by KD Robichaux
Ten minutes later, after moving some things around upstairs, I’m out in the garage. Astrid never asks me for anything, so a feeling of excitement and urgency fills me to set about the task she’s given me. There are seven big boxes against the wall of my garage, stacked up and marked Astrid’s Porn thanks to Seth, when he helped her pack. They’d done it quickly, my coworker and friend wanting to move Twyla in with him as fast as he could “before she changes her mind.”
Astrid was going to get a storage unit, with plans on finding her own place once Brandon was sentenced, but I told her it was nonsense to spend the money on storage when I had more than enough space for her things here.
I carry in each box, setting them on the floor in my study, and when all seven are inside, I relock the garage door and grab my phone off the kitchen counter on my way back to the study, and I see I have a notification.
Astrid: Inside the gym. Johnna talked me into doing another barre class. Something about releasing lactic acid. It’s 45 mins. Your hot tub and Epsom salt will likely be needed when I get home. *grimace emoji
Me: Not at the same time, but I can definitely make that happen. Kick ass, goddess.
I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and connect my phone, scrolling through my music until I find what I’m looking for, and soon Breaking Benjamin’s “Breath” fills the room. My study has floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases, wall-to-wall, no window, the only break in shelves being the door. There’s a dark wooden desk that’s much like the one in my office at work, just a smaller version, and there’s an overstuffed brown leather couch and armchair in the center of the room with a table and overhanging lamp between them.
I walk around the room, determining which two bookcases have the least amount to move to make room then decide to give Astrid her own corner, even with the extra work. Soon, I’ve got not two, but four bookcases designated for her books, which will have room to spare for new ones she might want to add. If I have it my way, she’ll never leave, and I’ll build her own damn library for her that she can fill with whatever books she desires. But I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself so I don’t freak her out. We made great strides yesterday and this morning, and she left earlier calling this home, but nothing has been discussed as far as her never moving out.
I pick up one box of books and carry it over to the couch, setting it down and opening the crisscrossed flaps of cardboard. Sure enough, I look down into an entire box of shirtless men in various bottoms from kilts to suit pants, and I shake my head with a chuckle. I pull out a stack and carry them over to the first bookcase, setting them on a random shelf. I do this back and forth until the box is empty, and then I take the time to organize them, seeing a lot have the same authors. She likes series, and one of them I find has nearly twenty books. I make sure they all sit on two shelves of their own, leaving space in case another book is scheduled to come out.
I break down the empty box and stand it against the armchair, picking another box and bringing it over. This one is full of much the same, small mass market paperbacks, these seeming to be paranormal in nature, seeing as the cover models have sharp fangs to go along with their rippled torsos. I stack them on the shelves, straightening the spines and matching the author names.
The third box I open makes me laugh. It’s full of every VB Lowe book ever written. The author just happens to be none other than Vivian Lowe, wife of Corbin Lowe, one of the men on my security/mercenary team and co-owner of my Club Alias. I feel the smile on my face the entire time I set up Vi’s books in Astrid’s new bookcase, thinking about my friend and his wife’s story. Talk about fate. Ten years after they divorced, Vi had contacted a Dom at my club who turned out to be Seth, Astrid’s sister Twyla’s now-husband. Vi was looking to interview a real-life Dom in order to portray the lifestyle accurately in her bestselling romance novels. Seth talked to her for months, teaching her through messages and videos all she needed to know about BDSM for her books, and little did he know, since she went by her penname, he was actually speaking to Corbin’s ex-wife. He found out very quickly once Corbin saw her name.
When Vi showed up to the club to watch some BDSM scenes in the flesh, she was greeted by the Dom/owner she believed she had become friends with online, but unbeknownst to her, it was Corbin beneath the hooded mask. So much happened in the following weeks, Vi believing it was still Seth she was speaking to and learning from. Until the entire situation imploded. But now, the Lowes have two children and are happily married once again.
Done with that box, I open the fourth once it’s on my couch, and my brows furrow. This isn’t more of the small mass market paperbacks from the first box. These are larger, trade size, and the covers aren’t just beefcakes in silly costumes.
On top is a red cover, a girl kneeling with her hands tied beautifully behind her back. Brie Learns the Art of Submission by Red Phoenix. I read the back, thinking it sounds familiar, and I discover it’s about a woman who goes to a school to learn how to be a proper submissive. It’s the same book one of my patients, Evelyn Richards, used to talk about all the time in the beginning of her journey into the lifestyle. For some reason, it strikes me as odd for Astrid to own a copy, even though I just went through her entire box of VB Lowe books, but I chalked that up to her knowing Vi, thinking maybe she had given Astrid a set of the collection, knowing she likes to read.
But then… when would that have happened? Seth boxed up all these books before Astrid ever met Vi. Which means she would’ve owned them before she knew her brother-in-law works side by side with one of her clearly favorite authors’ husband.
I look down into the box, pulling out the Fifty Shades Trilogy by E.L. James. I don’t put much thought into her having these. Every woman I know has these books and have watched the movies, so it’s not surprising she owns them too, since she’s a romance reader. But beneath those three are more books of D/s love stories. I carry my armful over to the corner, starting a new shelf on the third bookcase then returning to the box. I scan the back of each one, especially the ones with vague covers—a set of cufflinks, a single calla lily, a glass of whiskey—and every single one, a BDSM romance.
The entire box.
Then the next.
And the next.
Until all the boxes are empty and there’s barely any room for new books. I definitely underestimated how many books were in each box. But what my mind won’t get past is the fact that three-quarters of her collection are BDSM. And that’s only what she has in paperbacks. She has a Kindle she reads on every day that could have a countless number of stories about the very lifestyle I lead. How could I not know this about Astrid, after she’s lived here an entire year?
But I can’t kick myself too hard. It’s not like she’s ever opened up to me before yesterday. The bits and pieces I’ve learned about her since I met her wouldn’t even fill an entire one of my notepads, not anything she’s willingly provided anyway. Just things I’ve picked up on, like the way she likes her avo-toast.
“Knock, knock,” I hear from the doorway over my music, and I’m so deep in thought that it surprises me, and I whip away from the bookcase to find Astrid just inside the study. She points to my speaker on the desk and raises her brows, and I give her a nod, so she walks over to it and turns it down before coming to me. “I texted as promised.”
“Good girl,” I murmur, watching her eyes twinkle as I lean down to touch my lips to hers.
“I’m all gross and sweaty, but I’m going to rinse off before I hop in the hot tub.” She looks around, seeing the broken-down cardboard boxes standing in a stack next to the couch, and her eyes widen as her head jerks to the bookcase I’m standing in front of, seeing all her books displayed. “You set them up for me?” she asks, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t mean for you to do all that. I just needed to borrow your muscles to haul the boxes inside. I could’ve done the rest.” She smiles up at me.
“It was no problem, goddess.” My chest swells with pride for having impressed her.
&nb
sp; She turns her body to face the bookcase, her eyes scanning to the right until they reach the corner, and then she keeps going, her eyebrows lifting. “You gave me four bookcases? Whoa. I don’t even have to double-stack them! I’ve never not had to double-stack my books before.” At my puzzled look, she explains, “A row in back and a row in front on each shelf.”
“That’s blasphemy,” I reply, and she rewards me with a giggle.
“It’s why I started buying everything on Kindle except for my very favorites that I wanted to collect,” she explains.
“So… question,” I start, and I gesture to the three shelves of VB Lowe books.
She sees the spines, and her whole face brightens. “Isn’t that crazy? I had been reading Vivian’s books for years, and lo and behold, she’s married to one of your Imperium Security guys. Talk about a small world.”
So that answers that question.
“Second question. When you said you love trashy novels, and Seth labeled all the boxes Astrid’s Porn, this is what I pictured,” I say, gesturing to the bookcases of mass market size books with the Fabio lookalikes in cheesy costumes. “What, my goddess, is going on over here?” I sweep my arm to include the other three bookcases that are now full of nothing but BDSM romance novels.
Her face falls slightly, and just her eyes turn from her corner of the study to meet my gaze. She shifts on her feet, apparently not knowing how to answer. She swipes at her forehead then fidgets with her ponytail, glancing back at the couch behind her.
“Ummm… this sounds like a shrinky question,” she tells me, and I look to the heavens and let out a loud sigh.
“Have you been talking to your brother-in-law?” I grumble.
She furrows her brow. “I talk to Seth frequently, yes. But about what are you referring to?”
“The fucker tells me all the time I have a shrinky face and a shrinky voice. And now you’re saying that sounded like a shrinky question,” I gripe, meeting her eyes once again.
“I mean… he’s not wrong,” she replies, and I growl. “Anyway, I could do the whole lay on your couch while you do your therapist thing, but as I said, I’m gross and sweaty, and the hot tub is calling my name. So if it’s all right with you, I’d like to take my session out there.”
“Goddess, we can talk about anything you want, wherever your heart desires. As long as I get to hear about this obsession you have with BDSM books,” I tell her, stepping up to her and watching her head fall back on her shoulders as she looks up at me.
“Shower first, and then I’ll meet you out there.”
“Deal.” I press a kiss to her pillowy lips, and then she spins around and hurries out of the study. Not even a full minute later, I hear her call down the stairs.
“Neeeil!”
I stroll out of the room to look up at her from the bottom of the staircase, a smirk on my face. “Yes, goddess?”
She crosses her arms over her still sweaty chest. “Where is all my stuff?”
“Oh, you mean all your stuff that was taking over my guest bathroom?”
With her true personality coming through these past three days, I’d expected to be met with her sexy haughtiness. What I did not even consider was instead for her response to be worry and unease. She lowers her arms, breaking eye contact and shifting on her now bare feet. “Yeah, that stuff,” she replies, her voice low, bringing her hands together to wring.
I’m halfway up the stairs in the blink of an eye, and then I slow my ass down when I see her take a step back into the hallway. I speak gently while I climb the rest of the way up like I’m approaching a frightened animal. “Your stuff was taking over my guest bathroom when, as far as I’m concerned, you’re no longer a guest.” Apparently, I’m being too vague, because her knuckles crack she tightens her fingers so hard. She obviously thinks I’m kicking her out, even though I just emptied her boxes of books. So I make it really fucking clear what I mean, even though I was originally worried I’d freak her out. “Meaning, according to me, you’re now a permanent resident of this estate.” The last word leaves my mouth as my second foot hits the landing. “And all of your girly shit is now covering the counters of our bathroom until you figure out how you’d like to organize it.”
She stares at me, dumbfounded, as if the thought never crossed her mind.
Finally, she asks, “You want me to move in with you?”
I can’t help the huff of a laugh that leaves me. “Astrid, you already did that, a year ago.”
“Technicallyyyy—” she singsongs, but I cut her off.
“Technicalities aside, you’ve already lived here a year. I just want that whole ‘until I find a place of my own’ thing to just… drop off the end of that thought inside your mind.”
She pulls her ponytail around her shoulder to pick at the ends. “You don’t think that’s… moving too fast?”
“Your sister and Seth moved in together after only a short time of knowing each other. We’ve known each other a year,” I remind her, taking a step toward her. I take it as a good sign when she doesn’t retreat.
“Yes, well….” She shifts on her feet again but doesn’t move away as I take another step. “In your professional opinion, you don’t think this is a bad idea? I mean, we only just… you know… stepped up a level like… yesterday.”
“In my professional opinion, you are now in a relationship with a man who would do anything to protect you. One who will move heaven and earth to make sure you begin living your very best life, starting by healing wounds that happened in the past so you can get everything you want out of your future. So no, this is very, very far from a bad idea.”
She swallows when I take that last step up to her, and slowly she raises her chin to look up into my eyes. Hers still look unsure, but there’s something else swirling around with the doubt—hope.
And then she nods, and my system is flooded with both excitement and relief, but I keep my expression neutral for her sake. “I’m… I’m gonna go shower now,” she whispers.
“Okay, goddess,” I reply.
“In… in our bathroom,” she adds.
And it breaks the calm façade I’ve put in place. A smile breaks across my face before my lips slam down on hers, my arm swooping around her back to dip her backward, and she squeals into my mouth. She swats at my chest and I stand her back up, unable to wipe the grin off my face.
“I’m gross and sweaty!” she reiterates, and I chuckle as she races away from me and disappears into our bedroom.
Chapter 10
Astrid
When I come downstairs, I glance out the back door to see Neil is already in the hot tub on the back patio. I’ve never actually been in it with him before. The few times I’ve used it, it was during the day while he was at work, and it wasn’t for long, because I started feeling guilty just relaxing in a freaking spa like a lady of leisure.
I go to the fridge and pull open the freezer drawer, grabbing a couple of bags of frozen fruit and carrying them to the Ninja over on the counter. I hurry over to the pantry and take out the tub of protein powder, stopping by the fridge once again for the milk. A few minutes later, I carry the two fruit smoothies I made out the back door, handing one to Neil before setting mine in one of the little cup holders on the top tip of the hot tub.
“Wow, what a treat. Thank you,” he praises, taking a sip, and I get that warm feeling in my chest as I pull off my coverup. “Fuuuck.”
I lift my eyes to him, startled by the growl in his voice. “What’s wrong? Was the fruit bad? I swear I just got it.”
He shakes his head slowly, and now I see his eyes are scouring my body. It’s one thing to be naked right up against him in the shower where I’m too close for him to see all of me at the same time. It’s another thing entirely to be back enough for him to take my body in at once. I may be pretty comfortable with the shape as far as my weight goes, but I’m definitely not comfortable in my own skin. Literally. Anywhere that could be hidden beneath shorts and a tank is covered in slash-
like scars. Being from the west coast, I was always super tan as a teenager and into my early twenties, so when Brandon had given me these marks and they healed, they ended up being lighter than the rest of my skin since once that whole era began, I didn’t go out much. They look a lot like stretchmarks but all of them horizontal.
“If I didn’t already know you were a California girl, I’d know it now by you in that bathing suit, goddess,” he murmurs, his voice especially deep.
I look down at my yellow string bikini, one I’ve had since high school but hadn’t warn since then, because Brandon wouldn’t let me. I look back up at Neil, tilting my head to the side curiously. “Do girls not wear bikinis on the east coast?”
“They do,” he replies, “but it’s the full package of you. The long blonde hair, the pretty blue eyes, the yellow of the swimsuit… the amount of fabric missing from the bottoms.” He grins with a wink and I roll my eyes. “You just scream Cali girl. You’re beautiful.”
My cheeks flush at that, and I busy my hands by pulling my freshly washed wet hair into a messy knot on top of my head so I don’t get any chlorine in it. Green hair is so not cute unless you purposely dye it that way. My eyes come back to Neil just as I’m securing the elastic in my hair when I swear I hear a noise that sounds very close to a whimper come from his direction and see his eyes are shamelessly glued to my breasts. Taking stock of my body, I can feel my top has ridden up and I’ve got a serious case of underboob happening while my arms are lifted. I put the man out of his apparent misery and climb up the steps and down into the hot water, taking a seat across from him.
“Jets?” he asks, his hand hovering over the button on the lip of the spa, and I close my eyes.
“That’s the best part,” I reply with a small smile, and when he hits the button, the hot tub comes to life, a jet hitting me right in the spine, and I moan in pleasure. “You really know how to live, Viking.”
His voice is sensual but sincere when he responds, “Mm, but I’ve only just started living two days ago, goddess. Just been surviving up ’til then.”