Bonds of Desire

by Lynda Aicher

  “True.” He ran a hand through his hair, the chestnut strands threading through his fingers to fall against his shoulders. Maybe it was another trick of the light, but his features appeared gentler too. Almost warm. Worried. “But we can’t force him to stay.”

  She scanned Tyler’s back once again. The pain had to be horrendous. Not to mention the emotional trauma the event had caused. “But we can’t let him go.”

  “He’s an adult. If he insists on leaving, there’s nothing we can do.”

  She stared at Seth, her temper rising to protect Tyler. “I thought you wanted to help him?”

  “I do. I will.”

  “Yet you’d let him leave when he obviously needs help?”

  “And forcing him to stay will make him run faster.” Seth checked his rising voice, cutting a quick glance to ensure that Tyler was still asleep. He pressed his lips together and motioned for her to follow him as he left the room.

  Allie bit her tongue to hold back her retort. Seth was right, of course. They couldn’t force Tyler to stay or accept their help. But that didn’t mean they should let him leave before he was healed. There had to be some way they could get him to stay.

  She rose, pausing to straighten the blanket over Tyler’s hips. The large window was open behind the curtain, but the balmy mugginess flowed in to keep the room warm. She left the door cracked and turned to face her bigger problem. Seth Mathews. Her anger was her strongest defense against her unwanted attraction to him. Yet she was almost too exhausted to maintain the pretense that was crumbling under the consistent demonstration of his concern for Tyler.

  Seth was hidden behind the open door of the refrigerator, the polished stainless steel glinting in the bright light of the overhead bulbs. The high-end kitchen was all dark wood, black marble and stainless steel appliances. The understated sophistication carried into the rest of the open loft. Glossy wood floors, a large flat screen, black leather furniture with sleek modern lines, fancy artwork on the wall and everything spotlessly maintained. There was zero indication that this was a bachelor pad.

  “Want one?” he asked, leaning around the door to hold up a beer. “I also have wine or something harder if you want it.”

  She crossed to the kitchen. “Whiskey. On the rocks.”

  His brow rose a fraction before he turned away to grab a bottle of expensive whiskey from the cupboard. She eased on to the stool beneath the island bar, barely swallowing the groan that wanted to slip out. The clock on the microwave glared bright green, taunting the early morning hour. She might as well push on for one more hour and blend her day into the next. It wasn’t the first time she’d pulled an all-nighter.

  She’d planned on heading into the office that morning. Thankfully, it was Saturday and no one would comment if she got in later. Well, maybe they wouldn’t. The Fourth of July had passed on Tuesday and a lot of people had taken the entire week off.

  She dropped her head forward to press her fingers into the tight muscles at the juncture of her neck. What the hell was she doing here?

  Glass clicked on the hard marble before her, and her eyes sprang open to catch Seth watching her. She straightened and clasped the drink in her hands. “Thanks.”

  He lifted his beer in silent salute. The liquor hit hard and bitter on her tongue. It smoothed down her throat and this time she let the sigh escape. The amber liquid flowed through her system to uncoil every tight muscle from the inside out.

  “We can’t make him stay,” Seth said, his voice low to match the mood. Outside, the rain had let up, leaving behind water-streaked glass and a dampness that seemed to leak in through the industrial-sized windows that lined the far wall.

  She stared at her drink. “But he needs help. I don’t think he has anyone else.”

  “I know that.” Her head snapped up at the frustration in his tone. “I’m not going to abandon him. The club will make sure he’s okay.”

  Instantly, her fight was back. “Tyler doesn’t need the club to care for him. It certainly didn’t protect him earlier.”

  Seth’s jaw clenched hard against her accusation. “I told you, everything was consensual. The second he said he wanted out, we were there.”

  “Consensual?” She stared at him, her disbelief forcing her mouth to gape. She pointed at the room where Tyler slept. “No one would ask for that.” Would they?

  Seth snorted then took a slow drink of his beer. He leaned against the counter behind him and raked her with a look of pure disappointment. “You have no idea what people ask for. Nor any right to judge. If that’s how you’re going to treat Tyler—and yes, I get that his name is really Tyler—then you might as well leave right now. I won’t let you toss your misguided convictions on him. That’s the last thing he needs.”

  “How are they misguided?”

  He studied her for a moment. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “What?” Once again she was floundering to understand the strange world that both attracted and repelled her.

  He crossed the kitchen to lean on the island and shook his head, a tired swivel that spoke of the number of times he’d had this conversation. “People come to The Den for a reason. Usually it’s to fulfill some need within them. What happens at our club is always consensual. And we don’t judge. Ever. Our job is to give people a safe place to get what they need without risk, fear or exposure. You might not understand or agree with what goes on here, but I will not allow you to make anyone who comes here feel bad about their choices or needs.”

  She sat up, her spine straightening. “I would never do that.” As a lawyer, it was her job not to judge.

  “No?” He raised a brow. “Didn’t you just judge Tyler?”

  She stared at Seth, trying to understand. “But I don’t judge people. Kendra and Cali are my best friends and I’ve never made them feel bad about their lifestyle choices.”

  “So?” Seth shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “First you assumed I was the one who hurt Tyler before you moved to Tyler’s my sub and I let this happen to him. Finally you conclude I’m only looking out for the club. That I couldn’t possibly care about Tyler as a person. You passed a judgment on me the second you walked in my door.” The glare he leveled at her was a dare for her to contradict his words.

  But she couldn’t. Seth was right about her actions toward him. But they weren’t for the reasons he was assuming. It wasn’t his profession or even his sexual choices that made her bristle. And she refused to define it as jealousy. There was no reason for it. Still...

  “You’re right,” she admitted. It was better to disarm him by agreeing instead of prolonging a battle she was losing. “I jumped to conclusions concerning your involvement with Tyler. I apologize.” She sucked in a silent breath and pushed forward before he could react. “But I haven’t judged Tyler and I won’t.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Really? Do you believe he was at the club willingly?”

  “Yes. In as much as his job dictated him to be,” she hedged.

  “That’s not an answer. Do you think he was forced into letting that happen?”

  “Not physically. But certainly by circumstances.”

  “So you don’t get it.” He blew out a harsh breath, his eyes closing in a brief show of exhaustion or impatience. “Kendra assured me you’d understand.”

  Somehow she’d become the one being judged. She leaned in until her stomach dug into the sharp edge of the counter. “Maybe I don’t understand your—” she waved a hand around, “—world. But I do know the law. You invited me into this mess and until Tyler tells me to go, I’m staying. Deal with it.”

  The sarcastic bark of laugher sounded just as harsh and dejecting as he probably meant it to be. “Great.” He downed the rest of his beer before slamming the bottle on the counter and stalking around the island to head toward the bedrooms.

  “Where are you going?” She jumped off the stool to follow him but halted when he jerked open a door to dig a pillow and blanket out of the closet.

  H
e came back to the couch, the one Tyler had occupied when she first arrived, and tossed the pile of linens on the leather. “Here. You insist on staying, you get the couch.”

  Instant alarm had her mentally backpedaling. She couldn’t sleep here. Just the thought of catching Seth and Tyler kissing or more had her heart racing in an odd mix of excitement and misery. Keeping her rising panic from showing, she brushed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “That won’t work.”

  “Oh?” He smiled, the slow curl of his lips more devious than warm. “You want to share mine?” Like that, a picture of him kneeling naked and commanding over her popped into her mind.

  “W-what?” she sputtered, too shocked to cover her distress with the flirtatious comebacks she normally relied on. “I thought you were interested in Tyler.”

  He looked her over, a slow perusal from head to toe and back that had a team of goose bumps racing over her skin in its wake. She repressed the urge to shiver and was grateful that her jacket hid her reaction. He cocked an eyebrow again, a conceited move that probably had submissives falling to their knees in compliance. “What if I’m interested in you, too?”

  This time she laughed. A full, deep burst that covered the hot wave of desire that flashed through her. “I’m not one of your submissives,” she said around a chuckle. “Your games won’t work on me.”

  “I don’t play games, Allie.” His tone was low and serious without a hint of a smile. “That’s just one more thing you need to learn. What happens with me is never a game.”

  She wet her lips, amazed at how his chastisement left a sick swirl of angst in her stomach. It was the same sensation she got when she was reprimanded at work or by her parents.

  He turned and strode back toward the bedrooms, disappearing into the one across from Tyler’s only to return a minute later. “Here.” He held out a bundle of clothing, waiting for her to take it. “It’s late. You’re exhausted. Get some sleep.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Exactly what it looks like. A shirt to sleep in and a toothbrush. No more excuses. If you leave now, it’s because you’re afraid to stay.”

  He’d called her bluff.

  When she didn’t move to take his offering, he stepped forward until there were only inches between them. Every nerve in her body seemed to tingle in awareness. His eyes drilled into hers in a dare for her to back up, move away, maybe run. She swallowed, hating the flush that warmed her skin, but stayed firm in her position.

  He leaned in, never shifting his eyes, and reached behind her to place the stuff on the counter. She was captivated by the streaks of gold that shot through the brown of his irises, flaring out from the pupil like sunbursts. They were stunning in their uniqueness. Soft, where his cheeks and jawline were hard. Much like his mouth. Unwanted, her gaze drifted down to the perfect bow of his upper lip.

  He gripped the back of her head in a move so quick she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, claiming possession of her lips as if he had the right to do so. Her mind rebelled, and indignation held her stiff despite the heat that flared within her. He nipped her bottom lip, gentling the sting with a suckle and swipe of his tongue that was demanding but not hurtful. His lips were firm and enticing, smooth and silky.

  She didn’t want to respond. Didn’t want to want him. But excitement buzzed through her until her world spun. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out his image, only to find her focus narrowed to the touch of his warm, conquering mouth and the hard press of his hand at her nape. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t kiss him back. Couldn’t like the sharp taste of the beer on his tongue as it pushed into her welcoming mouth. Yet she did. She was.

  The sound that vibrated in her throat was weak, both in volume and projection. But it was like a signal of submission blasting through the air. He groaned, yanked her tight to him and thrust into her open mouth with an ownership that she was helpless to deny. She clenched his shoulders, his muscles firm and strong under the silk of his shirt.

  God, he felt good. He was solid and powerful. It was just like she’d imagined, only better. This was what she wanted but couldn’t voice or go get. But if he just took it, claimed her like this, then it was out of her control.

  With a low rumble, he jerked away, pushed her back until she stumbled against the hard, cold marble of the island. Stunned, she blinked and raised her hand to cover her throbbing lips. She stared at him, trying to sort out what had happened.

  “I guess you’re not gay,” she stated into the silence.

  He cursed, a low, hard bite under his breath, then spun around and stormed away. The bedroom door closed with a quiet click that didn’t match the frustration lingering in his wake. Was that a confirmation or not?

  More confused than ever, she sunk onto the stool she’d vacated earlier. Anger, passion and exhaustion mixed in a jumble of nervous energy she was unable to process. She grabbed her forgotten drink and slammed down the remaining contents in one gulp. It didn’t help to cool the fire that still burned in her core or loosen her muscles that were once again strung tight.

  The glass clattered against the marble before she released her hold. She didn’t need the audio proof of how unsteady she was. She pressed a hand at her temple, trying to rub away the headache that pounded behind her eyes.

  The quiet circled her, pressing close until she wanted to scream. She bit her lip to hold it all back. The emotions, the tears, the thoughts. Everything. She’d spent too many years watching her mother cower to her father, and too many more ensuring she’d never be forced into that role, to willing give over her control to a man. Fantasies very seldom measured up to reality, if ever.

  She would deal. He couldn’t make her run, if that was what the kiss was about. But it didn’t matter, because it wouldn’t happen again. This wasn’t about her or Seth. It was about helping Tyler. That was all. And they still hadn’t figured out how to get him to stay. Tomorrow. They’d handle it tomorrow.

  Determination returning, she grabbed the supplies from the counter, kicked off her heels and walked to the half bath between the two bedrooms. Running wasn’t in her blood and that was something the domineering Dom needed to learn. She couldn’t be manipulated just because he’d kissed her in a way no other man ever had.

  Chapter Six

  Seth stared at the man sleeping before him. The pale glow of morning edged in around the blackout curtains to provide a shadowed indistinction to Tyler’s features. His bangs hung low across his forehead to dust over his brows and hide part of his eyes. Even in the morning, his face was smooth. Only a smattered hint of beard stubble showed along his jaw and chin. It was easy to see why he could fool so many about his age.

  Tyler lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow. The younger man’s face was pinched, even in sleep, a good indication that the pain meds were wearing off. Even in the dim light, his bare back displayed the angry red wounds that blazed across his skin.

  It would be weeks before he healed completely. On the outside, at least. God only knew how long the internal wounds would take to overcome. Despite the man’s harsh front and assurance that he was fine, Seth doubted every word. No one endured that kind of beating and came out unchanged.

  Even if it was consensual.

  He slumped further into the cushioned chair and closed his eyes for a moment. There was a peace in the blackness, if only his mind would let him find it. It hadn’t all night. Not during the long shower meant to wash away the grime of the evening, along with his sins. Or when he’d lain in his bed, sleep a lost cause.

  The curtain puffed out, pushed by the breeze that rushed in through the opened window. He’d turned the air off so Tyler wouldn’t get chilled. The damp scent of last night’s rain left a cleansed feel to the morning. If only it could scrub his conscience clean. The air rustled across his bare chest, and the curtain flapped to the side to show the morning sun. It rustled back into place a second later, plunging the room back into shadowed darkness.

  He had no idea how long he�
�d been sitting there, but he’d have to move soon. Everyone was counting on him to know what to do. Solve their problems and sort out the mess. How?

  He rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his cheek, the stubble scratching his palm. He should get up. There was a truckload of shit to deal with at the club. The fucking politician needed his membership revoked immediately. There were memos to send, forms to complete, their lawyer to contact. Christ. And that wasn’t counting the normal business dealings he had to do. Stock to order, work schedules to finalize and post, payroll, employees to reprimand or praise—the list was never-ending.

  And he would bet money that Deklan and Jake would be at his door seeking answers before noon. He’d called them both before he’d left the hospital with Tyler, but they would be here anyway. It was their business too.

  One he was fucking up royally.

  And the pity party wasn’t getting him anywhere. He shifted forward and pressed his palms into his brow. The pressure centered his frustration but did little to ease his thoughts.

  In addition to everything else, he now had the added complication of the sexy-as-hell lawyer tossed into the middle of the mix. The impulsive kiss last night had done nothing but screw him further. Instead of running like he’d hoped she would, she’d dug in her heels and was now crashed on his couch. Out of spite, he was sure.

  He couldn’t deal with her right now. Not his residual desire or her fiery determination. Mastering Allie would take patience and a lengthy persistence that he didn’t have time for. Yet that kiss of his had backfired in multiple ways. He couldn’t get the sweet taste of her out of his mind, nor the subtle moment when she’d let go. His groin tightened at the memory of that exact instant when Allie had stopped resisting. The needy little sound that had rumbled in her throat had almost been his undoing. A second longer, and he would’ve had her splayed on the couch, doing things they’d both have regretted.

  Her submission was buried too deep to deal with a flash attack of lust. And as much as he might want her, he wasn’t the Dom to coach that softer, freeing side out of her. Not now.