Indulgence (124 page)

I have no idea how long it goes on; I just know that my body
is limp and I’m warm all over when I hear him say, “Open your mouth, Kimmie.
Come on, sweetie, open wide.” He sounds like he’s a mile away, but I know what’s
going on. Ahhhh. I’m finally going to get that cock.

But I’m wrong. A spoon touches my tongue and he says, “Come
on, baby. Enjoy it.” When I close my mouth, I know I’m going to start to weep.
It’s warm and soft and sweet and I recognize it immediately.

Butterscotch pudding.

In one blinding flash, I feel like the most loved,
cherished, special woman in the whole world. There’s nothing I can do to stop
the tears flowing down my face, and I swallow and open for another bite. As he
feeds it to me a spoonful at a time, Jaz strokes my cheek and my hair, and I
desperately want to kiss him, to feel his arms around me, to soak up the warmth
of his body and have his lips pressed to my temple. I’m still flying when I
realize I’m lying in the big bed in the room, tucked under the covers with him,
being held exactly as I’d imagined. His lips press into my temple just as I’d
dreamed, and I hear him say, “That’s it, baby. Just relax. You did so well,
little one. Just rest and come on back.”

It takes a while, but finally my mind makes its way back to
my body. I blink a couple of times to find his face right in mine, a peaceful
smile crossing it and his eyes soft and sweet. “Hey, Kimmie! Feel okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, Sir. I’m fine.” At that, he chuckles.
“Is my back bleeding?”

“No. I never broke the skin.”

“But it hurt so much. How can . . .”

“It’s the lavender oil. Good thing I didn’t use peppermint
oil. You’d be gone until next week!”

I blink a couple more times. “I guess we should get out of
here, huh?”

He scowls. “Nah. They’ve got other rooms. We can stay as
long as you want. Need anything?” I nod. “Yeah? What?”

“For you to keep holding me like this. You’re warm.” I can
feel him shake with laughter, but he doesn’t make a sound. “Well, you are.”

“And you’re soft. I love it. You feel so good.”

Tears are right at the surface, and I know why. My heart
wants to hear him say,
I love you, Kimmie.
Because I know the truth.

I’m in love with him. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s
the man I’ve been waiting for, the Dom I’ve been hoping to find. I want to tell
him that. I can’t. Not yet.

But I will.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. I
drive through the development, looking at the houses. They’re all very nice,
but they’re all very cookie-cutter. I had Jaz pegged for someone who would want
something unique and unusual.

And I find out I wasn’t wrong when he opens the front door.
The living room is plum with one burnt orange wall, and the furniture is
upholstered with fabric that has plum, burnt orange, and gray half circle
figures on it. The tables are a gray wood, and I’m impressed by the artwork on
the walls and the little touches he’s put in place, the gray throw over the
sofa, the toss pillows that echo the color scheme but also bring a blue and
green into play. I love it all.

The kitchen is just as unusual. The cabinets are a bright
blue, and the walls are a light cantaloupe color. Red and yellow canisters sit
on one side of the room on the stainless steel countertop, and the glass-front
cabinet is home to Fiesta dinnerware in every color they make. It’s so cheerful
that it makes me want to giggle. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. It’s all ready. I roasted the chicken this
morning, and the vegetables are about ten minutes out. Want something to
drink?” he calls out as he disappears into the dining room.

“Sure!”

“Okay, let’s see . . . I’ve got beer, all kinds, and all
kinds of mixers. And wine. I’ve got some pinot grigio, and pinot noir, and
merlot, and cab franc, and . . .”

“I’ll take a glass of the cab franc, please.”

“Coming right up.” In a matter of seconds, he reappears with
two wine glasses. “Sounded like such a good idea that I decided I’d join you. A
toast.”

“A toast!” I repeat as I raise my glass.

“To us. May we navigate the minefield of this relationship
and come out with not only exactly what we want, but with all of our limbs
intact.”

I laugh right out loud and call out, “Hear, hear!” One sip
and I grin. “Oh my god, this is good. So good! Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Standing there, leaning back against the
counter with the wine glass in his hand, I don’t remember ever seeing a more
handsome man. He’s let that scruff grow back just a little, more like a
well-defined five o’clock shadow, gray mixed in with the dark hair there, and on
his chest, more dark hair laced with white peeks out the top of his V-neck,
pale heather gray tee. Soft, worn jeans hug everything that matters, and he’s
padding around in a pair of heavy knitted heather gray socks. Everything about
him says comfortable and relaxed, and when he drags a hand through that thick,
dark hair with the gray frosting heavy at his temples, I want to lick him all
over. Just lick until I can’t lick anymore. Yum. A band tightens around my
heart and squeezes when he says, “You look especially beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. I don’t feel very beautiful, but . . .”

“Well, you should. I mean, look at you! You’re just so . .
.” And the timer goes off. Damn it. I wanted to hear the rest of that. “Oops,
veggies are ready. If you’ll hand me those potholders, I’ll . . .”

“Nope. I’ll get it.” I grab the potholders behind me on the
table and rush over to the oven. The aroma that greets my nose when I open the
oven door has me drooling. There, in a large roasting dish, are potatoes,
carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, and sugar snap peas in some kind of gorgeous
sauce. I place it on the cooling rack he’s put out, then turn off the oven
before I say, “Oh my god, it smells so good!”

“It’s a sauce my mother used to make when I was growing up.
It’s just simple cream of mushroom soup and some other ingredients, but it
really makes the vegetables taste, I don’t know, warm and comforting, I guess,
like you’ve spent hours on them when it really only takes a few minutes to put
together.” Then he adds, “Oh! Grab the bread out of the warming tray, please.
Bottom.” I turn with the potholders and open the warming tray at the bottom of
the stove. What greets me there is a sight for sore eyes.

“Oh, god, ciabatta! What the hell are you trying to do, hook
me with food?”

“Is it working?” he grins from inside his wine glass.

“Maybe,” I grin back. “I haven’t tasted it yet.”

“True. Let’s fix that, shall we?” He points to the dining
room and I hear him pick up the dish as I move that direction. After he’s
plopped it down on the table with the most beautiful roasted chicken I’ve ever
seen, he retrieves the bread and sits down. Almost immediately, he bounces up
again and grabs the bottle of wine from across the room, then pours my glass
full once more before sitting and doing the same for his own. Once that’s done,
he smiles at me. “Well, go ahead. Please. Take what you want.”

I sit politely. “Could you serve me, Sir? I’ll eat whatever
you give me. My dining’s at your discretion.” It’s not about him serving me,
after all. It’s about me having the portions he wants me to eat, and I want to
give him that courtesy.

Hot damn, my heart starts to pound when he lifts my hand to
his lips. “I most certainly will. I’d love to.” I fight to hold off the tears
as he starts to fill my plate, first with a good-sized portion of the chicken,
fragrant and juicy and perfectly done, and then a large spoonful of the
vegetables. He tears off a mighty hunk of ciabatta and places it on my plate.
When he’s done the same for himself, he picks up his fork. “I started to make a
salad, but I knew this would be plenty. I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay. Who needs rabbit food when you’ve got
this?”

He chuckles. “Well, technically, the vegetables
are
rabbit food.”

“I don’t think rabbits have ever had vegetables in this
sauce.” I feel him watching me as I fork a bite of carrot and broccoli and slip
it into my mouth. The minute it hits my palate, I’m in heaven. “Oh my god, this
is so good! I mean, really. It’s unbelievable, Jaz.”

“Thanks.” He takes a forkful of chicken and chews for a
second. “Well, the chicken came out pretty good.”

One taste and I blurt out, “Pretty good? It’s just
scrumptious.” Before I can stop it, it hits me and a huge tear escapes one of
my eyes, followed by another one and then another, and before I know it, I’m
sobbing.

I hear his panic-filled voice and glance upward to see
horrified eyes. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

“N-n-n-n-nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry. It’s just that no one’s
fixed me a meal like this in a long time. I go to Michael and Robyn’s and we
eat, but a lot of times it’s just carry-out. Even then, it’s just once in a
blue moon. I always eat alone.”

“Well, I didn’t really go to any trouble either. The hardest
part of this meal was peeling the vegetables, and that’s no biggie. Kimmie?”
When I finish wiping my eyes, I look over at him, and he’s smiling. “I don’t
mind. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I eat here by myself all the time too, and
it’s nice to have somebody to share a meal with. Really. So eat all you want.
And I’ve got dessert too.”

“Butterscotch pudding?” I ask and then burst into giggles
through my tears.

“No! Something better.” He toys with his food for a second
and then, softly, he asks, “Did you enjoy that?”

A half dozen more tears escape as I nod and smile. “Yes.
Very much. Thank you. If that’s what I’ve got to look forward to, my future is
looking pretty damn bright.”

“You’re welcome. It was fun.” Going back to the food, the
quiet that descends on the room isn’t awkward, just peaceful. Sitting here at
the table with him feels good. When we’re done, he clears the table, pulls out
smaller plates and clean forks, and then produces the most beautiful Black
Forest cake I think I’ve ever seen. I start to say something when he interrupts
with, “Before you ask, no. I did
not
make this cake. I bought it. But I
bought one from her right after I moved here, for Melissa’s birthday, and it
was delicious. She does a great job. So enjoy – I sure plan to.” He cuts a
wedge apiece for us, and he’s right. It has to be the best cake I’ve ever eaten
in my life. As we eat, he asks me if I like to cook, what I like to make, and
if I enjoy baking, and I tell him about the sporadic culinary triumphs I’ve had
over the years. I also let him know that the term sporadic is generous, and he
laughs at me. That sound, his laughter? Even though he’s laughing at me, I
don’t mind it at all.

With the cake finished, I help him clean up and get
everything into the dishwasher, and then he motions me toward the living room.
When I sit down, he sits beside me and turns toward me, one leg drawn up on the
sofa. “So you said you enjoyed last night.”

“Yes. Very much.” I draw both knees up to my chest and hug
them. I’d love it if he put his arm around me, but he doesn’t. I can tell he’s
determined to have a conversation.

“And I see you’re still wearing the collar.”

“Yes. I’d like to keep wearing it, if that’s all right.”

“Quite all right. Now we need to talk about moving forward
and what that means.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“No you’re not. You have other parts too – very interesting
parts, I might add.”

“Why, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Want more wine?” I shake my head. “Me
neither.” He hesitates for just a second. “I had a good time too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I want more. You?”

“Yes. Hence the collar.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes and I chuckle. “You should know
that I’ve avoided relationships for a good while now. But I think it’s time to
stop that. I’ve met someone I think I’d like a relationship with, and I want to
pursue it.”

“And who is this lucky woman?” I quip.

“Oh, I think you might actually know her. Beautiful lady,
very smart, very talented. And I’m finding out more about her every day, like
the fact that she’s quite the smartass when she wants to be.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s absolutely right. For the record, I find it
charming – for the most part.” He lets out a laugh. “And I’m hoping she’d like
to be in a relationship with me, but I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think she’d love that.” Instantaneously, a blush creeps
across my cheeks when I realize I’ve used the word
love
.

“Think so? Hmmm . . . Well, I can be very demanding. I like
my food to be edible. And I like for my dirty clothes to be washed eventually.
I also like for the bed to be somewhat made in the mornings and for the
toothpaste spray to be wiped off the mirror at least once a week. I’m very
rigid in a lot of ways.”

“Well, as long as you’re rigid in the most important way.” I
sense something shift between us, something uncomfortable. “Jaz, is there
something . . .”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just a little, well, I guess you’d
say I’m shy.”

Now I’m baffled. A seasoned Dominant? He’s been coming onto
me since the first time we met, and he’s shy? There are lots of ways I’d
describe Jasper Givens, but bashful certainly wasn’t the first one that came to
mind. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Shy? You’re not shy. What do you
mean by shy?”

“I just . . . I am.” My mouth opens to say something else,
but he interrupts with, “So where did you grow up? Go to school? What about
your parents? Siblings?”

Even though I want to know more about this shy thing, I tell
him what he wants to know, and he does the same for me with his background. I
finish with, “And I was married to a man for years and years before he finally
left me and told me he’d never loved me.”