by Jenna Jacob
So did he.
Kellan woke to sunlight spilling into the guest room. To his shock, he discovered he wasn’t in the chair. No, he was in bed with Mercy. Her hot, naked flesh was pressed against his side.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He peered down to find she had one arm draped over his chest and her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. His cock woke instantaneously, tenting his sweats and the sheet.
He couldn’t move.
Hell, Kellan could hardly breathe.
The only woman he’d ever woken with in his arms was Leena.
Guilt bludgeoned him like a sledgehammer while flames of remorse licked up his spine. Fighting the urge to leap out of bed, Kellan began to slowly and methodically extricate himself from Mercy’s deliciously warm body.
Sweat broke out over his brow when a kitten-like moan slid from the back of her throat. The erotic sound made his cock leap and the muscles of his abs grow taut.
Seven days. Seven days, fucker.
Kellan cast a scowl at his traitorous cock. The temptress would either break him or he’d be one layer shy of skinless before the week was through. A glance at his cell on the nightstand told him there was another thirty minutes before Mercy’s next pain pill. If he hurried, he could jump in the shower and drop a load before she woke. Coming quickly was never a problem fantasizing about Mercy. Reaching down, he squeezed a fist around his erection, closed his eyes, and bit back a strangled groan.
“I could help you with that if you’d like me to.”
His eyes flew open and as she sat up, he quickly dropped his cock. Mercy’s voice was as smooth and inviting as the sheet sliding off her pale skin. Her gaze was riveted on the bulge tenting the sheet.
He swallowed tightly and sat up. “I’m sure you’re more than capable, but you’re not in any shape for that. How’s your head feeling this morning?”
“Better than the one between your legs, I suspect,” she drawled with a playful grin.
“Yes…well, morning wood is a man’s curse,” he mumbled as he climbed out of bed.
Mercy dragged her eyes from his crotch, then skimmed a sensual and approving gaze up his body. Her cheeks flushed and her breathing grew shallow.
“My, my…I had no idea such rugged beauty lay beneath all those serious suits you wear,” she murmured. Kellan stood there letting her drink him in. “Such wide, expansive shoulders… You really shouldn’t hide those beautiful biceps, Kellan.”
Mercy reached out to him, but he tensed and took a small step back.
“So you’re not going to let me touch you, huh? Why? I won’t break you.”
Guilt.
“I didn’t think you would. My reasons don’t—”
“Yeah, I know.” She dropped her hand and curled her lips as if something bitter lay on her tongue. “Those reasons don’t concern me.”
“Exactly,” he bit out, unable to hide his frustration. Before tension had the chance to bloom and destroy the morning, Kellan popped out a pill from the bubble pack and held it out to Mercy.
“I really don’t want any more of those. They make me loopy. Besides, my head isn’t hurting that bad now.” She waved his hand away. “If you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll put my clothes on, and you can take me back to my car.”
“You’re not going anywhere, angel. You’re staying right here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Mercy struggled to keep from gawking at his rugged body. Sun-kissed skin—something she hadn’t expected since Kellan spent his days inside a courtroom—stretched over sinewy muscles. Even his sexy tapered waist called to her in a primal carnal way.
But the mixed signals he kept sending her were driving her batshit crazy.
She couldn’t touch him, but he refused to let her leave.
What the hell was that about?
His overbearing parental tone made her bristle. And the dull ache still assaulting her brain—the pain she’d lied to him about—made her feel sluggish and ill-equipped to challenge him to a test of wills.
But what disturbed Mercy the most was that his compassionate demeanor had vanished with the surrender of the moon. Last night he’d been so tender, so…well, loving. But the magic they’d shared in the dark was gone. There were no more shadows for her to hide the weak vulnerabilities pinging through her.
The daylight spilling into the room filled her with resentment.
Disappointment sank deep. A part of her wanted to yank the covers over her head and cry. Instead, she lifted her chin. Mercy was determined to leave Judge Kellan Graham’s mansion, go back to her small, homey apartment, and lick her wounds in private.
“I appreciate your offer, but I can’t stay here. We both have lives, jobs, responsibilities. I don’t need a babysitter. I won’t stay here while you play nursemaid over me like I’m some kind of invalid.”
She realized her tone had been vehement and ungrateful as she watched the color drain from Kellan’s face. His lips drew into a tight line before he turned his head and stared out the window. His terse expression told her he wasn’t used to anyone challenging his edict, especially a sub.
Shame made her want to take back her words. After all Kellan had done for her, she’d repaid him by lashing out like an ungrateful bitch. But the hardheaded, independent woman within was irked that he’d taken it upon himself to determine her fate instead of letting her choose for herself.
Of course, if Kellan were her Dom, she’d have reacted much differently. But he wasn’t; he was only a friend, a fact that sorely stung her pride.
Mercy’s emotions soared and dipped like a wild roller coaster. While Kellan stared out the window, she realized she’d knocked him off-kilter. She’d never seen him like this before and wondered if he was searching for patience or if he was simply working to slide back into his well-tailored suit of aloofness.
She was now somewhat grateful for her concussion; it might be the only thing to save her lily-white ass after turning into such a shrew. Oh, but what she wouldn’t give to be taken over his lap right now.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Instead of spanking it, he’d likely kick your ass to the curb for acting like a bratty, disrespectful sub.
“You won’t be working, not on your computer, and I’ve arranged to take a few days off to make sure you heal up as quickly as possible.”
He didn’t bother to look at her when he finally spoke, but the clipped, impersonal tone of his voice filled her with déjà vu. As she’d suspected, the confusing, disconnected Dom had returned.
Mercy felt sad and rejected. All the inroads they’d made…the playful banter as well as his caring compassion had vanished like a puff of smoke. Kellan had locked himself behind thick lead walls again—the ones she wasn’t welcome to breach.
Great!
Finally, Kellan looked at her and grimly nodded. “While you shower, I’ll go to the kitchen and make us some breakfast.”
And he’s handed down another command…priceless.
Mercy had herself to blame. She was the reason Kellan was now brooding on the dark side.
Dammit!
“A shower sounds nice. Thank you.” She forced a polite smile.
He nodded and turned to leave.
Mercy had to fix this.
Ignoring her nakedness, she hurried from the bed and clutched his arm. “Wait.”
He raked a gaze up and down her nearly naked body, not bothering to hide the heat and hunger dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I was so rude. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve gone above and beyond for me, and I-I…feel bad that I pushed you away. I’m grateful for what you’re doing for me. Please…don’t…close yourself off. I can’t stand for that cold wall to be between us again.”
He frowned.
“I’m not intentionally closing myself off, angel,” he murmured in a raspy tone. “There are things I need to process that have nothing to—”
“Do with me. Yeah, yeah, I know. You keep telling me that.” The side o
f her mouth kicked up in a quirky smile.
“Then start believing it.”
He dropped his eyes and ate her up with a carnal stare.
The temperature in the room shot up a million degrees.
Tearing his gaze away, Kellan clenched his jaw and yanked the sheet off the bed before draping it over her.
“I’ll leave some clean clothes for you on the dresser. After breakfast, if you feel up to it, we can run by your apartment. You can pick up whatever you need for the week.”
“The week?” she choked out in shock. “You said a few days.”
Her reaction brought a hint of a smile to his lips. Kellan shrugged. “A week is a few days. Go grab a shower. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Whatever ghosts had haunted him seemed to have vanished. Mercy wanted to launch a fist into the air and cheer. She waited until he’d left the room before she spun around excitedly.
A week. A whole damn week!
Mercy had seven days to convince Kellan to be her Dom. Seven glorious nights to try and seduce him as well. The sheets tangled around her legs and she stumbled onto the bed. Pain, like blades, cut through her skull. The room swirled in a sickening roll. Her celebration came to a screeching halt as she clutched her temples and groaned.
“That was a stupid move.”
When her head and stomach quieted, she sat up and untangled the sheet and entered the bathroom. Wide-eyed, she gaped at the opulence of the enormous shower, the glimmering marble floors, and gold-plated faucets.
“All this splendor and he has no one to share it with…now that’s sad.”
Mercy could have spent days in the lavish shower, letting the water beat the stiffness from her battered body, but Kellan was making breakfast…for her. She didn’t intend to make him wait.
After she dried off, she discovered an assortment of toiletries on the vanity. When she’d finished in the bathroom, she found the clothes Kellan had promised sitting on the dresser. Unfolding what was clearly women’s apparel, a pang of jealousy sliced deep. She’d expected him to bring her sweat pants and a tee…his sweatpants and tee, not something that belonged to another woman. But the dangling tags told her they were new…never been worn.
Where did they come from?
Who did they belong to?
And wasn’t it ironic, they were her exact size?
Mercy’s creeper alarm went off in a flurry of bells and buzzers.
Kellan hadn’t had time to go shopping at—she looked at the tags—Lord & Taylor while she was in the shower. Did he keep new black Capri pants and pastel green angora sweaters lying around so the random women he brought home didn’t have to take the walk of shame?
Suspicions bloomed like weeds. She’d asked him if he had a sub, not if he had a girlfriend. Dear lord…how was Kellan going to explain why she was living under his roof to a girlfriend? If Mercy were dating him, she’d kick the bitch out the door in two-point-four seconds flat.
“But he’s not dating you. What he does or says is his problem, not yours,” she mumbled while sliding on a pair of fuzzy black socks.
She left the bedroom and headed down the hall. Though she didn’t know where the kitchen was exactly, a foggy memory of sitting at the table last night skipped through her brain. Following the scent of bacon, she stepped down the hall toward a walkway. Mercy peered over the banister to an open foyer below and gasped. Kellan’s mansion was straight out of Architectural Digest.
The place was big, breathtaking, and beautiful…exactly like the man himself.
Still gaping in awe, Mercy descended the stairs. Prisms of sun reflecting from the candelabra-styled crystal chandelier above her head dotted the marble floor. On her right, by the front door, she discovered a huge office decorated in rich, masculine mahogany furniture. Leather-bound hardbacks filled the glossy bookshelves that lined two full walls. She stroked her fingertips over the edge of his wide desk and briefly closed her eyes while inhaling Kellan’s familiar pheromone-filled earthy, warm scent.
Opposite his office, across the foyer, was a formal dining room. Around the large, ornately carved wooden table, Mercy counted seating for twenty-four. The enormity boggled her mind. Her stomach gurgled and she set out to find the kitchen, admiring several paintings in bright, bold, tasteful colors adorning the walls.
“Yes, if we can postpone the Gallagher trial eight or nine days, that would be perfect. Thanks, Jerry.”
Lured by Kellan’s voice, Mercy wound her way into the kitchen. Okay, so kitchen was too tame a word. Kellan’s cuisine galley could put most restaurants on the Food Network to shame. Light-colored granite workspace surrounded top-end stainless steel appliances. Mercy could barely contain the urge to raid the white glossy cupboards, pull ingredients from the oversized refrigerator, and start baking something sinfully fattening. Cooking wasn’t a hobby for her; it was therapy. If Mercy had ever needed therapy it was now.
When Kellan saw her in the doorway, gawking, he waved her into the room. Cell phone pressed to his ear, he pointed to the coffeepot on the counter and arched his brows. Mercy smiled and nodded. He continued discussing court cases and dates as he moved in close and pressed his body against hers, pinning her hips to the countertop. She turned a wide-eyed gaze at him over her shoulder as he reached up and took a mug from the cabinet. Enveloped in his delicious heat, a thrill raced up her spine.
He bent and pressed his face close to her neck, inhaling deeply while still talking on the phone. “Sounds good, Jerry. If there are any other conflicts, give me a call. We’ll work them out.”
Desire pooled low in her belly as he lifted his head but kept his imposing and decadent torso pressed against her back. Mercy had no trouble visualizing him bending her over the marble surface, instructing her to keep her arms above her head before ripping her pants down to her ankles and fucking her roughly against the counter. She swallowed down the whimper threatening to escape and tried not to spill the coffee with her trembling hands.
“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you soon.”
After ending the call, Kellan inched back slightly.
“You’re trembling. Are you cold, angel?” The mischievous glint that flickered in his eyes told her he was taunting her.
Oh, he wants to play games?
She was more than ready.
“No. I’m definitely not cold.” Mercy peeked inside his coffee cup. “Can I warm you up?”
He tensed. In tandem, his eyes and nostrils flared.
Bingo! Her innuendo had hit its mark.
Kellan swallowed tightly and held out his mug. “Sure. I’ll take a little warm-up.”
“Not the kind I want to give you,” she quipped with a sassy grin.
As she filled his cup, she noticed all traces of humor had left his face. Without volleying a comeback at her, Kellan turned and started cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. Feeling a bit disgruntled and massively confused, Mercy wondered when or if she’d ever understand this complicated man. She sipped her coffee and studied him as he worked.
“Is there anything I can help you do?”
“Don’t think so. I’ve got it all under control.”
The way he liked everything…controlled, she thought with an inward smirk.
“If it were warmer outside, we could eat on the patio, but I’m afraid we’d freeze along with the food.”
Following Kellan’s gaze, she took in a large family room. The floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall drew her like a moth to a flame. With coffee in hand, she meandered into the homey and inviting space. Captivated by the wooden deck and kidney-shaped swimming pool below, she drank in the forest of fir trees lining an inlaid stone path that led to the shore of Lake Michigan. The clouds on the horizon were colored in pale hues of pink, blue, and violet…as if an artist’s brush had swept the sky.
“What an incredible view,” she turned and called over her shoulder, startled to see that Kellan had moved in behind her.
“Isn’t it?” A look of contentment lined his
face. “I bought the house because of this view.”
“Not the five bathrooms, huh?” Mercy softly chuckled, then stopped, suddenly confused. “Why do I think you have five bathrooms?”
A sly grin tugged his lips. “We talked about it in the car last night.”
Her brows furrowed. “I don’t remember that.”
“It’s probably best you don’t.” He chuckled.
“Oh, god. What did I say?”
“Nothing bad.”
“Embarrassing?”
He bobbed his head from side to side with an evasive hum. “Not really.”
Before she could glean any details of their mysterious conversation, he took her hand and led her back into the kitchen. After helping her into a chair, Kellan placed a plate, heaped with food, on the table in front of her.
“Is this for me or a small country?”
“It’s all for you, angel.”
“If you have some rule about cleaning my plate before I can leave the table, I know what I’m having for dinner.”
He didn’t say anything, simply stared into space with a faraway look in his eyes. A slow smile spread across his lips. He flashed her an ubër-Dominant stare that made her tingle. “You know, I could modify that and make it a useful form of punishment.”
Mercy giggled. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“That’s why it’s called punishment.”
“What kind of ruckus do I have to raise before you’ll take me over your knee instead?”
He pursed his lips and studied her, then turned his focus on his plate and began to eat. Silence dragged on and draped an awkward pall in the air. Even though she wanted to kick her own ass for annihilating a relatively easy conversation, Mercy was able to glean exactly where Kellan’s lines had been drawn. He was hiding something…something heavy and overwhelming, but she doubted he’d ever open up enough to share the burden with her.
A part of her wanted to walk away and leave Kellan munching on bacon. Yet another part of her wanted to stand up and scream at the top of her lungs. She’d do neither. Acting out her conflicted emotions was as stupid and childish as the way she’d taunted him about spanking her. Unfortunately she didn’t know how else to chip at his walls and force him to take her under his Dominant wing. Oh, well, like they said…no guts, no glory.