by Cox, Chloe
r. Whatit about this guy that made her feel so…raw? Was it just that he’d seen her in a very private moment of craziness? It made her want to keep her distance from him, to keep a definitely safe distance, and, at the same time, as they walked together to the darkened bar, she found herself compelled to explain herself to him.
She didn’t want him to think she was a coward. Some kind of ineffectual waif, constantly in need of rescue. That wasn’t what she wanted to be.
“I’m not normally like this, you know,” she said.
He didn’t say anything. Cate found that she almost kept talking—almost actually told him that this morning she’d gotten her divorce papers back in the mail, unsigned, but with a helpful note scrawled across the top page: “You’ll come back,” in Jason’s slanted, ominous script, and that it was messing with her head, as Jason meant it to—and she had to actually force herself to keep quiet. This tall, tan, blond knight in low-slung jeans knew too much about her already. She couldn’t let him become part of her actual, real life. She wouldn’t even ask him his name.
Not that he’d offered it.
She watched him set the box on the bar and turn to look her up and down, unhurried and unashamed and unbelievably hot.
“What are you normally like?” he asked after a moment, taking her by surprise.
Cate realized she couldn’t answer that, and laughed out loud.
“So you’re normally unpredictable,” he answered for her, letting himself in behind the bar.
This Norse god was the bartender? Seriously? Even the bartenders at Club Volare were more impressive than literally all the other men she’d ever met. If Cate had worked with a man like this back in her waitressing days, she would have enjoyed her shifts a whole lot more.
“I prefer the term ‘interesting,’” she said.
He grinned at her. That grin…damn, it was sexy.
“And what else?” the man asked.
Not for the first time today, Cate found she didn’t know to respond. This was getting to be a terrible habit. But what was she supposed to say? Well, sometimes I’m a total badass who will kick your ass up and down a courtroom, and sometimes I apparently cower in fear, and I don’t want anyone to ever know what I’m really like.
How was she even thinking about this? She was here in a professional capacity. Ridiculous.
“Can I have a glass of water?” she said. Her mouth felt dry.
The bartending Norse god looked at her carefully before he went about getting a glass, and it felt like he’d seen right through her. Cate shivered. Maybe that was just where her head was at because of Jason. She could actually hear him satey hear ay, “You’ll come back,” with that particularly arrogant yet disdainful tone that was designed to make her feel like crap. And it made her think about what horrible things Jason would do if he knew she was sitting at the Club Volare bar, checking out the bartender’s ass.
On the other hand, it was a great ass. And she had already decided not to be the kind of person who would take Jason’s abuse anymore.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about what happened out there?” she blurted out.
“No,” he said. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Cate cocked an eyebrow, which went ignored. Well, maybe Norse gods had reason to be full of themselves.
“So this is your first time here,” the Norse god said, putting a slim glass of water down in front of her. Cate picked it up and downed it in two gulps. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.
“Yes,” she said. She wiped her mouth and saw that her hand was shaking again. “That obvious?”
The man didn’t say anything. Which was just as well, because Cate was avoiding that ice blue stare; she didn’t need him to uncover any more of her secrets. Of course, that meant her eyes roamed over the bar.
It was not a normal bar.
There were metal rings on this bar. Embedded in it. The sorts of rings you’d attach things to. Things like rope or chains or…
She was staring.
“Are those for what I think they’re for?” she asked.
“And then some.”
Cate bit her lip to conceal a smile. She felt hot. She felt exposed. She’d never told anyone but Jason, in a moment of incredibly poor judgment, about her interest in BDSM. She’d never trusted anyone with that part of her. And yet here she was, getting worked up at the sight of restraints in front of the mystery man.
“Look at me,” the man said.
She did. Jesus. He took her breath away.
“Why is this your first time?”
Cate blinked.
“What?”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he said, “Why is this your first time?”
“I don’t…” She lied. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Yes you do,” he said. “You know the reaction you’re having right now.”
He looked pointedly at the metal ring she’d been staring at.
Oh, how is that fair.
For just a moment she forgot herself. She stared at that ring and her mind fell away, down a rabbit hole of sexual fantasies, all of them at once…
Cate licked her lips. “I’m sure many people react to these things the first time they see them.”
It would be wrong to say she was proud of her demeanor as she said those words. It was more that she was surprised. Because she’d said that in a way that felt confident, sure, strong—not things she associated with the parts of herself that surfed BDSM sites late at night with a glass of wine by her side, half afraid of what it meant or who might find out.
“It’s not the first time you’ve seen them though,” Norse god said.
Now she blushed.
“How on earth…” she muttered.
“You get to know the signs,” he said.
He wasn’t doing anything behind the bar. Just standing there, leaning on his powerful arms, his big hands splayed out in front of her. They looked strong. Didn’t he have work to do?
“How do you know I’m not just scared?” she asked.
“I’ve seen you scared already,” he said. “This isn’t that.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. It was true. This man she didn’t know already knew more about her than people who’d known her since she was a kid. It seemed like there was no point in hiding, in lying, in trying to scramble together some sort of protection. He already knew.
Cate waited for the panic. When it didn’t come, she felt her heart speed up. She was feeling…
“Answer the question,” the man said. “Why is it your first time in a place like this?”
“There was nobody for me to go with,” she heard herself say.
He looked at her, letting his eyes roam. He grinned, showing off one dimple, and leaned closer.
“That’s not the only reason.”
“You know this could be creepy, right? It should be creepy. You asking me these personal questions? We don’t even know each other.”
“And yet you’re still talking to me.”
“I’m having a weird day.”
He smiled, and Cate found herself smiling with him. So far nothingdth far no about today had seemed normal, like the day itself existed outside of the usual rules. Maybe it was just Volare itself that existed outside of the usual rules. Definitely nothing about this conversation was normal. Nothing about how it made her feel, how she felt weirdly…not uninhibited, but somehow understood, maybe? Safe. Which was insane. It made no sense. Unless this was just the effect of Volare, of being around people—a person—who she knew understood this one particular thing. Still, she should be on high alert.
And yet…
“Fine,” she said, twisting the empty water glass on the shiny black bar. “I just…I suppose I’ve been afraid.”
Jesus H. Skinny-Dipping Christ. She’d actually admitted that she was interested in this place, albeit implicitly, to another living, breathing human being, one who wasn’t Jason bullying it out of
her. Cate stared at the man across from her, her shoulders tense, her breathing getting shallow, weak. She’d just exposed herself to this person, made herself vulnerable. She’d just given him a weapon to use against her.
In Cate’s experience, that was always, always a mistake.
He watched her. Like he had outside, when she literally trembled against him in fear, he studied her. Cate could feel his eyes on her, could feel the intensity of that gaze, and wondered where it came from—this stranger, what did he see? And why did he care?
“That’s not right,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid.”
She scoffed. “There are lots of things that shouldn’t be true that get priority over my issues with…that,” she said, looking at the ring again. “Child poverty, homelessness, war crimes—”
“Stop that.”
She was startled. “Excuse me?”
“Stop deflecting.”
“Stop telling me what to do.”
He inhaled deeply, his hands arching against the surface of the bar as though he were trying to dig his fingers into it. Jesus. What those hands could do…
“If I told you what to do,” he said, “you’d like it.”
Cate’s breath hitched. Her hands stopped toying with the glass. Her whole body focused on what he’d just said, and the way he’d looked at her as he said it.
Was there even a point in denying the truth?
How crazy was she right now, this far outside of her comfort zone?
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said.
“Not from where I’m standing.”
Cate laughed, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bar, where she saw herself looking all glowing and bright eyed. She’d never been flirted with so brazenly. So effectively. They taught some good tricks in Asgard.
The Norse god gave her a playful frown and leaned back so his shirt rode up above the waist of his jeans. Cate caught a glimpse of darker blond hair, just trailing down…
“So what’s the problem, Cate?” he asked.
Yup. He’d seen her looking. Totally.
“Nothing, not inherently, it’s just…” She swallowed. “For some people, not for everyone, but for some people, it could be… For people who have problems, I mean, who have…maybe for them it’s not a good idea.”
Cate listened to the sound of her voice and was a little bit horrified.
There was a pause.
“Jesus, I can’t believe I just said that,” Cate said.
The man cracked a golden smile and laughed, a deep, warm sound that made Cate feel wrapped up in…something. She didn’t know what. She didn’t know how he seemed so totally self-assured.
“Of course you said it,” he said. “Because it was the truth and I asked you a question.”
“Do you have super bartending powers of perception? Do you do this with everyone?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Not with anyone. Just you.”
Cate laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He smiled again. “Just you.”
“Well, I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
“You didn’t even say it.”
Cate tensed. The man was on the other side of the bar, but somehow he felt close, very close, like he had at the window. She felt penned in, overwhelmed. Maybe it was the way those blue eyes didn’t seem to look at anything else. She watched him lean in further, so he was almost on top of her.
“You’re afraid it’s abusive,” he said.
Her head shot up, her eyes opened as wide as they’d ever been.
“That’s not what I said.”
He ignored her.
“Abuse,” he said, his ice blue eyes boring holes in her, “is about taking something from someone that they don’t want to give. This is giving somethiwhaving song back. Abuse is the misuse of power. This is the perfect use of power. Abuse would be about making you feel small so that I feel big.”
He put one large finger through the ring embedded in the bar, and leaned forward.
“If I tied you to this bar, stripped you, spread you, and fucked you, it would be about making you feel incredible.”
Cate felt her mouth fall open.
She couldn’t speak.
Possibly she would never speak again.
“With your consent, of course,” the man said, grinning. “Very particular about that.”
“Of course,” Cate whispered.
There was a silence. His eyes never left hers, not in the entire geological era that it took for her ability to form coherent thoughts to return.
“That was…very descriptive,” she finally said. “But it missed my point.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
She shivered.
“I don’t think it’s abuse, what anyone else wants, or what they do,” she said. “Just…I’m afraid that for me, the reasons why I might want…certain things…”
She couldn’t finish, which annoyed the crap out of her. She had never said that aloud, not even to herself. And now she’d sort of almost told this complete stranger, this man whom now she was doubly sure she could never, ever see again. Why had she told him? Because he’d protected her when she was afraid? Because he looked like he already knew?
Because somehow those pale eyes looked like they understood.
Oh God, those were the dumbest reasons for trusting some stranger, especially for trusting him more than she’d ever trusted another human being. Just so, so dumb.
“You’re afraid of your reasons,” he said.
“Hypothetically, yes,” she said.
“That’s a dumbass excuse.” He flashed a wicked smile at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Some things don’t have reasons,” he said, his hand moving across the bar to take the glass from her hand. “They just are. Even if they did, does it matter? You are what you are. And you don’t seem like the kind of woman to let something that scares you get in the way of what you want.”
“I’m not,” she said sharply.
He touched her.at font>
Just his hand briefly over hers, the pads of his fingers grazing her skin before he took the glass. The slightest touch, but it arced through her, the charge between them briefly paralyzing her, before setting something in her core alight.
She jerked her hand back and stared at him.
Cate knew she should be freaked out in this moment. She’d just revealed more about herself to this sexy bartender than she’d ever revealed to anyone, really. She should be running for the goddamn hills. But all she could actually do was marvel at what it felt like to finally tell someone and be understood. She felt…elated. She’d told him, more or less, about a secret part of who she really was, and it hadn’t ended in disaster. Inner Cate had been let out for a spin, and it hadn’t destroyed her.
Well, how about that.
It was more than that, though. Just the feeling of his eyes on her skin, the way he looked at her—she’d never been so aware of her own body before, of every inch of exposed flesh, every movement, every dull breeze in the otherwise still room.
Whatever this moment was, Cate would savor it. She’d be grateful. Because she’d never have been able to do it if she’d thought she’d ever have to see this man again.
“I still can’t believe I just told you all of that,” she said.
“I can keep a secret.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad I never have to see you again,” she said. Then she let her eyes linger on his chest, broad and defined even under a t-shirt. “Mostly glad.”
The Norse god stopped and frowned. He looked like he was about to say something, but his eyes flickered over her shoulder, then came back to settle on her own.
“Your meeting is here,” he said.
Cate blinked.
She turned.
There was Ford Colson, smiling, his hand outstretched.
“Cate, thank you so much for coming,” Ford said. Then he looked at the
Norse god behind her. “I see you’ve already met Soren.”
chapter 2
He’d known her for all of five minutes, and Soren was already in trouble. He suppressed a grin—that sounded about right for him.
But then he watched Cate’s expression go from confused to comprehending to pissed off in just a few seconds. And something more than that, too. He saw fear spread across her face.
It echoed what he’d seen outside, which was interesting. The idea that someone she might have to see again, someone who she couldn’t just dismiss and forget about, knew that she was into BDSM—in theory—scared the crap out of her. He could see it was a visceral reaction, like she was braced to protect herself from attack. Weirdly, it reminded him of his dog Desi, who was a rescue. You’d come at Desi from the wrong side, his blind spot, where some piece of crap had beaten him until he lost part of his sight and hearing, and the poor little guy would lose it. Soren knew what that looked like, and Cate was wired the same way. Except that Cate was harnessing that hardwired fear, turning it into a formidable weapon for an angry redheaded lawyer who was five and a half feet of kickass.
She was beautiful when angry, in fact, which was actually kind of amazing to watch. He felt bad for her, though he’d soon make sure she knew there was nothing to be worried about. What dumb frigging luck.
“You really didn’t know?” he said, just to make sure.
He’d assumed she’d recognized him. To be fair, he was world famous. And she was supposed to be his lawyer, so he figured she’d at least googled him.
The red flush creeping up her beautiful skin said otherwise.
“No,” she said through clenched teeth. “I really didn’t know who you were. I have been pressed for time this week, and this was a favor to Ford.”
Soren didn’t even bother to look at Ford, who knew enough to take a step or two back. Favor to Ford, huh? Bullshit. She’d been drawn in by Volare, and the promise of living out all those fantasies she pretended not to have. And she’d done it even though she’d been afraid, no matter what she said.
Soren thought about how she’d gathered herself up and walked back out where Patrick Cross could see her, even though she’d been truly afraid to do so. Maybe that’s when she’d gotten to him.