A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) (12 page)

“If I agree, will you do something for me in return?”

His eyebrows shot up. “So we’re negotiating now?”

“Sort of. I want you to pose for me.” She had to force herself not to wince while waiting for his response.

“Pose for you?”

“Nude. I’d like to sketch you. I promise I won’t show anyone. It would just be…
for me
.” Her cheeks flamed.

Way to go, Gen. Nothing like revealing exactly how infatuated you are with him.
She might as well have tattooed it on her forehead. She really needed to learn to keep her big mouth shut.

“Done. We’ll do it Monday at your place. And since that’s technically my night, you’ll abide by my rules.” A challenging grin curled his lips.

Her stomach sank. The idea of inviting Brian to her dingy apartment made her a little panicky. Okay, a lot panicky. Compared to him, she was pretty much destitute. Would he see her differently once he understood how different they really were? She didn’t want to take that risk.

“It would probably be more comfortable if we set it up at your house.”

“Your place on Monday. Take it or leave it.”

She sighed, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. “Look, my apartment is really tiny and nothing like what you’re used to. Not even close. Can we just do it at your place please?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you honestly think I’m that shallow? That material things matter so much I would judge you by where you live? Well, I suppose you do since you’ve decided to judge me by those same superficial standards.”

She gasped. “No! That’s not what I meant at all. Your family…all that money. You’ve lived this life I can’t even begin to imagine. I can’t compete with that. I come from next to nothing.” Afraid to meet his eyes, she looked at her lap. She didn’t want him to see how ashamed she was that she was twenty-five years old and had nothing to show for it.

“Genevieve, look at me.”

Slowly she raised her gaze to his.

He released a heavy sigh. “You’re right about one thing. You cannot imagine the life I have lived. Money doesn’t always equal privilege. Believe me, sometimes it’s more of a curse. I don’t care where you live or that your family isn’t wealthy. None of that matters to me. I want you for you. For your submission and the way you take pain.” He gave her a devilish smile. “For the way you scream when you come.”

Well, when he put it that way. “Okay, you win. Monday at my place.”

“Good. Chris will take you shopping next week, my treat of course. You can buy something for
Cadeau
and whatever else you might need for the trip. I’ve booked a room for the entire weekend.”

She bristled at the idea of Brian spending more money on her. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll pick up an extra shift or something.”

“It’s not a request, Genevieve. Call the house tomorrow and let Chris know what day is best for you. He’ll take you anywhere you’d like to go. If I can offer you some advice…find something suitable, but don’t change your style. It’s growing on me.”

She had no idea why Brian saying that made her smile, but it did. She still didn’t like the idea of him catering to her financially, but it felt more along the lines of control than charity. Somehow that made it easier for her to accept.

Brian’s smartphone vibrated to life. He picked it up and checked the number. “I need to take this. Now be a good girl and get back to work.”

“Aren’t I always good?” She smirked then headed out of his office, closing the door behind her.

Brian shook his head with a smile as he answered his phone. “Jared Kingsley, how are things in Miami? Still tripping over slaves?”

Jared chuckled. “I don’t know if tripping is the right word, and Miami is the same as it’s always been, hotter than hell. I heard you were in town last week.”

Ah, so he’d called to grill Brian about his recent trip to the other coast. Word traveled fast these days. “I was.”

“You couldn’t even be bothered to stop by and say hello to an old friend. I see how it is.”

“You miss me. I’m touched. I was only there for a few hours. I had some shopping to do for a friend of mine,” Brian admitted.

“Since when are you an errand boy?”

“An errand boy. Thanks. If you must know, I was purchasing lingerie for my new submissive.”

The confession must have stunned Jared because the other end of the line went deathly silent. Brian thought he might have even heard a cricket or two. Jared was the one person Brian had always felt comfortable confiding in. They’d known each other since college and had seen one another through some very tough times. Jared had never offered him pity or placation. Jared had never given him anything less than the truth, no matter how hard it was to hear. He could be counted on to serve it up tough, chewy and hard to swallow, not a single coat of sugar. Brian respected him for that.

“Your submissive? As in, you’re in a relationship?”

“Of sorts.”

“What kind of sorts?”

“She’s my submissive. Nothing more.” He sounded like a broken record. Hadn’t he just told Chris the exact same thing?

“I see. Jesus, is there something in the water? First Banner, now you…”

Brian refused to be baited and ignored the implication of that statement. His relationship with Genevieve was not in the same stratosphere as the one Banner shared with Indigo. “How is the newly engaged couple?”

“Disgustingly happy.”

“Good for them. I’ll have to make plans to visit and congratulate them properly sometime soon.”

“You’re going to lower yourself to consort with the common folk?”

“Bite me.”

“I would, but we both know you don’t swing that way. So listen, I called to see if you’re coming to Sophia’s gallery opening. I was thinking of arranging a little play party, something small and intimate, not my usual affair. I know how much you hate crowds. I’ll invite Banner and Indie, Sophia can bring her flavor of the month and you can introduce us to your new submissive. I’d love to meet her.”

“I’m sure you would.” Brian paused, considering Jared’s suggestion. Was he ready to introduce her to his friends? He hadn’t exactly thought it through when he’d made plans to take Genevieve to
Cadeau
. He would just have to make it very clear she was only his submissive. He didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. “I’ll think about it and I’ll consider inviting Genevieve if you promise to behave yourself.”

“Your lack of confidence wounds me. So, what’s she like?”

“God help me, a complete brat.”

“You’re kidding,” Jared scoffed.

“Actually, I’m not.”

Jared paused. “I just had to double-check and make sure I called the right number. This is Brian Donovan, right?”

Brian chuckled.

“You hate bratty subs, or at least you used to. What the hell is going on with you?”

“If I could explain it, I would. I’m not sure I understand it myself. She’s mouthy and sarcastic, dyes her hair in these insane colors. A complete pain in the ass. There’s just…something about her.”

“Finally got tired of those sweet, empty-headed doormats you’ve been passing the time with?”

“They weren’t all empty-headed.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. Living dolls have their uses.”

“Oh, and she works for me.” Brian added the last part with a cringe.

Jared groaned. “Have I taught you nothing? Never poach play partners from your staff. You’re asking for trouble.”

“I know, I know. Honestly, I couldn’t help myself.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time.”
Here it comes.
“So, I’m not saying this to be a prick, but does she know how emotionally unavailable you are?”

“Do you really think I would lead the girl on? Believe me, she has no illusions about our relationship. Give me some credit, Jared.”

“Don’t get defensive. As your friend I reserve the right to bust your balls.”

“Leave the cock-and-ball torture to the Mistresses, will you?”

Having company meant Gen’s apartment got the cleaning it desperately needed and wouldn’t have otherwise gotten. Unfortunately, no amount of scrubbing would change the fact that her place was a dump. At least now it was a clean dump.

Impatiently she watched the clock, willing it to move faster toward six. She’d asked him to come early so she could make use of the natural light streaming in from the sliding glass doors. Sunset was a little before eight, leaving her plenty of time to do a few quick sketches.

She’d almost asked him to bring the crop. Not so he could use it on her, though that would be nice, but so she could capture the essence of what she felt every time she looked at him. Just seeing him holding one would put her in exactly the frame of mind she wanted for this study.

For the umpteenth time she straightened the different pencils, charcoals and paper she would be using. Not that they’d moved or anything, but she needed to do something with her hands to help ease the anxiety coursing through her. A sharp knock jolted her
. Her stomach fluttered.

He’s here.

She answered the door and her ability to speak fled. Standing aside, she motioned him in, trying not to gawk. Epic fail. She’d never seen him so laid-back. It was dangerously sexy. The white t-shirt he’d worn fit him like soft, cotton skin, perfectly displaying the corded sinew of his arms and torso. His jeans were faded and thin at the knees from frequent wear—the hems frayed from where he’d walked on them.

Yes, he could do casual.

He pressed his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss and she got a whiff of something that was all male. He smelled like the sun with a hint of that spicy soap he used. He smelled like trouble for her dwindling resolve to keep her heart out of this arrangement.

“Hi,” she finally managed.

“Miss me?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

It was only a little lie. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Whatever you have.” He glanced around as he followed her into the kitchen. “I like your little apartment. It’s nice and cozy.”

“Go ahead, you can say it. It’s a dump.”

“It’s not a dump. Can’t beat the location. You and I are practically neighbors.”

“Neighbors? Ha.” She popped off the tops of two Coronas and handed him one.

“So you want to sketch me,” he said offhandedly before taking a sip of his beer.

“You did agree to pose.
Nude.
” She quirked her eyebrows.

“Where do you want me?”

Standing over me with a crop in your hand.
“I set up my stuff out here.” She led him to her poor excuse for a living room. “I’d like to do the first one with you leaning against this wall. I hope you don’t mind standing for a bit.”

“You mean there’s no velvet chaise for me to lounge on?”

“Funny.”

He set his beer down on the coffee table, kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. Then he did that manly thing and reached for the collar behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head, making his hair look as though he’d just rolled out of bed.

Oh hell.

Jeans and underwear came off next. He draped his clothes neatly over the back of the couch. Her mouth watered at the sight of his glorious nude form. How did she ever think she was going to manage several sketches of him without drooling all over the paper? She took a quick gulp from her beer, which did nothing to extinguish her growing lust.

“You too, girl. Strip.”

She frowned. “Seriously?”

“Not the response I was looking for.” His tone held a note of warning.

“Yes Sir.” She managed to conceal her irritation, just barely. Deferring to him on her home turf required a bit of adjusting on her part. His home or hers, it didn’t really matter. She was his submissive on Monday nights. She put her beer down then stripped off her clothes and left them in a heap on the floor.

“Better, but your stiff body language betrays your thoughts.”

Her glance at his hardening cock was more than suggestive. “I’m not the only one who’s stiff.”

He chuckled as he walked over to the wall displaying her artwork. She loved the way he moved, fluid and confident, his dominance apparent in every step he took. He filled her tiny apartment with a presence that had her trembling with desire. Lust aside, her nerves were prickly and raw as he looked at her work. He studied the pieces as if they were a puzzle he was trying to put together.

He stopped before an oil painting she’d titled
Bliss
. She had to admit, it was one of her better pieces—from a time when she worked more often with a brush than a stylus—so large it had been a bitch to stretch the canvas. A young woman was chained to the sandy bottom of the ocean, surrounded by grasping seaweed. Her crimson hair and diaphanous white gown floated around her in the murky green water. The effect was strange and eerie. Her situation was perilous, but the expression on her face was one of bliss. It was very symbolic of how she felt about submission. She hadn’t created it with that intention, but looking at the finished piece, she could see it was glaringly obvious.

Brian stared at it for so long she started to get antsy. She had no doubts about her talent, but art was subjective. She wasn’t sure she could handle Brian not liking her work. Her heart and soul were displayed on that wall. A rejection of it meant a rejection of her.

“You’re very good,” he said finally.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “You sound surprised.”

“I think I’m more surprised by your fascination with death than I am by how talented you are. Where did you study?”

She hated this question every single time someone asked it. As if she couldn’t possibly have developed her ability without a fine arts degree from some prestigious art school. “Nowhere really. I take classes at the local college.”

“With talent like yours, you could have had your choice of schools. So why take classes locally instead of seeking a formal education?”

She sat on her stool and picked up her sketch pad, purposely avoiding his gaze.

“Have I hit a sore spot?”

She adjusted her glasses, avoiding the question. “Can we just get started? I don’t want to waste the light.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Pressing her lips together, she looked at him.

“Are we going to start this again?” he asked tightly. “Answer the question.”

She closed her eyes and searched for strength, reminding herself that he couldn’t possibly know how hard this was for her. She took a deep breath before forcing herself to meet his gaze again. “I could have gone to art school. I was accepted to a few up north.”

“So why didn’t you go?”

“Family problems. You wouldn’t understand.”

His laugh was hollow and brittle. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. Wealthy people have perfect families.”

She winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“Start your sketch. You can talk as you draw.”

She shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t going to let this go. She didn’t have to tell him everything, did she? It’s not as if he would know if she held a few things back. “Yes Sir. Could you stand over there? I’d like to get started before we lose the light.” She gestured to the wall facing the sliding glass doors.

He leaned against it and waited for her to continue.

She’d planned on instructing him on how to pose, but now that they were in the moment it didn’t feel right. She didn’t want to capture a forced image. She wanted to draw him as he truly was—a dangerous predator beneath a polished veneer. Directing him wouldn’t give her that. She also couldn’t bring herself to issue him orders, no matter how insignificant. How crazy was that?

She felt stupid. She’d asked Brian to pose for her and she couldn’t give him simple instructions. Some artist she was. She raked a nervous hand through her hair. “I can’t do this.”

“Talk or sketch?”

“Either.”

The way he glowered made her want to shrivel. “Don’t try my patience, Genevieve. Pick up your pencil and sketch.”

Dutifully, she did as she was told, but even with her pencil in hand, she couldn’t seem to put a mark on the paper.

He walked over to the worn armchair next to the couch and sat. Her eyes widened when he leaned over and pulled the wide belt from his pants. He folded it in half and draped it over his knee. “Maybe this will help motivate you. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Okay then. She began to sketch, working quickly, silently. The weight of his gaze was disconcerting. She tried to ignore him and focus, but the quiet was suddenly suffocating.

“My father died when I was fifteen,” she blurted. She continued drawing as if she weren’t about to tell him how her family had been destroyed.

“How did it happen?”

She didn’t want to tell him any of this, but couldn’t stop it from spilling out. “Cancer. My mother and I watched him waste away for two years be-before he finally died. She took it hard, even blamed him. Like he had any control over it. She said he should have fought harder, done another round of chemo. He just… He couldn’t. The treatments made him so sick and the stupid disease kept spreading.” She blew out a shaky breath. “My mother hasn’t been the same since then.”

“Losing someone you love is…hard.” There was an echo of pain in his voice. Had he lost someone too?

Face tight from strain, she continued. “Art was the only thing that kept me going. I had this grief counselor who suggested I get into it and it turned out to be the best thing for me. But my mom, she didn’t have an outlet like I did. The year I was supposed to leave for college, she went off the deep end. She begged me not to go, said she couldn’t stand losing me too. I tried to convince her that it was only for a few years, that I’d visit as much as possible. But she was so upset that in the end, I decided to stay.”

“You shouldn’t have had to make a decision like that. Your mother should have been taking care of you, not the other way around.”

Weariness made her shoulders sag. “I couldn’t leave her, Brian. I’m all she has. Family is more important than some silly art school anyway.”

“You have a gift, Genevieve. Your mother should have been proud of that. She should have been proud of
you
. She should have pushed you to pursue your dream instead of holding you back for her own selfish reasons.”

Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. Brian not only understood, he’d put into words something she’d desperately wanted all those years ago. She’d wanted her mom to be proud of her. When she’d received that first acceptance letter, she’d hoped her mother would be excited for her, jump up and down and celebrate. It had been one of the best days of her life, right up until her mother screamed at her for being so selfish. God, how had she forgotten? She’d kept it inside for so long, denied it for so long, she’d convinced herself that her mother was right.

She sniffed and gave Brian a teary, apologetic smile. “I can’t believe I’m being such a baby over something that happened so long ago. You’d think I’d be over it by now.”

“Come here.”

She set her sketchbook down and crossed the distance between them. Gently, he dragged her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, caging her in his strength. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Unfortunately, the emotion he’d stirred up was too strong to be abated by the safety of his arms.
Though they are very nice arms
, she thought, tracing her fingers along the hard curves of his muscles. She wished he would kiss her, fuck her, hurt her, anything to blot out the sadness she felt. He didn’t do any of those things.