by Shelly Bell
The silence screamed as he thought of a way to get out of telling her.
He blew out a breath. “My ex-wife.”
Her eyes widened. “You were married?”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered.
She moved to stand beside him, her hand reaching out as if to comfort him before she yanked it back to hang at her side. “And she’s blackmailing you?”
“She wasn’t just my wife. She was also my submissive for more than two years. At least she played the part of one. Turns out it was all an act so that she could use it against me in our divorce. She hid a camera behind a pillow and took shots of our sessions, making sure they showed her bruises and welts. And now that Novateur is taking off, she’s using the photos again. She’s suing me for fraud.”
Isabella folded her arms across her chest. “What. A. Bitch.”
Ryder pointed his thumb at her. “What she said.” He laughed. “I like her.”
Yeah, Tristan bet he did. Isabella was just his type.
New.
Tristan shot his friend a warning to back off. He wouldn’t share. She was his. “Isabella’s working on creating a plan for us to expand automation into the bakery business.”
“I’m impressed. You should come down to our warehouse and see how it works.” Standing, Ryder slid a glance at Tristan, his lips twitching with humor, before returning his full attention to Isabella. “I’d be happy to give you a tour. Maybe take you to dinner and pick your brain about designing an automated kitchen for a small bakery.”
Before he could blink, Tristan was on his feet, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Friend or not, Ryder had better keep his hands off Isabella.
“Maybe I should give you some privacy.” Isabella’s gaze ping-ponged between the two men. “I’ll give you a few minutes while I run over to the student union for some coffee.”
As soon as they were alone, Ryder grinned. “Beautiful and smart. She’s the complete package.”
“Back off. She’s just my student,” he warned through gritted teeth. “Dinner and a tour of Novateur? Don’t think I didn’t catch how you were looking at her.”
Ryder faced him head-on. “How was I looking at her?”
“Like you were picturing her in your bed.”
Ryder shrugged. “If you want to get technical, she was bent over your desk.”
Tristan’s fist went flying and with a satisfying crack, caught Ryder right below his left cheekbone.
Asshole. He shook out his hand. That had probably hurt him as much as it had hurt Ryder.
Rubbing the spot where Tristan had popped him one, his best friend only smirked. “Nice shot. Just your student. Would you punch me over any of your other students?”
Understanding dawned. “Fuck. You did that intentionally.”
Ryder shook his finger at him. “Doesn’t do you any good to lie to yourself or to me. I’ve known you for a decade. It’s obvious to me that you’re fucking her. Besides, if she was just your student, I doubt you’d tell her about Morgan.” His friend placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, man. I’m not judging you. But no matter how special she might be, it’s not worth it. We’re this close to achieving our dream. Don’t blow it on a girl who’s not even old enough to drink the champagne when we celebrate our success. We’ve got enough to worry about right now with your ex coming after us.”
Morgan would mow down anyone in her path to destroy Tristan. If she found out about Isabella, she’d drag the girl into the bowels of hell with the rest of the people he cared about.
Ryder grew serious. “Maybe you should—”
“Don’t say it.” Tristan wouldn’t break things off with Isabella. “I’m not going to let Morgan’s threats dictate how I live my life. I’ve got it all under control.”
Ryder’s lips parted as if he was about to argue but instead, he gave Tristan a nod of understanding.
If Isabella had met Tristan a few years ago, he’d had it all. A promising future and a life free of complications. But now, what did he have to offer her other than stolen moments?
Tristan returned to his chair and threw his prized baseball to his best friend. “What do you do when you find the right girl at the wrong time?”
Even while keeping his eyes fixed on Tristan’s, Ryder caught the ball. “Hold on until it’s the right time.”
* * *
Walking back to the business school, Isabella sipped her coffee, holding a tray with two others in her free hand, in case Ryder was still in Tristan’s office. The snow was bad enough, but as the day progressed, the temperature had plunged twenty degrees.
Despite the coffee, she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Her head pounded after everything that had happened today. First, she was pretty sure she bombed her exam. Okay, maybe not bombed, but she couldn’t have done better than a C. No matter how hard she’d tried to concentrate during it, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what would happen at Tony’s hearing. After that class, she’d gotten the bad, but not surprising, news from Erin. And then, she’d overheard Tristan and Ryder’s conversation.
Tristan had been married?
To say Isabella had been shocked to learn that was an understatement. When she’d met him, he came off as a player and made it clear that he only did one-night stands.
Was Morgan the reason?
In her BDSM class, the leader had counseled them all to carry a wallet-sized card that defined the differences between BDSM and abuse in case they were ever in the position of having to explain themselves to an officer of the law. But honestly, she hadn’t thought much about it. After all, whatever happened between consenting adults was nobody else’s business. She’d never considered the ramifications or how it could affect her life if someone exposed her participation in the lifestyle.
To think that Tristan could go to prison over it made her throat constrict.
What kind of person would blackmail their spouse?
She and Tristan may be almost a decade apart in age and at different points in their lives, but they weren’t so different.
They’d both been burned by people they trusted.
And it just made her fall for him a little more.
Her heart pinched. She’d told him everything about Tony. So why did he keep her in the dark about his ex?
An hour after Tristan had introduced her to Ryder, she returned to the office, hoping she’d given them enough time to finish whatever conversation she had interrupted. She’d sensed a tension between the two men and couldn’t help thinking it was about her. Ryder seemed to have a perpetual smirk on his face the entire time she was in the office, as if he’d known something was going on between them. Had Tristan told Ryder about their relationship?
And did it matter to her if he did?
In front of the business school, she threw her empty coffee cup in the trash and headed inside.
All week, she’d been floating on a cloud of happiness, barely spending more than a minute here and there worrying about Tony. When she wasn’t in class or studying, she was thinking about Tristan. Even in class her thoughts tended to stray to him, especially in his. She’d nibble on the end of her pen and stare at his mouth, recalling how he’d used it to bring her to climax over and over. She tried to separate the passionate man she privately knew him to be from the professor he portrayed to everyone else, but it was more difficult than she’d anticipated.
Now she wondered if she wasn’t exaggerating their relationship in her head.
He had no problems sharing himself sexually and physically with her. But emotionally? Before today, she’d had a gut feeling he was holding back with her, but finding out about Morgan had been confirmation of it. How could he not have told her?
She had to admit, finding out about it that way had hurt her. It was something he should have willingly chosen to share with her rather than her overhearing it by chance. If she hadn’t walked in when she had, would he ever have told her?
Shaking the snowflakes from her hair,
she turned the doorknob of Tristan’s office and let herself inside. Deep in thought, he was sitting in his chair with his back to the door and staring out the window at the falling snow. He was so beautiful, sometimes it hurt her to look at him.
She set the coffees down on his desk and took off her gloves. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her teeth still chattering from the cold.
Tristan’s head snapped up as if shocked to see her there. “Isabella.” Standing, he frowned as he removed her snowy coat. “Why are you asking me that? You know I trust you.”
His current actions spoke volumes. As her Dom, he saw her as his responsibility, but not as an equal. “No, you tell me that you do. You’ve gone on and on about how important trust is on both sides of a Dom/sub relationship. So why then have you never mentioned you were married?”
That damned muscle in his jaw ticked. “It’s not relevant.”
“Really? Is the fact you’re being sued also not relevant? Were you going to keep that from me as well?”
He tossed her coat on the desk and brushed his hands up and down her arms, warming her.
It was sweet.
Caring.
And it was pissing her off.
“If you want to know the truth…,” Tristan began hesitantly. “Yes. It has nothing to do with you.”
At least she’d expected him to apologize for it and promise not to do it again. Not to so nonchalantly brush it aside like she was snow on a coat.
She stilled his warm hands and took them in her cold ones. “What happened to your fight is my fight? Doesn’t that work both ways?”
He looked down at their joined hands, his brows lowered in a severe slash. “You don’t need to take on my baggage. You have enough of your own shit to deal with.”
The words were like a punch to the gut. She tore her hands away and took a step back from him.
He hooked his arm around her waist and tugged her to him, enveloping her in a hug and holding her tightly as if he feared she’d run if he didn’t. “I’m sorry. I just meant I didn’t want to bother you with stuff that didn’t matter. Morgan is a parasite who will suck the life of everyone she comes across. I wanted to keep you out of it.”
At his chest, she clutched his shirt in her hands and burrowed into his warmth. He was her safe place. She couldn’t bear to lose him. “You’re like a puzzle that I’ll never complete because you’re intentionally keeping pieces from me. If we’re going to really do this, you have to let me in.”
“I don’t know that I can,” he said quietly.
Now that he’d spoken the truth, she almost wished for the lie.
“Wait,” he said, pushing her back a few inches and looking down at her. “Why were you late earlier? Did you hear from Erin?”
She nodded, still holding on to him as if he was her lifeline. “I didn’t think I’d hear from her so quickly. He was out as of one thirty today. The judge reminded him the restraining order still applied. He’s got two hours of outpatient therapy five days a week and has agreed to continue taking his medication. That’s it.”
“How are you doing?” He tipped up her chin. “I was concerned when you didn’t answer your phone.”
She winced, knowing she’d messed up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I went for a walk to clear my mind, but I’m actually doing okay with it.” She gave him a little smile. “No fear.”
“I’m glad. But you’re still going to be punished for not calling me.”
She winked at him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He’d effectively changed the subject for now, but she wouldn’t give up on him. Someday, he’d have to start opening up to her.
Because she wouldn’t settle for anything less.
Twenty-One
On Saturday afternoon, Isabella set the last batch of mini pecan pies on the cooling rack. Word of her baking skills had spread throughout Edison, and thanks to having access to Tristan’s kitchen, she’d be able to earn money on the weekends baking pastries for professors and others in the community. Soon she’d have enough padding in her bank account that she would no longer have to worry about money.
Thank goodness for the schedule Tristan had helped her create, or she’d never buckle down to get her work done. Of course, he wasn’t going to be pleased when she told him about messing up on yesterday’s exam. Hopefully, she could keep it from him for a little longer.
Tristan came into the galley kitchen and moved behind her, banding his arms around her middle. He lifted her hair off her shoulder and pressed soft kisses against her neck. Shivering, she tilted her head back to give him better access, resting against the hard planes of his chest. Instantly, she grew damp, her body preparing itself for his magnificent cock.
Back at the beginning of high school, she and her friends would Google photos of naked men and giggle over the strange-looking penises. Short and long, straight and curved, cut and uncut, thick and thin. The girls couldn’t understand what was so great about them.
Thanks to Tristan, she got it now.
She was grateful that not only was he long and thick, but he knew how to use it.
His hands dipped lower and her inner muscles clenched in celebration. Just a little further and he’d find out how wet she was for him.
It was ridiculous. They’d made love well into the early morning hours in bed and had fucked in the shower that morning. She should be sated. Instead, her pussy was already throbbing and dying to be filled.
Too bad it was going to have to wait.
“Ugh,” she groaned, turning around and pushing him away with her hands to his chest. God, his chest. Maybe one day, he’d let her explore him. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d do if she bit down on his—no. She had to be strong. She’d made a promise to both of them that she wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with her schoolwork.
Her poor, sex-addicted vagina would just have to wait until tonight to get its fill. At least she knew it would be worth it.
“I’ve got two hundred pages of Madame Bovary to read if I don’t want to fall behind in lit class. I’m just going to park myself at a coffee shop for the day. You don’t mind, do you?” She slid to the side, trying to escape before she jumped him. “I know you’ve got plenty of tests to grade, so I’m—”
“Lose your clothes and get on the dining room table.”
His low, commanding voice sent tingles through her breasts. That voice. She swore sometimes she could come from his voice alone. He didn’t use that tone often in class, but when he did, her nipples perked up as if they were ready to play. It was a voice that demanded respect and one that her body simply couldn’t resist.
But her will was stronger than her body.
She took a couple more steps away from him. “Tristan, I have to study.”
He caught her, reaching out and hooking his arm around her waist, then tugging her toward him. She should’ve known he would. His hard cock ground into her belly. “Oh, you’re going to. Trust me. I’ll make sure of it. There’s no reason for you to leave.”
“If I stay, especially naked, I doubt we’ll get any work done.”
He clucked his tongue. “How little you trust your Dom. I always have your best interests at heart.”
“Oh yeah? How about last night when you left me waiting naked by the door, on my knees for an hour while you took your sweet time getting home from campus? How was that in my best interest?”
“Patience. Discipline. Two qualities that will not only aid you as my lover but in business as well. What did you feel as you knelt waiting for me?”
She thought back. “At first, I was excited, thinking of what you had planned for me. Then as I imagined different scenarios, I got…horny. I wanted to touch myself, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
Why indeed? What was it about Tristan that made her want to please him? Yes, she was a submissive and he was a Dominant, but that alone wasn’t enough to compel her to submit. “Because you told me not to and I didn’t w
ant to disappoint you. But as the minutes passed and you didn’t arrive, I got pissed. I mean, you told me when you dropped me off that you’d only be a few minutes at the store. I thought about getting out of position and stretching or giving up and taking a shower.”
“But you didn’t, did you? You waited the entire hour for me.”
“Yes.”
“And what did you get in return?”
He’d casually walked through the door, as if he hadn’t known to expect her on her knees, but the moment his eyes fell on her, she saw the hunger in them. There had been nothing casual about the way his body grew rigid and his cock bulged against his pants. He’d unzipped himself and wrapped her hair around his hand as he brought her mouth to him. She’d opened willingly, sighing in contentment as she took the head of him inside, the last hour completely forgotten. All she’d wanted in that moment was to please him. To watch him lose control until his essence slid down her throat. But rather than finishing, he’d pulled her off him and scooped her up, then carried her to his bed, where he’d eaten her out thoroughly and eagerly, not stopping until the sheets were drenched with her wetness. The next hours were a blur of desperate fucking, their need for each other insatiable. By the time he’d changed the sheets and cleaned them both off, she’d fallen asleep, sore and content, tucked into Tristan’s chest, where she listened to his strong heartbeat.
When he’d arrived home and found her as he’d demanded, he was proud of her. And that in turn made her feel proud of herself. It gave her the confidence that had been missing from her life for years. What had she gotten in return for her submission?
More than he’d ever know.
She smiled and threw her arms around his neck. “I got rewarded. With you.”
“Your patience and discipline paid off, didn’t it? So why would you doubt me now? You can safe word if you really want to go to the overpriced coffee shop where you’ll blow ten dollars on mediocre cappuccinos and probably get nothing done because your mind will keep wandering as you try to figure out what I’d planned for you this afternoon. But like I said, feel free to safe—”