Freed

by Stacey Kennedy

  Also so you couldn’t avoid me, his hard stare indicated.

  Mary noted the determination in the firm set of his features, and even sensed her mind being freed under his hold. But her heart screamed to stop. She made a vow to Charles. How could she break the promise that only he could possess her soul?

  She forcibly stepped back and crossed her arms. “Listen, Elliott, we had an incredible weekend, but that’s all it ever can be. I’m not looking for a play partner. I’m also not looking for a man to date. It was a onetime deal.”

  Elliott frowned, darkness washing across his features. “Why don’t you want more? Even now, your body is responding to me.” He closed the distance again with a purposeful step. “Your cheeks are rosy. Lips are parted, nearly begging me to take that mouth.” He dragged a finger along her cheeks. “Your eyes, Mary, they tell me to own you.”

  Shutting her eyes, she fought against losing herself in all of what he said. Her body wanted him with a blaze of fire in her soul. But she wasn’t ruled by her body alone. She opened her eyes and took a step back. “You don’t even know me, so I’m not sure how you think you can make that judgment.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I know we have incredible chemistry. I’m not asking you for a commitment, or even a date. But I do want to take you on as a submissive, and you’ve made it clear enough that you would like that, too.”

  No matter what she felt around Elliott, she had made promises to her Dom. Promises that she couldn’t live with herself if she broke. She lifted her chin. “No.”

  Elliott snorted, shaking his head. “I know you’ve been alone for a long time and are still hurting, and I’m sorry for that.” He reached for her hand, taking it gently. “But you deserve to be happy and enjoying your life, Mary.”

  His touch was dangerous. It made her forget. That couldn’t happen. She yanked her hand away, coldness lacing her veins. “You are reading me wrong. I have no interest in playing with you again.”

  His eyes blazed red-hot. “I believe I already told you that your words are much prettier when you’re speaking the truth.” He gave her a long, measured look. “Do I look like a young and foolish kid?”

  She gazed over him and forced herself not to lick her lips. No, he was a powerful, confident man. “Of course, not.”

  “I have been married and divorced.” His voice tightened into the stern tone that all Doms had mastered. “I have dated many women. I know what I want, and I want to get to know you. Chemistry. Passion. A connection. This doesn’t come around often.”

  “I already told you that I can’t give you what you’re after.” It’s too dangerous to be with you. She knew what this chemistry led to; she had had it once before, an instant power between two people that defied odds. A pull toward each other that couldn’t be explained, nor could it be ignored. A connection that was the perfect recipe for love. “I’m not looking to be involved.”

  Elliott stepped in close to her and ran his hands down her arms, bringing forth her shiver. “Since you seem to keep uttering lies to me, why don’t I try to help you get the truth out? Tell me, is it that you don’t believe you can love two men in one lifetime?”

  She clenched her teeth, hating how damn perceptive Doms were. “No.”

  Leaning down, he tsked in her ear, raising goose bumps on her neck. “When are you going to stop lying to yourself, darlin’?”

  God, the way he purred darlin’ nearly sent her to her knees. “I’m not lying to myself.” She forced herself to jerk away from him. “You are simply choosing not to listen to me. I’m finding it very rude. This is my place of employment. You shouldn’t have come here. You can leave now.”

  He chuckled, as her words bounced right off him. “Pretty lies coming from an even more beautiful mouth.” He dropped his gaze to hers, hard and unforgiving. “Do you take me for a man who if he found a submissive that awakens so perfectly under his touch and makes him feel things he hasn’t in a long time, he’d let her run?”

  She kept her lips shut, avoiding that answer.

  Bringing those warm and soulful eyes right to her eye level, he continued. “You know how I feel. You know what I want.” Something hot and possessive flashed in his features, reflecting a Dom pushed to his max. “I have waited to meet a woman like you for years—a woman who makes me, as a Dom, feel alive. I’m not going to piss around and pretend what I feel with you isn’t special, but I’m too damn old to chase after women.”

  He leaned away, studied her, then added, “I leave for a personal trip on Saturday.” He reached into his back pocket and then placed a business card in her hand. “If you don’t call me before then, this will be over and I will leave you alone. That choice is yours.”

  Before she could catch up with him, his mouth was on hers and he shamelessly took what he wanted. He pressed her right up against the wall and he kissed her as if he was about to strip her clothes and take her right there.

  By the time he broke away, he was breathless, and she was wet and gasping. He arched a brow. “Don’t play games. Don’t ignore what you need. Don’t be scared.”

  “I’m not—”

  He pressed a finger against her mouth. “Please stop.” He cupped her cheek and she fought the urge to lean in to him. “Don’t contact me, if you must. But I simply cannot hear another lie.”

  Then he was gone, just like that.

  Mary was left plastered to the wall. “I’m not scared,” she wheezed, finishing the thought he’d refused her. “I’m fucking terrified.”

  Chapter Nine

  The clang of a fork startled Mary, snapping her gaze up. Her sister, Jennifer, who was two years older, glared from across the table in the Texan restaurant on the strip. The lines around her mouth were accentuated with her frown. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  Mary shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”

  Jennifer tucked her salt-and-pepper chin-length hair behind her ear, raising her brows. “It’s only Tuesday. That cannot be a good sign.”

  It certainly wasn’t.

  Mary sighed, spotting the concern in her sister’s brown eyes. She always thought her sister took after her father, with a strong, straight nose, and features reflecting sternness, which had made her a great high school principal before she retired. Mary took after her mother’s side; her features were just a bit softer.

  “Work is busy,” she lied easily, not interested in telling her sister the reason for her strain was her weekend with Elliott and the fact that he had come to her office yesterday. She still hadn’t reconciled all that happened with him. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

  “I hear the flu is going around.” Jennifer cut into her enchiladas and added, “As I was saying, the designer is coming up later this week and we’re finally going to get started on the nursery for Pam’s baby.”

  Mary pierced a piece of her chimichanga with her fork, then dipped it in sour cream. “That’s great news.” She attempted to seem interested, but after all that had happened, the conversation seemed dull in comparison.

  Jennifer was the classic soccer mom. Her life was about her children. Even now that her two children had grown up and moved out, she was still involved in their lives, to the point that Mary knew she drove her kids insane. Mary also had no idea why Jennifer was hiring a designer to redo a bedroom into a nursery for a grandchild who would visit only for the odd sleepover. Though Mary figured a playpen would do just fine, she kept the thought to herself.

  While she had always been a big part of her children’s lives, she liked that they had all grown into being their own individuals who didn’t need her as much as they used to. She was proud that they were living out their dreams. Of course, having them move away from Vegas wasn’t what she preferred, but they were happy.

  That’s all that mattered.

  Laughter from the table next to them drifted over as Jennifer said, “Once we get the nursery done, we’re going to make the backyard a little more kid-friendly.”

  Mary star
ed at her sister, noting how different they were. She also realized Jennifer was the only friend she had. After Charles passed, Mary had shut out everyone she knew in the BDSM community. She recalled how nice it was being at Elliott’s party, surrounded by others who lived an alternative lifestyle, one filled with erotic adventures. People who knew Mary’s true self. Torn between wanting to call Elliott to dive back into that lifestyle and forgetting last weekend even happened, Mary sensed a headache looming.

  Jennifer continued. “Hopefully everything will be done in two months or so.”

  “You will never be done.” Mary took a sip of her wine, then added with a laugh, “You’ll find something new to change in your house.”

  Jennifer smiled. “Maybe that’s true.”

  Mary hadn’t done a single thing to her house or her lake house in years. And as she took another sip of her wine, she wondered if that was strange. Even as she looked at her sister, who had just returned from a three-week vacation in Costa Rica, Mary noted that she hadn’t gone on a vacation in more years than she dared to count.

  Not since…

  Charles.

  Her stomach roiled in wonderment over why she’d stopped doing those things, but she pushed on and asked Jennifer, “Now that you’re home from Costa Rica, when and where is the next trip?”

  “Argentina in a month, for a week,” Jennifer replied, before she took another bite of her dinner and smiled warmly. “You know me so well. I never can stay in one place for too long.”

  Mary forced a grin, covering up the tightness in her throat. You don’t know me at all.

  But there is someone who does…

  She grabbed her wineglass, taking a larger sip to wash the yearnings away. No matter that Elliott made his point clear enough that he wanted to get to know her and to start a relationship, Mary fought against the thoughts of Charles. Elliott’s masculine face, the way he’d whispered naughty words in her ear, all invaded her now.

  Jennifer snapped her fingers in front of Mary’s face. “Gosh, you need sleep or something. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Sorry.” Mary blinked. “What were you saying?”

  “It’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary tomorrow,” Jennifer said with a frown. “I thought we could go and bring flowers to their grave site.”

  Mary nodded. “Of course, I’ll bring the flowers.”

  With that reminder of death and loss, her body settled. Her thoughts became distant and focused not on Elliott, not even on Charles, but on that empty space within that made her able to wake up every day and continue to breathe.

  —

  Just a little after six o’clock on Wednesday evening, Elliott strode into a classy lounge, taking a seat at the bar. The waiter immediately brought over his scotch on the rocks, and Elliott smiled in thanks. Next to him, on a small stage, the jazz band played an old classic, and the woman’s singing voice was soft and sweet, and set the right mood for Elliott to drain away the stress from the day.

  Years ago, he’d come to the lounge near his office after work to escape his ex-wife. Now, after so many years had passed, he used the half hour, sipping his scotch, as a method to unwind. Once he left this lounge, all thoughts of work fled, too.

  He lowered his head, looking at the ice in his glass, and he knew his thoughts were far away from work and completely focused on Mary. She hadn’t called. Perhaps foolishly, he thought she would had.

  Deep down, he wondered if Mary simply needed to have a man put in a little more effort. He believed she needed to see that he was entirely interested in her, and that if he showed her he understood what she was going through, she’d open herself up to him. He’d never been so wrong. And he couldn’t ignore the disappointment tightening his muscles.

  “This is a surprise,” a gentle voice said.

  He glanced up, finding his ex-lover, Laura, smiling at him. “Yes, it surely is.” Laura was a beautiful woman, with legs that went on and on, and her exotic look, with light green eyes and dark hair, had tempted him a few years back. “How are you?”

  She took a seat next to him, placing her wineglass on the marble bar, regarding him. “I’m just fine. But I think the better question is, how are you? You look terrible.”

  He snorted, glancing at his glass. “Thanks.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his focus, and her brows were furrowed. “Really, though, has something happened?”

  He regarded her, knowing she’d see right through him. Laura was a switch, meaning she enjoyed both the submissive and the Dominant role in BDSM play. Her insight into him simply told him she had been learning more in the art of reading people, which was a lesson a Dom had to learn to perfect his craft. When he had played with Laura, she was closer to submissive.

  After a sip of his scotch, he said, “Just a tough day.”

  “Must have been hellish.”

  “You know,” he said, arching a brow at her, “you might begin to insult me if you continue to tell me how terrible I look.”

  She gave an easy laugh. “Are you still holding your parties?”

  He nodded. “How is Chains treating you?”

  “It’s been”—her grin was sensual and full of heat—“interesting.” She gestured over her shoulder, and Elliott noted a younger man watching them. “I found myself a fun little toy that is very determined to please.”

  “How nice for you,” Elliott replied, not impressed by how much younger the man was than Laura. Though, by Laura’s bright smile and near adoring eyes, how could he judge? The man seemed fixated on her, and Laura seemed elated.

  “Well, I see that you’re not in the talking mood, but I wanted to say hello.” Laura pushed off the stool, picked up her wineglass, and gave him a shit-eating grin. “A word of advice, Elliott, why don’t you just call her and then you won’t have to sit here alone and look so miserable.” She turned on her shiny black heels and strode away.

  Elliott chuckled.

  It should be that simple.

  He drew his cell phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. Dmitri had given Elliott Mary’s phone number, though if he called her now, it would be only out of sheer desperation. He wanted to fight for her, of course he did, but he had already done that.

  He couldn’t do more.

  With a sigh, he finished off his drink, then shoved his phone back into his pocket. The next step didn’t belong to him, it belonged to Mary.

  —

  The telephone ringing had Mary rushing through her foyer with the ten-foot ceilings and into the French country living room. Her heart leapt with excitement, as she knew exactly who it would be. Her son Calvin always called Thursday evenings for their weekly chat. She grabbed the cordless phone off the white wicker table and pressed it to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  The sound of Calvin’s soft voice made Mary smile. He sounded so much like Charles on the telephone. The first year after Charles passed away she found it hard to talk to Calvin on the phone. In person, it wasn’t so similar. Now the familiarity comforted her. She sat down on the blue-and-white flower-patterned couch, drawing her legs up under her. “How are things?”

  “Busy, as always, but I finished a big exam yesterday,” he replied. “I’m looking forward to the weekend.”

  “Glad to hear your test is over,” Mary said. “I hope you plan to do something fun this weekend.” Calvin didn’t only sound like Charles, he also acted a lot like him. Both were driven and focused on their careers.

  Mary always thought that’s what she brought to Charles’s life—she loosened him up a little and got him out of his stuffy suit. When she met Charles, he was working twelve-hour days. In the year before he got sick, she had got him down to working a standard eight hours.

  “You know, Mom,” Calvin said with a laugh. “Most parents are pushing their kids to study harder.”

  “You work hard enough,” she said, staring at the family pictures on the fireplace mantel. Pictures that had Charles in them. “How is Sam?�
��

  “He’s good—closed on a big property earlier this week. We’re celebrating tonight at a club.”

  “Sounds fun.” Calvin had come out to both her and Charles when he was in high school. Not that he needed to say anything; they had known Calvin was homosexual from a very young age. But she was happy he felt comfortable enough to tell them.

  Love is hard to find. If you are lucky enough to find it with a person that makes you smile every day, then it doesn’t matter who it is with, Charles had said to Calvin the night a nervous and teary Calvin had sat them down.

  Mary shared Charles’s feelings—love was hard and didn’t happen often, at least not true love. Charles had never met Sam, but Mary wished he had. Sam was a positive young man with a bright future in real estate. He also made Calvin very happy. Besides, Sam was one of the best shopping partners Mary knew.

  Calvin asked, “What about you, any exciting plans?”

  Mary flinched, knowing that she could have a fabulous weekend, if only she would call Elliott. Tomorrow was the deadline he had given. If she didn’t call by then, she knew that her chance for another night with him would pass her by.

  She doubted he’d give her a second chance.

  As she stared at the picture of Charles with his arms wrapped around her and her daughter, Cassie, with Calvin and Christian on either side of them, her heart clenched. It would be so easy to give in to Elliott. That day in the doctor’s office only reminded her how much she wanted him, but she had made promises to Charles.

  Promises that had been forged into her soul.

  Her heart clenched and darkness slid like a disease through her at the thought of disappointing the man she’d vowed herself to. She gave a heavy sigh. “I plan go to see Cassie in New York on Saturday. Is that exciting enough?”

  Calvin laughed. “Oh, yeah, visiting your daughter is the definition of excitement.”

  —