A WILDer Kind of Love (17 page)

“Yes.”

“Dammit, Dan. I’m a big girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re also hurting, in case
you
haven’t noticed.”

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but it’s not the first time.”

“First time on
my
watch.”

In more ways than one. At least for now. He’d caused the last three days of her life to be a sub drop hell, now he was going to fix it—as best he could.

“So?” she retorted. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

*     *     *

Karma sure as
hell got the last laugh in on his noble-minded ass.

Of course she was wearing her pink and purple
My Little Pony
PJ bottoms—and the tank top that went with them, dipping low enough to reveal she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath.
And
a pair of the fuzzy socks she loved.
And
the matching pink bunchy thing in her hair, freeing cute cherry red wisps along her neck. By the time it all added up, the little-girl-soft crossed with touch-me-please sex confused the shit out of how his body wanted to respond. While his brain pounded that he was
just
here for aftercare in disguise, his dick didn’t get the memo. His erection filled even more, ramming his fly in the zone between “you’re so screwed” and “torture central.”

It was a nippy winter desert night outside but her apartment was heated and cozy, glowing with its warm, modern décor. She didn’t invite him further than the entryway. Instead, she spread out a hand, crossed her ankles, and leaned against the door. “Okay, here I am; all in one piece. Happy now?”

Dan grunted. Grabbed her chin between two fingers. Tugged up. “Are
you
happy now?”

Her breath snagged. Something equally primal crashed Dan, clutching his own breath. His nostrils flared from the force. Fuck, she smelled good. Her normal rose and cinnamon were joined by a hint of fragrant smoke, likely from one of the scented candles she was so fond of.

He released her only when her eyes narrowed, their light green flecks darkening with concern. “You look like shit.”

He arched a brow. “Thanks. So do you.”

“Now that we’ve cleared
that
up…”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” he growled.

Her concern flashed into anger. “You putting up pinholes in my crib in your spare time, Colton?”

He scowled. That she looked halfway serious about the accusation was infuriating. He took a step in and kicked the door shut. “You think I need fiber optic cameras, Lesange?” He reached up again, cupping the valley between her nape and jaw this time. “Those shadows under your eyes are my hard evidence, sweetheart. And the strain around your mouth. And the giant bag of corn chips on your table.”

“I like corn chips.”

“And you never indulge unless we’re at Mundo.” He leaned in, sniffing her more deeply, seizing his chance to push closer. “Did you just eat a Twinkie, too?”

She jerked back. Well, she tried. Dan tightened his hold. A fire curled through him, protectiveness raging like he’d never known, penetrating every layer of his bone and muscle.
You’re not getting away yet, little rose. No fucking way
.

“Tess.” He didn’t filter any rough, ragged note of it. “Little ruby. What the hell’s going on?” Despite the tone, the words were for formality sake. In his deepest gut, even before she stiffened a more, he already knew what the answer was.

Just as quickly as she’d tensed, she sagged against him once more, limp as a rag doll. “Dammit,” she whimpered. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He spread fingers across her scalp, tugging her closer. It stepped way outside the friend zone for intimacy but beat the move he’d contemplated instead: carrying her to the couch, curling her into his lap, and burying his tongue inside her sweet, warm mouth. And that was just for starters.

“I’ll let you take that back after you hear what I did.”

He huffed softly. “You do remember some of the covers I’ve had, right?”

“Of course. Though I’ve really tried to brain bleach the goat herder one.”

“You and me both.” He smiled. “That being said, you know not a lot can phase me anymore.”

As he’d hoped, that brought her face up, a faint smile tugging at her lips as well. Holy fuck, he loved that smile.
Any
of her smiles. Only down side now? Watching those little movements of her mouth served to zap more lightning straight into his cock.

“Come on.” She pulled away though kept one of his hands latched in hers. After she went to the couch and pulled him down to sit, she kicked up a knee so she fully faced him. “Have you…ever heard of…Catacomb? The club?”

He forced his features into neutrality. “Of course I have.” Probably best to let her settle on that through a few beats. “Might have even been there.” A few more. “Have
you
?”

She wet her lips. Pinged him with a furtive glance. “Might have.”

“Recently?”

She traced the purple pony on her knee with a fingertip. “Maybe. Possibly. Maybe, like…on Friday night.”

He took advantage of the chance to angle up a knee in return. “Well, is that so?”

Tess scrunched her nose. “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“All gooey and illicit.”

“I was going for interested.” And
shit
, was he interested. She wanted to talk about idiots? How about the guy in the room who’d had one of the most intense sessions of his life with a subbie then gotten plopped into the rarest opportunity of them all: to hear
her
uncensored side of the story? Yep.
Gold medal for idiocy, gang. Pin it right here.

Tess dipped her head, zeroing his attention back on her. “Maybe gooey and illicit fit better, anyway.”

“Is
that
so?”

His snark didn’t yield any in return this time. She twisted enough to look up—and give him the full slam of her tear-filled eyes. “Maybe magical is better,” she whispered. “And perfect.”

His lips parted. His throat went dry. As his gaze twined with hers, a single, awful thought crashed in.
She knows. She
knows
it was me.
What else could explain how she didn’t look
at
him anymore, but right through him?

“Tess,” he grated.
Let me explain. You have to understand. I looked at you and couldn’t let anyone else have you. I had to make it good for you, ruby. I had to make it
better
than good
.

He’d just never expected her to return the favor.

The best damn trip he’d ever taken to the kinky tea party.

Making him wonder if he’d ever dunk his bags in another cup again.

“Want to know the really shitty thing?” she asked before he could get anything else out. “I—I didn’t even learn his name.”

It took a second—a surreal one—before her statement sank in. “What?”

“Don’t judge.” She twisted a hand into the lapel of his leather jacket. “Please don’t judge, okay? I really need to talk this out with someone.”

Relief crashed in so fast, he had no choice but to smile. Fortunately, it seemed to translate as something close to understanding. “Well, I’m damn glad I can be that someone.” He tucked his head over, favoring her with the unmarred side of his face. “No judging. I sure as hell don’t have that right.”

It didn’t surprise him when she let go of his lapel to jab his shoulder. She always did it when he hid his scars but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop. He’d come to like the pummels, anyway. Tess probably didn’t even understand how much they meant. Others saw his scars and “accepted” them or gawked at them. But Tess truly didn’t see them, as if her mind was stuck on a surveillance loop of him from a year and a half ago. She’d carried a schoolgirl torch for him back then, and he caught her gazing with those same star-filled eyes even now from time to time. It was warped. He’d told her as much. She always scowled—then socked his shoulder.

“So here’s me, not judging,” he drawled. “But for the sake of the discussion, do I get to pick a nickname for this bastard who’s messed you up?
Ow
!” He glared as she dropped her fist from his shoulder to his sternum.

“He’s not—he
wasn’t
—a bastard.” She curled that hand against her chest, as if clutching a secret into her heart. The action grabbed him between the ribs, too. “He was…amazing. Commanding. A little arrogant. A
lot
mysterious. And relentless. And beautiful. And ohhh, Dan…” Her throat convulsed on a gorgeous little rasp. “Sexy,” she finally finished “So, so,
so
…no. More than that. The things he said, and the way he said them…as if he already knew what my body needed, you know? Like he just…
got me
somehow…”

“Whoa,” he managed to murmur—not stunned to hear the true amazement beneath it. That she’d gotten all that, and really appreciated it…he was a little floored. A lot humbled.

And
a lot
turned-on.

“Whoa is right.” She shook her head, giving him a glimpse of her glossy eyes before they slid shut. “And his body…”

“Not sure I need to hear this part,” he teased.

“Too late. I’m officially the president of his drool squad.” She rolled her head back. “It was perfect. So perfect. I didn’t know a man could move that way. Lunge his hips like that. Get thrusts in that deep…”

“Okay. TMI threshold is officially reached.”

She blushed and giggled. “You’re right. But seriously, if you only knew—”

“I’m good with the omission, sweetheart. All fine here.”
Liar.
He yearned to hear every last, breathtaking syllable of what he’d done to her. But it wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t ever happen. Wasn’t that the hateful little bitch of things? The “inside scoop” he’d just been so thrilled about flipped a Linda Blair on him, becoming demon more than dream as her words stirred all
his
erotic memories from Friday—and more. And now, to know how deeply she’d enjoyed it…how she’d really wanted everything he’d done…

His dick surged to the point of pain. He shifted, readjusting as subtly as he could. Christ. Had he nearly pulled this crazy scheme off, only to have his erection betray him?

The next moment, it didn’t matter. A new onslaught of tears hit Tess. As if her laughter had merely been the latch of a gate, the waterworks hit twice as hard as before. Her sobs mixed with lost stares around the room, desperate bids for reconnection to reality. While the behavior was a typical form of sub drop, the logic didn’t halt a shred of detonation in his heart. She was crashing hard, probably had been for three days, and had done so alone.

You’re an ass.

“I’m sorry.” Her tears slushed the words together as he yanked her over, swinging her leg across his hip to pull them tighter together. “Oh, sheez. I’m so—”

“
Hush
.” He pressed his lips into her hairline. “You make with that apology shit again, and I’ll take you over my own knee.”

“Promise?” she jibed tearfully.

If you only knew what I’d trade to make that happen, red.
He looked to the ceiling, bargaining with the Big Celestial Guy.
You know the very hairs on my head, man—so go ahead and take whichever nut you want the most. Just let me help her hurt less.
Please
let me help her.

“I did it wrong, didn’t I?” she finally rasped.

He clutched her harder, scratching fingers along her spine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“With griffin,” she explained.

“Who?” Mental fist bump. It really sounded confused instead of constipated this time.

“Sir Bastard,” she explained.

“Oh. Him. Griffin?”

“I had to call him something. And it fit.”

He quirked a half-smile because he could. “Because he was so ‘mysterious’ and ‘beautiful?’”

“And arrogant,” she prompted. “And relentless.”

“Oh, right.” He slid the smirk wider. “Forgot about those.”

“He sure as hell made sure
I
didn’t.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.”

She cleared her throat. “Funny you said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he actually—”

“What?” he pushed when she self-interrupted.
Moron.
Pushing the subject was
not
a good idea—or so he thought until she tilted her head, whipping him an adorable little glance.

“He actually reminded me a lot of you.”

He let out half a smile but nothing else. So much for the neutrality being a cinch to maintain. Just how extremely had he flirted with fate on Friday night? Despite the mask, the scruff, and the voice alteration disc, had she connected the griffin to him at all?

The fact that she had, even a little, should’ve petrified him. Instead, he was giddier—and hornier—than before.

Dammit
. His brain couldn’t afford another withdrawal from his libido. The universe didn’t provide overdraft protection for stupidity. If he bankrupted his vault and fucked this up, the price he’d pay was his relationship with the woman in his arms.

He was a Colton. He had an empire’s worth of money. But his closeness to Tess was a jewel he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—give up. Ever.

If anything solidified that conclusion, it was coming here tonight and holding her through these tears. What would happen if she found out he was really the Dom who responsible for this—the guy who’d supposedly left town for “business” on Friday instead of staying to even help her back into her clothes that night?