The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (50 page)

He moved my hand up to his lips and brushed a soft kiss across my knuckles.
 
“I do,” he whispered in my hand, closing his eyes as if to ward off grief.
 
“I adore you, Marjorie.
 
For weeks… for many weeks I have known that you’re the only woman for me, and that was why I had a hard time letting go.”

“What was your proposition?”

Confusion flitted in his eyes.
 
“What?”

“Yesterday, at the office, you said you had a new proposition for me.
 
What was it?”

A faint blush crept over his face.
 
“I was going to ask you to move in with me.”

The sounds of thunder echoed through the walls, sharpening my despair.
 
I needed to forget what he’d just said, so I asked him something that had been plaguing me since I read the manuscript.
 
“Did you really have that impression of me when you began writing your book?”

He sighed and looked past me for a brief moment.
 
“Yes.”

“But why?
 
Was it all based on what Jeremy said about me?”

“Yes, and also based on our first meeting.
 
When you weren’t behaving like a tough businesswoman, you were either making phony protests or scowling at me.
 
You tried to come across as independent and obstinate, but instead you just seemed childish and insecure.”

I sighed and tried to ignore the hurt that seeped through me with each word.
 
“And do you think of me in that way now?”

“No.”

“So what changed your mind?”

His look just about melted my insides.
 
“I got to know the real you—this beautiful, frightened girl who lacks self-confidence and runs away from her feelings and desires—and then everything changed.
 
You kept invading my thoughts, disturbing my carefully made-up plans.
 
When you ended our affair and bypassed just about every attempt I made to bump into you on the street or at the office, I…I thought I would go mad.”

I took a deep breath and struggled with my emotions.
 
Was he lying?
 
Was he playing mind games again?
 
Deep in my heart, I knew the answers were no.
 
But the old me had pushed her way forward and reminded me of the things he had done.
 
His words said one thing, but his actions had said another.
 
I couldn’t allow myself to believe him, I just couldn’t.
 
I was willing to go along with his mind games and forget about his alliance with Jeremy, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye to this too.
 
It was too much.
 
Who would be able to forgive so much?
 

But all thoughts escaped me the moment Seton pulled me closer to him, and I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, enjoying the momentary comfort it offered.
 
His naked skin felt warm against my clothed one.
 
If only he had some clothes on.
 
I laughed inwardly.
 
The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“I want to love you, Marjorie, but you won’t let me.
 
What do I have to do to prove to you that I won’t ever leave you?”
 
His lips, luscious and soft and delicious, nuzzled around my ear.
 
“I’m sorry you read that bloody-awful book,” he whispered soothingly.
 
“I misjudged you severely as I wrote it, and I want to make it up to you.
 
Just tell me what I have to do to make it all better, darling, and I shall do it.”

Tears were building up again, filling my eyes as I arched closer to him, and my anger and indignation wavered for several heartbeats.
 
But I couldn’t let him persuade me.
 
Not again.
 
This was Seton—the master of deception.
 
He might want me, he might be waxing poetic about love and compromise, but deep down he was just being Seton, a dominant man well used to getting his way.
 
I suddenly couldn’t be in the same room as him anymore.
 
I pulled away, not wanting to be distracted by the warmth and promise in his touch, and turned tail, heading to the front door.

“Marjorie, wait!”

It was an order, one I ignored.
 
I bolted toward the door, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder, for I knew he was following me.
 

“You can’t end this, my pet,” I heard him say from somewhere behind me.
 
His voice could only be described as desperate and dark.
 
“I won’t let you.
 
You may be willing to give up on what we have, but I’m not.
 
Give me—us—another chance.
 
Show me that you’re not the shallow, self-absorbed woman from the book.”

Show
him I wasn’t the woman in the book?
 
The bastard!
 
I wanted to slap him.
 
My hand was
so
itching to smack him one.
 
But I did nothing, just edged for the foyer, started to bolt, but he captured my arm and tried to pull me against him.
 

“You’re not leaving me,” he ground out.

My gaze drifted to his hand wrapped around my wrist, then traveled up to his eyes, and I dug my nails into my palms to keep them from striking him.

“You’re not leaving me, Marjorie,” he repeated.

I raised an eyebrow.
 
“Is that an order?”

He looked thoughtful for a few moments, then said, “I cannot, and will not, allow you to leave me.
 
What we have is worth fighting for, and you will not
walk away like a coward.
 
Not this time.”

I stared at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly.
 
“That sounds like a threat.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, but you can take it any bloody way you like.
 
I won’t let you run away from your feelings again.”

I let out a harsh laugh.
 
“I’m not running away from my feelings.
 
I’m running away from the asshole who used me to develop the story in his new book.
 
And with that, not only have you broken my heart, but you’ve destroyed whatever progress you and Jeremy have made with me.”

He opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it.
 
Though his face was carefully neutral, I could see the frustration and helplessness flickering in his eyes.
 
His jaw was clenched, his shoulders squared with tension.
 
He couldn’t seduce, tease or dominate his way out of this and we both knew it.
 

Baffled and weary, I wrenched my arm free from his grasp, then turned away from him and strode determinably across the foyer and toward the front door.
 
Ah, but wait…

“Oh, I forgot,” I said insolently, skidding to a halt and turning stormy eyes to him.
 
“I’m not allowed to use the front door.
 
I have to use the side door.
 
You wouldn’t want your neighbors to see that you’ve welcomed a whore into your house, would you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly and winced, realizing that I had tossed his own words back in his face.
 
He turned pleading eyes to me.
 
“My pet—”

“Don’t call me that!” I bit out, snarling.
 
“I am not your pet, and I’m not your whore,
Sir
.
 
Not anymore.”
 

“You
are
my pet,” he said determinably, his face hardening, dominance recoiling in his eyes.
 
“You’re mine.
 
You said so yourself.”

Blowing out a breath, I bent down to unclasp the ankle bracelet and slip its matching ring from my toe.
 
Then I hurled both items at Seton, the twinkling jewels landing somewhere on the floor.
 
“And in case there’s any doubt,” I spat out.
 
“Velvet
.
 
Come near me again and I’ll call the police.
 
Goodbye.”

Smoothing away tears, I turned to the opposite direction and dashed over to the side door, my feet moving fast so that I could get the hell out of here as quickly as possible.
 
But Seton caught up with me just as I reached the door.
 

“You can’t leave,” he said quietly.

I shoved him backwards.
 
“The hell I can’t!”

“No, you
can’t
leave.
 
Not like that.”
 
He meekly indicated my clothes.
 
I wore nothing more than his t-shirt.
 
I threw my hands in the air and let out a frustrated grunt.
 

Seton reached out to touch my shoulder.
 
I took a step backward, out of his reach.
 
“I’ll get you something decent to wear and then I’ll drive you home,” he said sternly.

I glared up at him.
 
“That won’t be necessary.”

“George will drive you.”

“Let the poor guy get some sleep.
 
You’re a fucking slave driver.”

“But it’s bloody raining—”

“I don’t care!” I thundered, pushing him away and retracing my steps to the foyer and toward the stairs.
 
Seton called out my name, but I ignored him.
 
I was sick of all this drama and wanted to go home, where I could wallow in misery alone.

What could be worse than discovering that the man of your dreams has been using you and lying to you?
 
Trying to make a dignified exit.
 
It’s difficult to express heartbreak, betrayal and searing pain while stalking up the stairs to your soon-to-be ex-lover’s bedroom to strip off his t-shirt and retrieve your purse and shoes, then rush back down the stairs to cover up your nakedness with a raincoat (turned out that I needed it after all) and scamper out into the rain at three in the morning with as much dignity as you could muster, but I gave it my best shot.

Chapter Fifteen

Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows when I woke the next day.
 
A cool, crisp breeze blasted into the room, forcing me to wrap the covers tighter around me.
 
New England weather is a funny thing.
 
It was hot as hell yesterday, then it rained cats and dogs late at night, and now it was sunny and pleasant.
 
I wished my mood matched with the sunshine, but it didn’t.
 
My spirits were as bleak and stormy as last night’s weather.

           
But it wasn’t the sunlight that woke me.
 
I had the unsettling sensation that I wasn’t alone.
 
Yawning, I rose on both elbows and scanned the room with half-closed eyes, and let out a startled yelp when I spotted Jeremy hovering near the windows.
 
His hands were clasped casually behind his back and his body looked relaxed, but I could see the tension in his squared shoulders.

           
“How the hell did you get in here?” I asked sharply, scowling at his back.

           
“You didn’t show up to work this morning and I got worried.”
 
His voice was soft, neutral.
 

Frowning, I sat up in bed and glanced at the clock on my bedside table.
 
It was almost noontime.
 
I bent my knees until they reached my chest and wrapped my blanket tighter around me.
 
I was naked underneath the sheets, having stripped off the raincoat before jumping into bed last night.
 
It didn’t surprise me that I’d slept the morning away.
 
When I arrived home last night, I cried for a good three hours before sleep overtook me.
 
It seemed that I’d only found relief in sleep lately.