Page 154 of At Her Pleasure

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“I can’t believe I decided to do this. We’re cancelling. I’m taking them to dinner at whatever restaurant they want. I’ll even cover the bar tab.”

Cyn reached for her phone, but Mick had already nicked it off the counter. For the next few moments, they played an entirely childish game of keep-away, him transferring it from one hand to another, around his back and over his head, as she grabbed for it, tried to be mad and stop laughing all at once.

“Give me that, you maniac.” She punched him in the side, but he spun on his toe like a quarterback, dodging behind the kitchen island. He went left when she went right.

“Not until you say you’re sticking with the plan. If we have to eat all this food, you’ll be too stuffed to demand over-the-top sex.”

“I’m not worried. I’ll make you do all the work. Give it back, or you’ll serve us dinner in one of those little maid outfits. Just a cap and apron. A transparent apron.”

“No high heels?” He dodged her again.

“If you twist an ankle, you’ll be no good to me.”

“Sure I will. You’ll just twist it harder and my screams will make you laugh.”

She vaulted over the corner of the counter and almost snagged him, but he spun away and faced her at the opposite end. He tossed the phone up and caught it, giving her a wink. The bastard was far too fast. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to get me to wear something like that to clean the house.”

They’d done that chore together, swapping out song preferences on the music player. He’d turned Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman” up to full volume and told her it was her theme song.

Hell, yeah.

She kept a neat place, so it wasn’t a lot of work, but she’d wanted to take extra care with the crevices, cleaning dust that might have settled on upper shelves. He’d handled those. She’d demanded he be shirtless, because she could. Seeing her carved X sliding over the back muscles, his ass tightening in his just-right-fit jeans, made dusting far less of a chore.

It even took care of her anxiety for a while. But the time of reckoning was at hand, and it was back full force. Ros, Abby, Skye and Vera were coming to her house for dinner.

She’d placed a catering order with the vegan restaurant she liked. The women had been there before, so they knew excellent meatloaf could be made without meat, and desserts didn’t need dairy to be decadent. They even went to the establishment 0n their own now. Skye had mentioned Tiger liked the fried tofu fingers.

The prepared dishes and sides delivered in aluminum pans only required heating in the oven to be served. The dessert was a vanilla layer cake with raspberry filling, dusted with coconut flakes. She’d made it herself.

The thought of the cake brought something deeper and more troubling to mind, and ended the game. With a sigh of annoyance—with herself—she gave up on getting the phone and left the kitchen, stepping out onto her screened porch.

She heard him put the phone back down on the counter, the creak of the door as he came out to join her. While she gazed at her backyard, he slid his arms around her waist and put his jaw against hers, a faint rasp against her skin before his mouth found her throat. He gripped her hips but didn’t say anything. As a coping mechanism, the teasing had gone as far as it could. Now it was time for something else.

He’d been here for three and a half weeks. During that time, they’d learned a lot of things about each other. Some things they anticipated and some they didn’t.

What she hadn’t expected was finding things out about herself she didn’t know, just by being with him. It was the same for him. That mirror could unbalance them both, some days more than others. It could have resulted in sniping or defensiveness. Instead, for the most part, they clasped hands and walked forward into that new terrain.

Adam and Eve, checking out Eden for the first time. When he’d framed it that way, she’d lifted a brow. “Just don’t claim it was my fault when you decide to bite the apple.”

He'd grinned and spread out his hands. “I’m just a simple servant to my Mistress’s desires.”

She rolled her eyes. “That is so not true. I have the bruises to prove it.”

But not many. He was powerful and strong, and when they sparred, he had moves she’d never encountered. But she was learning, particularly on the nights that they went to parks to do primal play. Places they could slip in after dark without notice.

One night he’d caught up to her at a creek. She’d dashed across and lost her footing on a tricky, slippery rock.

As she’d gone down, headed for a bed of the sharp-edged things, there’d been time for him to register what was about to happen, but no time to stop it. Only to get in the way.

He’d lunged at her, a tackle where he grabbed her around the waist. When they toppled, his back took the brunt of the impact. She fell safely on him.

She’d confirmed he hadn’t broken anything, that what he had was a shredded shirt, and a bruised and cut back. Then she’d read the light in his eyes.

She’d shoved him back against the rocks. The sound of ripping fabric cut through the gurgle of the water. She wrapped the fluttering pieces, still attached to the shirt, over her knuckles and rode him in the shallows, cold water sliding over her thighs and ankles. He cupped her knees in his palms, protecting her from the rocks, which also allowed her to pin his hands down. His gleaming eyes devoured her. She found her climax and commanded him to do the same. Blissfully joined, no condom separating them.

Later, at home, she’d tended the cuts, kissed the bruises. Held him to her, wrapped both arms around him as he shuddered, resisting the tenderness but not fighting her. Kindness was going to be difficult for him for a long time to come. Which gave her every reason to keep inflicting it upon him. The sadist in her sensed the well of suffering it tapped, the fear and dread of what it made him face. She would live up to the promise she’d made, to him and herself.

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