Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  Marguerite and Lyda exchanged a cryptic glance at that. Gen turned her attention to Noah, wanting to know his reaction to such an audacious statement. His gaze was fixed on Lyda. In it she recognized a hint of what she’d felt when Lyda had gripped her hair so hard. Hunger. The kind that moved low in the belly, that had to do with sex, with longing, with a question waiting to be answered.

  When Lyda’s glance flickered toward him, Noah’s attention dropped to the floor, so deliberately Gen felt the jolt. Okay, her Nancy Drew skills were on target. But she didn’t know anything about this kind of thing. Was she supposed to treat him the way Lyda would? No, of course not. He’d just be a house guest helping her out with the kitchen.

  “Gen?” Marguerite was asking for a decision. “Would you like Noah’s help? I guarantee he’ll be helpful and as nonintrusive as you wish. But there’s no obligation at all on your part. He can stay with Tyler and me.”

  Which would make more sense, really. Gen’s entire house was the size of Marguerite and Tyler’s living room. But Marguerite also knew that Gen’s funds were limited, and she really did want to get the kitchen finished…

  “No. I’d appreciate the help.” She heard the words exit her mouth. Noah’s expression warmed, and another wave of nervousness had her looking away.

  “When you don’t have need of him, just send him to his room,” Lyda said. A spark in Noah’s eyes, which Lyda answered with one in her own gaze, told Gen he knew when his chain was being yanked. It was amusing…and intriguing.

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Gen said. “Thank you, Ms. Coltrane. And thank you, Noah.” Marguerite gave Lyda a significant look, tapping her fingers on the table cloth. It was a gesture Lyda answered with an irritated glance, but then she met Gen’s gaze. “I apologize for the presumption earlier. I wasn’t trying to play with your head.”

  “Yes you were,” Marguerite said. Lyda shot her a cool look and rose.

  “If you don’t want your toys played with, Marguerite, don’t leave them unattended.” She glanced at Gen. “You should clean up those roots. You’re a beautiful woman. You need to remind yourself of it. Noah is good for that as well.”

  At that outrageous comment, she moved toward the door. Pausing by Noah, Lyda put her hand on his shoulder. She murmured to him and he answered in the same quiet tone. Giving him a searching look, she leaned down, brushed his mouth with her own, holding the kiss. Noah kept both hands on his knees, though it was obvious by the way he met the kiss full on, he wanted to do more.

  “Be good. Else you’ll wish you could stay away from me for far longer than a weekend.”

  His gaze burned into her face. “I’d never wish that.”

  She stroked his face, a brief touch. A glance her way told Gen Lyda had intended her to hear that last exchange, regardless of whether the other customers did. Gen noticed Marguerite’s jaw tighten. Then Lyda left, the screen door creaking behind her. As she crossed the porch of the nineteenth-century house Marguerite had converted into her business, Gen shifted to see her climb into a pickup with the nursery logo.

  “She’s leaving him here now?” Was she supposed to let him sit in the corner all day, like a patient pet?

  “He has a ride picking him up for his class at the college,” Marguerite explained, rising and coming around the counter. “They’ll bring him back in time to go home with you at the end of the work day.”

  “Oh. Well I haven’t…” The guestroom was clean, of course, because no one had been in it for a while, but it was all pretty sudden.

  Marguerite laid a hand on top of hers. She wasn’t inclined to casual affection, so Gen took it for a deliberate reassurance. “I apologize on Lyda’s behalf. She can be…unpredictable.”

  She suspected Marguerite had some other problems with her, but the matter right now was what problems she’d presented for Gen. Or problematic opportunities.

  Marguerite’s voice lowered. “You know enough about my world, the one beyond Tea Leaves, to understand what he is, right? What Lyda is?”

  Those blue eyes were measuring her response, trying to make sure she could handle whatever this was. Gen knew without asking she could withdraw her agreement, that Marguerite would handle things for her. She didn’t like that idea, though. Not after she’d said she could handle it.

  “Yes. I’m not sure. Does he need…anything different?”

  “No.” Marguerite’s expression showed gentle amusement, but not in a way that made Gen feel foolish. “If you feel uncertain about anything, simply ask him. He will tell you the absolute truth. Otherwise, he’s a houseguest helping you tile your floor and paint your walls. He’s very much like Brendan in that way.”

  “Just don’t get him wet, let bright light touch him, or give him food after midnight.”

  That bright interjection came from Chloe, of course. The other member of the Tea Leaves staff delivered the comment while hanging up her purse on the coat rack. Chloe was barely five feet tall, with sharp blue eyes and a lovely cap of brown hair currently dyed with a blue streak. She also had a figure like a pocket Venus. She gave Gen her usual morning hug and Marguerite a smile that could compete with the sun. “Oh my God, Gen, you get Noah for a few days. I’m so jealous. I saw Lyda at the end of the street and she said she was loaning him to you.”

  Chloe turned her attention to the male in question. Bounding across the room, she plopped herself in his lap and hugged him. As he disappeared behind the clasp of her lush body, his arms circled her. Obviously, Noah knew Chloe well.

  “Better?” Marguerite asked Gen.

  Gen gave her a rueful look, but she couldn’t help but smile. All the worries she could harbor about such an unexpected turn of events couldn’t hold against Chloe’s infusion of normalcy into a far-from-normal situation.

  “Will Lyda be coming by to see him? Or coming to pick him up?” And why did the thought fluster her so?

  Marguerite’s attention sharpened on her. Her boss missed very little. “I expect she’s already worked that out with Noah. He doesn’t have a car, but he knows how to get where he needs to be. Disappointed?”

  “No.” Yes. “I mean, it doesn’t matter. Whatever’s easiest. I can drop him off at her place. Maybe get some plants for the yard.”

  Though Gen turned away as more customers arrived, she felt Marguerite’s attention. She could handle that, at least better than the lingering feel of Lyda’s hand on her scalp. As if that wasn’t distracting enough, Lyda’s lithe body, the way denim creased with the movement of her ass as she walked away, stayed with Gen throughout most of the day as well, mixing with the memory of Noah’s eyes and lips, the touch of his hands. What had she gotten herself into?

  * * * * *

  As Marguerite had indicated, Noah returned at closing time. He came from his sailing class with damp hair and the smell of sea water. He’d also changed from his earlier clothes into a dark ribbed tank and worn blue jeans.

  When he volunteered to do whatever they needed, closing became a half-the-time affair. Marguerite had shocked her by allowing Noah to do the hand washing of the cups, something she was so particular about that Gen and Chloe considered it a sacred act.

  While cleaning the brewing equipment, Gen was dangerously entranced, watching his long fingers swish the disposable cloth into each cup, the way he placed the delicate porcelain in the dish drainer, his attention never leaving his task. Except once.

  He stopped, his fingers tented on a cup, eyes swiveling back to meet hers. He held her gaze, acknowledging he knew she was watching him, then he returned to the task, not another word spoken. A tremor went through her fingers.

  The closer they came to going home together, just the two of them, the more his slightest gesture sent sexual signals to her. That was wrong. He was Lyda’s. But it was too late to back out. Or was she just unwilling to do so?

  He offered to drive her car on the way home, giving her a break from Tampa traffic. She was agreeable to that. As they maneuvered out of the older downto
wn area of Tampa and headed for the suburbs, they morphed from a relaxed chat about their respective workdays into Gen looking for more information about him. Yes, she trusted Marguerite, but she took care of herself. She wanted some more info about the person who was going to be spending time in her home.

  “So why don’t you have a car?” she asked.

  “I don’t have a driver’s license.”

  She blinked. “Guess I should have asked you that before you took the wheel. But you obviously know how to drive.” He negotiated the Tampa rush-hour traffic far more capably than she ever had.

  She found that wry curl of his lip very appealing. “Sorry. I should have qualified that. I’ve had one, you know, when I was first old enough to drive. Just haven’t been back to renew it. I don’t do a lot of paperwork stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t press on that one, but it made her think of Chloe’s cryptic comment when the two of them had taken some supplies back to the storeroom.

  “Did Marguerite tell you much about how Noah is?” The girl rolled her eyes, answering her own question before Gen could. “Of course not. She’d consider basic information being overly chatty.”

  “I know he’s a…submissive. Like Brendan?”

  “Like Brendan, but not. They’re all so different.” Chloe considered. “It probably doesn’t matter. You’re not going to be relating to him that way anyway.”

  “He’s helping me with my kitchen. I don’t need to know private things about him, Chloe.” But she mentally willed Chloe to tell her everything she knew. For once, surprisingly, Chloe didn’t oblige.

  “Okay. Sure. But if you change your mind, you know my cell number.”

  It made sense. Those who inhabited the D/s world were probably very private about their preferences, not wanting them discussed among the uninitiated. For all her uninhibited nature, Chloe was sensitive to discretion, else she wouldn’t be working for Marguerite. For instance, while she was pretty open about her relationship with Brendan, if Chloe saw things in the club that revealed more about that type of relationship between Marguerite and Tyler, two Dominants, she never spoke of it.

  Coming back to the present, the thought helped Gen rein herself in. Keep it separate. Not your world. Of course Marguerite had said he’d be absolutely honest…

  Before knowing Brendan’s orientation, Gen had accepted the same BDSM stereotypes as most people did. She’d assumed a man who wanted to be ground under a woman’s stiletto was a pushover, or nothing better than a child. Noah defined himself as under the control of a woman, but he refused to let Lyda pay for his accommodations and he’d jumped right in to help with closing. Then there’d been that spark as he’d met Gen’s gaze over the teacup.

  So even if she couldn’t form any definite conclusions about Noah, she could about Brendan. Watching him with Chloe, it was clear he defined his primary job as caring for his wife. Yet Tyler had the same opinion toward Marguerite, and he was clearly the top Dominant in their unusual relationship.

  Gen had married two men who, by any standard definition, would be considered testosterone-laden alpha males, and all they’d wanted her to do was take care of them. Domestically, sexually, financially.

  Chloe had said they were all different, but it still made Gen’s head spin. Unfortunately, not in a way that turned off her curiosity. The idea of a man wanting to take care of a woman, in the ways she truly needed his care, wasn’t her typical experience with men. If she tried to idealize something she knew nothing about, she’d be doomed to disappointment. Yes, Noah was helping her with her kitchen, but if he put his feet up on her coffee table and had a beer afterward while she cleaned up the mess caused by tiling, that was fine. She’d be content with the donation of physical labor.

  Though he really didn’t really look like the beer type.

  “Anyone else would have said something by now,” she observed, shifting in her seat. “Filling the silence.”

  “I figured if you wanted to talk, you would have.”

  “Maybe I can’t think of anything to say and am hoping you will.”

  Noah gave her a sidelong glance. “I don’t know about that. The silence felt pretty comfortable, both sides. What do you usually do on the drive home?”

  “Listen to music, think about the day, think about what I’m going to do that night.”

  “Which is? If it’s not too private.”

  She was kind of pleased he’d asked, though she knew the truth was probably yawn-city to most people. “I can’t tell you about my second job as an international spy, but I can tell you what I do when I’m not needed for top-secret missions.”

  She was rewarded with the full, toe-curling grin. “Okay. Tell me what you’re doing when you’re not chasing down terrorists or defusing bombs.”

  “I read, watch TV. I like to do crafts.” She could tell him about her collages, but she bit that back. Did she want to sound any less exciting? “How about you?”

  “Is it okay if we talk more about you first? I’m interested in what you read and watch.”

  “Nothing you’d like. Romances. Biographies. Poetry.”

  He shifted lanes, checking the mirrors with a quick flick of his gaze. “I get why you think I wouldn’t like romances, but why wouldn’t I like biographies or poetry?”

  “Well, I guess I meant the type of biographies and poetry I read. Stories about strong women, the kind that came from hard situations and still managed to do great things with themselves. The poetry is more romantic, girl stuff. Not Edgar Allan Poe.”

  He gave her an ironic look. “I like strong women, Gen. My…Lyda has me read to her. I’d be happy to read to you if you like. She says I have a good voice for it.”

  He did. He had a masculine tenor, infused with inflections that would make him a good dramatic speaker. Underneath all that was a lazy touch of Southern. Listening to him talk was like listening to smooth jazz.

  “If you want to call her whatever it is you normally call her, that’s fine.” At his quizzical glance, she added, “You keep hesitating over it. I do know about Marguerite and Brendan, the kind of things…people, they are. Sorry, I’m not really sure what the correct thing is to say. I don’t want to offend you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly,” he said, with a genuine kindness that made her feel better. “My Mistress likes me to read…romances to her.”

  At his hesitation, she lifted a brow. “Erotic romances? Spicy stuff?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  She thought about Noah reading a steamy sex scene to Lyda. Would she lounge in the bed with him, her wearing nothing but a filmy negligee that revealed all that fair skin? Or maybe, given their relationship, she’d have Noah in a chair across the room, out of touching distance. She’d tell him he couldn’t lift his eyes from the page and, as he read, she’d put her hand between her legs, stroke herself…

  Up until today, Gen hadn’t asked many questions about all this, not wanting to encourage Chloe. Yet though she’d always told herself BDSM wasn’t her thing in reality, Gen had imagined quite a few scenarios about Marguerite and Chloe with their respective husbands. It made it way too easy to get caught up in fascinating visions now of the gorgeous, intimidating woman and undeniably hot male next to her, both of whom had more than a few intriguing layers. A Mistress and a submissive. Her mind ping-ponged, considering them separately, together. As a threesome…

  Leaning forward, she adjusted the air to a cooler setting. “So, are you sure you’re okay with helping me out with this for no pay? I was budgeting for a laborer to do the tilework.” In another month, she’d meet that goal, so she could pay one. If Noah was as good as M implied, she had no problem with him getting the money.

  He shook his head. “You’re giving me a place to stay. This is my way of paying for it.”

  “For what tile guys are paid, you could stay in a suite at the Marriott for a week.”

  “Yeah, but the company wouldn’t be as good.”

  “I’ve neve
r had someone try to charm me into letting them do my home improvement.” She could accuse him of indulging his masochistic tendencies with the hard and tedious task, but she wasn’t sure what was appropriate teasing when it came to BDSM. Plus, she didn’t know if all of it was about pain. She couldn’t imagine Chloe beating Brendan.

  Noah eased up on the brake, accelerated through a light, changing lanes with a hairsbreadth between him and the cars fore and aft in the heavy traffic. He did it so smoothly, she didn’t feel nervous in the least. She wondered where he’d acquired his urban driving skills.

  “Better not thank me yet,” he said. “I haven’t done tilework in a while. You may have to pay someone to fix what I screw up.”

  She sincerely doubted that, since Marguerite wouldn’t have recommended him otherwise. “I’ll report you to Lyda if you do a shoddy job. She seems like the type to demand perfection.”

  His eyes slid over her face before they returned to the road. “She has a way of demanding a lot from everyone around her. Things you don’t think you have inside of you, but it makes you a better person to find out they’re there, if that makes sense.”

  She thought about the way her day had gone since Lyda had crossed her path. How Gen had reached out and touched Noah in a way she’d never spontaneously touched a man. When he’d been washing cups and busing tables, she’d felt a thrill every time she thought about him coming home with her. But that had connected to Lyda as well. It was as if, by letting Noah stay with Gen, Lyda was sending her some kind of secret message. Gen couldn’t deny it gave her a tiny yet equally strong thrill, like being passed a note at school by a secret crush.

  I’m being an idiot. “Does she always come off so overwhelming?”

  That grin reappeared. “Actually, that was Lyda way toned down. Her inside voice, if you will.”

  “Geez.”

  He laughed, a pleasant sound that caressed her senses. Then he gave her a thoughtful glance. “You know, if you want to ask things about being a Dom or sub, it’s okay. I’m used to talking about it. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too. I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask. You seem like you maybe want to ask some things.”