He loomed like an imposing mountain, casting a shadow on the scene. “Get up, Pamela,” he said tightly.
Nope. “Jared, I can explain,” she whispered as a mocking voice in her head booed and hissed at the clichéd response.
“You heard me. Get. Up. Now.” His deep drawl remained measured and low, yet she couldn’t stop shaking like a criminal about to be guillotined.
She turned her most beseeching face up to him. “Please. Just listen.”
Jared took a deep breath, visibly fighting for control. “Not here, Pamela. We can talk once we leave. But not in front of all these people.”
Pam paused a moment. Well, that was new. Usually, Jared didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. More than likely, the only reason he was acting semicivilized was to spare her further embarrassment.
Brian, who had been watching the unfolding drama with openmouthed fascination, seemed to recall his role in the scenario. He shot to his feet, all puffed-up chest and righteous indignation. Seizing Jared’s arm, he demanded, “What the hell is going on? And who the f—”
Jared whipped around, dislodging Brian’s hand from his arm. “Sit the fuck down, asshole.” Then, placing a huge palm on Brian’s chest, he shoved her date into his chair with brutal force.
Pamela watched in a horrified daze as Brian slammed into the back of his seat, the oxygen rushing from his lungs with a whooshing sound.
Curious heads turned. But none of the staff intervened.
Jared kept his voice low, which did nothing to soften the dark promise of his words. “If you open your mouth again or make another move, I’ll rip out your fucking gonads, then break your neck.” He leaned toward Brian, eyes flashing, every muscle in his body tense and ready. “Jared Marlowe’s the name, and I’m taking my girlfriend home with me. Understand, Counselor Shuttleworth?”
Brian nodded, holding his hands up as if to ward off an intruder.
Jared presented him with his back, a sure sign of his withering contempt. Pamela surmised that, to Jared, Brian’s token resistance proved he had neither the courage nor the prowess to pose a serious threat. Even if an enemy turned his back.
As far as she was concerned, Brian earned some of that disdain. So much for protecting her. Not that she needed protection from Jared.
Did she?
No, but she wasn’t about to test him at this particular time.
Decision made, Pamela tried rising on shaky legs. After teetering on the godforsaken stilettos, she landed back onto the chair with a graceless bounce, nearly coming out of her dress. Jared’s scowl deepened as he scrutinized her barely covered breasts. A sudden, sharp intake of breath warned her he also had noted the dress’s snug fit and her brand-new fuck-me shoes.
Leaning over, he grabbed both her wrists and hauled Pamela to her feet.
Their gazes locked. Pamela met Jared’s imperious look with all the bravado she could muster. She tried glaring back, determined to regain equal footing. No way was she backing down. She was her mother’s daughter, after all. A feminist who brooked no nonsense. And a tough girl must go mano a mano with a foe. Like a warrior princess.
But she couldn’t do it. It didn’t seem right. Or natural.
Flustered, Pam looked down and caught sight of her FM shoes again. Tears blurred her vision as a crushing sense of shame overwhelmed her.
He hadn’t deserved this.
She let out a shuddering breath, managing to raise her gaze to the middle of Jared’s chest. But she could go no farther.
Instead, she waited.
Jared’s hand drifted to her waist and he turned her toward the restaurant’s exit. It seemed a mile away. But she took some comfort as his warm palm pressed with gentle insistence on the small of her back, guiding her around the tables in the packed dining room. Pamela held her head high, allowing him to lead her away from the whispers and stares of the other patrons.
* * * *
Jared glanced over at Pamela, trying to gauge her mood. She sat huddled against the car window, leaning as far away from him as could be managed. She hadn’t uttered a single word since they left the restaurant—preferring to peer out into the bleak winter night rather than face him.
He’d been in his newly leased offices working on proposals when the call came in. The owner of Donatello’s had a hell of a memory, having recalled a five-month-old conversation in which Jared had confided his deep interest in a curvy paralegal with black curls and luminous gray eyes. When a woman fitting that description strolled into the restaurant on the arm of some jerk with a stick up his ass, Marcello had gone on full alert.
Even so, Marcello wanted to make sure this was Jared’s girl. A quick check of the reservations revealed the esquire attached to her dinner companion’s name. A lawyer, then. After a bit of probing, the maître d’ admitted he’d overheard Shuttleworth calling her Pam. And it was then Marcello remembered her full name. Pamela Abernathy.
He decided then that a discreet phone call was in order.
Jared wasn’t surprised with his friend’s deductions or his decision to take action. The other Dom had assumed this lady was special since Jared didn’t make a habit of discussing his women. Also, Jared hadn’t attended the local BDSM club they both frequented for a good six months, a sure sign he was now in a committed relationship.
He slowed down a little as a light snowfall began to slicken the road. He had sensed a growing tension in Pam in recent weeks, but when he asked what was troubling her, she always insisted everything was fine.
Jared silently berated himself for believing her. Any man worth his salt understood that when a female declared, “I’m fine,” in that tone of voice, she wasn’t. Instead of pursuing the subject and finding possible causes for her moodiness, though, he’d taken the path of least resistance.
Fuckup number one.
To make matters worse, Pamela had grown particularly withdrawn these past couple of weeks. Jared hadn’t seen her in all that time, due in part to a killer workload, but had sensed the shutdown. He called her as often as possible, reassuring himself that for now this was enough, and he’d make it up to her. When she did answer his calls, Pam claimed to be either busy, tired, or eating. If he tried drawing her out, she changed the subject and mentioned something like an early morning meeting.
His woman had been avoiding him, but being wrapped up in his growing business and its daily dramas, he’d ignored the warning signs of a bad situation swiftly heading south. Whatever the issue, he’d failed to face it head-on and let it turn into a crisis.
Fuckup number two.
Pam was so furious she had sought out the company of another man. A towering rage rose and threatened to consume Jared, but he tamped it down with a sheer force of will, reminding himself a temper tantrum would serve no purpose other than to frighten Pam or drive her further away.
Neither outcome was acceptable. He would never deliberately scare or bully her. Nor would he let her go.
Jared knew Pamela belonged to him. She was his soul mate. He’d known from the moment he had laid eyes on her six months back in that bookstore.
She’d been curled up in an overstuffed armchair, nibbling on a forbidden candy bar and reading some old-timey romance with an überbuff Viking on the cover. He tried sending out the sexy vibe to her while pretending to search for a book nearby. After a few minutes of being ignored, he conceded he was no competition for chocolate and erotic romance. Both had her full attention, so he settled into a chair across from her and waited for his chance.
Instead of noticing him, she’d fallen asleep. And slept like a rock for eighty-seven minutes. Forty-two minutes into the lengthy nap, she shifted. Her silky black curls slipped out of their loose knot, spilling across her smooth shoulders and over the arm of the chair.
Jared had hidden his massive erection behind a hardcover volume on Mesoamerican art and artifacts.
She wakened with a start. After noting the time, she leaped up, tossing odds and ends into her backpack. To his dismay, she nev
er even glanced in his direction before rushing toward the exit.
He’d been trying to figure out how to follow her without looking like the stalker he was when he saw it.
The hair thingy. On the floor…where it had fallen during her nap. Sweet opportunity.
Within five minutes, Pamela had her hair thingy back in place and Jared had her phone number.
When they kissed on the first date, it crossed his mind she might be a virgin. On date number two, she sort of whipped his ass in a heated debate about the application of ethics in law enforcement and the military. On their third outing, she misplaced her cell phone, and they spent a panicky hour retracing their steps. Eventually, Jared found it stuffed in the makeup bag she’d left in his car after freshening her lip gloss earlier that evening. He remembered the lip gloss part because her primping had given him a serious woody.
On the fourth date, she admitted to being a virgin. Her confession terrified him so much he had almost reconsidered a fifth date. But by then it was too late.
He figured the gods were still laughing their asses off at the irony of it: a strong-willed Dominant falling head over heels for a wide-eyed virgin who wielded a pink cell phone as she scolded hard-assed attorneys whenever they called her in a screaming panic about some misplaced file or loose end.
He never tired of her unique perspective on everything. Pam was a midlife baby, the only child of a feminist hippie who had raised her alone. Although wise beyond her years, she remained quite innocent in some aspects. An intellectually stimulating yet sheltered upbringing had instilled in her an extraordinary mixture of worldly sophistication and naïveté that continually fascinated him.
He had given up BDSM for her, convinced she would run for the hills if she found out about his dark desires. As far as Jared was concerned, it was a trade-off. Fair and square. Better to deny those needs than lose her. Now, as he watched the snowfall intensify, he concluded that it boiled down to two possibilities. Either he hadn’t made his feelings clear or she simply didn’t give a shit anymore.
He’d bet Aunt Chloe’s inheritance money it was the former. If Pamela didn’t care, she would’ve let on. She was too honorable to string him along. He’d witnessed her unflinching honesty too many times to think otherwise.
To the best of his knowledge, the closest she’d ever come to lying was this assignation with Shuttleworth. He had a hunch Pam would never have accepted a date with that asshole unless she was desperate.
But for what? Attention? Payback? In the six months they’d been together, she’d never shown any signs of such pettiness.
He gripped the steering wheel. Six months.
Somehow that sounded important. Significant. Jared paused a moment, struggling mightily to grasp a dim realization that kept flickering in and out of his consciousness.
He tried again. Pam out of control. Angry. Suddenly. Six months.
Then an epiphany.
Anniversary.
Fuckup number three.
Jared laid out a mental list. He’d started neglecting her soon after taking her virginity—which had to be an important event for a woman like her. Just as their relationship reached a higher level of intimacy, his workload at Marlowe Security had increased. And instead of delegating some of those responsibilities to others, he allowed himself to become consumed with them.
Now he realized why. It had provided a convenient excuse. Although strenuous and time-consuming, such tasks were predictable and easy to manage.
Unlike Pam and his growing feelings for her. Not so easy to predict or manage.
He had never felt like this about any other woman. Not even close. Worse, he had no control over any of it. None.
It was both exhilarating and terrifying—to the point that it had almost paralyzed him in recent weeks. He realized now certain milestones—including her introduction to sex and their growing intimacy—hadn’t received the proper recognition or attention they deserved. Instead of sex bringing depth to their relationship, the opposite had occurred because he allowed his ambition and nerves to get in the way.
Then he’d disregarded her quiet resentment when he spent his time and energy on everything but her. Knowing Pam, she was too proud to ask for something she felt should be given without reserve or prodding. So, instead of complaining, she had suffered in silence.
To her, these past few weeks must have felt like a physical and emotional abandonment.
Shit.
He should’ve known better. To him, indifference was the antithesis of love. It was rooted in the failure to act when action was needed. Love was about making an effort for another person. Showing was better than telling because in the end, it came down to deeds, not words.
And so far, his actions were those of a man backing off at a crucial turning point in his relationship.
Pam had sensed this and called him on it.
The time had come to either advance or retreat. To court risk or fade away into safety. There were no half measures with Pam. It was one or the other.
They reached his apartment complex. Jared parked the car in his reserved spot and shut off the engine. Pam didn’t budge, so he took a brief moment to reflect.
Every true Dominant spent enormous amounts of time and energy caring for the physical and emotional needs of his submissive partner. In his opinion, this instinct for taking care of others was embedded in the DNA of all strong men—and perhaps this trait was a bit more pronounced in guys like him.
So why had he not taken care of her? Why had he become so withdrawn? He hated to think he had given more attention to past relationships, both vanilla and BDSM, than the one that mattered most.
The answer came to him in a flash. Sex. Of course. Since he was not a BDSM lifestyler, his Dominant side revealed itself largely in the bedroom. And now that he and Pam were having sex, it would be increasingly difficult to hide it from her.
Not that he wanted to do that anymore—since the closer he got to her, the more he wanted to reveal everything. Nevertheless, out of pure habit, he backed off to ensure his secret remained undiscovered.
Stupid, contradictory behavior.
Clearly, if their relationship was going to move forward, his sexual preference was one of several secrets he needed to disclose. No more hiding. A shudder of self-disgust shot through him. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d have to tell himself to man up and face an issue.
What had happened to him? By burying his true self, had he also buried his best self? By shielding Pamela from his Dominant side, had he lost his bearings altogether?
Jared’s voice broke the frosty silence. “I forgot our six-month anniversary. I’ve become distant and haven’t taken care of your needs. I’m sorry, Pamela.”
She turned toward him. The hurt etched on her face sliced through him like a dagger. At that moment, he couldn’t help but notice her eyes looked more violet than gray.
Jared continued, “I promise that everything will change from now on. I’ll be more attentive and give our relationship the time and effort it deserves.”
Her chin trembled, but she remained silent, listening.
“And I will be more up-front about my thoughts and feelings,” Jared pledged. “Is this what you want…what you need?”
She gave him a tremulous smile and nodded.
“Then you’ve got it. And Pam?”
“Yes, Jared?” she responded breathlessly.
“If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will paddle your ass so hard and so long, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
Chapter Two
Pamela blinked. She must have misunderstood. Had her sweet-tempered, sensitive boyfriend said he would spank her if she misbehaved? Like he meant it? She gave Jared a quizzical look, opened her mouth to speak, then shut it.
Yes, he’d said it, all right.
The firm set of his mouth did not inspire confidence, but Pamela managed to find her voice anyway. “Really, Jared. I know I did something stupid tonight, but
you shouldn’t say things you don’t mean. Crazy, violent things.” She shivered, twisting away from him.
Jared reached over. Taking hold of her chin with gentle fingers, he tilted her face up. “Don’t turn away from me, Pamela.”
She paused. The tone of his voice seemed different somehow. Oh, it was as mellow and cultured as ever, but a curious undertone had crept in.
Steely, she thought. That’s the word.
Jared continued, his hand still cupping her chin. “First, don’t try to downplay what you did tonight. I just found you in the company of another man, with whom you were having dinner without my knowledge. Although our relationship is monogamous, you were on a date, dressed in provocative clothing that broadcast your sexual availability to someone besides me. In my world, that’s called cheating.”
Pam’s insides quivered at the harsh truth of his words, delivered in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “But we didn’t do anything, Jared. And I had no plans to,” she protested.
“Perhaps not. But that isn’t the point. You went on a romantic date with another man behind my back.” He pulled away and unbuckled his seat belt. “We’re not having this conversation here.”
Jared got out and strode to the passenger side.
When he opened the door and offered her a hand, Pamela managed to exit the car with some measure of grace. They rode the elevator to his apartment in silence.
Jared allowed her to precede him into his condo. Pamela stepped into the living room, glad to be revisiting the familiar space. It was pure Jared, all warm tones and polished leather. She turned to him, the first genuine smile of the night lighting her face. “I almost forgot what your place looks like. I really miss it.”
A shadow of regret crossed his features. “That won’t be the case in the future. Expect to be here more often. Starting with this weekend.”
Pam felt a rush of relief at his words. He wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t going to dump her. Jared was so good and forgiving. She probably didn’t deserve him.
She resolved to do better.
After hanging up her coat, he strolled to the small bar next to the balcony doors. “The usual?” At her nod, he opened a bottle of Chardonnay.
Her Secret Dom Page 2