murmured. Damn, caught red-handed.

  As if you’d forgotten you were wearing the ring, Sophia. “You will not take it off,” he ordered.

  Lord Tyrant. “Oh. No?” Sophia looked into his narrowed eyes, then mimicking his move, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not yours to be ordered.”

  Not yet, you mean. “You will be,” he stated, frowning down at her. “Come with me. I have to grab a towel. I’m all wet.” I want you wet with me.

  She shot him a resigned glance. Immediately, his arm went around her back and his hand possessively gripped her waist. Even though his touch had not been rough, she flinched.

  “I’m sorry. Are you still sore?” He scanned her face. “How are the stitches? I’m taking you to a doctor. Immediately.”

  Change the subject. Quickly. “I cannot marry you, Alistair Connor.”

  Spare me stubborn wee lasses. He frowned, forgetting her pain as a more pressing matter presented itself. “Why not?”

  Distractedly, she twirled her raven hair around her right hand. “We are too different.”

  Really? What excuse are you concocting now? His frown turned dark. He started walking inside, and without thinking, Sophia followed. Differences are good. “Would you care to point out our unresolved differences, please?” He paused to pick up a towel to put around his neck and one around his waist.

  Sophia didn’t pay attention as she was trying to think of an answer and continued walking. Okay. Let’s try another approach. “You’re a despot, an unmitigated tyrant, utterly used to having your own—”

  “Jesus. Christ.”

  His shocked and outraged gasp interrupted her.

  She halted and looked over her shoulder. When she noticed that she’d turned her back to him and that it wasn’t covered by her long hair, it was too late.

  She spun around, facing him, pushing her hair to cover her back. “It’s not what—”

  “Fucking lie!” His muttered curse stopped whatever lame excuse she was planning on saying.

  She put a hand on his chest trying to placate him. “Alis—”

  “My. Room. Now!” Alistair hissed at her and gripped Sophia’s hand, dragging her through the hotel corridor.

  She didn’t try to stop him. His jaw was set and it made him look like a gargoyle, albeit a sexy one.

  She sighed as she tried to keep up with his large strides. Oh. How am I going to explain this?

  Chapter 9

  Alistair’s Senior Suite

  5:48 p.m.

  He shut the door quietly behind him, but the soft click on the lock made Sophia tremble.

  “In the bedroom,” he directed her, but stood frozen by the large door of the room, looking at her retreating back.

  Oh my God! Where should I begin? She walked into the bedroom and turned her back to the balcony doors, avoiding his look.

  He knew those marks. He wished he didn’t, but he could recognize welts like that instantly. He had seen them on Heather’s body more than once when they were joined by Emma, who liked to push the limits. Who did this to her? What the fuck is going on? He closed the double doors, which separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite.

  Her mouth went dry at the sight of Alistair’s glorious shoulders and pectorals still glistening from the pool and the drops of water that fell from his long wet bangs and she immediately forgot why she was in his suite. She licked her lips and fisted her hands to prevent them from seeking his smooth and hard chest and made an effort to look away. If she kept staring at him, she would jump his bones then and there.

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Undress,” he ordered harshly. She looked at him with a scared look on her face, and he added with a softer voice, “Please.”

  “Let me expla—”

  “I won’t ask again, Sophia. If you don’t undress, I’ll do it for you.”

  Oh? Damn you, Alistair Connor. Sophia stood, raising her chin. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

  “Sophia.” He stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “I will rip this transparent thing off your body—”

  “Very well.” She drew in a fortifying breath and undid the ties on her caftan, pushing it off her shoulders. It fell to the ground in a pool of sheer silk, leaving her wearing only a red and white strapless swimsuit.

  “Turn,” he ordered, his mind bubbling with many emotions, questions and doubts.

  “Alistair Co—”

  “TURN!”

  She turned, facing the glass doors.

  He cautiously pushed her hair away and lowered the swimsuit, baring her to the waist. He hissed through clench teeth in horror.

  Sophia’s back was marked with greenish-yellowing welts. One of the longer ones crossed from her left side just above her waist to below her right shoulder blade.

  “Sophia…” he whispered, astounded by the savagery apparent in the marks. “Who did this to you?”

  “I-I did,” she answered so softly that he thought he’d misheard. “I bought a…whip. A cat-something. And tried it…I mean, on myself. I needed to know if I could handle it. The pain, I mean.”

  She was stammering. She was trembling. She knew. But she couldn’t stop herself.

  He didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on her bruised back as she rambled on, “I thought of how strong you are. And I…I hit myself as you would.”

  Alistair choked, horrified as he’d never been in his whole life.

  The anger that surged in him was visceral, a raw feeling directed at himself and fed by the loathsome memories of violence and his perverse behavior. I should have gotten rid of everything. I should never have introduced Sophia to this world.

  He clenched his jaw with so much force that his teeth gnashed. He walked around her, searching for more marks, but found none.

  The sight of Sophia’s bowed head, her long hair partly concealing her face, partly covering her arms and breasts made his anger disappear, replaced by a deep despair. “Why, Sophia? Tell me, why?”

  She shrugged as she pulled her swimsuit up. “I needed to know what was it like,” she explained as she put on her caftan. “Where you would tak
e me.”

  She flung the doors of the balcony open and walked out, breathing in the cold fresh air.

  Quietly, he followed her, feeling disoriented and unsettled.

  She caught her breath as his hands gently rested on her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Sophia.” His voice sounded hollow.

  Sophia turned and looked up into the forest-green eyes that she so loved. “I’m sorry too. It was stupid. I didn’t—”

  “Nae.” He put a finger on her lips and shook his head. “I am sorry. So very sorry. What you did, what you experienced alone,” he shook his head, horrified, “it’s completely different from what a submissive experiences with her dominant. When a dominant inflicts pain it’s because the sub craves it. It’s like a runner’s high. The pain generates endorphins for those who like it.”

  “I don’t like pain,” she whispered. “As I said, a gentle slap or two is okay. But not this kind of pain.”

  “Very well. That is a hard limit for you and I respect it. But let me explain one thing—and try to listen without labeling it. There are many ways of experiencing sex. We have already done role-playing more than once. Me, blindfolding and bonding you. You, wearing a French maid costume for me; and when you blindfolded me. What would you call that?”

  She searched his face for a clue, but found none. “Er…fulfilling our fantasies?”

  “Aye, and that could be included in the category of light BDSM too. Although we didn’t plan or discuss it, or set safe-words or agreed on boundaries, many participants of kink would say that you have acted both as a submissive and as a dominatrix. With no pain involved.”

  Sophia’s mouth fell open.

  Alistair smiled at her reaction. “I ceded control to you when you blindfolded me. And you gave me control over you when you let me bind you.”

  “But-but—”

  “Have you looked at the links I sent you?”

  “No,” she answered. “I should have, but…”

  “Let’s do it together then. I should have told you what kind of role-play I enjoyed. We have lots of time to talk about this and we can negotiate our limits and boundaries. There are things I’d like to do, but if you don’t like them, I won’t even consider role-playing with you, because it will damage our trust in each other. It will damage our relationship, and you, in a harmful emotional way. And even if you agree to something and in the middle of a role-play decide that you don’t like it, I would immediately stop. Do you understand that, Sophia?” He searched her eyes as many emotions crossed her transparent face.