Afterlife (17 page)

she was now wearing. Vaguely, she

remembered him

sliding her arms into it when he’d

had to leave the bed.

He’d murmured something about not

wanting her to get

cold, but stil wanting to see her. He’d

buttoned only the two

middle buttons, so he’d been able to

tease and fondle

wherever he wished. Now she

brought the open col ar to

her nose and inhaled the smel that

was Jon’s neck, that

lingering aftershave and male heat.

It took awhile to get her feet on the

floor, and when she

did, she blinked. Her room was

clean. The clothes she’d left

on the floor were gone, the dirty

dishes removed from the

dresser and the coverlet for her bed

was neatly folded at

the foot. She’d slept like an

exhausted, trusting child, so

deep he’d apparently been able to cal

in someone like

Mol y Maid and they’d worked

around her.

The alternative was too outlandish to

contemplate. If he’d

given her an orgasm
and
cleaned the

apartment, he wasn’t

a mere mortal. The man was a god.

She tottered to her bathroom. Also

too amazing to face

was the fact that what they’d done

last night was technical y

only foreplay. If he truly had fucked

her, she would have

needed a crash cart. It made her lips

twist in a wry smile,

though that same feeling twisted

something tight around her

heart. Daylight and reality. It was

coming. She could feel it

like the Four Horsemen of the

Apocalypse, ready to

trample her under their thundering

hooves.

Rachel, stop it. Savor it for a few

moments, will you?

In her bathroom mirror she saw the

usual features. A

forty-something woman whose face

was creased with

sleep, crow’s feet etched at the

corners of her eyes, worry

lines visible at her brow. But today

she saw other things as

wel . Lips that seemed ful er, bruised

by kissing. A look of

dazed wonder in her eyes. Her long

blonde hair tousled

around her face in what she dared to

cal sexy

dishevelment. She was clearly

delusional, but the

kaleidoscope of images from last

night were rotating

through her mind, shivering over her

mostly exposed skin.

Glancing down, she saw her water

glass by the sink

contained a casual arrangement of

lavender wildflowers

and Black-eyed Susans. They grew in

the back lot of the

apartment building. Paperclipped to a

sealed envelope

leaning against the glass was a note.

You’re braver than you believe you

are, Rachel. Follow

the instructions in the envelope.

The note had the Kensington &

Associates letterhead,

the address and phone number in

bold script at the top.

Jon’s handwriting was precise print,

reflecting the

compressed, dense energy of the man

who’d written it.

She stared at herself in the mirror

again, the way her

breasts were provocatively exposed

in the open shirt, how

the tails of it caressed her thighs. She

thought of that fabric

tucked into his trousers, having the

oblivious pleasure of

molding over his muscular buttocks,

the tails folded in near

his cock, the curve of his testicles.

Picking up the envelope, she opened

it. The words made

her sink down on the commode top,

her breath shortening,

stomach doing a flip-flop.

I wish I could be there with you this

morning, but I had

an early meeting at the office, and I

wanted you to sleep

as long as you needed. But you’re

not alone, sweet girl.

My mind is even now on you, and

what you must look like,

still wearing my shirt, your body

well-used by your Master.

She swal owed, a quick spasm in her

fingers rippling the

paper.

Now that you’re up, eat the

breakfast I left for you. Take

a bath, not a shower. Use those bath

beads you’ve

probably had forever and don’t use

because you don’t

take time for a bath. Shave your

pussy smooth. Wear my

shirt belted over the short black

skirt in the rear section of

your closet and the red heels that

are pushed behind the

other shoes. No panties or bra.

Leave your hair down. In

the back of your vanity drawer is a

lipstick called Wet

Cherry that almost matches the

shoes. Wear it. I’ll be

imagining that color marking my

cock when you get down

on your knees in my office and

relieve the hard-on I’ve

had since seeing you come all over

my hand last night.

No preliminaries. No dancing around

it. He was taking

control. How many times had she

fantasized about it? A

Master taking over her life,

orchestrating her every

movement for her pleasure and his

own. But her reality had

become something so far from that,

this was a fairy tale,

and a tremendously dangerous one.

What did she know

about him, except he’d been able to

bring her to climax for

the first time in years? What did he

expect from her?

Al things a rational, reasonable

woman would ask. But

the fear came from another part of

her, the part he

understood far too wel . Her gaze

dropped to the postscript.

You’re already trying to

compartmentalize, box me up

as a momentary fluke, something

best left as a one-night

fantasy. I wouldn’t advise that.

Trust me, Rachel. I know

how to care for you.

It was a cryptic comment, one that

could have many

meanings. But it didn’t matter. Even

if he meant it the way

she envisioned or desired, he

couldn’t take care of her like

that. It was too late. She lay the letter

aside, but this time

she didn’t look back into the mirror,

feeling too exposed.

She couldn’t do this.

If she was a different kind of person,

maybe she could

convince herself to throw caution to

the wind, let herself

have this. Earlier in the week, she’d

re-checked the article

about K&A’s “boy genius” and found

out his age. He was

thirteen years her junior, any older

woman’s fantasy. Al that

stamina and beauty, his feet a decade

away from the first

threshold of middle age and its

painful truths. For him, it

was merely intense games. He was a

Dom likely used to

taking on a submissive for certain

periods of time, no

commitment. If she let it stop right

here, she could say she’d

experienced a taste of what she’d

always wanted to

experience, and that was more than

she’d ever anticipated

getting. If she walked away now, her

heart would be no

more battered than before.

Whereas if she let herself have the

protracted fantasy, it

would destroy her.

The midnight chime had rung for her.

This Cinderel a had

hot flashes and a limited budget. A

monthly gym

membership and a weakness for

sappy movies and dark

chocolate. She’d learned to live

within the confines of that

safe orbit of things that defined her

world. So that was it.

But he’d given her a gift, and she at

least owed it to him to

tel him that, face-to-face.

Her two days of self-pity and hiding

were up. It had ended

with a glorious fireworks show, but

it was time to face Day

Three and its harsh reality, and get on

with her life.

* * * * *

Jon studied the slow-moving

Mississippi River from the

window of the K&A Baton Rouge

office. Jon had liked New

Orleans’ dark mystery, its unique

culture, but since they’d

moved to the Baton Rouge location,

he’d found he liked the

tranquility of this view. The

Mississippi’s deep, eternal flow

was an echo of what he felt flowed in

everyone. A sense of

truth, of the way life was supposed to

go.

Which was why people got so fucked

up when they were

tossed out of that flow, left on the

banks to gasp and dry up,

lost to themselves. He ran a hand

over his neck, clenched

the fingers then loosened them, trying

to shake out tension.

Trying to get rid of the troubled knot

in his lower bel y.

Married.
For over a year, he’d

thought she was married.

He should have known something

was off, since he’d kept

coming back to her class as if she

were a damn siren. But

he’d never thought to look under the

surface, respecting

that unbreakable code that another

man’s woman was off

limits. He’d ached for her, for the

pain and loneliness that

came off her in waves. That he could

have tried to assuage

months ago.

It wasn’t ego, though he wouldn’t

deny some of that had

been involved last night. She pul ed

things from him. Those

expressive hazel eyes, her baby dol

lashes framing a

mixture of gray, gold and green color

as fascinating as a

forest’s depths. The way her white-

blonde hair fel around

her face in that wispy, vulnerable

way. Her kil er ripe

hourglass body and how she was so

earnest and serious.

She needed to smile more. From the

first time he attended

her class, he’d found he could make

her smile, and the

hopeful light to it, a candle in a soul

shrouded in darkness,

had haunted his dreams.

Now his blood burned with the

knowledge he could make

her do far more than smile.

Knowing she’d thrown him off like

that had riled the

Master in him. So much for his

purported calm. Eastern

warriors of ancient times had written

that a man should

accept the warlike as wel as the

peaceful elements of his

nature. They should be al owed to

flow through him

unfettered, so that he could take the

best aspects of both of

them.

Instead, he’d unleashed his Master

side like a rabid dog.

He’d been goaded, chal enged and

he’d jumped in with

both feet last night. Then he’d left her

that note this morning.

It was too much, too soon, and he

damn wel knew it. She’d

spent God knew how many years

burying it in herself. Just

because he could see the gleam of

that treasure clear as

sunlight didn’t mean that she could.

And as Leland had

clearly pointed out, there was too

much he didn’t know

about why that treasure had been

buried.

K&A had considerable resources to

protect what was

theirs. Jon had assigned Shel ey, one

of their trusted

security personnel, to discreetly

watch Rachel’s place in his

absence, and she’d fol ow his

troubled submissive if she

left on any errands. While Rachel

slept, he’d also planted

the tiny cameras he’d brought in his

case last night. Shel ey

was monitoring the feed from them as

wel . Yeah, it might

be way the hel over the line, but he

didn’t real y give a

damn. He’d seen the scar on Rachel’s

neck from that close

gunshot. It had been faint, but the

impression was stil there.

It had branded itself on his mind.

He might have uncovered the treasure

inside her, but

there were too many demons

guarding it. He wasn’t going

to make the same mistake he’d made

at the yoga studio,

leaving her vulnerable to them. Shel

ey was only supposed

to cal him if something started

happening that caused her

concern for Rachel’s safety, and only

she had access to

what was coming through those

planted cameras. He didn’t

want to learn about Rachel through an

invasion of her

privacy. He wanted to unfold the

truth of her face-to-face,

savoring every bit of it, the good and

the bad, learning her

soul so that he could wrap his own

around it, bring them

together as he was sure they were

meant to be.

“And then Ben thought we’d hire a