MakeMeShiver (8 page)

His thoughts returned to the best way to introduce her to the BDSM lifestyle. Slow was best. If he was patient, built on their flourishing trust and allowed Lacey to know him on a personal level, they had a shot at making things work. They had similar interests and were more than compatible sexually, which was more than he could say for most couples. Not to mention he’d discovered he didn’t want to spend a single minute without her—something that would have his friends snickering in glee.

Michael the pussy whipped
, he mused and grinned, already hearing their friendly taunts resonating in his head. And fuck it to hell if he cared. His father always told him all a man needed was a good woman. It was time to prove the old man right.

He had time to do things right with Lacey. He just had to make sure he used it wisely.

How would she react if he invited her to the Christmas party at Fantasia? Would she decline his invitation outright? Or would she venture outside her comfort zone? Although his tastes didn’t require the full measure of D/s play in public, he still enjoyed mingling with his friends at the club and considered them his second family in many ways. If there was going to be a future between him and Lacey there had to be an understanding. As attracted and drawn to her as he was, he wasn’t going to let her go easily.

All good things were worth fighting for.

His broad grin and beginnings of a plan obliterated when he came around the garage and saw the car parked in front of his home. Aly’s sky-blue Honda Civic was situated along the left side of the stairs, leaving plenty of room for his truck, and she wasn’t inside the vehicle.

Fuck.

So much for starting things off on the right foot with Lacey.

Chapter Six

Michael cursed as he drove into his driveway, threw the truck into park and killed the motor. Once he’d climbed down from the rig and stepped around, he rushed to the stairs and took them two at a time. The minute he opened the door his eyes went to the coatrack.

Lacey’s coat was gone, as was the purse she’d left on the floor.

Shit.

Striding into the living room, he found Aly on her knees, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. He couldn’t mask the anger in his voice and didn’t attempt to.

“What are you doing here?”

She kept her head bowed, although she shifted her weight as she was prone to do when she was nervous. “I wanted to speak to you, Master.”

It wasn’t necessary for her to elaborate. He knew why she wanted to speak with him. For weeks she’d hinted at wanting a second chance. Although their meetings in town appeared random, he was well aware they were orchestrated by Aly. Since he’d made a very clean and painful break from the relationship, he refused to give the woman what she wanted. He couldn’t live with a submissive who needed to be told how to dress, what to prepare for dinner or how to react to situations. Some Dominants didn’t mind that level of control. In fact, some wanted it for themselves. He wasn’t one of them. It was too much responsibility and delved into an entirely different, full-time lifestyle.

Not to mention, Aly was subservient to the core. She didn’t get jealous, angry or bitter and submitted entirely to the will of her Master. He’d heard rumors at the club when she got his attention, was aware that she was left in a free fall by a worthless Dom. It wasn’t common but it did happen.

He hadn’t realized just how deeply the scars went, however, until she revealed her needs after a few short weeks. By then she’d been all but hanging by a thread, desperate to hand the reins of her life over to someone else. He’d arrived home to find her in his playroom one afternoon, entirely naked, sobbing as if someone had died. It was then that he knew she needed far more than he could ever give her. As much as he cared for her, it wasn’t enough and never would be.

“I’m not your Master,” he reminded her in a firm and level tone, his heart going soft as it always did when he remembered her circumstances. “I told you from the beginning I wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship or that level of commitment. I’m not a full-time Dom and I never will be.”

“But…” She lifted her head and her large, doelike eyes were brimming with tears.

He didn’t move closer, well aware that the waterworks, while sincere, would only make things worse. “I told you when we met that I’m not the type of Dom who wants a slave. It’s not personal. You’re a beautiful woman and will make some lucky bastard a very happy man, but not me. I can’t be what you need. You never should have gotten involved with me knowing that. Trust and honesty are the two most important things in a D/s relationship, and you broke that when you failed to tell me what you required in a commitment.”

“I thought I could make you understand. I thought that—”

“That you could make me fall in love with you before you revealed the truth?”

It was something he’d suspected, of course, after she decided to be honest with him. Aly was beautiful and sweet enough to have men the world over falling in love with her. The problem was adoration came with a price. While a man might fall in love with her, she would never reciprocate the emotion. Scars from her past prevented it. Even without the compulsion to have a full-time submissive, the cost of coveting a prize he could never hope to win was something he had no interest in.

She started to answer but stopped, nodding instead.

“You should know better than anyone that it takes more than love to cement a permanent bond in your type of situation. You have to find someone who can accept your terms as well as take on that level of responsibility.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t suppose you bumped into a woman when you got here?”

Aly nodded again. “She was coming upstairs from the playroom when I used the spare key to come inside.”

He felt anger returning, hard and fast. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly, peering up at him in alarm. “I offered to make her breakfast while we waited for you but she only wanted to leave. I would never make a guest feel unwelcome in your home, Master.”

His stomach churned and his mouth went dry. “How did you refer to me when you spoke with her?”

The blush that stained her cheeks gave him his answer.

Goddamn it
. No wonder Lacey had split. He could only imagine what she thought.

“Aly, I want you to listen to me carefully.” By the grace of some inner control, he was able to keep his temper in check. “You are not welcome in my home. I want you to place the spare key on my kitchen table and leave. After I sort through the shit you’ve caused, I’m going to contact Trevor and ask him to consider taking you on.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, horrified eyes practically pleading. “Please, Michael. Don’t.”

“I warned you that if you didn’t take care of yourself, I’d do it for you. You trespassed into my home and possibly ruined something very special to me in the process. While I’m sure you didn’t intend to cause any harm, you’ve done so nonetheless.”

“Trevor has Brian.” She stared at the floor, a beautiful yet pitiful wreck at his feet. “I promise I won’t do this again. I’ll ask around the club. I’ll find someone else.”

“Aly.” When she looked at him, he ordered, “Come here.”

Her misery was apparent in the way her shoulders slumped as she rose to her feet and did as he asked. A part of him felt like an asshole for putting his foot down, but he knew if he didn’t, this would continue until she did something truly foolish.

He placed his hands on her shoulders when she stopped in front of him. “I know you want a relationship like you had before. In a perfect world, you’d have it. But the BDSM lifestyle isn’t a perfect one, and you don’t always get what you want. You of all people should know that.” Wrapping his hands around her arms, he squeezed gently. “You were treated horribly. No sub should ever have to suffer what you did. I wouldn’t ask you to consider Trevor if I didn’t trust him. He expressed an interest in you as soon as David left. If you’d give him the opportunity, I honestly believe he would make you happy. He and Brian are devoted, committed, and can give you what you need. I want you to trust me to take care of this for you.”

“I can’t.”

He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Have you ever considered the possibility that Trevor and Brian are in a committed relationship and have been for years? You’d never have to worry about what happened between you and David with them. There would be three of you—a triple union. You could have the family you’ve always wanted and no matter what, you’d never be left alone.” When she tried to pull away he tightened his grip and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not a request. As soon as I sort out this mess you’ve created, I’m calling Trevor. You will, at the very least, give yourself the opportunity to see if something’s there.”

A miserable sniff was the only response he received, but it was more than enough. She wasn’t arguing, which meant she was going to allow it—even if she wasn’t entirely happy about it.

He released her and started walking toward the kitchen. “I want you to get your things and go home. I’m not sure what you said to Lacey but I can only imagine how bad this looks.”

“I swear I didn’t say anything to her.” From the nearness of her voice, he knew she was following him.

He stopped, pivoted, and almost bumped into her. He knew he was moments away from losing his temper. He’d found what he wanted only to have it ripped away by a woman who didn’t mean any harm but caused it just the same.

“You didn’t have to say anything.” At Aly’s questioning look he exhaled raggedly. “She’s not into the lifestyle. So just by showing up here, in my home, referring to me as Master…” He drew a deep breath, striving for calm, when he saw Aly’s face pale.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t but that doesn’t make the situation any better. You need to leave. I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to Trevor.”

Drawing her lip between her teeth, Aly nodded as if pained and turned to leave. Michael promptly did the same.

First he had to figure out where in the hell Lacey was, which meant calling the shop. Hopefully she was with Jacob and he would be able to explain. If not, he’d have to do something he was never very good at—groveling.

As he pulled his cell from his pocket, his palms went clammy.

So much for romantic dreams of grandeur.

This had just become a cluster-fuck of epic proportions.

* * * * *

Lacey pounded on Candice’s door, taking out her frustrations on the cheap, unyielding wood. Getting here had been harder than she thought. Jacob had flat-out refused to take her anywhere until Michael returned, so she’d been forced to present a fake smile as she’d left the shop and started walking in the direction of town.

Thank God for eighty-year-old Mr. Turner and his high-school-sweetheart-turned-wife, Ester. Their weekly visit to the grocery store saved her from bumping into Michael along the way. Not that they had the good fortune of avoiding him entirely. When they’d hit the highway Mike had sped by with her Toyota on the back of his truck. She’d shrunk into a ball in the backseat, hoping like hell he didn’t take a close look into the car. Despite how shitty the situation was, having a confrontation with Michael in front of an elderly couple who still held hands and kissed like teens would have made things much worse.

“Hang on a minute! I’m coming!” Candice yelled through the door. The metallic snick of the chain lock sliding free echoed in time with the click of the dead-bolt turning over. The door cracked open and Candice peered out. “Lacey?” Candice fiddled with the lapels of her robe, her messy blonde hair and puffy eyes a clear indication she’d been sound asleep. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I have a cup of coffee.”

Lacey stepped past her friend into the apartment, deposited her purse on the couch and stomped toward the kitchen. She’d stayed over after many a night spent out on the town with Candy so she was familiar with the layout of the apartment. She retrieved the canister with the coffee, pulled down a filter and walked to the machine. Candice entered the kitchen and put a hand out to stop her when she reached for the pot handle.

“What’s going on?”

How could she possibly answer that question? Candice had told her this would happen. She’d said entering into a relationship with Michael Gilchrist was just asking for trouble. Damn it, her best friend had repeatedly warned her that all men were exactly the same, over and over again.

Why the hell didn’t she listen?

“I did something really stupid, Candy.” She placed her hands on the counter, lowering her head. “Something really damn stupid.”

“You finally bumped uglies with Scott?” Candice grimaced, her lack of approval apparent. She’d never cared for Scott, finding him too conceited, arrogant and metrosexual for her taste.

Lacey shook her head, eyes downcast, knowing what was coming. “I broke it off when I found out he was boning Karen.”

“Karen!” Candice snapped, placing a hand on each hip. “His secretary?”

“The very same.”

“What a fucking asshole! Did you kill him? Are you here to enlist help in disposing of the body? Because I know of a place near Sevierville that’s perfect for the rat bastard.”