Awakening (8 page)

Evan’s answer to the problem was to interact with Claire as little as possible. It was out of character for him to be so aloof with a regular customer. He could tell she noticed. There were times when he caught her looking at him and saw the confusion in her face. But he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t trust himself where she was concerned. His temper was too short, his control too ragged. It was better for both of them if he kept his distance.

Realising he’d been standing there staring, again, Evan proceeded to clear out the back area and leave Claire to her reading. If only he could leave her out of his brain too.

Claire watched as Evan retreated to the front of the store. As per usual, she’d pretended to ignore him as he cleared out the back area, but in truth had watched his every movement. He was male grace personified in the way he moved. She got lost in the flex and pull of his lean muscles under his customary black shirt and jeans with each lift of a chair. The grace of his fingers so long and strong where they gripped the seats as he cleared them away.

Claire bit her lip and imagined those fingers running over her body, stroking her, teasing her. Closing her eyes, she sank more deeply into the chair, allowing the fantasy to wander where it willed. Within seconds, however, she was asleep and lost in the dream …

‘Look at me.’ His deep, gravelly voice was sharp with command.

Claire’s eyes snapped open in answer as she obeyed his command. He stood before her, gloriously naked. Tall and lean and wonderfully sculpted, he wore his nakedness with pride. She strained to make out his features, but only the faint glow of candles lining the room provided any illumination. The rest was in darkness; she couldn’t make out any detail, but the reflection off his skin caused him to glow with an otherworldly light like some demon or angel. She wasn’t sure which. The flicker of the candlelight caused the shadows in the room to dance and sway, shielding his face from her and making him appear to flow with the darkness. Her inability to focus on him for any length caused her heart to race with fear, but his voice was familiar and comforting. She knew that voice. She yearned for that voice.

‘What do you see?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered as she struggled to see him through the rippling candlelight. ‘I can’t focus.’

‘Yes, you can. You’re not trying.’ Something dangling in his hand caught her attention. She forced her eyes to focus, to peer through the swirling light and see, to no avail.

‘I can’t. The candles …’ Claire could only plead for understanding.

‘You can.’

Claire struggled harder, willing her senses to break through and see what he held, and then wished she hadn’t. Her indrawn breath had his focus sharpening on her. Claire couldn’t fully see him, but felt his intensity.

‘Answer me, Claire.’ His voice was even sharper and an edge of disapproval tinged his words. That small tone made Claire’s belly clench in worry. She wanted to please him desperately.

‘A rope,’ she murmured as fear choked her.

‘That’s right.’ He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers and Claire leant into his palm, relaxing under his tender touch.

‘Tell me what you want me to do with this rope.’

Claire’s chest constricted. She didn’t want to be tied up. She couldn’t bear being helpless.

‘Nothing.’

‘You just broke the rules, Claire.’ His words dripped with disappointment.

‘What? How?’ she cried out, shame twisting her belly.

‘You just lied to me.’

‘No. I don’t want you to tie me up. It frightens me.’ Panic was making her voice go shrill.

‘You’re lying to me.’

‘No!’ she pleaded in desperation. ‘Why are you saying that?’

He moved to stand behind her before speaking. She felt his heat scalding her from head to toe. She longed to lean into him, but didn’t dare move without permission. He leant in closer and she felt the warm silk of his erection stroke along the top of her buttocks as he raised the rope and stroked her nipple with it. The rough silk of the cord abraded the bud and dragged a moan from her. Only then did Claire realise she was naked too.

‘Your nipples are hard,’ he whispered in her ear, so close she could feel his lips move. ‘Your pussy is drenched.’ He moved the rope between her legs and rubbed along her cleft. Claire shivered in response. ‘If you were truly frightened, you wouldn’t be aroused.’

He draped the rope around her neck so that it dangled over her breasts. It was short, maybe two feet in length. He took the ends of the rope and began to stroke her nipples with them. The rope was made of some kind of white silk, but felt rough and coarse where the ends had been sealed to prevent fraying. Her nipples, already hard, stiffened even further and jutted out from her body. He pinched them, still keeping the rope in play. She moaned as white heat lanced through her. Sensation flooded her, sending every inch of her body into high alert.

‘What do you want me to do with this rope?’ He repeated the question as he rolled her nipples, never letting the rope drop.

Claire bit her lip as the words he wanted to hear leapt to her tongue. She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready.

‘Answer me.’ He pinched harder, bringing her to the edge of pain and causing her to jerk sharply.

A tear slowly slipped down Claire’s cheek as she gave him the words he’d known were inside her. She knew he’d hurt her, knew he’d use his power over her to humiliate her, but she couldn’t deny the truth inside her.

‘I want you to tie me up.’

‘Good girl.’ He tipped her chin up and around and gently kissed her. She inhaled his scent of clean soap and warm male deeply into her lungs before he murmured against her mouth, ‘Hold out your wrists, so I can bind them.’

Icy fear shot through Claire. She understood what he was doing. It wasn’t enough to wring the admission from her; she had to offer herself up for binding as well. Her eyes shot to his face, desperate to see him, to gain some reassurance from him before doing so, but the candlelight still danced over him, moving the shadows and giving her no ability to focus clearly.

‘Claire,’ he admonished her.

Summoning every ounce of inner strength she had, Claire held her arms out with her wrists stacked on top of each other, closed her eyes, and waited. She felt him move around to stand in front of her and flinched as the rope wrapped around her wrists. Felt the soft push and pull as he placed the knots that would bind her. Felt a hard tug as something cold and hard whispered over her skin, and then shot her arms over her head.

Claire’s eyes popped open, and she cried out as realisation hit her. He’d attached her to a hook that dangled over her head. He well and truly had her at his mercy now. Panic flooded her, racing through her veins and clenching her muscles. She yanked and pulled, fighting to flee. Sweat blossomed over her skin from her futile attempts to release her hands.

‘Claire! Look at me!’ he demanded, but she refused. There would be no reassurance there. Two sharp smacks on her ass broke through her terror and snapped her gaze to his. Warm brown eyes broke through the flow of light and seared through her. As she relaxed, the sting in both cheeks diffused across her skin into a pleasant heat as he stroked her with a work-roughened palm.

‘Trust me.’

Tears ran down Claire’s face as she struggled to calm her racing heart. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on the touch of his hand. He continued to stroke her ass in gentle circles that dipped lower with each orbit until finally coming to rest between her legs, where he stroked into her wetness and penetrated her with his fingers. The rough push and pull created a pulsing heat that radiated out from the centre of her body.

‘I can do anything I want to you now. Anything at all. Can’t I?’

The tears flowed harder, but she nodded nonetheless. With his other hand he began to knead and shape her breasts, paying both equal attention. The pleasure he was causing her shocked her, given the circumstances. Her body wasn’t shocked, though, and was rapidly building toward a peak of sensation.

‘That’s what you’re really afraid of. Isn’t it? What I might do to you. How I might use you?’

Claire nodded.

He leant in and licked up her neck as he continued to plunder her folds. The warm, wet slide of his tongue followed by a quick nip along her jaw sent prickles of desire skittering across her skin.

‘Or is it that you’re afraid you’re going to like everything I do to you, no matter what it is? No matter how depraved your mind tells you it is.’

Claire’s eyes snapped open as the truth of his words sank in. She was afraid, not of being tied up, but of being a party to acts her mind couldn’t accept and liking it.

‘I’m going to take you places you’ve never been, Claire, but I’ll never take you somewhere you can’t live with being. Trust me.’

‘How can I trust you when I can’t even see you?’ she wailed through the tears and frustration welling up inside her.

‘You can see me. All you have to do is look.’ His tone was gentle now, coaxing even.

‘I’ve tried,’ she snapped as her frustration won out.

‘Try harder.’ She could hear the amusement in his voice, and it pissed her off.

Claire focused one last time on the shadows covering his face, willing them to fall away. Slowly, the black faded to grey, and then cleared altogether as Evan’s face came into focus. The firm lines and harsh features were sharpened by desire, and his eyes were a deep, melted chocolate.

‘Evan.’ She murmured his name as he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. The blunt head of his erection nudged her entrance and she sucked in an anticipatory breath.

He shook his head and smacked her ass, setting her skin to pleasantly burning. ‘Sir.’

‘Sir,’ she echoed, the word a moan of longing and anticipation.

The low moan pulled Evan out of the task of re-shelving the discarded books that the day’s patrons had been too lazy to put back. Standing, he stepped out from between the stacks to see if Claire was OK. He’d noticed that she’d fallen asleep again, and wondered if she was having trouble sleeping at home – or worse, if she was ill. A lance of fear speared his gut at that thought. Stop, damn it. Just stop.

She was indeed still asleep. The chair swallowed up her tiny frame. He could barely see the top of her head where she was burrowed down into the soft leather. Stepping softly so as not to disturb her, he stared down at her. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to look at her without risk of discovery, rather than having to sneak glances her way.

She lay with her head pillowed on one arm. The soft layers of her honey-brown hair spilled across her face obscuring her eyes, but framing her lush lips, which were parted softly. She was moving restlessly in her sleep. Her legs scissored against one another, creating a swishing noise from the denim of her jeans. She shifted and turned more fully, arching as another whispered groan slipped from her lips. Her nipples were hard under the cotton of her white T-shirt. She didn’t wear a bra. Her breasts were small enough that she didn’t really need one. Subtly, her hips began to gyrate and flex as if to meet an imaginary lover.

Evan’s breath caught at the realisation that she was dreaming. About sex. Desire raced through his veins and pooled heavily in his groin. Reflexively, he reached out to touch her. Does she dream of me? Before the thought even fully registered, grief swamped Evan, stealing his breath and driving him back as his chest clenched hard. He grabbed onto the nearest shelf to steady himself as he tried to force air into and out of his lungs while a swarm of bittersweet memories flooded his brain.

Marianne, his beloved, sweet Marianne, lay splayed on the bed before him. The ruby red of the comforter contrasted starkly with the pale cream of her skin. The custom leather cuffs he’d had made for her adorned her wrists and ankles, though he’d only attached her wrists to the straps affixed to the headboard. She was so thin now and her circulation too weak for full binding. Her long, formerly lush body was now wasted and frail. Her ample breasts had reduced at least a full cup size and she was self-conscious about it, but he’d spent long, long moments attending to her nipples. Licking and loving, worshipping her so that she would know he would always love her and her body no matter what.

In this, the last days of her disease, their lovemaking had been so sporadic due to her limited strength. Evan didn’t like taxing her with even gentle sex, but she was so sweet, so insistent that she needed to feel him inside her to remind her that she was still alive, that he found he couldn’t resist her.

Even then, with his cock buried deep inside her, he felt her slipping away from him. Where before she would have wrapped those gorgeous legs around his waist and met him stroke for savage, pounding stroke, laughing joyously as he claimed her, now she could only lie, a willing recipient for his loving possession.

He took her gently, resting his weight on his forearms so that the full length of their bodies touched but he wasn’t crushing her. With his eyes closed, he savoured the welcoming embrace of her core as she clung wetly to his cock. He committed to memory the soft rasp of her pebbled nipples against his chest as he moved against her. Imprinted the scent of her skin, ginger and honey, into his brain so that he’d never forget. He’d known, in the deepest recesses of his heart, it would be the last time he’d make love to his woman.

When she came, arching under him and whispering rather than screaming his name in his ear, he’d joined her. With each wave of pleasure he’d spilled his hopes and dreams and grief and pain over their aborted life into her body until finally he’d collapsed beside her with tears he hadn’t even known he’d been shedding running down his cheeks.

She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep almost at once, and he’d unstrapped her and pulled her into his arms before finally falling into a fitful slumber. Some time later, she’d become restless and he’d woken and soothed her, stroking her back. She’d rested a skeletal hand on his cheek, exerting just enough pressure to get him to look at her.

‘I love you, baby,’ she whispered, her crystal blue eyes awash with unshed tears.