One to Keep

by Sophie Oak

  way and that, and she wasn’t even getting regular sex for it. “I think I can handle you.”

  “So young. So naïve.”

  So full of shit. “Bring it on, Talbot.”

  Something hard flinted across his face. “Fine. Show me your

  breasts.”

  Jen threw the covers off and had that tank top over her head in a

  heartbeat. The room was still chilly, but the cold wasn’t what had her

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  nipples puckering. She was finally in bed with Stef, and she hadn’t

  had to force him there.

  “And your pussy.”

  She pushed the pajama bottoms she had on off, along with the

  bikini panties she was wearing.

  “Spread your legs.”

  His voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and it poured over her

  skin like thick, rich honey. She complied, though it felt awkward. Stef sat up and looked down at her. He didn’t say a thing, just sat there.

  His stormy eyes took in every inch of her skin. Jen wondered if she should put on a show, but thought better of it. He was staring at her

  the way he looked at a piece of art. Just his eyes on her was making

  her skin heat up.

  Why this man? Jen asked herself as she lay still under his

  considering gaze. Life would be so much easier if she could love

  someone simple. Stef was beyond complex. He was outrageous,

  kinky, sexy as hell, and the most loyal man she’d ever met. He’d

  helped out just about everyone in Bliss. Everyone knew he was the

  world’s worst sucker for a hard luck story. Didn’t have health

  insurance? See Stef. He’d pay for your medical bills. When drought

  had threatened the local ranchers, they didn’t go to the bank, they

  came to Stef Talbot. When Zane and Callie and Nate needed a loan to

  start their tavern, they had gone straight to Stef. He really was the

  king of Bliss, but sometimes he held himself apart. He needed to

  know that the people he helped loved him, too. Jen was pretty sure he

  never thought about that.

  While Stef stared at her, his eyes fastening on her pussy, she

  stared back at him. He was a work of art. His jaw was a strong line.

  She would use a single, thick brushstroke to capture its stony grace.

  His skin was smooth and sun-kissed, gold and tan, blended with

  cream. His hair was longer than usual, falling just over his eyes in

  midnight locks. And his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes. They were

  ever changing with his mood. They went from flint gray when he was

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  angry to a warm, almost misty tone when he softened. When he was

  aroused, there was a storm in those eyes that always pulled her in.

  Her whole body flushed with desire, and he hadn’t touched her

  yet.

  A slow smile creased his perfect face. “Very good, Jennifer. Now

  get dressed. I want to show you something.”

  Jen sat up. “What?”

  He gracefully rose and stretched his long limbs. “I said get

  dressed. My father is running around here. I don’t want him to see

  you naked. He already thinks you’re a felon.”

  Jen felt her eyes narrow. “I don’t really care what your dad thinks.

  What game are you playing that you think you can get me all hot and

  bothered and then leave me this way?”

  A low growl came out of his throat, and suddenly his body was

  pressed to hers. His weight held her down, and the menace in his face

  did all kinds of things to her heart rate. “I am not playing a game. I am the Master, and you are the sub. That means you do what I tell you

  to do when it comes to sex, love. I know I can’t expect you to listen to me when it comes to anything else, but I am the Master in this room.

  Now, you have a choice to make, accept my will or tell me no and this

  is done.”

  Jen clenched her fists. It wasn’t fair, but this was the way it was

  with Stef. If she wanted a chance to prove they belonged together, this was what she had to do. In return, he would coddle and protect her.

  He would lavish her with affection. The fact that he was willing to

  cede that he didn’t have the final say outside of sex was actually a

  win, she decided. She knew that wasn’t the deal with his other subs.

  He was in control of every aspect of life during their time together.

  She was different. It would have to be enough for now. “I can’t get

  dressed with you on top of me, babe.”

  He got up and held his hand out. Jen let him help her up. She

  tossed on the tank and her PJ pants. He’d picked up her panties and

  shoved them into the pocket of his sweats.

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  “You don’t need them,” he said almost defensively. “No panties

  for you.”

  His kinks made her smile. She imagined what he’d do with her

  underwear. She doubted he would simply toss them in the laundry.

  Not her Stef. He’d carry her underwear around with him all day. He

  wouldn’t pull them out and show them to his friends. He would keep

  them in his pocket. Every so often he would put his hand in his pocket and caress them and remind himself that she’d said yes. “I don’t need

  them, Stef.”

  He flushed as though her acceptance of him pleased him on a

  fundamental level. When she was properly attired, she took his hand.

  He led her through the gorgeous manor house his father had built. He

  was silent as he moved from the west wing to the east wing. Jen had

  spent enough time there to know where he was going. His studio.

  Most of the east wing’s second floor had been transformed into the

  most amazing studio, with big bay windows to catch the early

  morning light.

  “So, you still haven’t explained how you came to sleep at the end

  of my bed,” she said as they passed the grand staircase.

  “I told you, I wanted to check on you. And it’s not really your

  bed, is it? It belongs to me.”

  She chuckled. In Stef’s mind, everything belonged to him. He

  firmly believed the whole damn town was his. She wasn’t an idiot.

  “Well, you shoved me there, so I’ll call it mine. And really, where

  was I going to go?”

  He stopped, his handsome face frowning down at her. “As you so

  rarely stay where I put you, I will have to decline to answer that. I

  really don’t know. It could have been anywhere.”

  Jen groaned, but followed as he continued walking. “Are we

  going to talk about last night?”

  “I thought we had, and really, why bother? We could just read

  about it in the paper this morning.”

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  “Is that what’s bugging you? It’s no big deal. Everyone would

  have known anyway. I was totally going to tell Callie, and she would

  tell Nate and Zane and…well, she would tell everyone. Really, it just

  saved Callie a whole bunch of phone calls.”

  His brows came together in the middle of his forehead. “I didn’t

  like it. It was private. I’m thinking about sending the health inspector to Trio. I’m also thinking about buying a bunch of rats and releasing

  them in Trio about twenty minutes before the health inspector gets

  there.”

  “Don’t, babe. Once the Hollis
ter-Wright clan came crying to you,

  you would just end up paying for the exterminator. Save yourself the

  expense.”

  “Maybe not,” he replied, stopping in front of the door to his

  studio. “Maybe I’ll tell the bastard to go to hell, and that he’s not welcome in my town anymore.”

  “Oh, they won’t send Zane to talk to you,” Jen said. “They are

  way smarter than that. Callie will come to your door with those sad

  puppy eyes, begging you to save her livelihood. She’ll talk about her

  future children who will starve, and it will be their Uncle Stef’s fault.”

  He moaned a little and then opened the door. Early morning light

  flooded the studio, a vibrant, clean light that had Jen gasping. Stef had redone the studio. Before it had been stark and masculine, with

  nothing in it but art supplies. It had been a refuge for him. He’d once said he liked it because there were no distractions. Jen had

  complained there was no comfort, either.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. There was a big, comfy couch in one

  corner, and a small fridge and table. Two easels sat side by side in the perfect spot to catch the light. The big bay windows, once bare, now

  had gorgeous, gauzy, white window treatments. The room was still

  stark, but femininity was encroaching, like something inevitable.

  He really was dumb.

  She turned and threw her arms around him. “I love it.”

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  He stood there for a moment, but finally his arms came around

  her. His voice was gruff. “I’m glad, but I didn’t do it for you. It was just time to change.”

  So dumb. He could talk about how their relationship was all about

  sex, but he’d never done this for a sub before. He’d practically rebuilt the room to her specifications. She decided to let it go for now. She

  pulled away reluctantly. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

  He stepped back, awkward for once as he turned a hand out.

  “Your supplies are over there. This is just the stuff I managed to get boxed up before we left. It will be a couple of weeks for the rest of it.

  These arrived this morning, along with your work. I had it all crated

  and shipped overnight. I opened it, but I haven’t taken them out yet. I thought you would like to do it.”

  She shuffled over to the lovingly crated box that contained the

  three works she hadn’t been able to sell at the gallery. The gallery.

  Her stomach churned, but she put aside the bad stuff. If she told Stef she’d had a bad dream about that place last night, he’d have that

  doctor back checking her for signs of PTSD. She concentrated on the

  good stuff. “I sold some paintings while I was in Dallas.”

  She hadn’t sold anything while she was in Bliss. Stefan was a

  world-renowned artist, but she was just starting out.

  “Really? That’s great, Jennifer. I told you that would happen

  when you concentrated,” he murmured, a little smile on his face.

  “You have a great eye and a way with colors.”

  Jen pulled out the first of the three paintings she had left in her

  apartment. She set it on the easel. It was the last one she’d finished, with its glorious rushes of green and that shadow of a man. It was the painting she’d redone because she wasn’t happy with the colors.

  Funny, they seemed perfect to her now.

  “I’m going to give this one to Rachel.” Jen had decided that

  Rachel needed a baby gift from her. Callie said Rachel had been

  inundated with baby clothes, and Max and Rye had purchased every

  safety item known to man. Maybe Rachel would enjoy something to

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  brighten the house. “I missed her shower. This has to be better than

  what Nell gave her.”

  Nell and Henry had given her a gift certificate to offset the baby’s

  carbon footprint for the first year of life. Nell had purportedly

  explained that Rachel was on her own after that and had given her a

  lecture on green diapering practices.

  “I think she’ll love it,” Stef said with an indulgent smile on his

  face.

  A sense of satisfaction poured over her. Maybe if she told him

  more about her sales, he would see that she was really concentrating

  on her work. “And, who knows, maybe it’ll be worth a lot someday. I

  got five thousand for the three I sold. Let me tell you, that came in

  handy.”

  Stef’s face got a bright, brilliant red. “That fucker. I swear if he

  wasn’t already dead, I would kill him myself.”

  Jen turned to him. “What are you talking about? Who’s dead?”

  Stef stopped, a red flush spreading across his face. “Renard. I’m

  sorry I didn’t tell you until now.”

  “Whoa.” She didn’t like the man, but she was surprised he was

  dead. He’d been a halfway decent mentor until he’d thrown her in jail.

  A chill went through her. “Is it over the painting?”

  Stef nodded and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Probably. The police found his body yesterday. They think he was

  involved in a drug deal gone bad. He was apparently paying for some

  cocaine with the painting. I don’t want you to worry. You’re safe

  here.”

  As she had no idea where the painting was, she wasn’t terribly

  worried. But something else struck her. “Why are you upset that

  Renard sold my paintings?”

  Stef sputtered, his normal grace deserting him as he seemed to

  realize he’d made a mistake. “Nothing. I was just surprised.”

  Her smile slipped away completely. “You bought them.”

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  It felt like a crushing defeat. She’d gone about in a haze after the

  sale of the first one. After the second two, a confidence had settled

  over her. Now that was stripped away. She hadn’t really

  accomplished anything. Stef had merely stepped in and played god

  again. Deus ex machina. That described Stef. He played god and then

  left her alone again.

  She slid the painting back into the crate. “Maybe I’ll just get her

  something else.”

  “Jennifer.” He strode across the space between them, filling her

  senses. “It was the only way I knew to take care of you. And I paid

  way more than five thousand. I gave him twenty because I wanted

  you to be okay. I wanted you to have the things you needed.”

  Those damn tears were back. She fought hard not to shed them.

  She crossed her hands over her chest. “I needed you, Stef. You

  weren’t about to give me that. You won’t give me that now, either,

  will you? You’ll follow me across the country and pay way too much

  for paintings no one gives a damn about. You’ll move heaven and

  earth to get me out of jail, and you’ll toss me over a desk when you

  get a little horny, but you won’t tell me you love me.”

  His jaw hardened. “Jennifer, don’t make more of last night than

  there was. And don’t make more of our relationship. I’m attracted to

  you. You’re submissive, and I’m a Dom. It’s inevitable that we would

  be together when we’re living so close together. But this is a D/s

  partnership, not a love affair.”

  A weariness stole over her. Could she really fight him? How long

  and hard would he fight before he got ove
r his fear? Maybe he

  wouldn’t ever get over it. He loved her. She felt it, but it didn’t matter if he never accepted it. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t good enough to risk his heart for. “Fine. It’s just sex. Got it.”

  He sighed, the hardness flitting away. “Jennifer, does it have to be

  like this? Can’t we be friends? I like you. I think you’re an amazing

  artist. I think you have a bright future, if you concentrate. You don’t have to be stuck here. You could be in New York selling in galleries.”

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  He was always pointing out the future he thought she should have.

  He didn’t ask her opinion. He merely stated what he considered the

  best possible future for her and pushed her to take it.

  “Great, I’ll look forward to it,” she said, stepping away from him.

  He really did treat her like a child. He’d told her he wouldn’t

  mentor her then did it at every opportunity with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to go to New

  York. It didn’t matter that she could see herself being perfectly happy selling her stuff to the tourists who came through Bliss. Stef had

  decided what her future should be, and he wouldn’t let a little thing like the fact that she loved him mess that up.

  His dark hair was shaking slightly. It was just the tiniest bit

  overgrown, curling a little around his ears. He was so masculine

  compared to the metro guys she’d been around in Dallas. “I wish I

  could help you settle in, but I have to meet Rye. I have to help him set up the pony rides for the kids. And I should probably take a shower. If you need anything, talk to Mrs. Truss. If you’re hungry, there’s

  probably a little buffet set up since we have so many guests. When I

  get back, we’ll talk, okay? Maybe later I’ll take you into town. Would you like that?”

  “Sure,” she forced herself to say.

  He ruffled her hair like he would a kid. There was an affectionate

  smile on his face, like he’d never tied her up and forced his dick

  inside her body. He turned and walked out.

  Jen shivered and wished she’d put on a robe. He’d taken all the

  warmth with him.

  She looked around the gorgeous studio and saw it for what it

  was—a pretty little cage. He would keep her here, and then he didn’t

  have to deal with her in any way he didn’t control.