Protecting Fate (8 page)

A few minutes passed, and he listened to her breathing in the darkness. It struck him that he hadn’t shared a bed with another person since his ex. Apparently he and Sara had more in common than he’d guessed, though he’d bet their reasons weren’t even close to the same.

He was almost asleep when he heard her whisper, “Thank you, Sir.” Z slipped from wakefulness with a small smile on his face.

Chapter Ten

Sara woke up with her cheek pressed against a moving pillow. She cracked open an eye, taking in the miles of dark skin that was Z’s chest.
I’m sleeping on Z’s chest
. Oh God, this was so far from okay, it wasn’t even funny. She had to move right now. But when she tried to scoot away, he stopped her with a hand on her elbow, trapping her in position.

“Morning.”

“Uh, morning.” What was she supposed to do or say? The only person she ever had actual sleepovers with was Ridley, and she never had to worry about waking up wrapped around the brunette like some sort of strangler monkey.

She needed time and space, and it didn’t look like he was going to give her either. Sure enough, he ran a hand down her spine, drawing her close yet. “I have big plans for you today.”

She closed her eyes in relief. Sex, she could do. And, if it knocked another of the three times off the list, that was for the best. She simultaneously loved and hated how Z made her feel—like she could spend years kneeling at his feet, obeying his will. It wasn’t an option. She’d seen what happened when people got embroiled in relationships—nothing but trouble. If her parents’ clusterfuck of a breakup had taught her anything, it was that you couldn’t rely on other people not to change while you weren’t looking. Sure, they might fit up great now, but there was no guaranteeing they would continue to do so as the years went on. Hell, even her twin brothers—two people she’d been
sure
would never go and shift on her had done exactly that. No, it was easier to keep things in clear, concise boundaries where they ended before anything got too heavy.

Which was a problem, because things were
already
too heavy with Z. It was worse, in a way, because she’d asked for it and, now that she’d gotten what she thought she wanted, she felt like she was drowning.

Or suffocating.

“But first, I have a question.”

Not more questions. Sara pulled away, struggling when he kept a hold of her. “Stop, Z. I can’t breathe.” She fought harder, a panicked bird in a cage, with no hope of escape. “
Please
.”

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t. If she obeyed, she’d be lost. She’d forget all the reasons why she never should have asked for this. He’d pin her with those green eyes and she’d start spouting all the things that she worked so hard to keep inside. She’d tell him anything he wanted to know. So she closed her eyes and did the one thing guaranteed to grant her freedom. “Wolfman. Wolfman, Wolfman,
Wolfman
.”

Instantly, Z let go of her, allowing her to scramble off the bed. She took the sheet with her, which was yet another in a long string of mistakes, because it left him sprawled on the bed, naked and too tempting for her state of mind. She simultaneously wanted to crawl back and let him comfort her, and to run screaming from the room. She wrapped the sheet around her, needing some sort of shield, even one so flimsy as this.

He propped himself up on his elbows, green eyes concerned, but didn’t make any other moves toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sara, you just panicked and safed out. Tell me why. Was it the question or the waking up in my bed?” When she still hesitated, he sighed. “How am I supposed to keep from repeating the mistake if I don’t know what I did?”

That sounded suspiciously logical, when she was feeling anything but. She backed toward the door. “You don’t have to worry about making the same mistake, because this is over. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

He narrowed his eyes, watching her retreat as if measuring how fast he could cross the distance between them. “You’re scared. Terrified.”

Hell yes, she was. Because there was still a part of her clamoring to climb back into bed with him and never leave. The only reason her love life didn’t interfere with the
rest
of her life was because she kept it carefully boxed. After last night and this morning, it was painfully clear that no box would contain Z—or her conflicting feelings about him. One night of sleeping next to a man shouldn’t be enough to spook her this much, but it did.

Because it opened up all sorts of things she worked really hard not to think about.

Like how good Z looked in the morning, with his eyes still hazy from sleep, his defenses down for the first time since they’d met. And how nice it had been to make up dinner last night while they talked, and how she’d discovered his unexpected sense of humor. Or what a lazy day with him would look like, breakfast and sex and submission and… No. She couldn’t do it. So she said so. “I can’t do this.”

“You already said that.” He sat up, and frowned when she startled. “I’m not going to attack you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what he called last night, but she couldn’t dirty that experience, even jokingly. “I need space.” More space than was possible with them both stuck in this house, massive or not. She reached the doorway. “I’m sorry. I just… I have to go.”

“
Stop
.” Her feet froze, and she couldn’t keep going, no matter how much her mind screamed not to obey him. His voice came from behind her. “Look at me.”

She turned, stiff and unyielding, to find him less than a step away. God, he moved fast when he wanted to—fast and silent. Sara made a sound that might have been a whimper. “Please, Z.”

He reached out and cupped the back of her neck, and all the fight went out of her as if he’d pushed a magic button. Her knees buckled, and she might have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. For his part, he didn’t look any happier with this change of events than she was, but he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. “We’ll talk. If I’m satisfied by the end of it, you can get back to fleeing my presence.”

…

Z hated how stiff Sara was in his arms, but he wasn’t about to let her run without some sort of explanation. He had an idea he knew what the source of her issues were—he hadn’t been Garrett’s friend for so many years without picking up bits and pieces of the man’s past—but he wanted to hear her say it. Because if he was wrong, and she was hurt or upset about what had happened between them last night, then he needed a chance to make it right.

His stomach lodged itself somewhere in his throat at the thought of causing her harm. She’d seemed right there in the moment with him, but so had Jennifer up until the moment she cried foul. He’d missed he signs with his ex. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Sara.

She hadn’t shown any regret or fear last night, but he’d learned the hard way that a new day could bring everything into a completely different light. If Sara hated him for what they’d done… Fuck, he could barely stand the thought.

He sank onto the overstuffed chair near the window and tucked her head against his shoulder. Sometimes things were easier to talk about when you weren’t looking directly at a person. She didn’t relax one bit, so he started, “Are you hurt?”

“What?” She jerked back to meet his gaze.

Each word felt like it was a shard of glass in his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

He found himself holding his breath as her confusion cleared and her eyes went wide. “No. Last night was amazing—better than amazing.”

Some of the tension left him. This was about the intimacy of sleeping next to him, then. That, he could deal with. “It bothered you to sleep with me.” He thought back to the exact moment when she’d started to panic. “And the thought of opening up to me verbally.”

She instantly put her head back on his shoulder, her body curling in upon itself until she easily fit on his lap. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her, trying to tell her that she was safe without using so many words. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t do this.”

“You said that last night. You don’t sleep over.”

“Yes, but I don’t…” She waved her hand at nothing. “I don’t do
any
of this. I don’t sleep over. I don’t ask my partners questions about their lives or past. We stick strictly to here and now, and then we move on with our separate lives.”

A neat and tidy arrangement that avoided any chance of emotional attachment. He’d suspected that she kept an ironclad hold of her relationships—if three times could be called a relationship—but this confirmed it. “You find it comforting to be able to put men safely in boxes where they can’t hurt you.”

“It’s not about hurt. It’s about boundaries.” She hissed out a breath. “I don’t have time for a relationship that might end up ruining my life.”

He wasn’t quite sure how she made that jump, though it most likely had to do with her parents. Not every relationship ended so dramatically, like it had when her mother woke up one morning and decided she didn’t want her life anymore. Or, for that matter, his ex waking up after what he’d thought was the best sex of their lives and deciding to report him for domestic abuse. Z realized he was tightening his grip on Sara and forced himself to relax. Jennifer had chosen a safe word, and he would have lit himself on fire before he’d ignored her using it.

If she’d actually fucking used it.

Or, hell, if she’d shown any level of distress while he was flogging her. She’d begged—for more. It was only the next day, after he’d gone to work at the base, that she’d had buyer’s remorse. He’d always suspected her sister was to blame, but he’d never been able to confirm one way or another because he’d been too busy watching his life fall apart around him, his name smeared through the dirt, his entire life ruined when she should have just
talked
to him. “I’m not your mother.”

She flinched. “I don’t know what—”

“No lies between us.” He made an effort to temper his tone. “I’ve known Garrett long enough to know how things went down with your parents. It was shitty, really shitty, how your mom left.”

She was quiet for the space of ten heartbeats, and finally relaxed against him. “I refuse to go through that kind of pain when it’s so easy to avoid. You can’t lose your heart in three dates—or fucks.”

Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d actually believe it. But if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have panicked—she would have ridden this shit out until it was over, thanked him, and moved on with her life. The fact that she was reacting this strongly—even negatively—meant he affected her as much as he was beginning to realize she affected him.

She was so damn courageous. Even when her life was spinning out of control, she managed to keep a sense of humor. And she challenged him, even as she submitted. He couldn’t help but admire her, and wonder what else he would find out about her as they spent more time together.

He smoothed back her hair. “Your brothers seem to be doing just fine with their women.”

“Sure.” She huffed. “I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling a little betrayed. Not by Garrett—he and Ridley have been in love since high school, even if they both did as much as possible to sabotage it for years. But Will…”

The other twin. Z had only met him once, but once was more than enough. The man had ice water in his veins, so the thought of him being swept away by a woman was stretching credibility. But apparently it’d happened. “I hear his woman is a force of nature.”

“Penelope? Yeah, I guess she’s okay.” She sighed. “Sorry, I’m being catty. She
is
great. And Will has been as happy as I’ve ever seen him since they got together. It’s just… It was always me and him, you know? He stayed when Garrett left. I used to joke about him and me being like our dad and Uncle Rodger with standing game nights once we hit middle age. And now he’s got…her. He proposed. Did you know that? It’s only a matter of time before they set a date and get married.”

Marriage. The thought was nearly enough to make him break out in hives. He’d sworn that he’d never put a ring on another woman’s finger after that nightmare finally ended. Z mentally shook himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I guess it was kind of silly to think they’d go their entire lives without settling down. I just… They moved out, you know? Not too long after my mom left they were both in their own places. I saw the damage it did to my father, how hard it was for him to pick up the pieces. He almost lost his job because he could barely get up the energy to go to work, and I basically had to fend for myself.”

Hearing that made him want to wrap her up and protect her. She didn’t need it. She’d come through—bringing her father with her, if his current happiness was any indication—and prospered. But it couldn’t be more obvious that, despite everything she’d done to succeed, she still wore the scars. “Sara.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I won’t make you sleep next to me again if you don’t want to.”

Chapter Eleven

Sara couldn’t believe she was telling him some of this stuff—she hadn’t even been able to tell Ridley her feelings about Will because her friend was so jazzed up on her own happiness. And she
was
happy for her brothers. But it still stung.

Z hadn’t called her a monster or told her that she was selfish for feeling this way. And now he was offering to take away one of the things that had spooked her in the first place. She bit her lip. Now that she’d calmed down a little, it seemed kind of ridiculous for her to react so strongly in the first place. “I feel a little silly for freaking out.”

“Don’t. You’re entitled to feel the way you do, regardless of the cause.” He gripped the back of her neck, the feeling of his hand more a comfort than she ever could have anticipated. “But you
will
talk to me about it next time, instead of trying to run.”

Next time.

More talking.

The thought should panic her even more, but there was something steady about Z that settled her in spite of herself. He was a rock—if one that liked to toss her around and beat her ass and make her come… She shifted, half-surprised at how quickly things had gone from fear to heat. She licked her lips. “Okay.”

“Now, be honest with me—do you want this to stop?” He asked it without anything in his tone condemning her decision one way or another. If she said she never wanted him to touch her again, he’d back off and they’d spend the rest of this exile…what? Warily? Awkwardly? Fighting every second to keep from touching each other? All of the above?

Or she could let go of her fear and grab this thing with both hands and ride it out to its conclusion.

When she thought of it that way, there wasn’t much of a choice. As much as she hated the idea of letting him in enough to really hurt her, she hated the idea of ending this now even more. She dredged up what remained of her courage. “I don’t want this to stop… Sir.”

His green eyes bored into hers, demanding the truth. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Z sat back and took off his necklace. It was a small golden circle with a compass rose over the top, the directions holding their normal positions—north on top, south on bottom, east and west on either side. He set it over her head. “I don’t have a collar, but this will do for the time being.” He twisted the chain, tightening it ever so slightly around her throat. “If it gets to be too much, or you start to panic,
tell me
. Do you understand?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her, a quick brushing of the lips. “Now, let’s see about some food.”

Just like that, they were back on familiar territory. He let her climb to her feet and he paused to pull on a pair of pants. She started to reach for her robe, but a sharp look from him had her leaving it on the floor. Naked it was. Sara had always been comfortable in her own skin, but there was definitely something erotic about being naked while he was partially dressed, especially when she could feel his gaze on her every step down the hall and stairs. In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and shivered when a blast of cold air hit the front of her body. “I can make bacon, but I’m not doing it naked.”

A chuckle had her turning to find him dangling an apron from one finger. It was frilly and would barely cover her chest, but she still took it and tied it on with a grin. “Pervert.”

“I like to have my cake and eat it, too.” His gaze coasted down her body, leaving no illusions to what he considered cake. She resisted the urge to fan herself and set about putting breakfast together.

It was a hot mess.

She was so distracted with Z sitting at the island, watching her, that she burnt the bacon to a crisp, broke all the egg yolks, and over-salted the hash browns. If there were anything edible on the two plates she made up, she would be surprised. But she still set it in front of him, partially because she was curious to see what he’d do.

He poked the bacon, and snorted when it crumbled. “Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”

Was that a joke? Of course he made her nervous. It was like being in a room with a tiger, not sure if he was going to cozy up to her or maul her… Though she’d be okay with both options, it didn’t make for a relaxing morning, either way. He watched her like he wanted an honest answer, so she shrugged. “Only mostly.”

“You weren’t nervous last night.”

Things felt different now that she’d gone and spilled all her issues all over him. And he hadn’t blinked or paused or backed away. It felt like something had shifted inside her, and she wasn’t sure she liked the new arrangement. She smoothed a hand over the ridiculous apron. “No, I wasn’t.”

He snagged her wrist, pulling her to stand between his legs. “I like that I make you a little nervous.”

“Sadist.”

“Nah.” He laughed, a big grin settling on his face. It was like night and day. Before he’d been devastatingly attractive. Now? Now, he was heartbreaking. Because there was something like happiness in those pale green eyes, the same happiness that mirrored what seemed to course through her very veins when she was around him. It didn’t make any sense. Two people couldn’t reach anything beyond lust in such a short time, but…

It didn’t matter. She liked seeing him smile, so she’d work to get that expression on his face as often as she possibly could. Now was as good a time to start as any. Sara framed his face with her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For making me talk. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until everything was all out there.” It still didn’t feel completely natural to open up to him—to anyone—about this sort of thing, but he’d heard her out and hadn’t called her a selfish bitch—even though she’d deserved it. It had settled something deep inside her, like a jagged little piece of her soul that had been scraping at her heart ever since Will and Penelope got together had been sanded to smoothness.

Her therapist would have a field day with that.

…

There were a whole hell of a lot of thoughts dancing across Sara’s face. She’d taken a leap earlier, and Z fully planned on rewarding the display of trust. But for now, he wanted to keep things light. He poked at the charred mess on his plate. “Is this a test to see how bad I feel about pushing you so hard last night?”

She laughed, that wonderfully free sound that he loved so much. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Consider me sufficiently repentant.” He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and stood. “But I think cold cereal would be a safer bet.”

“Chicken.”

He turned to find her emptying both plates into the garbage. “That makes two of us.”

“Sure does. Now sit your fine ass down. I think my nervousness has passed enough that we don’t have to soldier through cold cereal.” She said it like bran flakes was on the same level as dog food.

“God forbid.” He leaned against the counter and watched her get to work, pointedly ignoring him as she started another helping of bacon. “Who taught you to cook?”

“Believe it or not, it was Uncle Rodger.” She smiled, her gaze going distant as she broke eggs into a bowl. “My… My mother took care of that kind of thing before she left, and she never let anyone in the kitchen to help. So after she was gone it was a mess. We ate a truly terrifying amount of fast food and pizza. Then one day, right before the twins graduated, Uncle Rodger showed up. He only came around on the weekends, since he had his business to run, but he managed to impart a lot of knowledge to all three of us.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man.”

“He is.” She shot a guilty look over her shoulder. “I mean, I love my dad. A lot. But my uncle is as unmovable as a rock. Even when he wasn’t around, I knew he was just a phone call away. It helped.”

He watched her for a few minutes longer, comparing this new information with what he knew of her. “You never called, did you?”

Sara laughed. “Not once.”

That made sense. From everything he’d seen, she was fiercely independent, and she looked up to Rodger in a big way. It was understandable that she wouldn’t want to show him weakness, whether it was to avoid disappointing him, or to try to live up to his example. “But you called your brothers.” Surely
someone
was there to help her when she got into trouble.

“Only when there was no other option.” She stirred the eggs. “But we all survived and turned into mostly normal functioning adults, so I guess it worked out just fine.” Toast was once against laid out on a pan, buttered, and put in the still-warm oven. “What about you? Any family missing you when you’re traipsing all over the world?”

“No.” He realized how abrupt the word sounded and tried to soften it. “My parents have been gone a long time, and I have no siblings.”

“So the guys in your group are like a family, huh?”

He shot her a surprised look that she didn’t catch because she was flipping the bacon. He’d never said it aloud, but he’d definitely come to see his men as brothers, of sorts. Garrett especially. It was part of the reason why he went to great lengths to make sure they didn’t have to shoulder any more shit than strictly necessary.

Not if he could shoulder it for them.

“That’s not a bad comparison.” He shouldn’t be surprised by her observation—she’d already proven herself to be incredibly intelligent—but it was strange to hear it.

“I have my moments.” The oven dinged and she turned with a flourish. “Now, sit down for real. Allow your obedient sub to serve you an edible breakfast.”

“Obedient sub. I don’t think you know the meaning of the words.” He sat, enjoying the mischievous grin she wore as she placed the plate before him with overdone extravagance. “You
definitely
don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“You’re probably right.” She grabbed her plate.

Z watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ate. It was interesting that she seemed to open up in the kitchen—at least after she got over the initial shakiness from earlier this morning. But this room, much like the pool area, was a place where she was totally and completely comfortable.

Actually, that wasn’t correct, either.

She’d been fine in her room. The
only
place where things had been less than open was in
his
bedroom. His territory. That was when she’d gone on the defensive. Interesting.

He enjoyed the comfortable silence until she’d once again cleared the plates. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s two plates, not a Thanksgiving feast.” She shrugged with a little smile. “I never do dishes for family dinners.”

God, he loved the way her grin lit up her whole face. Z held out a hand. “Come here.”

She immediately crossed to him and let him pull her closer. “See, I’m being obedient. And submissive.”

Z snorted and lifted her onto the kitchen island, situating her so that her legs fell on either side of him. “You can always talk to me.”

“I thought that’s what we were just doing.”

He lightly smacked her thigh. “Brat.” He needed her to understand, though, so he didn’t touch her anywhere else. “I meant about earlier. It’s important to me that I know where your boundaries are. I might be an ass, but I don’t want to traumatize you.”

“I know.” She tilted her head down so that her hair fell to partially cover her face. “And I do feel better—obviously. Even if I wanted to do…ill advised things when you hauled me back into your room.”

“Like hit me again.” He slid a hand beneath the apron, cupping her between her legs. “You know what happens if you do.”

“Yes, Sir.” It was barely more than a sigh.

As much as he wanted to keep talking, he didn’t want to press her too hard. What had felt like lancing a wound could all too easily turn into a whole new problem if he wasn’t careful. Beyond that, she didn’t regret last night, which meant he could change directions and push her more physically while she got used to the new emotional closeness. It was a common tactic his team had deployed time and again—albeit with a different end goal. Harry an enemy, pushing them one way, and then circling around to strike where they least expected. It kept the opponent off center and uncertain—which is where he needed Sara to be until she realized he wasn’t going anywhere.

He wasn’t sure when he’d made that decision. He didn’t deserve a woman like her—that much was for damn sure. But he didn’t care about that shit right now. It was selfish and might be plain wrong, but it was becoming clearer with each passing hour that he wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with sex.

So he meant to have her.

“Would you like your reward, sweetheart?” He shifted his hand, leisurely exploring her pussy as he watched her face.

“Definitely.” She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Because I’m starving.” He guided her so she was leaning back, resting on her elbows, and looking down her body at him. Her breasts strained against the apron, to the point where one sharp tug would reveal her nipples. With the lace, it created a strange combination of erotic and wholesome.

It made him so hard, he could barely see straight.

Z spread her legs even wider and used his free hand to push up the bottom of the apron. She was so wet, his fingers glistened when he withdrew them.
Fuck
. He pulled her to the very edge of the counter and dragged his tongue over her center. Her cry was music to his ears, and he wasted no time tasting every inch of her heated flesh—except her clit. “You taste so fucking good—better than breakfast, and sure as fuck better than whatever you were burning in the pan earlier.”