In the darkness her imagination was in danger of running wild. No one could see the way she moistened her suddenly dry lips or the way her expression changed with what was going on in her mind.
The journey didn’t last long. An expert driver, Adam guided the expensive car through the traffic with cool confidence, heading for an equally expensive part of town. She stole the occasional glance at his hands on the steering wheel and the gear stick, picturing those hands on her own body, his touch arousing her and giving her pleasure such as she’d never experienced. The effort to drag herself back to reality required a huge intake of breath that finally broke the silence.
“Are you all right, Beth?”
Not trusting herself to speak coherently, she nodded, then realized he probably wouldn’t be able to register such a response in the darkness. She had to speak. “Fine, thanks.” How did she manage to sound so relatively normal?
“How’s your ankle?”
She flexed the offending joint, wincing as pain shot up her leg. “Still sore.” At least speech was getting easier.
“It will be. When you’ve had a shower I’ll get an ice pack on it and strap it up for you.”
Shower? Who said she was having a shower? Obviously his perception of her visit to his apartment was at odds with her own. But Lord, she thought as she flexed her stiffening shoulders, she could really do with a shower—when the bag thief had sent her flying, parts of her body had moved in ways they weren’t supposed to.
She got to his apartment the same way she’d got from the office to his car—in his arms. And whatever she’d imagined that apartment to be like, it was nothing like the masculine statement of the reality—a wide-open space decorated in black, brown and cream with the odd, rich dark-red accent, all in an ultra-modern style.
The main living area was split-level. The central sunken area provided a focal point, with comfortable seating arranged around a large, chunky coffee table that could almost have been a piece of modern art. The raised outer area was almost like a wide walkway round the perimeter from where other rooms could be accessed. Almost diagonally opposite the main entrance there was an open-plan kitchen and dining area—again ultra-modern.
Adam carried her down to one of the huge comfortable-looking sofas and gently lowered her to it. Her eyes quickly took in other features—the modern flame-effect fire on the wall, the bookcases, the impressive-looking sound system, all very masculine. There were only two other doors, one of which had to lead to Adam’s bedroom.
The man himself looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “Right. First things first. I’ll show you round later, not that there’s much to see. Can you tolerate aspirin? Good, stay there and I’ll bring you some.”
She watched him covertly as he moved around the kitchen. He’d divested himself of his jacket and tie and in the fitted white shirt she could appreciate the play of his powerful muscles. She shivered slightly, remembering how it had felt to be in his arms, cradled carefully against that broad chest. When he turned to bring her the medication and a glass of water, she saw that he was also carrying a plate of crackers and cheese.
“You need to eat,” he said, his expression unyielding. “You can’t take aspirin on an empty stomach and since we haven’t had dinner yet, you have to have something.”
Beth waited for him to leave the plate on the coffee table so she could help herself. The last thing she expected was for him to sit beside her and actually feed her the snack. Was he really sitting there, large as life, presenting the cracker and Brie as if he were feeding a child? Wide-eyed, she looked at him and in return received a raised eyebrow and a stern look.
“Eat.”
Her eyes never left his as she took a bite, chewed and swallowed. If she’d thought that that would satisfy him, she’d was sadly mistaken. He let her take a sip of water, then watched as she took a second bite. When she went to take the cracker from him, the look in his eyes was enough to stay her hand. The process continued until both crackers were finished. He then dropped the aspirin into her hand.
“And make sure you have all the water. Good girl.” He took the glass from her when she’d finished it. “I think we could do with a drink. Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee. Thank you.” Again, she was unable to meet his gaze. Why did the image of a sub thanking her Dom for attending to her needs come so easily to mind?
She watched him again while he made the coffee. He really was irresistible as a spectator sport. At one point, his mobile phone rang and he took the call in the kitchen area. She couldn’t hear his side of the conversation but something made her think it was to do with her predicament—a feeling that Adam confirmed when he returned, bearing a tray laden with elegant white mugs, sugar, cream and a large coffeepot.
“That was Dan. He’s checked your place out himself and everything looks okay at the moment but he’s going to have someone keep an eye on things for you over the weekend.”
Beth’s eyes widened. Suddenly a thought occurred to her—how could Dan Chesterfield have checked her home when she still had her keys?
“Beth, my sweetheart, he’s an expert in his field—you’ll never even know he was there.”
Stunned, she stammered out her thanks—but she was taken aback by the watch being put on her humble flat.
“Dan said it’s the least he can do for all the fantastic cups of coffee you’ve made for him over the last few years, quote, unquote,” Adam cut in. “Beth? Are you all right?”
No, no, she wasn’t. All of a sudden the way Adam was taking care of her, the way his friend was making sure everything was all right—it all combined to make her hands tremble and her eyes fill with tears again.
Adam’s arms pulled her into the shelter of his body, his hand on her hair freeing it from the barrette she wore to keep it tidy for the office so that he could thread his fingers through the tumbling waves.
“Shhh, love, it’s all right.” His rich, low voice comforted her in a way that made things worse as well as better. “You’re safe, I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.”
That voice was her undoing. Suddenly all she could do was howl noisy tears when all she wanted was some stability and for the feeling that her world was being pulled out from under her feet to stop.
Not to mention the fact that Adam was holding her as if he’d never let her go.
* * * * *
Sometime later, Adam was contemplating the world through a generous measure of his favorite whiskey, his thoughts running through the events of the evening. While Beth had showered without his assistance—it must have been down to sheer determination on her part—he’d rustled up a simple pasta dish and while it was in the oven he’d waited for her to reappear.
He’d left his navy terrycloth robe for her to wear and as soon as he saw her standing at the doorway, he’d fought down the urge to strip it off her and take her to bed. Instead he’d carried her back to the sofa where he’d applied an ice pack to her bruised ankle before strapping it up. After dinner—where he hadn’t pushed his luck by feeding her that as well—he’d given her an hour or so before ushering her off to bed.
His bed, since it was the only one in the place. He’d had the spare bedroom converted into an office a long time ago. Visitors to the apartment were generally female and generally tended to share his bed.
Now clad in jeans and a faded T-shirt, he slouched on one of the sofas, his bare feet up on the coffee table, sharing his thoughts with the glass of whiskey and the classical music that softly enveloped him. So much to think about. The way she’d accepted him feeding her the crackers, the way she’d looked when he’d checked on her ten minutes ago, a goddess bathed in moonlight. The vulnerable, hurting woman who’d cried in his arms.
He really did want to protect her—for the rest of his life.
The sound of the entry phone muscled in on his contemplative mood—that would be Dan, coming round for a drink and a discussion after his visit to the club, where he’d gone after leaving B
eth’s flat.
“How is she?” Dan’s voice was uncharacteristically serious, devoid of its usual levity.
Adam nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Asleep now.”
The two men went to the bedroom door. Adam pushed it further open and the sight that met him almost stopped his heart.
He’d given her one of his t-shirts to sleep in but in the time since he’d last looked in on her, she must have got too warm and removed it, leaving it lying in a pool at the bottom of the bed. She was now sleeping on her side, the duvet bunched around her waist and revealing magical curves cast in shadow and light—enough to turn a man into a creature of primitive needs and drawing him to worship at the altar of her femininity.
“Christ, Adam, she’s beautiful,” his friend breathed.
Adam gestured for both of them to leave so as not to disturb her. Once away from the bedroom, he knocked back the last of his Scotch. “Drink? I need a refill.”
His glass replenished and matched by the one he gave his friend, Adam sprawled on one of the two sofas arranged round the coffee table. Dan took up a similar relaxed position on the other.
“I was going to take her to Amsterdam on Monday,” Adam began, gazing into the distance. “Told her it was a business trip, otherwise she’d never have agreed to go.”
“And now?”
Adam hoped his shrug looked more casual than he felt. “Trip’s off, obviously. I’ve cancelled the flights and the hotel for now, at any rate. She’ll be staying here for the weekend, maybe longer—depends on how her ankle heals. What the hell are you grinning at, Dan?”
The other man allowed his grin to become a brief chuckle. “You have got it bad, old man. And on the evidence in there,” he nodded toward the bedroom, “I can’t say I blame you. There’s something about her and the way she looks right now. It’s there in spades.”
A sober, thoughtful look settled on Adam’s features. “She writes, you know.”
“Let me guess—romance?” Almost rolling his eyes, Dan had the air of a man confident in his prediction.
Adam laid his head back on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Not exactly—not the way you mean.” He closed his eyes, remembering what he’d read and how it had made him feel. “Romance with a D/s twist and from the way she described the sub she sees herself in that role.”
The other man gave a low whistle. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s the problem?”
Adam’s short laugh was lacking in humor. “The problem is, does she want to submit, or does she just want to write about it? That’s the question. She doesn’t know I’ve read her notes, but if they’re part of a larger work, I’d sure as hell like to read it.”
“You’re overanalyzing this, Ad.” Dan took an appreciative sip of the twenty-five-year-old Scotch, unadulterated by ice, water or any other pollutant, conventional or otherwise. “You’ve seen how she is in the office—how she’s been for three years. She serves. Were you planning on making a move on her in Amsterdam?”
“Something like that. I wanted her to start getting used to the idea that we don’t just have to have a business relationship and that if she’s a sub, she can explore that safely with me.”
Dan nodded, considering. “She needs looking after—she’s special. You know as well as I do that while she may be this strong, capable woman in the office, she’s also kind, considerate, honest to the point of being her own worst enemy— “
“Will you shut the fuck up? You don’t need to sell her to me.”
“I know. Anyway, when and if you decide to take this further you know I’ve got your back.”
It was gone midnight by the time Dan left and time for Adam to make himself comfortable on the couch for the night. Over the years, he’d slept in far worse places—one in particular, the most putrid, terrifying shithole imaginable. The question was with Beth there, even a room away, would the nightmares make their regular visit?
He finished the last of his Scotch, troubled by the thought of how much alcohol he’d been going through lately. There were several contributing factors—one was in his bed right now—but she was only a small part of the full picture. A lot of it was how he spent his nights—the erratic sleep patterns, the wakefulness. The just not wanting to go to sleep in the first place.
With the lights dimmed he stretched out on the sofa, taking long, slow breaths, counting each one in and out, focusing inward. Sometimes it worked and he managed to get some sleep. Sometimes it didn’t and then he’d pace the apartment for awhile or just look out over the city. Or there was always some work to be done—his business stretched around the world.
When sleep came, it didn’t last long—it never did. Cold and sweating, Adam sat bolt upright in his makeshift bed. The horrific nightmares that still haunted him had struck again, sending him back to that hellhole of ten years ago. He focused on his breathing again, taking deep, measured breaths that gradually began to slow his racing heart rate.
His thoughts went to Beth. Unable to resist the temptation, he rose and padded silently to the doorway of his bedroom, just to check that she was all right and he hadn’t woken her up.
She was still fast asleep in his bed, lying on her front this time, her hair an unruly cloud. The thought of curving his body around hers was so tempting, Dan was right—submissive or not, she was special.
And if she wasn’t submissive? What then?
Fuck it! He was a Dom. He wasn’t supposed to be confused about what he wanted but Beth was making him ask himself some serious questions.
She was naked in his bed and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Teeth clenched in frustration, he turned to leave. The last thing she needed was to wake up and find she was the victim of a Peeping Tom—he glanced down—with a rampant hard-on. Where was that double whiskey that had his name on it?
Jeans pulled back on, he was back on the couch, nursing that Scotch and absorbed in thought until he heard the sharp intake of breath behind him.
Beth wasn’t sure what woke her. She never slept well in strange beds anyway and when the strange bed belonged to her employer—for whom she harbored distinctly non-business-like thoughts—there was no chance she was going to sleep soundly.
This was the third time she’d woken up. The first time was because she was too hot to sleep and after tossing and turning and squinting at the digital clock as it changed from one minute to the next with a slowness that was agonizing, she’d finally resorted to removing the t-shirt Adam had put out for her—only to find that being naked in his bed was just as disturbing.
Beth didn’t know what to do with herself. Had she been unable to sleep at home she’d have gotten out her notebook and started writing but that was impossible in the present circumstances so the next best thing was reading. There were no books around in the bedroom so that meant braving the room where Adam was sleeping. There were plenty of bookcases out there and maybe if she was quick enough and quiet enough, she could grab a novel.
But not like this. Even if her body were perfect, she wouldn’t be prancing around naked out there. Her breasts were still coping with gravity, the appendectomy scar was old and faded but still visible—however, without the camouflage of her clothing, anyone could see the areas where no amount of dieting and exercise had been able to shift the few extra pounds she carried. And it was too bad if a man was disappointed about that. Her legs were probably the best part of her—she’d been blessed with long legs and even though she was her own worst critic, she knew that they were in pretty good shape.
Beth reached for her glasses and then the discarded t-shirt, a garment long enough to cover what needed to be covered and unbidden, a hot shiver scurried down her spine at the memory of Adam deftly bandaging her damaged ankle—or more specifically, the gentle touch of his firm, capable hands. At the same time she’d wanted it both to stop and to last forever.
Enough. She’d procrastinated for long enough. It was time to do something about trying to get some sleep. The first step with
her right foot was painful but manageable so maybe she could get away with this. There was still light coming under the door but he couldn’t possibly still be awake. Hopefully he’d just fallen asleep and left the lights dimmed.
As she left the bedroom her focus was on the bookcase straight ahead of her. It was only as she drew level with the end of the sofa that she realized that, far from being asleep, Adam was still awake, half-naked and nursing a glass of something alcoholic between his knees as he leaned forward, staring into the distance. The sight of him was perturbing enough but when she saw the mass of scars across his back the gasp left her lips before she could stop it. When he turned in her direction, she felt like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights of a car.
“Beth.” He rose in one smooth movement, depositing the glass on the coffee table before taking the most direct route to her—straight over the back of the sofa. “What are you doing out of bed? Can’t you sleep? Is it your ankle?”
The volley of concerned questions couldn’t initially get past the impact of what she’d seen. She looked up at his face, the question plain for anyone to see in her eyes. What had happened to him to cause those scars?
Adam met her troubled gaze. Even in the subdued lighting, he could see the threat of tears in her eyes—she must have seen the long-healed wounds that stretched from his shoulders to the small of his back.
“It’s all right, Beth,” he said softly. “It was a long time ago.”
She found her voice. “What was it?”
“IED. I was lucky—others not so much. Now what’s up? You should be asleep.”
The IED was only part of the story. He’d been left with the rest of the scarring after the incident that still had a terrifying nighttime hold on him.
Beth was shaking her head. She still had that troubled look in her eyes and he found himself wishing that he could kiss it away. A Dom’s job didn’t always mean administering a sound spanking—it meant taking care of his sub’s worries and problems too. It meant protecting her.
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