Page 4 of At Her Will

Even after he took his touch away, she felt the tingling pressure of his hands at her waist, the heat of his thumbs over her hip bones. His grip, strong yet gentle, offered a support she’d never doubt, even as the strength could lift any weight off of her heart and soul.

Wow. Okay, Vera. Easy, girl.

Perhaps because of her silence, he still looked concerned. “I finished this section, and it’ll be dry enough for the kids andtheir sneakers when the bell rings, but it’s too slick for your kind of shoes, ma’am. If you can forgive the need for a longer walk, you can backtrack to Hall A.”

She gauged the length of the damp hallway. “If you lend me your arm, I think I can get safely through.”

When their gazes met, and neither of them said anything for a few heartbeats, she realized something unsettling.

Her cheeks were burning. She wasblushing.

Thank Goddess Mavis wasn’t here to see.

“It’d be my honor, ma’am,” he said. “Just stay right there one second, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

He pushed the mop and bucket closer to the wall, and set cones around the slippery spot.

A good submissive anticipated his Mistress’s needs. Her protection. He was obviously upset with himself for her near spill. If he inhabited her world, she’d punish him to help him handle that. The thought stirred her libido, like her kitchen mixer creating a smooth cake batter out of multiple ingredients. She could taste the sweetness of it, inhale it.

She wasn’t in the habit of letting herself fantasize when she needed to be fully present, but it didn’t feel like she was absenting herself from this moment. Just the opposite.

He closed the distance between them and offered an arm. The courtly gesture was strangely familiar. “Here you go,” he said. “I can move at your pace, so don’t hurry none.”

“I should hurry some. You’ll want to get your mop and bucket out of the hallway before the teen army emerges.”

His lips curved. The coveralls were long-sleeved, and he had them buttoned at the wrist, but she could feel his forearm beneath it, the hint of firm biceps as she tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow. He kept his bent arm still, like the arm ofa chair. He was there for stability, and didn’t take liberties, and he matched her pace as he’d promised.

“You right about that,” he said conversationally. “It’s an awkward age. ‘Specially boys. All arms and legs, and not good at watching where they going. Eyes too full of pretty girls. Girls know they the ones being watched, so they tend to be more careful of where their feet are.”

“Present company excepted,” she interjected.

“That was my fault, ma’am,” he said. “But a woman has different things on her mind, far more serious than whether a boy is watching her and thinking she’s the most astounding and beautiful thing God’s ever created.”

She paused, and he gave her a sidelong glance. She noticed a stain of color inhischeeks, but as she started moving again, he continued in the same casual tone. “Which would be blasphemy, except the most astounding thing God created was love, and that’s what that boy’s feeling, even if it’s just a passing thing. Love at that age can sometimes only take up a minute of your time, but it’s mighty powerful. It can carry you for awhile.”

Ros, I’m so sorry I was late. I had to kidnap an irresistible man and lock him in my basement. At least until he agrees that I’m keeping him.

When her heel wobbled on the slick surface, he shifted so her hand rested in his opposite one, his other now at her waist. She wouldn’t have minded being close enough their hips bumped and thighs brushed, but the formal way he continued to hold himself apart, while interest wafted off him like the scent of that heated candle wax, was too enchanting to disrupt.

“And here I was, thinking the most astounding thing God ever created was the possum,” she said.

He grinned. The light that flashed through his eyes had her heart leaping like that toad she’d encountered.

He might be younger than she’d first thought. The boyish smile dropped off about five years, but thankfully the legal drinking age was well in his rearview mirror. While she’d enjoyed sessions with men a decade younger than her, things were more structured in a BDSM club. For a relationship outside of it, she wanted a male settled enough that he could consider commitment. One whose hormones didn’t replace good sense—most of the time.

She wished he’d mopped a mile-long stretch of hall. Not just a handful of feet between here and the spacious front foyer, approaching too quickly.

“When I’m here near dark, in the wintertime, I’ll see possums scavenging on the grounds,” he said. “One time it was a momma and her babies, clinging to her back. She hissed at me. Mean critters when you mess with them. But just scared, like most of us when we act mean. Here we go.”

Her feet were on the dry tile. Cases for sports trophies lined the wall on her left, while the front doors were to her right, across a checkered expanse of blue and gold tile, the school colors. Her car was parked where she could see it, her bronze DBS V12 Aston Martin.

She had to look up at him, since he was over six feet, and her heels only took her to five-seven. He was studying her, yes, as a man did, but it was more than that. He felt it, the same as she did, and that he recognized it enough to stay silent, to try and make sense of it the way she was doing, told her more about him.

It also made her heart pound higher in her chest. Sometimes wishful thinking made a woman do foolish things, like lead her to ridiculous conclusions better kept behind closed lips. His gaze had fallen there, and when she moistened them, heat flickered through his eyes and his hand tightened on her. He hadn’t let her go. She’d punish him for that, too. If he was part of her world.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

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