Page 86 of His Own Heaven

He enjoyed watching Lucy. He didn’t even particularly care what she was doing either—reading a book, flipping pancakes, typing at her computer at an inhuman pace—he just found her infinitely fascinating. And it wasn’t just her body either, although he doubted he’d ever get enough of her long, lean, muscled figure or the feminine way she moved.

Lucy had a gracefulness he rarely saw in people anymore, like a cat winding its way around its Master’s legs. She was all strength and stealth. Sexy. But he also loved watching her thought processes play out across her face as she put plans into action. Toby doubted she was even aware of it, but Lucy had a habit of chewing on the left side of her bottom lip as she worked. That and drumming her fingernails on her desk, which was admittedly annoying, but still endearing as it afforded him an excuse to drag her over his knee and spank her, watch her go limp, feel her body melt into his….

“Toby.”

Lucy’s voice tickled his senses.

“Toby?”

Now she was giggling. Last thing he remembered he’d been spanking her so why was she giggling? Cracking one eye open, Toby stared at Lucy smiling down at him and slowly came to the realisation he’d dozed off.

“What time is it?” he said, the words spilling out on a yawn. The sun was lower than before but it wasn’t getting dark just yet, but night time wasn’t too far off either if the chill in the air was any indication.

“Time for you to wake up. Jane put together some platters of leftovers and nibbles in the kitchen if you’re interested. An early dinner.”

“Cool.” He stretched his arms above his head. “How long have I—”

“Been snoring like a drunken bear? Not long.”

Toby scowled. “I do not snore.”

Lucy’s grin was swift and brazen. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” When her grin broadened, Toby dragged her down on top of him and banded his arms around her middle, then flipped them over and pinned her beneath him. Giggling turned to shrieks of laughter as he tickled her, merciless in his task.

“Stop! I give, I give,” she cried out.

Toby stopped tickling her and playfully nipped at her lips instead, teased her with a sharp pinch from his teeth. Thrust his hips and his hardening cock into the cradle of her thighs. “What will you give me?”

Lucy’s hand, small and warm and gentle, cupped his cheek, but her gaze turned heated and she locked her ankles beneath his arse. “Anything my Master wants.”

“Anything?” he asked, rocking against her.

Gently smoothing her hair away from her face, Toby studied Lucy’s scars, whispered his lips over her shortened eyebrow, the tiny sneer at the corner of her mouth, then licked one long line along the sensitive skin of her neck until she closed her eyes and moaned, “Anything.”

“Move in with me.”

This time when she stared up at him, her eyes weren’t bugging out of her head in shock. Quite the opposite, and Toby took the time to memorise every golden striation hidden in the depths of her intoxicating eyes. Eyes that called to him, eyes that had seen things even more fucked up than his had, and he realised that’s why he felt so comfortable around her, why she was so easy to love.

It wasn’t just their shared experiences of being screwed over by their mothers, or their need to control their environments. Somehow her inner damage had called out to his and together they’d started to heal each other, had begun to fill in and fix the cracks inside them, not just plaster over the top and hope for the best.

“You are persistent, I’ll give you that,” she said softly, her lips lightly brushing against his.

Toby grinned, hoping Lucy could feel it. She had no idea how persistent he could be when he really wanted something, and he really wanted her. Lucy Barton. His perfectly imperfect woman. His baby. His fuck toy.

His everything.

Then Toby realised something else. While he’d kept up his reputation for uncompromised stoicism, Lucy had bared her all. She’d shared her damage with him, shown him where to find the cracks she hid from the rest of the world behind her mask of efficiency and to-do lists.

She’d risked everything to be with him, and he was ashamed to say he hadn’t done the same. When Lucy had tried reaching out to him, when she’d asked about Isobel, tried to take a glimpse at that most detestable portion of his past, he’d shut her down.

His mood sobered. It was time he let her all the way in. It was time he told her everything.

He just wasn’t sure he could.

Not without losing her.

Later that night when Lucy slid into bed beside him, Toby reached for her, needing desperately to feel her soft skin, her firm body, her beating heart. Wishing he could melt into her and stay there, safe and warm and protected.

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