Still (6 page)

Callahan finally broke the silence. “Nice place, Doc.”

“Thank you. I’ve been remodeling it for months now; I’m almost done.” She opened her door and stepped out with Callahan following suit. When they reached the front door he patiently waited for her to unlock it, then opened it for her. One of the things she’d always liked about him was his old world manners, even if his smart mouth usually ruined the effect.

Once they entered the foyer he wandered over to the fountain that sat in the middle of the large space, perfectly tucked beneath the winding staircase leading to the second level. A low, amber glow came from the chandelier above that gave the Mexican tile floors a mellow sheen. The fountain stood almost as high as Callahan was tall, a bronze sculpture of horses running through the surf. The water of the fountain flowed beneath the horses' hooves as they ran through the waves.

He didn’t look at her, trailing his finger through the water. “I thought I heard a horse neigh outside. Do you ride?”

“Yes, we had horses when I was growing up. Right now I have two, an Arabian and a Tennessee Walker. Yuki and James, my chef and grounds keeper respectively as well as good friends, are thinking about getting horses, but they’re not sure if they want to put down roots in Austin yet.” She moved into his line of sight, resting her hip against the edge of the fountain. “Now tell me, Callahan, are you ready for my help?”

Need blazed across his weary features, but his stubborn pride was stronger…for now. “No, Doc. I don’t need your help. I’m fine.” She arched her brow and he flushed, looking down at the rolling waves around the horse’s feet. “I mean we all have our problems, right? Everyone has a cross to bear.”

“Callahan, right now you’re not dragging that cross, you’re nailed to it.”

“I’m fine,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.

Oh, she’d hit too close to home and he didn’t like it. Well, now, it was time to find out how far she could push him, if she’d totally misread him and whether or not he'd try something physical. Her mind slipped one notch higher, taking her into a more aggressive headspace, a place where she was a Mistress and expected to be treated as such.

Plus, she was tired and she wanted to go to bed.

“You have a choice. Tonight you can sleep in your own guest room where everything you need will be provided for you. We’ll have breakfast tomorrow morning and then you’ll be off, back to your home, back to the punk ass excuses that your family lets you get away with.”

“Fu—”

“I’m not done!” Her voice echoed in the large foyer, the same voice she’d used as a battlefield surgeon to get a bunch of shell-shocked, wounded Marines to listen to her. “Eyes on me.”

His head whipped up and he swallowed hard. She ignored the urge to take him in her arms and comfort him. He closed his eyes and breathed out, “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m assuming you did some research on BDSM since we last spoke.”

He nodded, but didn’t volunteer any information. She was actually glad because she had enough mental gymnastics to perform with him already. They’d have a deep, philosophical discussion about the lifestyle later. Well, she hoped they would.

“As I said, you can stay in the lower level bedroom, sleep it off, and I’ll have my groundskeeper drive you home in the morning. We part ways, never to speak again. Or, there is the second option...”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. I’m being honest with you, Wyatt. Both you and I know that I want you as more than a guy to fuck when I have the urge. If you’re really thinking about giving this a go with me, being my submissive in truth, I expect you to be aware from the start how things will work.”

“Wait, I’d like to make something a hard limit or negotiate it or some shit.”

Curious now, she nodded and he gave her a dangerous look that tightened things low in her belly. “When we’re in the bedroom I’ll bottom for you, but out in the real world I want to have an equal say in things. I don’t want one of those relationships where I have to walk five paces behind you.”

She snorted. “That is so not my thing. Tell you what, I will always consider you as an equal, a partner, but in the bedroom and sometimes at a club or friend’s private party I may want you there as my submissive, not my vanilla boyfriend. And by bedroom I mean my whole house.”

“Just don’t make me get naked in front of your gardener or groundskeeper or whatever.” He closed his eyes, rolling his neck. “Fuck, I’m tired, Doc. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“Yes. But I haven’t given you your second option yet.”

He grinned at her, the lines deepening around his mouth. “Okay, what’s behind door number two?”

“That you come upstairs with me and sleep in my room.”

Now his eyes flew wide open and she suppressed a smile. His shocked look was almost comical. Then, his male brain kicked in and she could almost smell the surge of testosterone flooding his body. Sure enough, his lips curved in that familiar smirk and his chin titled up at an arrogant angle, and he gave her a leering wink. “I’ll take door number two, please.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me.” She held him with her gaze and the force of her will alone. Her dominance wasn’t a role she was playing in order to fulfill a kinky urge, this was who she was. And the sooner Wyatt recognized it the better it would be for both of them. “If you decide to come to bed with me tonight, we will sleep. You will not try to take advantage of the situation in any way. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He had a devilish glint in his eyes, the kind of spark that made things warm low in her body. She couldn’t help but notice how big and strong his hands were, and she knew he could kiss. Lord, could that man kiss. What was it about bad boys, the man who could and would push her limits, who also had the strength necessary to submit himself to her will? She liked a man with some steel in his spine, a warrior who would bow to no one but her. But with that strength came a great deal of work for a Mistress to remind him who was on top.

“In the morning you will undoubtedly wake before I do. When you do you will open the top drawer of the table next to the bed. You'll find a sheet of paper in there, a proposal. You have until I wake to think about it. If you agree to my terms you will draw me a bath and wait for me. If you don’t agree with the terms, go to the stables to the right of the house and let my groundskeeper know you need to borrow a car to get home.” He gave her a questioning look. “And I’m not letting you drive the Corvette. I’ve ridden along with you on transport, Gunny, and you driving my 'Vette isn’t happening in this lifetime.”

“A man can dream.”

“So where would you like to sleep, Wyatt?”

“Shit, you don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Eloquent as always.” She held out her hand, a great deal of relief flooding her that he’d taken the first step towards becoming hers. Her man to heal and cherish. She had to remember that he came with some major baggage, and she had her own cross to bear, but right now she was almost giddy with relief that he was still here.

A ghost of guilt brushed her soul that she was bringing a man to her bed for the first time since her fiancé Owen’s death, but it wasn’t like she was breaking the promise she’d made on his grave. She was sure when Owen died that there was no chance she would ever love another man like she loved him. Now, she wasn't so sure; maybe it was possible to love again. Or, if not love again, maybe to truly care about someone else. Wyatt needed her help, needed her.

And in her own way, she needed him just as much.

Keeping all of those intense emotions off her face became even harder when he slipped his hand into hers, calluses still heavy on his palms. She wondered what he did that kept his hands in such rough shape. Even more, she wondered what they would feel like on her body. As she held his hand she did so at an angle that kept him a half step behind her, not the five that he’d feared.

While he hadn’t agreed to anything yet, old habits died hard and, on a barely conscious level, she’d begun to coast through the lowest levels of her Domme space, a state of mind as natural to her as breathing. It also felt like a part of her soul that hadn’t stirred since Owen’s death was slowly waking again and that scared her. If she ever fell in love with someone again and lost them, she was sure she wouldn’t make it.

They went up to the second floor together and headed left, to her wing of the house. Opening one of the cedar double doors she led Wyatt into her room and smiled when he stopped and stared.

“Not what you were expecting?”

He moved further into the room and turned in a slow circle, taking in the fifteen-foot ceiling consisting of exposed timbers and skylights. She flicked a switch next to the door and the gas logs in the fireplace came to life, creating twisting shadows on the sturdy mission style furniture draped with colorful Native American rugs. The warm colors complimented Wyatt’s deeply tanned skin, giving it a bronze gleam that begged for her touch. Studying his face, she watched as his gaze went down the enormous river stone fireplace and to the polished floors.

He squatted down and ran his fingers over the boards near his feet conjuring an image of him doing that naked, with his hands behind his head and his testicles just begging for her touch. “What kind of wood is this?”

She had to swallow hard before she could speak. “It’s actually a combination of the floors that we were able to salvage when we started rebuilding.”

He stood and looked around the room again. “They’re really nice. I’ve been working for my dad doing carpentry and carving, mostly handling the detailed inlays and delicate stuff. He’d love these floors.”

His gaze flickered to her enormous canopy bed made of unfinished oak logs. She knew her bed was a bit excessive with its deep burgundy silk sheets, fluffy goose down quilt, and mountain of pillows, but she loved coming home to such a luxurious comfort. Anyone who’d ever spent months sleeping on a cot knew the decadent pleasure a good bed provided. Next to the bed on either side were thick cream sheepskin rugs, put there to keep the morning chill from her feet.

“Shoes off at the door.”

He complied and hesitantly followed her. She sat on the edge of the bed and toed her own shoes off. “The bathroom is through that door. There are some unopened toothbrushes in the vanity. Feel free to brush up, shower, whatever.”

He nodded and walked away with a dazed expression. How she would love to be able to be in his head right now. Once he closed the door behind himself she let out a breath and flopped back on her bed, her arms spread wide as she started at the ceiling.

She’d have to call the clinic and let them know she’d be taking a couple weeks off. She hadn’t taken any vacation since she started volunteering and the full-time employees were always telling her to take a break. There were enough local doctors who volunteered as well, so they would be able to cover her absence.

God, she was planning this like he’d already said yes. With a groan she covered her eyes. He hadn’t agreed to anything other than spending the night, and what she was going to ask from him was way out of his comfort zone. Most guys didn’t do well with change, and she was going to try to get him to change the way he viewed the world, to get him to start living life instead of waiting to die. She needed to help him learn how to appreciate the simple joys in life again, to want to live another day, to have hope. He liked to be needed and she already needed him far more than she wanted to admit.

“Doc?”

She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts she hadn’t even heard him come out of the bathroom. As she sat up the strap of her tank top slid off her shoulder and she didn’t bother to pull it back up, liking the way Wyatt focused on her now totally exposed shoulder.

She shifted and his gaze returned to her face. “Yes?”

“I feel bad for dragging you out of bed. I’d like to make it up to you.”

She smiled and enjoyed the way his eyes widened. “You might want to wait to see where you’re sleeping first.”

To her surprise he nodded, then shrugged. “I guess it’s your prerogative where I sleep tonight. Let me take care of you before you show me what you have in mind, and maybe I can persuade you to reconsider.”

While her hormones danced around with glee, her mind stomped them down – hard. She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him. “What
do
you have in mind?”

“I was talking about giving you a foot rub.” He gave her a cheesy grin. “But, if you want, I could do something else.”

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “A foot rub? That I can do. Get on your knees next to the bed.”

He immediately stiffened. “So you’re into that crawling humiliation type stuff?”

Exasperated, she kicked her legs, her knees hanging off the side of the bed. “My feet are over here. I’m comfortable, so I’m not moving. That means if you want to offer a proper apology you’ll do it on your knees next to my bed. And no, I’m not into humiliation, I’m into delayed gratification. I like to tease a man until he feels like his balls are going to explode, like he could tear through anyone and anything to get to me, then push him a little bit closer to the edge before I unleash him on my body. I want to own every ounce of his pleasure and keep it all for myself. This is merely an easier position for me to allow you to rub my feet.”

He stared at her, then shook his head. “Man, Doc, I never would have pegged you as being so kinky.”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

With a contented sigh she reclined into the lush comfort of her bed. A moment later his big hand grasped her ankle and she smiled, knowing that he’d followed her directions by the angle of his touch. He carefully pulled off her sock, then ran his thumbs up the arch of her foot, unerringly finding the tense muscles and stroking them until they relaxed. His hands were so big that they almost enveloped her foot from her heel to her toes, and his grip was strong enough to make her groan in pleasure as he squeezed.

“Good God, Callahan. If I’d known you were this talented I would have invited you over sooner.”

He gave some low reply that she barely heard. Not that it mattered, his hands were magic. As she’d anticipated, the roughness of his palms added a delicious friction over her skin. When he finished her first foot he moved onto the second. After removing her sock he paused.