Page 33 of Forty Days and One Knight
“Alpha sure fell like dominoes.” Cain frowned. “I hope this isn’t the beginning of a trend for Omega, because I have no intention of taking that plunge any time soon. Someday, maybe, if the right woman comes along, but I’m starting to think fate doesn’t want me to go down that road. Being a Secret Service agent and now a black-ops one doesn’t exactly make for an easy marriage with ‘Hi, honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?’”
“You never came close to having a wife, two point four kids, and a white picket fence?” Darius asked.
The other man shook his head. “Nada. Hell, the longest relationship I’ve had since graduating college and joining the Secret Service was three months, and that’d been with a sub I’d collared with a contract. She was moving to Paris, and we knew going into it there was an end date.”
Cain had been in the lifestyle for years after being on the detail of someone who’d been in it and figured out he was a Dom after going to several clubs while playing bodyguard. That was all Cain had told Darius, keeping his charge’s name out of it. Privacy and secrecy were apparently big things in the BDSM community, and most members kept their mouths shut about who and what they saw in clubs.
“Doesn’t that feel weird, having a contract with an end date with someone you’re dating?”
“In the beginning it did, but once you get used to the fact there are no false expectations beyond the end date, it works out.”
“What if a Dom or a sub falls in love with the other and doesn’t want an end date?”
Cain’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you suddenly asking about the lifestyle? I thought you weren’t interested.”
Busted. If he were honest with himself, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ian’s offer to train him, but he still wasn’t convinced the lifestyle would help Tahira get over the trauma of her rape.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think I was, but after hearing about it so much, I’m just curious, I guess. Isn’t the point of starting a relationship with someone to see if you’re compatible or not before taking it to the next step? You ask her out on a date. You figure out what you do and don’t have in common and if there’s any chemistry between you, then you decide if you want a second and third date. If you do, you probably eventually end up in bed together. As the relationship reaches each phase, you have to decide if you want to take it to the next one or end it, right?”
“But the lifestyle takes a lot of the guessing out of that equation,” Cain said. “Everything is negotiated up front. There are very few surprises. If you wind up attracted to a submissive, in more than just a D/s way, and want to see where it goes, then you discuss it. There’re no head games or wondering what the other person is thinking. Open, honest communication is key. Yeah, there’s the occasional stalker type out there or someone who’s in the lifestyle for all the wrong reasons, but with experience, you learn to spot and avoid them. And there are plenty of stalkers outside the lifestyle too.”
Footsteps in the hallway told them someone was about to enter the kitchen seconds before Tahira appeared. She’d changed into a pair of knee-length yoga pants and a matching tank top. The makeup she’d been wearing earlier had been cleaned off. While the bruises on her arms, neck, and face were visible, she’d forgone her usual running shorts which would have shown the bruises on her thighs.
Darius couldn’t keep his gaze away from all the gloriously deep bronze skin of her legs, arms, and shoulders. Her hair was up in a ponytail again, and he wanted to wrap the long strands around his wrist and pull her to him. His cock twitched in his khakis. Damn, she was fucking gorgeous, becoming more so each time he saw her.
Stepping over to the refrigerator, she opened the door and retrieved a bottle of water. Then she hesitated before looking over her shoulder. “I am going to work out on the treadmill. Anyone want to join me?”
The mansion had a well-equipped gym in one of its many large rooms, complete with a sauna. While the question had been addressed to both of them, her gaze had held Darius’s. Cain glanced between the two of them, then shook his head with a small smirk. “I’ll pass, Your Highness—I’m still on duty. But I’m sure yourfiancéwould be more than happy to join you in getting all hot and sweaty.”
As his teammate strode out the door with a chuckle, Darius fought the urge to flip him the bird and call him an asshole. It clearly hadn’t escaped Cain’s notice there was electricity arcing through the air between the engaged couple. Well, that’s the way it needed to look to convince everyone this engagement was on the up and up.
What the hell was happening, Darius wondered. He’d never had such a feeling of awareness with any woman he’d dated than what he felt when he was in the same room as Tahira. Maybe Ian and Cain were right, and parts of the lifestyle would do both Tahira and Darius some good. They could learn how to help her heal, maybe give each other some mutual pleasure, and have a contract that had an end date—the day they announced they were getting divorced. They’d sit down and negotiate everything and renegotiate as needed. No exceptions beyond what they’d agreed upon. Sex could be on or off the table, although he would prefer it on. And, damn it, now he had an image of her laying on the island in front of him, beautifully naked and spread wide while his tongue and fingers did wickedly delicious things to her pussy.
“Darius?”
He realized he’d been staring at Tahira in silence and forced himself to focus. And, damn it, he had to remember she was a rape victim. She probably didn’t even want to have sex with him or anyone else for that matter. The woman was still healing, physically and emotionally.
Right now, she was holding up a second bottle of water and waving it at him. Licking his lips and swallowing hard, he stood, glad the island hid his semi hard-on from her, as he nodded. “Head to the gym. I’ll get changed and meet you there.”
The smile that spread across her face was almost blinding, and it stirred something within him. He’d pleased her and that simple fact made him feel ten-feet tall. Now Darius just had to figure out how to run on the treadmill next to her without coming in his fucking shorts.
27
Grabbing a towel, Tahira stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. While she hadn’t been able to do her regular run on the treadmill after a warmup—she was still aching all over—she’d been able to walk slowly for three-quarters of an hour. Her and Darius’s trek through the woods would’ve been much worse if she hadn’t been on a five-day-a-week exercise regimen for years. However, she hardly remembered any of today’s session—except the man who’d run several miles on the treadmill beside her.
Darius was a beautiful specimen of a man. Today was the first time she’d seen some of the tattoos that decorated his upper arms, shoulders, and chest. She’d known he had at least one on his left bicep, since she’d seen him in a short-sleeved shirt before, and the black design had extended just below it. But she’d suspected that wasn’t the only one he had. In the gym, his khaki-green tank top had revealed several others, and she’d longed to trace each one with her fingertips to catalog them in her mind. Most men in Timasur didn’t tattoo their bodies, but on Darius, Tahira found the ink attractive.
With his broad shoulders, defined chest and back, narrow waist and hips, muscular legs and arms, a chiseled jaw, and expressive eyes, more than one woman had drooled after Darius in Tahira’s presence when he’d been her occasional bodyguard. But it wasn’t until they’d returned from Argentina that the attention he drew from other women had bothered her, even if they just looked at him from afar. At the hospital and coming and going to Dr. Dunbar’s office, there’d been several women silently flirting with him with their appreciative and hungry gazes.
Tahira was being naïve and selfish. Darius was doing something incredibly nice to help her. He wasn’t hers to keep ... she was only borrowing him. She would have to give him up after their charade was over, and as each moment with him passed, she worried if she would be able to do that without having her heart ripped out.
Standing in front of the vanity mirror, Tahira frowned. They would have to wait until her bruises could be completely covered by makeup before taking an engagement photo to be released to the press. If anyone noticed even a hint of discoloration in the photo, there would be questions Tahira didn’t want to have answered.
She’d wanted to invite Darius to join her for dinner that evening, but then thought better of it—he’d gone home after their workout. She was still rattled about the kiss they’d shared. While she wanted to do it again, after her session with Dr. Dunbar, Tahira didn’t want to use Darius as a crutch. She had to deal with her assault, not push it aside as if had never happened. While kissing Darius had been an unforgettable experience, Tahira wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he’d tried to do more than just that. Would he have even wanted to do more? Or would that have taken them out of the friend-zone they seemed to be in. “Friends” was a word Darius had used often since her rescue. He’d also said he cared for her, but that’s what friends did, right?
Sighing, Tahira grabbed her favorite body lotion and massaged it into her skin. She couldn’t bear to look at the bruises on her thighs and bypassed them with her hands. After they faded and then disappeared, she was certain she would still always see them. They were a vivid reminder of her rape, even though much of the assault was a jumble of bits and pieces in her mind. She couldn’t recall the actual penetration, but it had happened, of that she was certain, even without Darius’s confirmation.
Snatching a silk robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, she pulled it on while walking into her spacious bedroom. Her phone rang from where it sat on her nightstand. Glancing at the screen, she was happy to see it was Nala. She hadn’t spoken to either of her cousins since their rescue but had been playing phone tag and texting with Nala earlier in the day. Lahana had not returned any of the calls or texts Tahira had sent.
