by Zara Cox
My jaw gritted. ‘I don’t want that either.’
Her head tilted, her hazel eyes mocking as they met mine. ‘Let me guess, you want a cosy conversation by the roaring fire?’
No, I wanted to growl.
Conversation could come way later, after we stopped playing games and she showed me her true self. Long after we established a baseline of trust and she let me surrender to her from my rightful place at her feet. Long after I’d undressed her again and given her everything she wanted from me, which I hoped involved long hours spent between her thighs.
Then I wouldn’t mind a conversation or two with her. A chance to discover what else lay beneath those dense layers besides the vulnerability I’d occasionally caught glimpses of yesterday.
Since even the thought of that was making me hard again, I forced a shrug. ‘If that’s what you want. But first you really should get out of those clothes. And you can have the bedroom. I insist.’
The barest hint of a smile ghosted her lips. ‘Oh, you do, do you?’
I nodded. ‘Call it my peace offering for offending you.’
A layer of iciness receded, and something tight eased inside me. ‘Where are you going to sleep? Don’t tell me you’re going to take the sofa. It’s barely long enough to accommodate me, never mind you.’ She waved a hand at me.
I shrugged again. ‘There’s an air mattress around here somewhere. Or I can use the sleeping bag. I’ll be fine.’
She didn’t answer, but her gaze swung to the bed and she approached it. A smile playing over full, sensual lips, she sat down and dragged her fingers over the comforter. I bit back a groan, locked my knees as a punch of lust knocked the breath out of me. I wanted those fingers on my body, caressing me.
Before things got out of control, I waved at the door. ‘You want to continue the tour?’
‘It’s more or less a two-room cabin, isn’t it?’
‘Yep. The bathroom’s next door, and I have a darkroom downstairs next to the pantry, but yes, that’s about it.’
Her eyes stayed on mine. ‘That’s all I need to know, thanks.’
‘Okay.’ I turned towards the door.
Her voice, firm, sexy, minus the icy disdain, stopped me. ‘Jensen?’
I looked over my shoulder. ‘Yes?’
‘Apology accepted.’
Another knot unravelled inside me, disconcerting me as much as the smile that took me by surprise. I wasn’t going to examine either right now. ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Coffee will be ready in five minutes.’
Before I did something else insane, like beg her for another kiss, I hurried down the stairs and crossed the living room into the kitchen. I busied myself measuring coffee beans into the coffee-maker—another perk I’d allowed myself—while ignoring the noises from the bathroom and thoughts of a wet, naked Graciela. The coffee was brewing when I heard her footsteps behind me. I turned, unable to help myself.
My breath flattened in my lungs.
Dammit. She was fucking gorgeous.
Black leggings showcased long, shapely legs and feminine hips. Above that, a waist-skimming grey cashmere sweater, designed in a wide-necked sexy way to reveal one shoulder, left a creamy expanse of flesh I couldn’t help but devour with my eyes as she moved towards me. ‘Why the bedroom upstairs?’
‘What?’ I forced my brain to track.
‘Why not attach a bedroom to the living room downstairs?’ she elaborated.
‘To conserve space. The initial plan was to make it one big room, get a big sofa that converts to a bed to use when I needed it, but I realised I’d need to make room for a bathroom down here too. I wanted to reduce the square footage so I went up rather than out and split the extra room downstairs into a pantry and darkroom. Rustic is one thing, but I draw the line at an outside bathroom.’
The barest hint of a smile curled her lips, and I was struck with the wild urge to see her truly smile. ‘Surprisingly I do too.’
‘Then we’re in agreement.’
She looked around again. ‘So, you own the cabin?’
I nodded. ‘Built it with my own two hands three years ago.’
Her gaze dropped to my hands and for some reason I wanted to spread them out, offer them to her.
Get a grip, Jensen.
The coffee machine beeped, giving me the perfect excuse to use my hands on something other than supplication.
‘How do you take your coffee?’
‘Black. No sugar. Thanks.’
Damn. Girl after my own heart.
Woman.
Graciela Mortimer was all woman. A woman I wanted more with every passing minute. I poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her. She lifted the cup to her lips, gently blew on it before taking a sip.
Her gaze lifted, boldly spearing mine for one tight little second. I wondered if she’d seen my desire. If she had, what would she do with it?
Nothing, I told myself firmly.
I’d sworn off entanglements, remember? I took a large gulp of coffee, wincing when it scalded my mouth and throat. But it brought a modicum of common sense, enough for me to exhale somewhere near normally as her gaze swung from me to the window.
‘Is there any way to find out how long this thing is going to last?’
My insides dipped, mocking the mental slap I’d just handed myself. ‘In a hurry to get somewhere?’
Hazel eyes returned to clash with mine. ‘Of course I am. Even charity magazines don’t run themselves.’
‘I don’t want to start an argument, but don’t you have people to ensure things run smoothly in your absence?’
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being in charge.’
My next breath strangled in my chest. I’d got a small taste of her being in charge and it’d sparked a red-hot fire in me. But there was something else, something she wasn’t quite saying. I decided to leave it be. For now. ‘You’ve got your satellite phone. That’s enough to stay connected for the time being, right?’
Her gaze lingered on my face. ‘I like to be fully present in every situation. Phones are one thing, face to face is quite another.’
Yep, we were definitely talking about something other than her business. Something that charged the blood in my veins triggered feral hunger inside me. My cock hardened. ‘I get that.’
‘Do you?’
My throat dried, words taking a little while to form in my brain before I replied. ‘That you like being in control. Relish being in charge? Yes, I do. Am I wrong?’ Fuck, I hoped I wasn’t. Being taken for a fool by Stephanie was one thing. Getting it wrong twice...
‘You really want to know the answer to that?’
I shifted as the ground beneath my feet lurched. We were straying into forbidden territory, slipping beneath the roped-off cordon and into space I’d designated off-limits since that last, soul-wrecking showdown with Stephanie. Where she’d admitted the depth of her duplicity. Admitted, finally, her interest in me had been mere facility, that I—and my celebrity—was a stepping stone to the bigger pool of clients she’d wished to cultivate. That she’d only pandered to my proclivities because she thought I’d grow out of it eventually.
I wanted to set my cup down, walk away from this subtexted conversation before it got any more dangerous. Before Graciela’s sizzling gaze compelled me to disregard every reason why this was a bad idea.
‘What if I said yes, Jensen? What if I told you that being in control is everything I live for? That I’m the Domme your senses are screaming at you that I am?’ she stated, her voice deep, firm. Totally controlled.
My stomach went into free fall, my heart hammering a wild, feral beat as we stared at one another.
End this now. Don’t risk another Stephanie episode when you know how it’ll end.
What if I was leaving myself open to a new, untested form of hell?
Bu
t even as the warning shrieked inside my head, I knew this wouldn’t be like that. For one thing, this would be temporary.
I was looking at hours, maybe a day with Graciela, rather than the months Stephanie had wormed her duplicitous way into my life.
Everything with Graciela Mortimer was already on a countdown clock controlled by the weather. It would end and we’d go our separate ways. So why not indulge in whatever open-ended proposition blazed in her eyes? Experience an epic adventure right here in my cabin?
And if it turned out not to be as epic... I mentally shrugged. I couldn’t be more disappointed than I’d been in the last few years.
But if it was...
If she was offering me another chance to fulfil the deep craving, a chance to be rid of this hard-on threatening to cut me in half, no fucking way in hell was I to deny it. I swallowed another mouthful of coffee to buy myself some time; unable to deny the clamouring in my blood, I answered. ‘Prove it.’ The words fell from my lips before I could stop them. ‘If you are who you say you are, prove it to me.’
She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘You want me to...’ She stopped.
And right before my eyes, her gaze sharpened, her features tightening with calculating purpose. Purpose that wouldn’t be denied.
‘For starters, you know I would never allow a sub to address me that way. Don’t you?’ Soft, menacing words that pounded the locked door to my soul ajar, demanding entry, demanding a glimpse of what lay beyond it.
I knew the moment she saw it. Her nostrils flared, her lips parting for just a second before she pulled the reins of the control tight.
‘Yes.’
‘And you are a sub,’ she breathed. ‘One who’s yearning to find his freedom in surrender in a way he hasn’t for...a while. Aren’t you, Jensen?’ It wasn’t really a question. It was a searing acknowledgement.
Something shifted inside me. Something wild and elemental.
A key finding a lock.
Turning. Turning. Turning.
I couldn’t halt my response.
‘Yes, min elskerinde.’
CHAPTER FIVE
FIRE BLAZED IN her eyes at my answer, the flames raging as she continued to stare me down. ‘How long?’
Flashes of shame and regret tore through me. ‘Not as long as I’ve wanted to.’
‘What does that mean? Explain yourself clearly to me.’
Shit, was I really doing this? Letting her open that door wider when I needed to be more circumspect? Graciela wouldn’t be the first woman to profess she understood what I needed when she didn’t have the first clue.
Case in point—Stephanie. First-class liar and con artist. She’d taken my trust and warped it without second thought to progress her career. Had been prepared to go even as far as marriage.
While I’d once upon a time made allowances because I was finding my own feet, I wasn’t prepared to do so any more. Submitting to a worthy Domme for a night, or for however long we both wanted, wasn’t something to frivolously toss around. I wanted a woman who knew what she was doing in the bedroom. Who understood my needs without flinching from fulfilling them. Part of that involved honesty. And openness.
I exhaled my apprehension. ‘I didn’t fully embrace my needs until a few years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of who I am.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ she murmured.
‘I just choose not to be a raging advertisement for the lifestyle. But I know what I want in the bedroom and I’d rather not have to settle for a diluted version of it.’
She nodded. ‘Again, good to hear.’
‘Because?’ I asked, my insides jumping, the need for confirmation running amok inside me.
She didn’t answer immediately; her gaze drifted to the snow falling hard outside the window. ‘Because I have a proposition for you, Jensen.’
‘Ja?’ I replied, slipping into Danish. My mother tongue was comforting, I’d found, in times of stress. Probably something to do with it irritating the bastard who I’d had the misfortune of calling my father. The bastard who’d made his wife and children’s lives a living hell for a decade and a half before doing a disappearing act.
Sure, this was stress of a different kind, but it didn’t make enduring it any easier as I waited for Graciela to respond.
Her gaze pinned mine, resolute. Commanding. My fingers tightened around my coffee mug, anticipation rushing through me.
‘As long as that storm rages just outside, you will be mine.’
‘Yes,’ I responded immediately. Without reservation.
It was temporary. A start and end date. What could be better?
‘You don’t want to know what being mine entails?’ she asked, a little amused.
‘I do. Very much,’ I said thickly, barely able to get my vocal cords to work.
‘Put that coffee down and come here, Jensen.’
I set the cup down without taking my eyes off her.
But I didn’t move from where I stood. I needed something from her first. ‘Before we start...whatever this is, I want you to promise me one thing.’
A flash of a grimace twitched her nose, but I suspected it was a flippant gesture to hide a deeper reaction. ‘People break promises all the time. What makes you think I’ll keep mine?’
‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and accept you at your word.’
She seemed momentarily startled. Then she shrugged. ‘Fine. What do you want?’
‘That whatever you’re feeling, be truthful with it.’ I’d had enough of lies and half-truths to last me a lifetime. Refusing to face up to reality was the reason my relationship with my mother was still strained, even now, years after the stain of my bastard father should’ve been erased from our lives, Stephanie’s conniving ways and betrayal the reason I’d ended up here in Alaska. With my past and my present riddled with deception and duplicity, I was one hundred per cent sure I wouldn’t take it well if Graciela Mortimer fucked with me that way.
Her head tilted in that way that said she was tunnelling furiously towards the truths and wounds that resided in my very core. And sure enough... ‘Is that what she did to you? She lied?’
‘Graciela...’
She didn’t even bat an eyelid at my warning tone. Man, she was fearless. Not that she needed to fear me, but one day she was going to poke a wounded bear and get herself in a whole world of hurt.
‘Gud hjælpe mig.’
‘What was that?’
I inhaled slowly. ‘Nothing.’
‘Are you sure? Only it sounded like you said, “God help me”.’
I stiffened. ‘You speak Danish?’
She shook her head. ‘Not one of my many talents, sadly.’
I exhaled. Sure, the words were similar enough to translate.
Note to self—watch yourself in future.
I snorted under my breath. What future? The sharp rip of something in my chest told me it wasn’t as laughable as I was attempting.
‘I gave you a command, Jensen.’
I took the vital step that brought me close to her.
‘Take my cup,’ she instructed.
I took it, turned and set it down next to mine.
With a soft snap of her fingers, she pointed to the floor.
I dropped to my knees, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest as I lowered my gaze. She inhaled sharply and moved closer until only inches separated us.
She placed her fingers beneath my jaw, nudged my gaze up before leaning in even closer. ‘I’ve seen you out there in your element, owning and bending nature to your will. That’s great. Out there, you can be in charge all you like. But in here, you hand over control to me. I own your every move, your every breath. Do you understand?’
The knot I’d carried since Stephanie’s lies unravelled, the raging need for the thick promis
e in Graciela’s words shocking me to my soul. ‘Yes, min elskerinde.’
She gave a brisk nod. ‘Let’s establish rules. You have my word that I’ll be truthful. That I won’t do anything to degrade you. We’re both free to end this any time we want, storm or no storm. Agreed?’
Relief washed through me. Something else threatened to unravel, but I kept a tight hold on it. I wasn’t ready to trust. Not just yet. ‘Agreed.’
‘Good. Safe words. Do you have one for me?’
I wanted to tell her I didn’t need one. That I’d willingly follow her every instruction. But that was a slippery slope. Checks and balances were in place for a reason. I couldn’t go into this ignoring rules right from the start. Besides, if she truly was a Domme, she would insist upon it.
I cast around for a suitable safe word as she stared down at me, eyes blazing.
And then it became laughably clear. The only thing it could be. ‘Hazel,’ I said, the word ringing inside me.
‘Hazel,’ she repeated, a smile curving her lips. ‘I can work with that.’
Her gaze swept up and down my body, lingered on my hair. I couldn’t quite read her expression but I could tell she wanted to touch me. More specifically, drag her fingers through my hair the way she did last night in the tent. And, boy, did I want her to.
I didn’t vocalise my need, however. The words would remain locked in my throat until she gave me permission. She didn’t give it.
Instead, she stepped back, casting a critical eye over the cabin. She paused at the fireplace and glanced back at me. ‘I’d like you to set up the bedding you spoke about in front of the fireplace. Then undress and wait for me there.’
I rose to my feet, barely able to think through the wild roar in my ears at the thought of pleasing her. The blankets we’d brought in from the trek still lay in a heap next to the fireplace but I went to the supply cupboard to grab fresh, more comfortable ones.
Made of thick merino wool, three would do the job of providing adequate cushioning, I judged. If things went the way I hoped they would, we’d be there for hours. If we needed it, I’d blow up the air mattress later. Or, better still, Graciela might decide on the king-size bed going to waste upstairs.