The Training tst-6

by Tara Sue Me

  Then Nathaniel stepped out of the bathroom.

  Now, I’d seen Nathaniel in a tux before, and it had always been enough to give me pause, but somehow he looked even more . . . more.

  I looked him up and down. “Hello, handsome.”

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead. “You look too perfect to touch.”

  This from the man who packed spreader bars and a wooden paddle for vacation?

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, patting his chest.

  He jumped backward as if I’d punched him, his face freezing in horror, but almost before I could register what happened, his expression returned to normal.

  I blinked.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Just thought I’d forgotten to pack a little something, something.”

  I tilted my head. “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Forget to pack a little something, something?”

  “No. The something, something is perfectly safe.”

  I grabbed the handle to my bag. “Are we ready?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Almost.” He held up a finger. “Just need . . .”

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “That,” he finished.

  That?

  “The bellboy to take our bags,” he said.

  Of course. Why did I ever think Nathaniel would have me drag an overnight bag while dressed to the nines?

  He opened the door, handed the waiting gentleman our bags, and held out his arm to me. “Ready?”

  We walked through endless hallways and corridors on our way outside. I knew we turned a few heads as we passed. From the corner of my eye, I even saw one lady take a picture of us with her cell phone. I chuckled before remembering my name had been in People. Matter of fact, my picture had been as well, thanks to being Felicia’s maid of honor.

  Still, that hardly warranted a hastily snapped picture.

  I recalled Googling Nathaniel’s name after meeting him in his office for the first time and how I’d found the picture with Melanie at his side. I wondered if that image was still the first to pop up, or if it had been replaced by one with me. I made a mental note to check on my laptop once we made it back to the room.

  As we wove our way through the lobby, something interesting happened.

  I walked straighter, my shoulders back and my head up. I realized on that walk that I was not merely Nathaniel’s date, his submissive, or even his live-in girlfriend.

  I was Nathaniel’s equal.

  In everything.

  In the bedroom, out of the bedroom. In the playroom, out of the playroom. In the business world, out of the business world.

  He was no better or worse than me, and I was no better or worse than him.

  I was so caught up in that realization, we made it to the end of a dock before I comprehended where we were.

  I looked in front of us.

  “You’re taking me on a boat?” I asked.

  He leaned down and whispered to me, “Technically, it’s a yacht, but yes, I am.”

  It was long and sleek, and looked like it should be gracing the cover of a boating magazine instead of being docked in south central Florida. Not that I was complaining about it being docked in south central Florida.

  “I’ve never been on a boat before,” I said, then hastily added, “Or a yacht.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No,” I said. “I never had much interest in fishing.”

  “Do you not want to sail?”

  “Oh, no. I’ve always wanted to be on a boat, just not a fishing one.”

  “Yacht,” he said, nodding toward the uniformed man approaching us. “He might take offense if you keep calling his baby a boat.”

  “Yacht,” I said. “Always wanted to sail on one of those, too.”

  The captain welcomed us aboard and then left us alone to explore. There was a bedroom, a sitting room, and a well-appointed bathroom. I noted our bags had been stowed away in the bedroom closet.

  Dusk was falling when we stepped back out on deck. I looked around. The yacht had pulled away from the dock and resort and was making its way to the middle of the lake.

  I watched the water for a few minutes, enjoying the soft breeze and the hum of the yacht’s motor. Once we’d pulled away from the majority of the resort water traffic, we stopped.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Nathaniel whispered, coming up behind me and taking my hand.

  I nodded and turned. Someone had been busy. A candlelit table had been set up on deck with crisp white linens and delicate china.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  He smiled. “I suppose beauty’s relative. Come with me,” he said. “I ordered your favorites.”

  He pulled a chair out for me and, once he took his own seat, poured us both some red wine. I took the glass he offered and looked up as I sipped. A thousand sparkling stars were visible, joining in to perfect the scene further.

  A waiter appeared and set a bowl of soup in front of each of us.

  “You know,” I said, after I enjoyed a few spoonfuls of the delectable soup. “One of these days, I’m going to surprise you.”

  “You are?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “First of all, I’ll blindfold you.”

  “I like the sound of this.”

  I took another sip of soup. Butternut squash. The taste was a delicious combination of oaky sweetness. “Then I’ll force you into the car and drive.”

  “Where will you take me?”

  “Somewhere completely unexpected.” His expression practically begged me to continue, so I did. “The grocery store.”

  He set his spoon down. “The grocery store?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I’ll drag you up and down aisles and show you how to properly choose your milk and bread.”

  “You’re going to surprise me with a trip to the grocery store?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Because I could never come up with anything as wonderful as all this.” I waved my hand. “This is lovely. Thank you.”

  “You’re thanking me, and we haven’t even made it to our entrées yet.”

  “I don’t need the entrées,” I said. “Just being here with you. The thought, the planning you put in to all this. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “Abby,” he said. “I’ve lived the majority of my adult life alone. I thoroughly enjoyed planning this.” His eyes still held the glow of excitement they had hours ago. “Besides. You, in the moonlight, with candles lighting your face. That gown.” He shook his head. “It’s all the thanks I need.”

  He hadn’t exaggerated when he said he’d ordered my favorites. The soup was followed by braised lamb with roasted asparagus. A plate of cheeses came next.

  “That was wonderful,” I said, finally putting my napkin beside my empty plate. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

  Nathaniel smiled at the waiter, who had appeared to remove our plates. “Nothing else for right now.”

  I wondered what else he had planned.

  “Thank you, sir,” the waiter said and left, hands full of empty plates.

  Soft music had somehow been piped on deck and had played while we ate. Moments after the waiter left, the music changed and the familiar strains of a piano started to play.

  Nathaniel stood, walked to my side, and held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

  I took his hand and stood. “Always.”

  He drew me close and as we danced, I felt the warmth of his hand along my shoulders. I thought back, remembering, and sighed.

  “Happy sigh?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Just remembering.”

  “Remembering what?”

  “Our first dance.” I pulled back and caught his eyes. “You remember?”

  “Of course,” he said. “You made me want to dance. How could I forget that?”

  “I think,” I said, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. “I think that
was the night I first realized I could fall in love with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm,” I hummed as he spun me slowly around the deck. The waiter was nowhere in sight, and it felt as if we were the only people on Earth. Maybe we were. “It scared me, that realization. I still wasn’t sure who you were, but it didn’t matter. I knew I was in danger of falling in love with you.” I squinted at him. “What were you thinking that night?”

  He had a faraway expression in his eyes. “The night of our first dance, Linda’s benefit, I was still in horrible denial. I couldn’t admit to myself how much I felt for you.”

  Not surprising when you thought about it.

  “Now,” he said, hand slipping to my waist. “The night of our second dance—”

  “Felicia and Jackson’s engagement party?”

  He nodded. “That night, I knew exactly how much I cared for you. How much I loved you. And I was the scared one. I was so afraid you’d never want anything to do with me again.”

  The night was too perfect to dwell on our past. We’d discussed and talked about it so many times. I wanted to talk of our present, our future.

  “But our third dance,” I said. “When they got married . . .”

  “That dance,” he said, with a smile. “Was near perfect.”

  “Yes, but not nearly as perfect as this one.”

  We came to a stop in our dancing, and though the music continued, we simply stood with our arms around each other. I looked up into his face. My Nathaniel. My heart hurt just thinking about how I loved him. If I could just bottle the night to somehow breathe it in when things got difficult . . .

  He swallowed several times.

  “Abby,” he started and then stopped.

  Oh, fuck, is something wrong?

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He nodded, almost absentmindedly, before continuing. “I’ve, uh, thought about this so many times and came up with line, after line, after line. Somehow, though, I think the simple approach is best.”

  What the . . . ?

  He moved a step back, took something from his jacket pocket, and dropped to one knee.

  My hand flew to my mouth.

  “Abby King,” he said, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “I love you. Will you marry me?” He opened what I now saw was a ring box, exposing a stunning diamond solitaire inside. “Be my wife?”

  It wasn’t until he said, “Abby,” again that I realized I was frozen with my hands covering my mouth.

  Have I not answered?

  “Yes,” I said just in case, and his face erupted in an expression of joy, relief, and delight.

  “Yes?” he asked, still not moving from kneeling on the deck.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” I said. The ring looked all blurry.

  He stood to his feet. “You’re crying.”

  “Sorry.” I wiped the moisture from my eyes. “It’s just you. There.” I pointed to the ring. “And then . . .”

  He very slowly slipped the ring from the box, and I saw it clearer. The band was composed of a single row of diamonds and the center stone had to be at least three carats.

  Making sure he kept his eyes locked on mine, he lifted my left hand and kissed my ring finger, right where it met my palm, before sliding the solitaire on.

  “Perfect fit,” I said, finally breaking eye contact to look at my hand. The moonlight bounced off the flawless stone, and my hand felt heavy and weightless at the same time.

  “I cheated,” he said. “Felicia helped with the ring size.”

  I laughed as I understood just how long he’d been planning the night. “And Elaina?”

  “Actually,” he said, “the gown was her idea.”

  “But she knew?” I asked. “About tonight?”

  “Mmm.” He nodded and lifted my left hand up once again. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me either,” I said, wiggling my fingers, knowing exactly what he was talking about. We’d be married before the year was out.

  He drew me close, placing soft kisses along my cheekbone. I dug my fingers through his hair and lifted my chin to brush his lips with mine. The touch of his lips was so familiar, and yet somehow still so new. I parted my mouth and tasted him, taking his hands and pulling him closer, delighting in the knowledge that this, this man, his touch, would be mine forever.

  And I would be his.

  Eventually, he pulled back and kissed the inside of my hand, his lips brushing my ring finger once more. “Abby West,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Abigail West,” I said, testing the words on my tongue.

  “Oh, yes,” he said with a delighted smile. “That, too.”

  Epilogue

  —SIX YEARS LATER—

  It’s Friday night and the house is quiet. Apollo sits in the upstairs hall, as usual, in between the two closed bedroom doors. He sighs and places his head on his paws, knowing it won’t be too long before he can check on the baby again. Perhaps tomorrow they can all go outside and play under the shade of the tree house again.

  Henry is eight weeks old. His sister, Elizabeth, turns three next month.

  The door to the master bedroom opens and Abby steps out, naked except for a bra, her steps light and quick. While her body is still lithe, it has changed much in the last few years. And though her nights are far from restful, she is not tired at the moment.

  She was promoted to library director three years ago. In that time, she has started a new literacy campaign, expanded the high school tutoring program, and implemented a summer camp for primary- and middle-school-aged children. She has enjoyed the position, but will step down and turn in her resignation next week, as she wants to be at home with the children.

  Tonight, though, her focus is on something else entirely, and she pauses briefly outside each of the two rooms, making sure there is no sound from within before turning and entering the playroom. She is both excited and tentative as she enters. Excited, because it is the first time in far too long since they have been in the playroom, and tentative, for the same reason.

  She knows he will go easy on her tonight. He had the first time after Elizabeth was born. She doesn’t care, though. After years of living, loving, fighting, and making up, she rests comfortably in the knowledge that in the playroom, he is her master.

  She wants it no other way.

  Moments after the playroom door closes behind her, the master bedroom door opens once more, and Nathaniel steps out into the hallway. He wears the black jeans he normally does for playroom time. His mind runs through the plans he has for the night, and he spends a few minutes trying to anticipate her reaction. She probably knows he won’t push her too hard. This will just be a reacclimation for them both.

  For a moment, he stands outside his children’s doors and imagines them sleeping within. Elizabeth, so full of life, with inquisitive eyes and a curious mind so similar to her mother’s. And Henry, already showing signs of a quiet, contemplative soul.

  He glances down at his wedding band, his father’s wedding band, and smiles before walking to the playroom. Inside is his wife, submissive, lover, the mother of his children, and his best friend. Tonight, he will once more command her body and soul, playing them both the way she craves, the way only he can.

  When they are finished, he will carry her to their bedroom, where he will worship her with words and touches, wrapping her in the security and comfort of his love.

  Tara Sue Me

  Tara Sue Me wrote her first novel at the age of twelve. It would be twenty years before she picked up her pen to write the second.

  After completing several traditional romances, she decided to try her hand at something spicier and started work on The Submissive. What began as a writing exercise quickly took on a life of its own, and sequels The Dominant and The Training soon followed. Originally published online, the trilogy was a huge hit with readers around the world. Each of the books has now been read and reread more than a million times.

  Tara kept her i
dentity and her writing life secret, not even telling her husband what she was working on. To this day, only a handful of people know the truth (though she has told her husband). They live together in the southeastern United States with their two children.

  Praise for Tara Sue Me:

  ‘A sexy and inviting kick-off to a new erotic trilogy, The Submissive should not be missed’ Romance Reviews Today

  ‘I HIGHLY recommend The Submissive by Tara Sue Me. It’s so worth it. This book crackles with sexual lightning right from the beginning . . . The Submissive has exceeded all my expectations. It has heart and the characters are majorly flawed in a beautiful way. They aren’t perfect, but they may be perfect together. Step into Tara Sue Me’s world of dominance and submission. It’s erotic, thrilling, and will leave you panting for more’ Martini Reviews

  ‘By the end of the first chapter I was hooked on the story and relationship of Abigail and Nathaniel . . . The book is told in first person so we only get Abby’s perspective of the relationship, but it’s one that I found real and compelling . . . This is one of those books that I will read and re-read’ The Book Reading Gals

  ‘For those Fifty Shades fans pining for a little more spice on their e-reader . . . the Guardian recommends Tara Sue Me’s Submissive Trilogy, starring handsome CEO Nathaniel West, a man on the prowl for a new submissive, and the librarian Abby, who is yearning for something more’ Los Angeles Times

  ‘Unbelievably fantastic! . . . Nathaniel is something special, and he has that . . . something “more” that makes him who he is and makes me love him more than all the others. Beneath the cold and detached surface there is a sweet and loving man, and I adored how Abby managed to crack his armour a tiny bit at a time . . . I can’t wait to continue this beautiful story’ Mind Reader

  ‘A blazing hot BDSM story between a billionaire and someone who’s admired him from afar. I really enjoyed this smoking tale and recommend it to erotic romance readers . . . I learned a lot about BDSM via Abby and Nathaniel’s relationship. I started to understand how things worked . . . I look forward to more books by Tara Sue Me. The sex between Abby and Nathaniel will have readers burning up’ Night Owl Reviews