Bound With Pearls (10 page)

Collapsing back into her chair, she sucked in a few deep breaths. On the scale of best orgasms ever, it didn’t rate in her top five, but she’d rarely been wanton. It was liberating in a way.

“Chris?” His voice rolled over her like a warm breeze. She could tell he was smiling from his tone.

“Uh-huh?”

“Clean up. I want you to pack up and go home. I don’t like you being there this late on your own. It’s dark outside. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until you’re in your Jeep.”

Warm fuzzies tried to smother the irritation she felt from his concern. Sitting up, she reached for the tissues and cleaned herself off. A few quick tugs and her clothes were back to rights.

“Daniel, I’m fine. I do this all the time.” She didn’t touch anything else. Getting up, the phone still wedged between her head and shoulder, she made her way to the break room.

“Were you going to stay there much later?”

“No, but you don’t have to be worried.”

“Too bad. I’m going to stay on the phone until I know you’re on your way home.”

Washing her hands in the sink, she didn’t reply immediately. She could be affronted he didn’t think she could take care of herself or she could be glad he cared. She might be submissive, but she took care of herself. She inhaled deeply and felt the constriction of her shirt across her breasts and the fading bruises underneath. He’d been worried about her then, she couldn’t find it in her to believe he was trying to control her now.

“Thank you for caring,” she said, turning to go back to her office and collect her things.

“Hey, Chris,” one of her coworkers called out. She froze. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

She pivoted to face one of the admins. She hadn’t yet sorted them all out. “Hey, yeah. I’m just headed home.”

“Cool. See you Monday.”

She giggled into the phone as she scurried back to her office. She hadn’t been as alone as she thought she was. Daniel was a bad influence, but if she were honest with herself, she loved it.

* * * * *

Daniel shifted the load under his arm and knocked on door number 4121. The anticipation fluttering in his chest was reminiscent of high school. He hadn’t been this intent about a girl in a long time. He enjoyed female company, but something about Chris called to him. Thankfully, unlike the former incarnation of himself he was wiser. Christine wanted him as much as he wanted her. There was something exciting about this phase of a relationship. Even if they hadn’t articulated it yet, this was no casual encounter.

The door opened, revealing Christine in all her frazzled glory. Her wrap dress was tied askew and her hair partially clipped up.

“Daniel, hi.” She smiled, lighting up her face. “Come in.”

“You look lovely.” Stepping over the threshold, he paused to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“Thank you.”

He offered her the bundle of gerbera daisies he’d picked up while making his other purchases.

“They’re beautiful.” She accepted the flowers and eyed the canvas shopping bag under his arm. “Can I take that for you?”

“I can handle it. Just show me the kitchen.” He wasn’t ready to let the cat out of the bag yet.

She frowned. “You didn’t have to bring anything for dinner.”

Tapping her nose, he allowed himself a sneaky smile. “It’s not for dinner.”

“Oh.” She started at his touch and he could see the cogs already turning over the possibilities.

“Kitchen?”

“Right.” Turning, she led him across the living room to the small galley kitchen and gave it a flourishing wave. “My kitchen is your kitchen.”

Ingredients were laid out on the counter and a package of chicken breasts in the sink. It looked as if he had interrupted her prep. Unfortunate, since he needed the kitchen to himself for a few minutes.

She went to the sink and knelt, casting him a quick glance over her shoulder. They were learning their dynamic. She bit her lip and no doubt was trying to come up with something to talk about, hoping he would speak first. But this wasn’t play. This was life and it didn’t always include leather.

She pulled out a vase, closed the cabinet and stood. Flipping on the tap, she ran the water over the flower stems and began neatly cutting them down to size. “So how was your day?”

“Good. How was your afternoon with your friend?” He scooted past her and set the bag on a bit of empty space.

“It was fun. I don’t get to see Ginny very often without her kids, not that I don’t love them, but it’s hard to get a word in edgewise around them.” She fussed over the flowers, arranging them in the vase. “There. What do you think?”

“They’re nice.”

She took the arrangement to the small dining table and set them in place of a chunky candle that had occupied the centerpiece. “Well, can I leave you and your secret alone for a few minutes?” She eyed the bag.

“Perfect. Give me at least five.”

Her eyes flicked to his face. “All right. Five minutes. I’ll be back.”

He watched her retreating backside, enjoying the way she moved. He waited a few seconds after she entered her bedroom. When he was certain she wasn’t coming back, he reached into the bag and grabbed the finger of raw ginger.

Acquainting himself with her kitchen, he borrowed a Brillo pad and scrubbed the root until he scored the surface. Pulling open a few drawers, he found her utensils, selected a knife and set about carving the ginger into a taper.

“Can I come out yet?” she called from the bedroom.

“Give me thirty more seconds.” The taper wasn’t finished but he’d gotten the basic shape down. Wrapping it and a few sizable slivers in a clean dish towel, he stored the secret in the freezer and wiped the counter off with a dishrag. “All done. You can come back now.”

She laughed as she exited the bedroom. “Thanks for giving me permission in my own home.”

He braced his hands on either side of the sink and watched her. “You’re welcome.”

She’d changed into skinny jeans and a billowing green shirt in some soft-looking fabric. Her hair was captured in a loose braid and tossed over her shoulder. She had style—the brown silk romper, black dress—even when she was casual.

“Sorry dinner’s not going yet. I meant to get started earlier but I got home late.” She reached past him for the chicken.

“It’s okay. What can I do to help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Hey, I invited myself over. I could at least lend a hand.”

She glanced up at him, weighing his words. She lifted one shoulder and gestured past him. “Okay. Can you fill the pot on the stove with water?”

He took the large pot and set it in the sink. “What are we making?”

“Chicken parm. Is that okay with you?”

His stomach growled. Grinning, he pretended to think about it. “I guess so.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Jerk.”

“You asked me out,” he fired back, waggling his eyebrows.

She tilted her head back and laughed. That was the uninhibited woman who drew him. “My bad.”

“Where’s the pasta?” He set the pot on the stove and looked around.

“It’s on top of the microwave.” She bumped his hip with hers as she set the frying pan on the stove. In the time he had taken to fill the pot with water, she’d breaded the chicken breasts and was on to searing them.

He moved out of her way and got the pasta going. “Did you talk to Lucy?”

She compressed her lips, the joy that had suffused her every movement leeching away. “Yeah, she said she was busy and threw a fit when I told her it would only take me a minute to pick up the necklace.”

He moved to stand behind her and began kneading her shoulders. “Do you need to talk about it?” To him it was a simple problem with an easy solution, but when a woman was involved he’d learned nothing was ever uncomplicated.

She sighed and leaned against his chest. It felt right to curl an arm around her waist as she swayed from plate to frying pan.

“Not really. I mean, it’s the same frustrations I’ve always had with her and talking about it doesn’t change what it is.”

“No, but talking about it will make you feel better, won’t it?”

“You don’t want to hear about my sister drama.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “You don’t even like my sister.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her, I think she’s undisciplined. Still, she’s your sister and if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and moved back to his post to stir the noodles.

She was quiet for a moment, her focus on the pan. The fragrance of seasonings and hot grease wrapped around him, encouraging more rumblings from his stomach.

“Nah.” She tilted her head and looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to talk about her. I’d rather talk about you.”

“Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth as she turned the chicken breasts over. “Okay,” she said when the procedure had been performed without spraying boiling oil on anything. “How did you get started in the scene?”

Ah, the basic getting-to-know-you questions. He felt a little guilty for getting all the details out of her and not reciprocating before now. “My parents lived it. It was always a part of their lives. I didn’t know, of course, until I was in college. My parents are very open-minded but didn’t think it was appropriate to share that part of their relationship with us, and honestly it would have weirded me out as a kid.”

“Wow. How did you find out?” Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to answer that,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay. My parents taught BDSM practitioner classes on the weekend after my sister and I moved out. My dad was concerned because the university I was attending had asked them to talk to the psychology department.”

“Oh my gosh. That must have been awkward.”

“Actually, it wasn’t so bad. I’m adopted for one, so I look nothing like my parents.”

Chris darted a glance at him. “I saw your family pictures.”

“Why do you look guilty?”

“I feel like I was snooping.”

“Where were the pictures?”

“On the wall.”

He chuckled. “If they’re on the wall, I don’t care.”

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“Pretty little, two or three, maybe? I don’t remember anything before my family.” That didn’t mean he was without his hang-ups. He liked physical contact as reassurance. He’d been guilty of being the clingy one in relationships. It was as though some part of his subconscious was still afraid of being left behind, despite knowing better.

“Can I ask why your parents adopted?”

“Infertility.”

She nodded, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Do you know who your parents are? I mean, not your parents, but the people who had you?”

He chuckled at her stumbling over her words. “My birth family? No. I’m not interested in knowing who they are or why they gave me up. I know some people need to know but I don’t. I really don’t want anything to do with them. They left me. Those aren’t people I want in my life.” He knew there were a lot of circumstances that would make someone give up their kid, many of them with the child’s well-being in mind. But he’d been left, abandoned in a park with a fucking note. Not given up for adoption.

He released his death grip on the spoon and glanced at Chris, who was studying him. So he’d wrestled with abandonment issues. Who didn’t have a few stumbling blocks in their life?

“I’m asking all sorts of really personal questions, I’m sorry.”

He reached over and tweaked her braid. “Don’t be. You shared with me.”

“Yeah, but I have this disease of the mouth where I just can’t stop talking when I get started.”

Daniel stepped into her personal space, delighted when she didn’t back away but tipped her head up. He dropped a kiss on her lips, lingering as she moved against him, swiping her tongue across his mouth. Behind him the grease in the frying pan popped, demanding attention. He backed out of her way and let her tend to the chicken breasts.

Spatula in hand, she continued to push the filets around until they were arranged in some mystical order only she knew. “I’m sorry, I totally derailed what we were talking about.”

“No problem. What were we talking about?” He slipped behind her and stirred the noodles.

“Getting involved in the scene.”

“Oh yeah.” He shrugged. “Mom and Dad at the college, right? They came and did their presentation and I actually went to it. I didn’t care because outside of that setting I wasn’t going to run into the doctoral students. It made my parents’ relationship make sense. My dad was in charge 24/7, which was the big problem when I was a teenager. He didn’t have an off switch and I couldn’t understand how my mom could put up with him. When I realized that was what she wanted and how they showed they loved one another, it clicked.”

He adjusted the temperature on the burner and turned to face her. “It works for my parents, but that’s not me. My dad sat me down and gave me the rundown. We talked about their lifestyle and what he saw in me. With their blessing, I dipped my toes in and learned that I’m not a 24/7 kind of guy but I have strong dominant tendencies.”