A WILDer Kind of Love (27 page)

When he finally pulled up, she gulped then rasped, “
Damn
.”

“Yeah,” he grated back. “Damn.”

“That really didn’t stop me from wanting to know everything about you.”

He chuckled as she rolled back over, letting his lips continue out along her shoulder. “Nor I you, sweet woman. Nor I you.”

Another sigh escaped her. This time, it was pushed by much different emotions. Fulfillment, but longing. Satiation, but thirst. Feeling complete, yet utterly broken.

She swallowed. Clenched her teeth against the stings behind her eyes. When Sexy felt the change in her, accommodating by pulling her yet tighter, she fought the urge to elbow him in the gut for it.

“Don’t,” she begged. “Please. Don’t…”

“Ssshhh.”

“No.” Dammit, now her voice cracked. “I don’t want to
ssshhh
. I don’t want to
have
to.”

“I know.” He scraped her hair a little harder. His arm cinched her waist tighter. “I know.”

Screw it. She let the salty rush come, flowing over her cheeks. “This is it, isn’t it?” she charged. “With us. With this. You’re not going to call again, or even come back to Catacomb again. That’s the reason you arranged for the Cadillac aftercare. The pool, the fruit, the chocolate. We’re not going to do this again.”

She had a mental short list of possible reactions from him, but the little push it took for him to get her on her back, fully beneath him now, wasn’t one of them. As he braced himself over her on his elbows, Tess could stare straight past the mask, into the intensity of his eyes. They were like dual oceans in a storm, whipped by winds of conflict, tides of sadness.

Finally, he muttered, “Do you think that would be a good idea?”

She didn’t speak the answer. She already knew it—and saw that he did, too. Tonight’s “play” session had to be—well—one of the worst-named hours in the history of kink. None of it had been “play” for either of them. Every touch, every word, every command, and every obeisance had been another drop of glue in a bond that would only deepen if they entered another dungeon together. Even tonight, that glue had become part of her blood…that was thick in every tear on her cheeks now.

Tess wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down against her. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“No.” Though he growled it before her final word was done, his throat clutched on the sound. He repeated it, just as broken, while hammering the opposite effect with the thrust of his hips between hers. “Not yet,” he rasped into her ear.

“Not yet,” she echoed, letting the towel fall free and her thighs fall open. The fly of his leathers was taut again, the button he’d left undone now a wonderful scratch against her abdomen. “Please.”

“I’m here,” he told her. The slash of his zipper was as perfect a sound as the pool’s lapping waters. “I’m here.”

And then he was.

Sliding on another condom, then moistening it with the juices from her needy folds. Making her shudder again as he teased the broad head along her erect clit—then slid it deeper, deeper still, nudging her open more,
more
—

Then filling her as no one had before.

As, quite possibly, no one might ever again.

In ways she didn’t even want to contemplate.

Not now.

Dammit…not ever.

‡

“M
aster?”

The little redhead who’d just entered Dan’s living room directed the request over her shoulder, at the tall, tawny-haired man with whom he’d just broken from a gruff guy hug.

“Yes, my beauty?” Levi called in his smooth Georgia accent, reminding Dan it had been too damn long since he’d been back home. Maybe it was because he realized that he’d soon be seeing more of Atlanta than he cared to. In another year, maybe two, Dad would be officially resigning the helm of Colton Steel—to him. This place, with the ranch-style layout and the rich desert colors he loved so much, would only be his vacation home.

His chest clenched. His gut twisted.

Focus on the moment. Not the future, not the past. Just now, goddammit, and how good it feels to be just living it.

Seven years of field work in the CIA had taught him to carve the mantra into his brain—especially after the mission that had changed his life.

Two nights of being inside Tess Lesange, and it was all razed to nothing.

He’d start the engraving all over again tonight. At least he’d try, considering the circumstances. The resolve enforced the smile on his lips as little Bella Stratham turned to them, hands braced on her hips, exposing the green and gold tattoos that swirled up both her arms. The same colors were woven through her casual sweater dress, worn over heeled suede boots. She gave his buddy, Levi Cowell, a scowl of such domestic ire, nobody would’ve guessed they weren’t wifie and hubbie, or even brother and sister.

In many ways, their relationship went deeper than either. They were submissive and Dominant, one of his favorite couples from the Shadowlands club back home.

Okay, technically not
home
home, but Tampa wasn’t a long hop in the company jet. Using the thing had always made him wince a little, until having a compelling reason to use it. He’d never thought that cause would arise until a couple of years ago, when taking a brief leave from the Agency to help Dad handle an issue with a Colton steel ex-employee. When the bastard started getting violent, Levi was called in to supervise extra security measures for the Colton HQ buildings, and became a friend Dan would value for the rest of his life. Bonded initially by their Georgia roots and mutual quest for the perfect slice of peach pie, the friendship moved deeper the moment they discovered another mutual interest: the BDSM dynamic. Levi introduced Dan to Dominants who helped him understand
and
embrace his attraction to the darker side of kink, not to mention a few submissives who shared the same passions.

There’d been some extraordinary sessions with those wonderful women, times he’d never forget—but they, and those nights at the Shadowlands, were just memories now. None of it resonated in the core of him, the crater deep inside that had yet to be flooded with the fulfillment of bringing a woman every drop
she
needed from the beauty of Power Exchange, too. He’d begun comparing himself to a loser Don Quixote, chasing a Dulcinea who simply didn’t exist—until the session last Friday night that had changed everything.

Focus. On. The. Moment.

Isabelle—Bella to everyone except her parents and the IRS—certainly helped on that level, twisting her lips and blurting, “Didn’t you tell me Dan wasn’t seeing a woman right now?”

Dan scowled. “I’m not.” He glanced back at Levi, who gave an urbane shrug. “Why?”

Bella looked around the room again. “Oh, I get it. So you’re seeing a man.”

“Excuse the hell out of me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Dan.”

“No shit. But why the hell do you think—”

“
Please
.” She arched a brow. “Candles on the mantle? Fresh flowers everywhere? Napkin rings and bread plates on the table? You wouldn’t think of this shit if you were tied down and forced to read every Lauren Conrad blog post on the ’net.”

“Lauren who?”

“Annnd there’s my point.”

“What point?”

Bella glowered. The look emphasized her own burn scar, a silvery path that disappeared down the left side of her neck, reminding Dan why she could get away with this sass with him. He owed her. She’d reached out at one of the darkest times of his life, after the docs had told him much of the burn damage on his face would be permanent. While Tess had been there as a friend for his heart, Bella had been there for his head, coordinating with Tess through hours’ worth of video chats. The woman’s unique mix of sarcasm and pragmatism had been invaluable. Unlike others, she’d never made him feel like a victim—because he sure as fuck
wasn’t
one. Nobody had forced him to run into that burning building. While he’d been on crisis autopilot, thinking only of getting those nurses out alive, he’d also been jacked on his typical idiotic swagger. He’d dodged bullets, escaped battle zones, and been catching the bad guys for years. What the hell was the issue with a burning building?

The answer to that had come the hard way. As every mirror on the planet reminded him, every single day.

Bella’s huff yanked him back to the moment. “Don’t play coy, Colton. Where is she?”

Levi cocked a brow at his woman. Though the guy had ditched his typical dark suit for a fitted blue sweater and black casual pants, he still looked ready to commandeer a tank if he had to. “Sugar, it
is
Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving
weekend
.” She nodded toward the appetizer plates on the coffee table. “The Food Channel’s already moved on to recipes with leftovers, but this guy has crackers arranged like a flower.”

Levi stepped toward his subbie. Looked at the table. Raised a brow again—at Dan. “She’s right. You have a cracker flower.”

Dan chuckled. Stretched a finger along his temple. “All right. You got me. Her name is Olga. I found her on Craig’s List for a song. They have a new category there. ‘Betty Crockers for Crabby Bachelors.’ She’s been great. Doesn’t exactly look like Betty Crocker, though. If you can ignore the wart on her chin and the hair in her ears—”

“Watch it, pal. You’re on thin ice there.”

He didn’t have to worry about a good comeback for Tess’s interruption. Bella’s squeal handled the job fine. She nearly tackled Tess, making him damn glad his little rose had kicked off her own heels in favor of bare feet beneath her pink, retro-inspired jumpsuit. As the two redheads enjoyed their first in-person hug, Dan joined Levi in snaking a couple of “petals” from the cracker flower.

He stopped mid-chew when confronted by Bella’s fresh glare.

“Dammit, Colton. You didn’t tell me
she’s
your secret weapon!”

“It’s called a surprise, fireball.” He winked while using the nickname he’d coined for her during his recovery—though this time, he was able to use it with affection instead of animosity. There were times when he’d been none too pleased about the camaraderie the little brat had formed with Tess, even via video chats, considering their “partnership” usually ended up in crazy schemes for combatting his dismal mood swings. But dammit, there was simply no way to tell a pair of determined women that his idea of “constructive therapy” didn’t include a pedicure, a trip to the
Le Chat
Coffee Bar for coffee and kittens (literally) then a stop at the chocolate shop on the way home. There’d been similar excursions, but that one had pretty much topped the emasculation scale.

Right now, every moment of the torture had been worth it.

Because right now, Tess needed Bella more than he did.

Thanks to the mental bullshit
he’d
subjected her to. For a second time.

For the
last
time, asshole. You told her as much two nights ago—and you’ll adhere to that word, no matter how agonizing it is to even be in the same room as her now.

As in, the compulsions he fought against every single second. The twitches in his fingers to reach for her. The craving in his chest to have her smashed against it. The strain of his cock, still remembering the perfection of her hot, tight pussy…

“Well then, pour me a tall glass of awesomely surprised,” Bella gushed, “and don’t leave out the cute umbrella.”

Levi wrapped a loving arm around his woman, kissing the top of her head. “Funny girl.”

He didn’t try to make the words public, though certainly didn’t keep them a secret. The man didn’t fathom how his action turned Bella and him into the giant white elephants in the room, positioned there between Tess and Dan. With every syllable of the adoration, Tess’s gaze glittered brighter, blatantly envious of her friend, the damn Northern Lights of pain. Dan had no choice but to watch her, confronting the mess he’d made, choking down another cracker to substitute for calling himself a jackass out loud.

Want to look at the
positive
here? At least she’s not crying.

Not
yet.

But if she does, you’ll be here this time. You’ll be here
on
time.

Because that was going to make up for lying to her, even now? For giving her everything she’d ever dreamed of in a D/s dynamic then ripping it away because of that same lie?

For so many reasons, he hadn’t deserved her before this whole stunt.

He sure as hell didn’t deserve her now.

He just wished like hell that his heart, soul, and spirit would get the fucking message, too—considering he was so wrecked about it, he could only seem to keep stuffing his maw with crackers.

Evidence? Provided at once by Levi, stepping over to extend a hand toward Tess. “Since certain people have become obsessed with your crackers instead of their manners, I’ll do the honors. Good evening. I’m Levi Cowell.”

A smile spread across Tess’s lips, emphasizing the heart God must’ve patterned her face after. “You know that I already know that, right?”

“Irrelevant. Good manners are the door to beautiful opportunities.” He kissed Bella’s head as punctuation, indicating exactly what fit his definition of “beautiful.”