Passion's Dream (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 1) (11 page)

Instead, she took refuge in anger.  Shoving against his chest, she pushed herself out of the comfort of his arms and backed away from him.  She stood there, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, random thoughts pecking at her brain like a flock of angry crows.  “Who are you?” she demanded.  “What are you doing here?  Better yet, what am
I
doing here?”  She jerked her head and an arm back toward the house.  “Whose place is this?  Does it even
need
to be appraised?  Is it
really
going up for auction?”  Her voice began to rise, becoming shriller with every word she uttered.  “Why did some guy just call me pretending to be a man named Peter Ryan and make a date with me?  Who the hell is coming for me at seven o’clock?”

“I don’t know.  But you’re not gonna be here to greet him.  Go pack your bags.  We’re leaving.”

“We just got here!”

He started pulling her toward the house.  “I told him this wouldn’t work.  I had a bad feeling about this from the very beginning.”

“Clay!”  She dug in her heels and came to a full stop, yanking her hands out of his grasp.  “What.  The hell.  Is going.  On?”

“Okay, before I answer your questions, I just want to go on record as stating that none of this was my idea,” Clay said quietly.  “I was against it from the very beginning, and I told your Uncle Everett it wouldn’t work.”

“Fiancé,” she countered mulishly.

Clay just smirked.  “Right.  Well, he was correct about one thing when he offered me this assignment.  You
are
stubborn.”

“So that’s all this is to you?  All
I
am to you?  An assignment?  A job?  A chance to get it on with the one woman who somehow managed to escape your clutches three years ago?” 
Whoa. 
She heard herself saying those words and pressed her lips between her teeth to stop them
.  Oh, God, no.  Please, no.  That can’t be true.  Please don’t let it be true! 
Stricken, she grabbed her arms and turned her head away.

“Leah.” It came out as a sigh, mild, but bristling with frustration.  “You know none of that’s true.  And if you’ll just calm down, I’ll be happy to tell you what
is
true.”

Clay stepped into her, threading his fingers through her hair and lifting the strands away from her head, letting them cascade like a silken waterfall through his fingers before palming her cheek and lifting her face to his.  This time she
gave into temptation and leaned into his hand with a sigh of contentment, savoring the heat from his body as it soaked into hers, quieting her fears.

That’s what he did to her, what he gave to her, that deep, inner stillness that allowed her to draw upon it, pulling it around her like a cloak.  Her ex-husband’s obsession with her was about to shift into high gear and explode into violence.  Yet, she knew that Clay would keep her safe.  She also knew that this sex thing between them was about to shift into high gear, too, and explode into something else entirely.  And, God help her, she could hardly wait.  As he lowered his forehead to hers, she sucked in a breath.

“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”  And she did.  She didn’t know why.  But she did.

“Even though I’ve lied to you?”

“I’ve lied to you, too.  So I guess that makes us even.”

He chuckled.  “Not quite.  I
knew
you were lying.  You didn’t know I was.”

She shrugged.  “Whatever.”

Pause.  “Leah.”  That’s all.  Just her name.  Nothing else.

But it was enough.  All resistance gone, she lifted her face to his and he took her mouth in a series of slow, dragging kisses that were both gentle and sweet and full of passion and promise that erupted through her veins like a narcotic.  Her belly clenched, spilling more moisture out onto her already soaked underpants and shorts.

Finally lifting his head, he cleared his throat.  “Go pack.  I’ll tell Mrs. Murdock we’re leaving.  You have thirty minutes.”  He turned and started toward the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Virginia,” he called back over his shoulder.

“What’s in Virginia?”

“Safety.”

Thirty minutes later he was standing, arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against her bedroom door frame, his large, magnificent male body filling the space.  Her heartbeat accelerated and all the moisture in her mouth evaporated.
No
, she realized, looking at him from her perch on the side of the bed,
not just filling it.  Commanding it.
  As he commanded everything and everyone around him, including her.  Especially her. 

He shot a glance toward the suitcase standing at the foot of the bed.  “Ready?”

Now, that, Mr. Knight, is one hell of a loaded question. 
With slow, deliberate movements, she stood up, smoothed her hands down the front of the jeans she’d changed into, and started a slow, deliberate walk toward him, never releasing his gaze.  As she approached, he straightened and held out his hands.  Without hesitating, she placed hers into them, letting him swallow them up, letting him use them to pull her closer.  Until she was less than a foot away, engulfed in his aura of heat and potent masculinity and she knew she was lost.

As if moving in slow motion, his arms slid around her, pulling her closer still, until their bodies were touching all along her length, mere inches separating their faces.  His eyes left hers to drift downward toward her mouth.  Hers did the same, watching his perfect lips move forward, parting as he angled his head.  She sucked in a breath and before either of them knew it, he was kissing her.  And she was kissing him right back.  And when the tip of his tongue probed her lips, seeking entry, she opened for him, finally admitting him not only into her mouth, but into her heart and soul as well.

For the past three years, in spite of the brevity of their encounter on the beach, he had been a phantom presence in the back of her mind.  Drawn to him in ways she simply could not fathom or explain, even with no knowledge of who he was or if she would ever see him again, he had become the silent standard by which all other men she’d dated had been measured and found wanting.  For the first time in her life she felt…complete, ready to put her heart on the line and hope he didn’t break it.  Because if he did, she wasn’t certain she would survive the devastation.  Nor could she survive the devastation to her heart if she
didn’t
let him in.

His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, rubbing against hers, tangling with hers as she curled her tongue around his, seeking the unspoken promise he was giving her.  Arching her back, she thrust her breasts against his chest, her nipples tight and throbbing and poking through the thin material of her cotton tee.  They brushed against his shirt, sending an ache rippling through her.  Lifting his hand from her back, he placed his palm to her cheek, thrusting his fingers through her hair.  With the heel of his hand beneath her jaw, he angled her head upward, lifting his lips from hers and placing them down again, dragging them back and forth across hers, hot and slick, branding her with the emotions soaring through his heart.

She felt raw and blistered, like an exposed nerve.  Her clit ached with an arousal so fierce it frightened her.  It throbbed with the staccato beat of her heart, which was so fast it was a wonder she didn’t have a stroke.  He lifted his lips and pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed, the breath sawing raggedly in and out of his lungs.

But she wasn’t quite ready to stop.  Lifting her chin, she sought his mouth again and he let her take it, allowing her to explore until she, too, had to stop to catch her breath.  Her hand lifted from his chest to palm his cheek, the mirror image of
his
hand on
her
cheek.

He opened his eyes, softening his hold on her head to a caress.  “My name is not Clay Knight,” he began quietly. “It’s Clay Nighthorse.”

Her eyes flew open in shock.  “N-night—“

“Rosemary was my cousin.”

Leah took a cleansing breath.  “She spoke of you often.  Only, she called you ‘Raven’.”

“That’s the spirit name I was given at birth, and that is how I’m called on the reservation.  I added ‘Clay’ because it was more acceptable in the English speaking world.”

“You grew up on a reservation?”

“The Jicarillo Apache Nation in northern New Mexico.  I didn’t even learn English until I was eight.”

“I would never have guessed,” Leah said, a sense of wonderment in her soft voice.  “Rosemary loved you so much.  She was so proud of you when you became a SEAL.”

“She came to my graduation from basic training.  And that was the last time I saw or heard from her.  She fled to San Francisco to marry Everett Burke.  I blamed him for that.”

“He urged her to call you.”

“I know.  Burke told me when he hired me.  He also told me about the abuse she’d suffered.  I’m ashamed I never picked up on it, never did anything about it.” 
But I will,
he vowed silently. 
For Rosemary.

“You’ve met Uncle Everett?”

“Yes.  We met at his gallery in Richmond, Virginia. I have a ranch nearby.  He’s known all along that I was the man you encountered on the beach.  His private investigator found out.”

Leah’s eyes widened.  “But he told
me
the P. I. couldn’t find you.”/

“Because by that time I had shipped out and was unreachable.  He felt it was kinder to let you think that our encounter was just a one-time, chance thing and that you’d forget all about it.”

Her expression softened and the hand cupping his cheek turned that gesture into a caress.  “Except I never did.”

“Neither did I.” 

Their heads moved toward each other, their lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss that sent Leah’s arousal soaring off the charts.  He pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes, his own black and smoky and swirling with a mixture of lust and…something else.  Something she couldn’t readily identify.

“You touched something inside me that day on the beach, Leah, something no other woman has ever even come close to touching.  You’ve haunted me for the last three years.  But I didn’t know who you were until Burke called my sometimes boss, Adam Sinclair, and explained the situation.  Adam owns a security company and I sometimes help him out.  He arranged for us to meet.  As soon as Burke showed me your photo, there was no way I could say no.  Except I can no longer keep you safe in this location.  So I’m taking you to a place where I have friends who can help me do that part of the job so I can devote all my attention to the other part of my job.”

“And what part is that?”  Her whisper was barely audible.

“Making love to you.”

Oh, God. 
Her belly did a nosedive at the sensual promise in his voice.

“And I am going to make love to you, Leah.”  She stifled a groan as her belly clenched and wetness seeped from her.  “Every way a man can love a woman. Slow and sweet, hard and fast, and everything in between.  I am going to claim every inch of your delectable body and make it mine.  Make
you
mine.  Until neither one of us knows where one leaves off and the other begins.

Oh, God, those words.  Those sweet, honeyed words. 
Her pussy clenched on emptiness, desperate to be filled.  She took a deep breath.  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”  She meant it to be light and teasing, but it didn’t come out that way.  Instead it came out hoarse and strained and heavy with need.

“You have no idea.”  He gave her one last, swift kiss and released her from his hold.  Brushing past her, he walked over to the bed and retrieved her suitcase.  “Come on,” he took her elbow and turned her toward the hall.  “We need to get out of here.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Do you think Richard is behind this?” she asked, practically running to keep up with his long strides, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Yes.”

She stopped, but he kept going, so she really did have to run to catch up.  “Well, don’t beat around the bush or anything,” she puffed, out of breath, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.  “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Okay.”  They passed through the kitchen and out the back door into the cloistered walkway leading to the garage, luggage wheels clicking along the flagstones.  “Richard Gordon is a sociopath who blames you for causing all his problems.  After all, none of them began until after you left him.  So it’s all your fault and you have to be punished.  He wants you to suffer, as you’ve made him suffer.”

She sighed.  “He was so charming when I first met him.”

Clay stowed their bags in the trunk of the BMW and came around to open the passenger door, closing it after she was seated and buckled in.  Then he walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat.  “Most sociopaths are.  They can charm the dust off a buffalo.  They use that to blind you to the fact that they’re also manipulative, controlling, and incapable of feeling guilt, shame, remorse or love.”  He put the car into gear, backed out, and started down the driveway.  As soon as they’d passed through the open gates, he stopped the car and got out.  The trunk opened and he retrieved a length of heavy chain and a padlock.  As soon as the gates were closed again, he wrapped the chain around them and padlocked them shut.  The security system he’d installed was fully armed.  If Peter Ryan, or whoever the fuck he was, actually showed up and tried to break in, he would be arrested.  He returned to the car and pulled out onto the road.  Leah bid a silent good-bye to the Atlantic Ocean and the lush, tropical beauty of south Florida, not sure where they were going, exactly, but reasonably certain it was not going to be a beachfront paradise.  “He kept you constantly off-balance, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” she admitted, thinking of all the times Richard had brought influential clients home for dinner at the last minute without bothering to tell her beforehand.  After their fifth or sixth fight over his inconsiderate behavior, which he’d always managed to turn around and make her fault, she’d started preparing and freezing gourmet meals that could be quickly re-heated and served to however many people he’d brought home.  After she quit making a fuss about it, he had quit doing it.

“Everything that didn’t go according to plan was your fault,” Clay persisted as they crossed the bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway.  This time the drawbridge was down and they quickly passed through West Palm Beach and up the ramp onto I-95 North.

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

“And, once you were married, he either ignored you or constantly criticized you and put you down.”

She just cringed as his words summed up the cruel sham that her marriage had ultimately been.  “He told you that you were frigid, no good in bed, incapable of satisfying him, or any man, sexually.”

Cheeks flaming with humiliation, she ducked her head,   “Yes.”  Her tiny whisper was barely audible.  “H-he called me ‘Ice Princess.’  In front of everybody—his co-workers, his colleagues, his clients, even mere acquaintances.  He kept telling me I was f-fat.  That he hated my big boobs and fat ass.”

Clay’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. 
Christ,
what he wouldn’t give to have his arms around her right now so he could kiss her and give her the reassurance she needed.  Instead he did the next best thing.  He put out his right hand and placed it on her thigh.  “Look at me, Leah.”  He waited for her to gather herself together and turn her gaze to his.  He risked a glance over at her.  “Your ex is a moron.  There is a difference between fat and voluptuous, and you are definitely voluptuous.  Any man worthy of the name prefers his woman to have some meat on her.  You are also the most responsive woman I’ve ever met.  When you kissed me this morning, and last night in the pool, it was with such heat, such passion, it was all I could do not to rip your clothes off and fuck you senseless.  Right now, you’re so aroused I can smell you.  It’s filling the car like a cloud and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”  He grabbed her hand and brought it over to his crotch, fitting her fingers around the rock solid contours of his erection  His breath stalled at the carnal sight.  “Feel that.  See what you do to me?  My cock is so hard, I’m afraid it’s going to break off.  All I want to do is roll you beneath me and fuck you until neither one of us can walk.”  He risked another quick glance.  She was still looking at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.  “You caused that.  You.  And by doing nothing more than being who and what you are.”

“And what would that be?” she asked, watching his sculpted model’s lips, mesmerized by the way they moved, the way they shaped each word, each syllable.  Her fingers tightened around his cock, both of them hissing when it jerked and grew even harder beneath her touch.  Her clit was throbbing, her pussy gushing, and the heartbeat hammering in her ears was so loud, she nearly missed his next words.

“What are you?  You’re a woman who’s ready to give yourself to the right man. A man who is ready to accept your complete surrender and who will treasure and honor that surrender.  Who will take the power you give him and use it to guide you on a sensual journey to heights of pleasure you’ve never even dreamed possible, because no one has ever valued you enough to take you there.  The man who will give you the freedom to claim fully what you already are, a naturally submissive woman.” He finished, watching her carefully for her reaction to his words.

She swallowed hard. 
And are you that man,
she wanted to ask, but was too afraid he’d say no.  Instead, she just stared at him, her eyes troubled.  “You mean ‘submissive’, like in Dominance/submission?  BDSM?”

“Yes.”  His relief that she was at least familiar with the term was short-lived.  He frowned.  “What do you know about D/s?”

‘Only what I’ve read on the internet,” she admitted.  “Three years ago, after our encounter on the beach, I tried to tell Uncle Everett how you had made me feel, and he suggested I look it up.”  She blinked.  “The more I read about the powerful dynamic between a Dom and his sub, the more I suspected that part of the reason I had reacted to you so strongly was that you were a Dom.  You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”  He noticed her slight frown and waited patiently for her to voice her concerns.

“So I guess that makes me a submissive.”  She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze, removing her hand from his lap and putting it in her own.  “Are you going to want to…you know…”she shrugged, cringing inwardly at the very thought”…whip me?  Or—”

“Never.”

Her breath whooshed out in relief and her face brightened into a smile.

“I might flog you,” he warned, chuckling when her face fell once again, “and I will definitely spank you.  But—and this is a big but, Leah, so listen carefully—I guarantee you will enjoy every minute of it.”

At her skeptical look, he laughed.  “Tell you what.  If you don’t enjoy all the things I plan to do to you, I will personally march down to the Grand National Headquarters of Dominators, Incorporated and turn in my Secret Dom Decoder Ring and Handbook.  Not only that, I will also resign my position as Exalted Grand High Poobah, Supreme Imperial Overlord and Bake Sale Coordinator of the Southeast Chapter of Dominators, Inc., just so you’ll know I mean business.”  His grin turned sly.  “Of course, I’ll miss their monthly meetings, but, hey,” he shrugged, “if that’s what it takes.  A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

She laughed.  “Grand…Poobah, Exalted…something Overlord?”

“And Bake Sale Coordinator.”  He smirked.  “But only of the Southeast Chapter,” he added modestly.  “You can turn on some music if you want,” he offered, “and the seat back goes down if you get tired.  You might as well make yourself comfortable.  We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Where are we going?”

“A little town my buddies and I created called Passion Lake, Virginia.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not surprising.  It’s only two years old.  It’s not even on any maps yet.”

“You just…created an entire town?”

“Yup.”

“How do you do that?”

“You buy an old town that’s bankrupt and change the name.  Then you build up a base of businesses that will actually bring in revenue and expand from there.  We purchased 13 square miles of land around a derelict town by the name of Porterfield.  The land includes a few established farms, a large, deep lake that’s well-stocked with fish, several smaller lakes and a few streams, a forest, even an old World War I-era airfield.  Nik and Jay, two of my buddies built a large lodge with half a dozen log cabins and an adjoining campground that they rent out to tourists who like to fish, boat, and hike.  The Lodge has a bar that also serves food.  Another buddy, Caleb, and his brothers, Simon and Ash, bought the old World War One-era airfield.  Simon now operates a small, luxury charter airline, plus a crop dusting business and a sight-seeing helicopter business.  Ash is a professional photographer.  Caleb’s the sheriff.”

“Wow.”

He nodded. “We moved the main street closer to the lake and now boast a bakery/slash/coffee shop, a combination gas station and Mini-Mart, a repair garage owned by another buddy who’s a mechanical genius and can fix anything with a motor, a store that sells outdoor gear and camping equipment, several really fine restaurants, and a toy store.”

“A toy store?” Leah asked.  “How odd.” How could a toy story possibly do enough business in a town such as Clay was describing?

“Yes. Granny Grace’s Tea Shoppe and Toy Emporium.”  Clay laughed at the puzzled expression on her face.  “It’s an adult toy store.  Granny Grace is one of the residents of the former town of Porterfield.  She lived in a lovely Victorian house in the center of the old town and was the last person to sign off on the deal.  But only if we agreed to move her entire house out to the new town center and set it up in a place of prominence, beneath some big old oak trees like it was in the old town.  So we did.  It’s now the Passion Lake Bed and Breakfast, the first building you see as you approach the town along the new Main Street and I have to say it’s pretty damned impressive.  All my buddies and I completely refurbished it, in and out, and it looks gorgeous.  So good, in fact, we moved a few other old houses from the surrounding countryside into town and have been fixing them up, too.  Plus building houses of our own.  It’s been a busy couple of years.”  And he had needed every second of that time to decompress from the stress of that last undercover assignment.  Dealing with cruel, vicious, amoral slave traders and pretending to be just like them had taken its toll and Clay had spent the last year buried in back-breaking, mind-numbing work and seeking solace in native rituals designed to ease his spirit and heal his soul.

“So what is your place like?” Leah asked into the silence that had descended into the car’s interior.

“I own a ranch.  A horse ranch.  I have five prize stallions, so part of my business is a breeding program.  The other part is supplying rides for the tourists and campers.  We established trails up through the foothills to a waterfall and the top of a rocky cliff.”

Leah was impressed.  “Wow.  Sounds like you guys are really serious about this.”

“We are.”  He paused, letting the silence stretch, wondering just how much he should tell her.  “We—we’re all into kink, the BDSM way of life.  We all belong to a BDSM club around thirty miles away from Passion Lake.  It’s owned and operated by two former teammates of ours and their wife.”

“
Their
wife?” Leah asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.

“Yeah.”  He turned to look at her.  “They’re both married to her, in deed if not in fact.  I’ve never seen three people more in love than Jesse, Adam and Sarah.  They were part of the inspiration for establishing Passion Lake.  Sarah helped us with all the legal stuff—she’s an attorney.”

“I’d love to meet them,” Leah murmured.

“Oh, you will.  I’m planning to take you to their club, if not this week-end, then the next one.”

She looked at him, aghast.  “You’re taking me to a sex club?” she asked, horrified at the very idea.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled.  “By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ll be more than ready to go to a sex club.  You’ll be begging me to take you.” 
In more ways than one

Catching the double entendre, Leah subsided in her seat, lower lip caught between her teeth.  His words were like an aphrodisiac, sending her belly plummeting to her feet.  Her panties were wet and getting wetter by the second.  Turning her head, she looked out the window at the passing scenery.  But she didn’t see any of it.  She was too busy trying to decide what to do.  Except…she already
had
decided—three years ago.  She was going to give herself to this man.  She knew it and he knew it.  She was going to entrust her body, her heart, her very life into his care and hope she was not making the worst mistake of her life.

They drove for ten hours, stopping only for gas, bathroom breaks, and fast food, which they ate on the road, until finally Clay pulled off the Interstate somewhere in North Carolina and pulled into the parking lot of a chain motel.  As soon as he turned off the ignition, he twisted in his seat.  His left hand shot out and curved around the back of Leah’s head, pulling her toward him, lifting her lips to meet his in an open-mouthed kiss that was filled with passion and promise.  A kiss that was hard and uncompromising and brimming with hunger and raw, pulsing need.  Pulling away slightly, he palmed the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers, panting as if he’d just run the hundred meter sprint.  Both of them were struggling to catch their breath.