Deep Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #2) (10 page)

Jackson was a lot like her sister, so focused on his own needs that he didn’t care about the destruction he left in his wake. She had no choice but to submit to him physically and to let him see how much she enjoyed it, but she had a choice about how far her submission went. She had to keep her heart tightly locked away. There was no room for empathy or hurt feelings where Jackson was concerned. If she let herself get any closer to him than she felt already she might very well end up like Ella, locked in a mental prison of her own making.

“You have to stay strong,” she whispered to her reflection. “No matter what Harley did to him, it doesn’t make it okay for him to hurt you. Whatever happens today, remember that. If he punishes you for something you didn’t do, it’s okay to enjoy it, but it’s not okay to think you deserve it.”

She took a deep breath, meeting her own haunted eyes in the mirror and wishing she looked as strong as she sounded. With a final deep breath and a silent promise to keep repeating her new mantra for as long as it took for it to stick, she wrapped up in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom to find her favorite breakfast—croissants and fresh fruit—waiting on the coffee table.

Even more exciting, however, were the new clothes spread out on the foot of the bed.

At the sight of the khaki cargo shorts and black tank top—with a built in bra, thank God, she was so sick of going without one—her heart flipped over and a giddy grin broke out across her face.

Clothes! Real clothes!

She practically skipped across the room, squealing with delight when she saw the socks and hiking boots on the floor on the other side of the bed.

She was going outside and it looked like Jackson had something active planned! She was so thrilled. After days of stagnantly stewing she was dying for a long hike through the jungle, or up to the bluffs above the sea. Any place where she could breathe deep and feel the eternal, peaceful pulse of nature whispering across her skin.

Where she could feel her blood rush and her skin heat for reasons that had nothing to do with sex or the man who was quickly becoming the seductive black hole at the center of her universe.

She dressed quickly, hands shaking with happiness as she covered her nakedness, even putting the socks and shoes on, though she never wore shoes in the house at home. But if felt so good to have something to wear, to be granted that small privilege. When she was through, she wrapped her arms around herself and held on tight, relishing the way the cotton and spandex of the tank top clung to her skin, helping hold her weakening center together.

If Jackson were here right now, she would throw herself into his arms and hug him until he grunted. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. She was just so grateful.

Grateful for clothing, giddy because he’s stopped forcing you to walk around in nothing but a sheet, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Hannah’s smile faded and the happy butterflies in her belly died a quick death, falling to the floor of her stomach where they began to fester and rot.

The voice of reason was right. She could enjoy these clothes, but she shouldn’t be grateful for them. Jackson didn’t deserve credit for easing up on a punishment or for pleasure delivered on his terms. She couldn’t afford to start feeling gratitude for anything Jackson gave her except her freedom at the end of this month and the full payment of her promised fee.

With that thought firmly in mind, she sat down to eat her breakfast, determined to keep her head in the right place and make the most of her afternoon of freedom.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jackson

Jackson asked the cook to prepare a picnic lunch and then deliberately added the cooler pouch with three water bottles and two fruit juices into Harley’s pack, simply to add a little extra pain to what promised to be a miserable experience.

For Harley, anyway.

She’d seemed to enjoy their strolls on the beach years ago, but she’d clearly been miserable the one time he’d taken her hiking on his favorite stretch of the Appalachian trail a few weeks before she’d disappeared. She’d complained for most of the six-mile hike and acted like the small camelback water pack he’d brought for her weighed a hundred pounds.

That was the first time Jackson had realized how out of shape she was. Back then Harley had been slim—almost too skinny for his tastes—but she’d maintained her weight by watching what she ate, not exercise. By the end of the trail, he’d been beating himself up for taking her on such a grueling hike. They should have started out slow, to build up her endurance.

Now, he was looking forward to watching her attempt to maintain her “I live to serve” attitude while being forced to hike five miles up hill through a close, humid rainforest and then five miles back down again. By the time they were back at the trailhead, he expected her to be reaching the end of her rope. It would then be a simple business to snip the last few threads tethering her to her self-control and watch her submissive façade melt away.

It was time to force the real Harley out of hiding, before he became any more addicted to the excellent performance she’d been giving in the bedroom. That was another lie, and by tonight he would have the proof snarling and spitting in his face as they embarked on the second phase of their perverse new relationship.

The thought made him smile as he knocked on Harley’s door.

A moment later she appeared, flinging open the door with an eager grin on her face, looking refreshed and lovely in the simple clothes he’d had Adam purchase yesterday when the pilot went to the nearest island with a large grocery store and hardware store for supplies.

“Hello again.” Her gaze flicked up and down his body and a soft laugh escaped her lips. “You look different in shorts.”

He arched one brow. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Less scary, I guess.”

“Well, I assure you, I’m still every bit as scary,” he said, though he couldn’t seem to force the usual gruffness into his tone. He was looking forward to watching Harley’s sunny disposition wither too much to channel the full power of his rage today. “And I’ve got a terrifying afternoon planned for you. Are you ready to go?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and curious as she searched his features. But apparently whatever she found in his expression wasn’t any scarier than his khaki cargo shorts because she smiled again. “You’re joking, right? There’s nothing terrifying on these islands except the centipedes.”

“You’ll see,” he said, nodding his head. “Follow me. We’ll pick up our packs in the kitchen and leave through the garden door.”

“All right,” she said, practically skipping through the door to follow him down the hall, and into the kitchen. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“It is,” he said, nodding at the cook as he passed Harley the blue backpack and took the black for himself. Black, like his soul, and Harley was a fool to forget that even for a moment.

“Hello, Eva,” she chirped to the cook who nodded nervously before retreating to the other side of the kitchen to continue chopping vegetables. “Lots of water. Thank you so much.” Harley continued, poking into her pack, seemingly unperturbed by the other woman’s less-than-warm response. “Did you remember to pack sunscreen, Hawke? The sun on the islands is intense, even this time of year, and you don’t have the base tan I have. You’ll get burned faster than you think.”

“I have sunscreen,” he said, amused by her feigned concern. “But the first part of the trail is in the shade. We shouldn’t need it until later.”

Harley nodded, not missing a beat as she slung her pack on her back and bounced lightly on her toes. “All right. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Her grin was a thing of beauty he couldn’t wait to see shrivel as soon as she realized this was no stroll along the beach he had planned, but a grueling ten mile round-trip hike up and down the side of a mountain. Considering she was probably in worse shape now than she’d been six years ago, they would be lucky to make it back to the property before sundown.

But he’d brought a flashlight, too. He was prepared and every bit as eager as Harley to start their day.

“After you.” He opened the door for her and followed her out into the sunny afternoon. “The trail head is at the back of the property. On the other side of the orange grove.”

Harley sucked in a deep breath and titled her face to the sun as they crossed the wide lawn. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, unable to keep from admiring how beautiful she was with the sun catching the red in her dark braid and a look of such naked pleasure on her face. “I hope you’ll still be thanking me by the time we get back to the house for dinner.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Me, too.” She bit her lip, but continued after a moment, “I hope it’s alright that I haven’t been calling you sir. I figured that was only for the bedroom, but…”

“It’s fine,” he said. “But my given name is still off limits. First names are for equals and that’s not something we’ll ever be.”

“Of course.” She nodded and her shoulders wilted, but after a moment her spirits seemed to lift again. As they circled around a fat palm and made their way through the rows of orange trees, the spring returned to her step. But then he supposed it was hard to take anything too seriously on an afternoon like this one, even revenge or captivity.

The smell of flowers and salt water mingled in the air and the sea breeze kept the cloudless day from feeling too warm. The garden was humming with life and exploding with color and when they reached the trailhead the forest seemed to welcome them in with open arms. The feathery leaves of the eucalyptus trees shielded them from the sun and the cool mud beneath their feet smelled pleasantly of earth and the spicy, fermenting scent of plants breaking down to become part of the soil.

For the first half-mile, Jackson shot regular glances Harley’s way, waiting for her peaceful expression to grow strained. But by the time they started up the first incline—a slow but steady gain up the mountainside that granted peek-a-boo glimpses of the waves crashing on the shore below—he was getting lost in the comforting rhythm of one foot in front of the other.

Whether it was jogging in formation during training drills in the Marines or his daily run each morning, Jackson’s mind was never more at peace than at moments like these, when the motion of the body became a soothing meditation, a way to rise above the demons that haunted him. Even before Harley, there had been darkness in his life and a deep surety that he would never feel at home in the world. His father had been a cold, merciless man and his mother far more concerned with her position in society than her husband or only son.

Neither of his parents seemed to consider love or emotion a valuable part of human life. From a young age, Jackson had been plagued by the certainty that there was something deeply flawed within him. He felt too much, too deeply, too often.

He’d been shattered when his dog Petra died when he was seven, so grief-stricken his mother had ordered him to stay in his room until he could stop disturbing the peace with his wailing. He’d spent nearly a week in his room, missing school and having his meals brought to him on a tray by the housekeeper, learning the hard lesson that he’d better keep his pain to himself if he expected to be allowed contact with the outside world.

There had been other hard lessons learned throughout the years, but none as cruel and final as the one Harley had taught him. She had cured him of his fatal flaw, his over-abundance of heart.

If his father could see the cold bastard he was today, he would be pleased.

He
will
be pleased, when you deliver Harley to his front door and she confesses the truth.

And then you will tell Ian Hawke to go fuck himself and prove just how well you’ve learned your lessons.

Usually thoughts of that final confrontation with his father would send the storm clouds rushing in to darken his thoughts, but the steady sound of his footfalls and the soothing in and out of his breath as the trail grew steeper kept him grounded. His savage beast was so soothed by the walk through the jungle and the stunning view that he and Harley had reached the second mile marker before he regained the presence of mind to realize his companion wasn’t complaining.

In fact, she seemed as Zenned out by the hike as he was. Sweat dampened her hairline and beaded between her breasts, but her lips were curved in an absent-minded smile and her breath remained strong and even. And when they stopped at a lookout to soak in the increasingly dramatic view of the sea, she threw her arms open and sighed happily as if she were embracing the world and everything in it.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jackson asked, irritation creeping in to disturb his calm as he reached into Harley’s pack for a bottle of water.

“Immensely,” she chirped. “Incredibly immensely.”

“You’re in better shape than you used to be.”

“Thanks. I try to hike or swim every day at home,” she said, grinning up at him as he took a drink of the cool water. “It helps clear my head.”

Wonderful,
Jackson thought sourly, but his tone was carefully neutral when he said, “So you’ve discovered a love of exercise as well as an appreciation for food since we saw each other last.”

Harley’s happy expression fell, her brows furrowing as she crossed her arms at her chest. “If that’s a crack about the weight I’ve gained, I don’t appreciate it. I had enough of starving myself during high school and college. I’m healthy, happy the way I am, and it’s ridiculous to think a woman only deserves to feel beautiful if she’s a size zero.”