Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 04 - Healing Heather

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  He took two long strides and gripped her shoulders. “You should be afraid, Heather. He’s a rapist. You got off easy these last two times. I know what these men are capable of and can guarantee you won’t be so lucky next time. You can’t go about life as usual. You must take precautions.”

  She jerked from his grasp and marched to the door. “Maybe so, but that’s my decision to make, not yours. I willna remain huddled in a corner frightened of every shadow. Get yer arse outta me house. I willna say it again.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Be gone!” She jerked open the door, and the beeping started. She pushed the numbers on the keypad, but the thing didn’t stop.

  Paul brushed her hand out of the way and typed in the correct code. The beeping stopped. “You need to press the pound key after the numbers to disarm it. I’m not leaving,” he added as he pulled her into his arms.

  She pushed against his chest. His arms were like a steal band. She couldn’t budge him, but there was no fear inside her. Just pique. She wanted to throttle the overbearing oaf, but his body felt so good against hers. So safe.

  “I know you think what happened this morning was a one-time thing. You expect me to walk away. Well, darlin’, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  She leaned back to see into his face. He looked determined. Very, very determined.

  “I meant what I said. I want to take care of you and show you the heart of a true master, whether you’re willing to remove the blinders or not.”

  No. No, no, no. “You also said I could call things off when I want. This morning was a mistake. You aren’t my master, and I’m certainly no one’s sub any longer. I’m out of that life.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  No, she didn’t. He’d been wonderful. But that didn’t mean she was going to revert to her old habits. Subbing was a part of her past. There were good memories and bad ones, but now she needed to move on with her life.

  “Just because you’re good in bed doesn’t mean that I’ll allow you to hold me prisoner in my own home.” This time when she pushed against his chest, he released her. “I’m calling it off. You need to leave now.” She crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis.

  “You’re in denial. Of a lot of things.”

  She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, mimicking him.

  “Damn it, Heather. Listen to reason.”

  She needed to listen to her heart. The more time she spent with Paul, the greater the chance that she’d come to care for him. And no matter what he said now, she didn’t think he’d stay after the threat to her was vanquished. It was better if he left now.

  He forced out a harsh breath and began gathering up his tools. “You can try to act ignorant about this bastard,” he said as screwdrivers and hammers clanked into the red metal toolbox, “but I’m not leaving you unguarded. You can throw me out of your house, but I’ll be right outside in my truck.”

  “You can’t live in your truck.”

  He jerked on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, then grabbed his gun from the coffee table and slipped it in the holster at the small of his back. Hefting the toolbox, he stepped up to her, his face just inches from hers, beautiful dark eyes sparking with anger. “Watch me.”

  * * * * *

  “Come in.” Dr. Jonathon Sinclair removed his reading glasses as Paul stepped into the psychiatrist’s office. “You want a chair or the couch?”

  Paul laughed at his longtime friend’s standard greeting. “I think a chair will suffice. I’m in no mood to stare at the ceiling.” As comfortable as the couch looked, he dare not risk lying down, or he might fall asleep for hours.

  With a smile, Jon rounded his desk to shake hands, and then gestured to a pair of matching leather chairs.

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “No trouble. Would you like a drink?”

  “Coffee, black. Thanks.” He’d need the caffeine to help him through another night of surveillance outside Heather’s house.

  After they took their seats with mugs in hand, Jon sipped his and started the small talk, obviously waiting for Paul to broach the subject that brought him here.

  “You’ve helped numerous clients overcome a history of abuse,” Paul said. “Have you had any with the added issue of the D/s lifestyle?”

  “Yes, I have. Abuse is not limited to the heterosexual world of conservatives with vanilla sex lives.”

  “I understand that, but what I need to know is whether any of them were able to overcome the painful memories and return to that lifestyle?”

  Jon eyed him a moment before answering. “Some. Not all. Do you have a case with a victim you want me to speak to, or is this inquiry of a more personal interest?”

  Paul stared at the black coffee in his mug and sighed. “A little of both, I guess. Several weeks ago, I landed a case involving a battered woman at the hospital. Turns out she’s a sub who put her trust in the wrong Dom at Incognito.”

  “I heard about that, I think. Is that the same Dom who Blaine beat to a pulp for breaking several club rules?”

  “Blaine?”

  “He works for my brother and is a member of another triad relationship that frequents Incognito.”

  Paul nodded. “Tell ’em thanks from me the next time you see him.”

  “According to the grapevine, the Dom’s been black‑balled by several clubs because of the infraction. Kat says the woman hasn’t been back.”

  “No, but she called me recently.”

  “Oh?” The man would make a good interrogator, Paul thought, watching Jon read between the lines without a flicker of change in his expression.

  “The Dom is stalking her. We’ve got a warrant out for him for breaking and entering and assault, but he’s been using an alias and has gone underground. Though I don’t think he’ll stay hidden long.”

  “You think he’ll come back for her?”

  “Yeah, and if what you say about the other clubs is true, I’m even more certain he’ll be back. His pride won’t allow him to let it go without seeking some vengeance. But she doesn’t agree.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m doing everything I can to help her, but she won’t cooperate. She refuses protective custody whether I can arrange it so that she’s in her home or not. She won’t seek a restraining order against the bastard.” He set the mug aside, thinking that maybe the strong caffeine would only give him the jitters. “She won’t let any officers in her house but me, and yesterday she kicked me out. This morning she went back to work as if everything is normal.”

  Jon took another sip of his coffee, peering at him from over the mug’s rim. “You’ve slept with her.”

  A bit stunned by Jon’s perceptiveness, he sat for a long moment, fighting the urge to pace and silently cursing himself for being so easy to read. “Did I say that?”

  Jon’s smile was irritatingly smug. “You didn’t have to. I’ve seen the emotions in your eyes before, and in other men with similar dilemmas.”

  “And were you able to help them resolve those dilemmas?”

  “The question we must answer here is not whether I can help you, but whether you can do what’s needed to help her.”

  “I’m trying, but she’s being difficult.”

  Jon laughed. “Would you expect anything less from a woman?”

  For once seeing the humor of the situation, he gave Jon a self-deprecating smile. “I guess not.”

  Jon leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, his steely blue gaze locking on Paul’s. “Her biggest problem is not the physical scars or even the emotional trauma she suffered, but rather her lack of faith in her own judgment. She chose to trust this other master, and he betrayed her. It’s understandable that she would respond by fighting against any instinct that would put her in a similar situation.”

  “So there’s no chance of a healthy D/s relationship with her now?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said she’d fight against it...and
anyone representing that lifestyle.”

  Paul sank back into his chair, his entire being weary from inadequate sleep and constant stress over Heather. “She did have a good D/s relationship with her husband before he died, or so she told me.”

  “That’s good. If her first venture into the lifestyle was marred by abuse, she’d be less likely to return for a second attempt.”

  “So how do I bring her around?”

  “You don’t.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t. I suggest you keep the sex vanilla if you have sex at all. Show her you have more than her body in mind, which I assume is the case...?”

  Paul nodded.

  “Good. Then be patient. Let her make the first move.”

  He couldn’t hold back the curse that leapt from his throat, which caused Jon to give him a questioning look. Paul sighed. “And if we’ve already passed vanilla?”

  “Before she threw you out?”

  He nodded and glanced at his watch. He had to get going. Heather would be home from work soon, and he wanted to be stationed outside her house before she arrived.

  Jon smiled. “Then I’d say you’re well on your way to overcoming any problems associated with the abuse. This more recent issue may be something else entirely.”

  “Great.” He stood, as did Jon. “Now I’m even further from finding out what’s wrong with her than I was when I walked in here.”

  Jon slapped him on the shoulder. “If I resolved all your troubles in the first session, how will I keep you coming back?”

  “But I’m not paying you,” Paul said with a grin.

  “Yeah, well...what are friends for?” Walking him to the door, Jon paused. “Do you really care for this woman?”

  He met Jon’s gaze head-on. “More than I ever thought possible.”

  “Then stay the course. If she gets to know the man I call my friend, she’ll regain the trust she needs to let you back into her home...and heart.”

  Chapter Six

  Heather saw Paul’s monstrous silver SUV parked on the street in front of her house from three blocks away. Damn that stubborn man. For four days now he’d been there when she got home, and was still there in the morning when she left for work.

  She pulled into her driveway, turned off the car, and glanced in her rearview mirror. Here he comes, she thought, watching him exit his truck with a white paper bag in one hand. Wonder what he’s got for me tonight.

  Ever since she kicked him out of her house, he had supper waiting for her when she got home. Each night from a different restaurant. And each night the food had been scrumptious, even if she felt like a big dummy, sitting in her house eating alone, while he sat in his truck making sure she was safe.

  After pulling the key from the ignition, she picked up her briefcase and purse from the passenger seat, and then exited the car.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her. God, he looked good. A little rumpled, and he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. He hadn’t once tried to talk his way back into her home...or her bed either. And, she admitted to herself with a sigh, she missed him terribly.

  “Have a good day at work?”

  She nodded.

  He handed her the bag of food. “Chicken alfredo from Mancini’s on Fifth.”

  “Thank you, Paul. But you’ve really got to stop doing this. I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

  “Of course you’re capable, honey. But I enjoy taking care of you.” He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over her right cheek. The effect was strong and brilliant inside her body, as if he’d swept her into his arms and kissed the stuffing out of her. “Don’t forget to set the alarm.” With that, he sent her a wink and sauntered back to his truck.

  He wore those snug jeans that cupped and hugged everything so perfectly. Damn, he looked good enough to eat. Had she actually been in bed with that cute ass less than a week ago? Dare she let him back in?

  Growling at her wayward thoughts, she made her way inside her house and closed the front door before she could give in to her carnal thoughts and do something stupid. As long as the stubborn, sexy man camped out on her doorstep, she was never going to get him out of her head.

  After eating another lonely supper, she locked herself away in her office to do some work. But she couldn’t concentrate.

  Thinking about all the things he’d done for her this past week made her heart ache with longing to let him into her life. He was kind and generous. He worried over her and showed it in everything he did. Besides the meals and security system he installed, he’d given her a key chain‑sized canister of pepper spray and showed her how to use it.

  Shoving her keyboard away, she snuck up to the window for a peek out front. There he sat in his truck, a cup of coffee in one hand as he watched the street for anyone suspicious.

  Did he have trouble getting comfortable for the long, empty night ahead? It was only fair that he should, because ever since he’d slept in her bed, wrapped her in his strong arms, she hadn’t been able to get completely comfortable without him. The bed was way too big now. She felt...lost...in it. She wanted Paul to share it with her. To take her and demand her surrender. To make love to her and make her come like she’d never done before.

  With a whimper, she turned away from the window and headed for the linen closet where she pulled out a beach blanket. Sitting in here thinking about Paul and all the amazing things he could do to her body was not going to help. She hadn’t been down to the beach in over a week. A late-night swim would cool her off and give her something else to think about.

  She turned off the alarm, pulled the new safety bar from the sliding glass door, and went out onto the back patio. No moon hung in the sky tonight, but the stars were brilliant. Carefully she made her way down the steps in the utter darkness to the sand, then across the beach to lay out the blanket just out of reach of the water’s edge.

  The sound of the rolling surf soothed her mind and soul. She breathed deep the salty air. A warm breeze ruffled her hair and made her feel...alive.

  She turned to look behind her. Her bungalow was lit up, but the others nearby were all dark. The area in which she lived was a vacation community, and most of the cottages were only used on weekends. Mid-week, like tonight, no one was about.

  With a secret grin for her naughty indulgence, she kicked off her sandals and hauled her summer dress over her head. Her bra came off with a quick flip of the front clasp, and she shimmied out of her panties. Casting one more glance over her shoulder, she ran into the ocean and dove through the next wave.

  The rush of the cool water over her skin revitalized her. The sound of tiny bubbles and sand rubbing against sand soothed her even more. Her lungs burning, she shot to the surface and gulped in air. Floating on her back, staring up at the twinkling stars, she let out a breath she’d been holding for weeks.

  She could stay here forever, trapped between the peaceful pitch-blackness of space and ocean. Her ears below the water, she felt isolated from everything. Every fear, anger, and hurt she’d ever experienced vanquished by the steady water lapping against her body, rocking her as if she were a child.

  The waves slowly propelled her toward the beach, and when the sandy bottom rubbed against her butt, she sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and stared out at the distance horizon. So dark was the night, the ocean looked like a shimmering sea of onyx. Only the soft waves that licked the shore, the little breakers tickling her toes, were as pale as her skin.

  “Public nudity is an indictable offence.”

  Startled, she bit her lip to stifle the yelp, but didn’t move. And when her heart settled its cadence, she grinned. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d known—hoped—Paul would show up here. She knew he watched her every move. Deep in her heart it thrilled her, even though her mind insisted she should be pissed he’d disturbed her solitary peace and quiet.

  Slowly, she rose to her feet and faced him. He was little more than a silhouette against the backlight of her bung
alow. “Are you here to arrest me, Detective?”

  She felt his gaze as if he’d stroked her, even though she couldn’t see his eyes.

  “I could.” He stepped closer, but stayed far enough back that the water didn’t touch his booted feet. “I should.”

  She’d told herself to avoid him. Stay away and don’t give in to his dominance. He was too powerful, and her heart would be shattered in the end. But what her logical mind said couldn’t compete with what her heart and body kept yelling at her. Let him in. Let him in.

  Let him in.

  She stepped toward him, each step measured, calculated to emphasize the sway of her hips, the thrust of her breasts. When she was but inches from his big, hard body, she whispered, “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He moved like lightening, as she knew he would. No Dom worthy of his title would let such a blatant statement go without punishment. He spun her around and, before she could even suck in a surprised gasp, her hands were cuffed behind her, his arms around her middle, and her wet back molded against his heated front.

  “You have the right to remain silent....”

  The cuffs were cold, hard metal. Beneath her fingers was the hot, hard bulge of his cock in his jeans. She tingled from head to toe. “And if I give up that right?”

  He turned her again, slower this time, and cupped her face in his big, gentle palms. “Then you must be punished.” His voice was as dark as the night. As seductive as the ocean.

  Her heart pounding in excitement, her breaths ragged with anticipation. “You don’t scare me.”

  This close she could see the depths of his eyes. They searched hers for a long moment as if asking whether she meant her words. She dropped her gaze from his in a show of respect and gave the slightest nod. She meant it. He didn’t frighten her. Not the way he thought. Her fear of him came from the fear of giving her heart away. Of trusting in someone again. Of being hurt emotionally, not physically.