Re/Bound (Doms of the FBI Book 1) (32 page)

“That explains the toolboxes.” He grinned to show he was teasing.

She smiled at last, but it was small and vanished quickly. “Scott gave up trying to teach me where his tools went a long time ago. I wasn’t allowed to touch his stuff.”

Whatever caused her upset wasn’t coming out with this line of conversation. Malcolm went for the direct approach. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Her face lost a little color. “I need to pack up this room.”

He hadn’t meant to push her to do something she wasn’t ready to do. “Darcy, please don’t think I’m pressuring you to take that step. I understand who Scott was to you and what he meant. If me being in here bothers you, just tell me, sweetheart. I understand.”

Color returned to her face. She shook her head and smiled regretfully. “It’s time. I need to move on. Though the police won’t officially rule him dead, I know he’s not alive. I know he’s never coming back. That part of me had the sense to accept your offer of a drink at that convention.”

She came into the room, crossing the space and slipping into his embrace. The steady staccato of her heartbeat thumped against his chest. He brushed a kiss over her eyebrow. “I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

“I need this closure. I wish they’d at least found his body. At least then I’d know for certain. There will always be a part of me that’ll look over my shoulder, searching for him.” She burrowed against him as if she could draw strength from close physical contact. He gladly gave it to her. “I meant it last night when I told you I love you. You’re my future. I want that future.”

“So do I.” He pushed her away a little so he could tilt her head back. The press of her lips against his had never held such poignancy. “Can I help?”

She half turned away from him, and he dropped his hands to her hips to give her the freedom to look around. “I’d love your help. I have no idea what most of this stuff is for, much less what to do with it. I mean, is there someplace where I can donate it?”

The tools were in good shape, but the pieces of space heaters and dishwashers were fit only for the junkyard. Anything of value had been removed by the police department’s forensics and tech units.

“You should keep some of the tools around. Every house should have wrenches, screwdrivers, a hammer, things like that. Some of these other things can be donated or sold.”

She faced him suddenly. “You’re a tech guy. Is there anything you want?”

The offer took him by surprise. Scott had some mighty fine tools. If he actually had time to be a computer geek, Malcolm wouldn’t mind having some of them. Still, he knew better than to refuse. “I could use some of these things. I have a buddy or two that would want some things. What about Scott’s parents? And doesn’t he have a brother?”

“And a sister.” She swallowed. “His parents don’t speak to me anymore. The police have them convinced I murdered Scott because he beat me.” She drew a line on his forearm. “There were a few times he left some nasty welts or bruises because I didn’t use my safe word when I should have and we didn’t know the full effect of what we were doing. Once I had to get stitches. Scott was so pissed at me for not calling red that he refused to scene with me for a whole month.”

Malcolm laughed at her bemused tone. Being upset with her wouldn’t accomplish anything, and Scott had already punished her for what she’d done. She still wasn’t entirely sorry for putting her safety at risk. He made a mental note to watch her closer when they played, just in case she wasn’t over her recklessness. “When you’re starting out, navigating those limits is definitely trial and error.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, a husky sound that told him talking about this wasn’t as easy as she tried to make it appear. But it was a healthy step in the grieving process, and he wasn’t about to interfere with her progress. “And when you’re working with a masochist, those lines are even harder to find.”

He pulled a high stool out from under the table. Sitting on it, he pulled her between his legs so that her back rested against his chest. “When did you want to go through this stuff? I’m free Saturday.”

His mother, aunt, and cousin wanted him to do something charity related. He didn’t remember what, but he’d gladly put it off to be here for Darcy.

She shook her head. “I’m not. I promised a friend I’d help with a project. How about Sunday? That’ll give me some time to get some boxes together. Plus I’ll need a break from working on this proposal for Future Beat.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. I’m making stew for dinner. I thought we’d curl up with a movie tonight.”

She twisted to face him. “Theo, I’m not very sore, and I’ve learned my lesson from those times when I pushed things too far. I’m not saying we should do a scene tonight, but you don’t have to keep your hands off me.”

It felt so good to sit there in the middle of the dusty, stale workroom and hold her in his arms. While he would welcome a chance to make love to her tonight, they first needed to discuss the scene from the night before in a little more detail.

He tapped her on the ass. “How about we eat dinner and talk about last night, and then we can decide what we want to do tonight?”

She nodded. “I think it’s about done. It smells divine.”

As he prepared his list of questions in a way that wouldn’t sound like an interrogation, he noticed she didn’t seem to be enjoying the meal very much. She spooned bites of stew into her mouth slowly, almost as if eating made her sick. At last she stopped frowning at her dinner and pushed it away.

It was decent stew. He lifted a brow. “Not hungry?”

“I guess not.” She chewed her bottom lip, something she hadn’t done since their first week together. When she looked up and caught him watching, she stopped. “Did I hurt you yesterday?”

His ribs were a little bruised. She packed some power in that elbow. “Nothing serious. A few bruises.”

“Were you terribly upset that I hit you?” Her bright blue eyes regarded him a bit warily. “It seems we need to talk about limits.”

“I have a problem with hitting for no reason. In a scene, if you’re fleeing and I’m pursuing, you can defend yourself.” He had the training to handle anything she could dish out, and one day she’d be aware of it.

She pursed her lips. “I’ve taken self-defense classes. I’m a little rusty, but I can throw a nasty right hook if I need to.”

He swallowed his last bit of stew and pushed the bowl away. “Breaking my nose might put a damper on the scene. I’ve had it broken three times. Hurts like hell.”

Her gaze moved over his face, and he knew the exact moment she realized why his nose was so hooked. She pointed to his eyebrow. “What about that scar? How did you get it?”

A perp who disagreed with being arrested had used a knife to try to get his point across. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that. “I got in a fight. Speaking of fights, did I hurt you yesterday? I did tackle you pretty hard.”

Her lips curved with the sultriest smile he’d seen yet. Blood rushed to his cock so fast it nearly stopped his heart. “It was such a rush, Theo. I loved everything you did last night. It was so decadent and wicked and wonderful.”

Well, he’d certainly succeeded turning her attention away from his scar. The scuffle, knowing it wasn’t a life-and-death event, and the subsequent forcing of her submission appealed to him in a way he hadn’t considered before.

“You know, I never thought I’d like chasing a woman and physically subduing her, but damn, sweetheart. You made it exhilarating. I loved punishing the sass right out of you.” She had originally prohibited total bondage, but last night strict restraint had set her free. His decision to make her climax until she begged for mercy had merit as well.

She leaned closer. “We’re taught that wanting those things isn’t right. It’s not like I would want this with anyone else. I feel safe with you. I know you care for me, and I know you’d never really hurt me. So I want to keep doing it. Next time I break into your condo, maybe you don’t threaten me verbally.”

They’d role-played with her in the role of cat burglar twice. Both times he had blackmailed her into the submissive role. He liked the drift of this new scenario. He already felt predatory. Leaning closer, he used his best wolfish smile. “Looks like I’m going to have to get physical with my cat burglar.”

“Meow.” She winked at him, but the gray cast to her face ruined the effect. She put a hand to her stomach. “I think a movie sounds great tonight. I’m more wiped out than I thought.”

He knew the exertion of the strenuous scene would catch up with her eventually. Truthfully he was a little relieved she just wanted to hang out and have a lazy night. He was feeling a little wiped out himself.

Chapter Fourteen

Darcy woke the next morning feeling invigorated and energetic. Theo slumbered next to her. He slept on his stomach with both arms jammed under his pillow. The short sleeves of his cotton shirt rode up to reveal the relaxed ropes of muscles cording his arms. Even at rest, he looked like a formidable man.

She traced his triceps and frowned. Though he talked about hitting the gym and jogging, she had yet to witness his engagement in either activity. She understood that his favored gym was closer to his apartment, but she didn’t see a reason for him to avoid running with her.

Since he slept over at most four nights a week, she assumed he ran when he stayed at home. To be fair, she had never invited him to go for a run. Being an early riser, she often managed to jog before he woke up. Theo took a little time to get going in the morning.

He stirred, and she increased the area of her forays to include his shoulder and the upper part of his back. His dark eyelashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, focusing those bleary, chocolate irises on her.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

She grinned. “Wonderful. I’m going for a run. Want to come with me?”

Burying his face in his pillow, he groaned. “Need coffee. How about you run and I’ll make breakfast?”

It hadn’t taken him long to realize she didn’t cook in the morning. Her idea of a morning meal included anything she could make in a toaster. Theo required a caffeine IV the moment he woke up. When he had somewhere to be, he took a mug into the shower with him.

She smacked a kiss on his shoulder and squeezed his ass. “I’ll wake you up after I shower.”

An extra burst of energy let her do three miles in the time she usually did two. She attributed it to the lingering soreness from their scene two nights before. A particularly good scene always gave her a bit of a high for the next few days.

She stopped at the pharmacy near her subdivision and bought a bottle of water and a pregnancy test. Not knowing anything definitive was stressful. She took the test in the bathroom, finishing off the bottle of water as she waited for the result.

Positive.

The anxiety and uncertainty vanished. She felt only excited and hopeful. She needed to tell Theo, but she wanted to wait for the right time. And she wanted to feel him out on the topic first. She couldn’t just spring it on him.

When she got home, the house was still dark and quiet. A glance at the clock, something she hadn’t done before she left home, showed it to be only eight. She didn’t know what time Theo had come to bed, but she’d fallen asleep on the sofa with her head in his lap before nine. The plot of the movie had barely begun to develop.

By the time she exited the shower, Theo had awoken. She heard the metallic clank of a pan on the stove and the dull
thunk
of a cupboard closing. She toweled the wetness from her hair and threw on a comfortable pair of jeans. Though it was the Saturday before Memorial Day, the day promised to be warm. That meant the holiday would probably be cold. It always seemed to work out that way.

When she entered the kitchen, he was standing at the counter with his back to her, mixing something in a bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the way he filled out a pair of sweats. He had a drawer at her house. When she cleaned out Scott’s closet and the rest of his drawers, that would change. She would be able to offer Theo more space to keep his things there.

Perhaps he would want to move in once he found out about the baby. Or maybe he would be upset that she’d become pregnant even though he always made sure to use a condom.

Pushing aside the shadows of doubt, she crossed the room and slid her arms around his waist. He squeezed her hands where they linked together near his navel, a silent greeting that let her know he hadn’t finished his first cup of coffee.

Feeling the need to shake things up, she let her hand drift lower. He froze, but he didn’t protest. His cock stirred to life, hardening as she fondled him through his sweats.

He chuckled. “I should have known you’d wake up horny.”

“Is that a complaint?” She kissed the back of his shoulder and slipped her hand beneath his waistband so she could feel his flesh come alive.

“Nope. I have a meeting in Detroit later this morning. We have time for a quickie, but the condoms are upstairs.”

Need pressed between her legs. She didn’t want to wait that long. Plus there was no longer a reason to use protection. “We don’t have to go upstairs if you don’t want to. You can have me right here, right now.”

He dropped the spatula into the bowl of what looked like pancake or biscuit batter, and he turned around slowly. The rate of his move had more to do with her hold on his cock than surprise. He regarded her with a shuttered expression. “No condom? Does this mean you’ve taken care of things? I’m clean, sweetheart. I swear.”

She trusted him completely, and she justified her actions by promising herself she’d tell him everything soon. She nodded and cupped his face in her hands. “I love you.”

He brushed his lips across hers, teasing her with the tenderness of his caress. “I love you too, sweetheart.” Then he devoured her, kindling the flame to an inferno in the space of five seconds. He unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them out of the way. She returned the favor with his sweats.

He scooted the bowl away and lifted her onto the counter. Breaking the kiss, he moved his attention to her neck. Desperate to have him inside her, to feel him without a barrier, she kicked one leg of her jeans free.

“I want more time.” He murmured the demand as he nipped at her earlobe, sending tremors of need through her body. “Tonight you’re all mine. I’m going to tie you up, paddle that beautiful ass, and fuck it hard.”

Heated cream rushed to her pussy at his directive. “Yes.” She guided him to her entrance. He pulled her closer. The counter barely supported her, but she didn’t worry about that. Theo would take care of her. He’d catch her if she fell.

He thrust into her twice before she came. Once more and he fell over the precipice with her. Hot jets of his semen filled her pussy, and she nearly cried at the strength of the emotions welling in her heart. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to him as hard as she could.

__________

By the time she arrived at Layla’s house a few hours later, the sun beat down mercilessly. Thank goodness it wasn’t too humid. The steady spring breeze whisked comfort to those in the shade. Layla had set up the majority of the materials under two canopies. They were to grab a postage-paid box and pack it with items from the large bins. After it was filled, it was to be handed to a group of women under the second canopy armed with markers, packing tape, and a scale from the post office.

Those who wanted to soak up the sun’s warmth could work the outside perimeter. Darcy tried that for a while. After being stuck inside for winter and for work, she welcomed the heat, but it drove her underneath the canopy within a half hour.

A woman handed her another cardboard box, chuckling at Darcy as she fanned herself. “Wait until you get hot flashes, sweetheart. Those’ll make you long for days like this.”

Darcy wondered why older women always seemed to bring up topics that dealt with bodily functions. Not a week went by where her mother failed to regale her with tales of digestive issues Darcy would rather not hear about.

She gave the woman a friendly smile. “Today isn’t so bad, though I’d rather be cool than warm. You can always put on a sweater.”

The woman’s smile lit her dark brown eyes. She regarded Darcy with one of those smiles unique to people who mothered everyone. Her dark brown hair was clipped close to her head, and she was pretty enough to make the style work. “I’m Donna, Layla’s aunt. How do you get roped into this?”

Darcy laughed as she reached into a bin for insect repellent. “I’m Darcy Markovich. I helped Layla write the grants to expand the facilities for the community program she runs.”

Donna made a knowing sound. “Well, how can you say no to a good cause like this one that supports our troops?” She grabbed a magazine from the second bin and slid it down the side of the package. “My daughter is camping in the Adirondacks with a bunch of her college friends, and my oldest son has no excuse for not being here. The kids would love to run around this place, and I’d have more excuses to take breaks.”

Darcy smiled indulgently. In a year, she would probably be one of those people who talked about her kid to anyone who would listen.

“My younger son spent some time in Iraq, but now he’s back. He’s with the FBI. I’m not sure that job is any safer.” She winked at Darcy and threw a small box of cereal into her box. “You might like my son, Malcolm. He’s single, just turned thirty, has all his hair. My husband isn’t bald, so Malcolm stands a good chance of keeping all of his.”

It had been a long time since anyone’s mother tried to pick her up for her son. Even if she had been in the market for a date, she didn’t think she’d take that bait.

“He sounds great, but I’m taken.” Darcy tried not to laugh. The poor man would probably die of embarrassment if he knew his mother was on the prowl for him. “Is this the cousin who makes fun of Layla for going into social work?”

Donna waved the question away. “He treats her like a little sister. Always has. She’s the same age as my daughter. The two of them used to trail after him when they were little, alternately worshipping the ground he walked on and making his life miserable. He was the first to encourage her when she wanted to open that community center.”

With Donna chattering away, the time flew. Before Darcy knew it, over half of the boxes were filled and ready to be mailed. And she knew almost everything there was to know about Donna’s three kids, M.J., Malcolm, and Katrina.

When a wave of fatigue hit, she took a break. By the time she returned, Donna had found another woman to regale with her children’s exploits. Relieved, Darcy transferred herself to cleaning detail.

Layla found her as she broke down the empty cardboard bins and stacked them in neat piles. Her short blonde hair had acquired a slight curl from the heat. “Hey, sorry about my aunt. I tried to come save you a couple of times, but I got sidetracked.”

“That’s okay.” Darcy laughed. “She sure does want to get her son married off. She kept talking about him even after I told her I wasn’t available.”

“Well, you might have a friend who is interested, and she wants more grandkids.” Layla took a box cutter and split the bottom of a bin open. She flashed a teasing grin at Darcy. “Seriously though, he’s a great guy. Don’t let Aunt Donna throw you off. If things don’t work out with Theo, I can always introduce you to Malcolm. He’s not cute, but he’s good-looking, if that makes any sense.”

The fact that he worked for the FBI automatically rendered him unattractive. “No thanks. You know how I feel about cops.”

Layla snorted. “Just don’t say anything like that around him. He’s liable to give you an earful, and then you’d let him have it. I can’t have that kind of carnage at my house. It’s a deed-restricted community.”

Darcy laughed at the joke, but she sobered quickly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll avoid him like the plague.”

Leaning close as if she had a secret to share, Layla gestured to the other side of the yard near the gate. “That’s Malcolm. He’s four hours late. Watch him blame it on work.”

She might have said more, but time had frozen. Malcolm had short dark hair that was long enough to grasp in her hands. When he turned to look toward the tent, she recognized the angular features set in his olive face. The hawkish nose that had been broken three times. The scar running through his eyebrow that he’d gotten in a fight. The high cheekbones she loved to trace with her fingertips. Those strong lips that had seared her body all over.

Darcy watched Donna greet her son with a kiss on the cheek and a short hug.

Layla set her hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Darcy, are you okay?”

The world narrowed, and she could only see the path to Theo. Malcolm. Son of a bitch was a cop. They’d sent an undercover cop to seduce her. Were they hoping for a pillow-talk confession?

Before she knew it, she stood in front of him. Donna asked her something, but she was too focused on Theo to catch it. Malcolm.

His eyes widened, and color drained from his face. “Darcy.”

Her hand flew, and she slapped him across the face with the force of all the fury in her heart. The outline of her hand showed white on his cheek. She didn’t stay to watch it turn red to match her rage.

With so many strangers at Layla’s house, Darcy had left her things in her car. She had her keys in her pocket, so she headed down the driveway and across the street to where she had parked.

Theo—
Malcolm
—caught her in the middle of the street, halting her with a hand wrapped around her upper arm. “Darcy, wait. Please let me explain.”

Whirling, she faced him. “There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re angry, but I need you to listen to me.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp. “Is this where you explain you get bonus pay for whoring yourself to the suspect? Save it,
Malcolm
. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, and I never want to see you again.” She was talking too loud and too fast. She had to get out of there before she really lost it.