To Command and Collar [Masters of the Shadowlands 6] (20 page)

Chapter Eleven

“I love you.”
Remembering Kimberly’s soft avowal, Raoul abandoned the brewing coffee and walked outside to stare at the water. The brisk morning air ruffled his hair but didn’t bring him any clarity of thought. How could he have let her get emotionally involved with him? This wasn’t—she shouldn’t love him. Dios, she should be running the other direction.

Only he knew better. She was tough, brave, and resilient. He’d known women who reacted with hysterics to a fender bender. Had her father taught her to be so durable? Or her mother? Had Kimberly lived with an example of how to survive abuse?

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. She was confusing emotional dependence and need with love. How should he handle this?
Carefully, Sandoval
. Like walking a girder with no safety line.

The problem was he cared for her, and he had no excuse that he’d been mistreated. No, his mistake was to have let her into his house, his life. His heart. He’d grown so fond of her that he had trouble imagining his home without her bubbly presence.

Don’t go there, Sandoval
. She’d leave as soon as the auction was over, and according to the Overseer, that might occur in a week or so.

The realization was like a gut shot from a steel rivet. He’d miss their showers. The workouts in the weight room. The fighting as he taught her to cripple and maim, and the unholy light in her eyes when she’d mastered a technique. The evenings watching television, arguing over movies. Her snippy backtalk, and how she tried to hide her pleasure at serving him.

The way she softened under his hands when he kissed her. He felt himself harden.
Good job, Sandoval
.
Well, he’d see this through. And try to keep them both from being stupid.
As he turned to go back in, he wondered if she’d want to stay with him when this was over.
No
. She truly was submissive, but she’d made it clear, over and over, that she didn’t want to live the lifestyle. And she needed to heal. Once her head was on straight, she wouldn’t want a master. Not soon, probably never.
Even if miracles occurred, he wasn’t ready for a relationship either. It was far too soon. And this time, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a full-time Dominant/submissive relationship with someone who wanted it as much as he did.
Over the waves, a gull gave a long screech as another stole its fish. He headed into the house. He’d need a massive amount of caffeine to figure out a way to pull back before he hurt her further.

Kim frowned at the sunlight streaming in the balcony window, then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Noon? No wonder Master R had already gotten up.

The empty space beside her in bed sent a pang through her. She’d come to like waking up with Master R’s solid body next to hers, or for him to awaken her as he had almost every morning since they’d had real sex. His hands would caress her breasts, and his cock would ease between her legs from behind. He’d hold her in place, gently, firmly, and push into her. She’d start off groggy, but when his clever fingers would slide over her clit, she’d be right onboard with early morning sex. Who knew it could be so much fun?

Not this morning. She sighed and climbed out of bed,

But last night, she’d said she loved him, and he hadn’t exactly looked thrilled to hear she cared.
With a frown, she stepped into the shower, missing his presence there too. The teasing, his laughter. The one morning he hadn’t taken her in bed, he’d made up for it a few minutes later.
Her lips curved. That time she’d told him she wasn’t interested in shower sex.
“Not today.”
God, so not the thing to tell a dom.
“Really,”
he’d said with that amused—stern—look in his eyes. “
Does a submissive have that choice?”
Before she’d realized how much trouble she was in, he’d grasped her around the waist, walked out of the shower, and laid her on the cold counter. He pinned her legs to his shoulders, put his mouth on her pussy, and
forced
her to have an orgasm, waited a second, then did it again. She was dizzy when he pulled her back into the shower. And then, being the dom he was, he’d firmly bent her over and taken her from behind. Hard.
Why did she get off on that control? She soaped her body, snorting at how her nipples had bunched up. Yep, just thinking of him did it for her.
But he doesn’t want my love.
Was he right about her? Did she imagine love when it was really only need?
Maybe
. She dried off. She didn’t feel needy. Well, perhaps a little.
A pair of her jeans, underwear, and a tank top lay on the towel bar. Apparently Master R had decided she could wear clothes today. Her hand hesitated over the clothing. Today—or every day now? Her job was done, wasn’t it? The entire charade had been to get Sam referred during the Overseer’s follow-up visit.
Even if Sam failed and Master R had to attend the auction, he’d use an FBI agent as his submissive.
Not me.
Her relief was balanced by the ugly vision of Master R with another woman. Would he spank the submissive? Make her come?
Of course he would
. The flood of sheer jealousy appalled her.
God, I need to get out of here.
When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Master R sat on a bar stool at the island, newspapers and coffee before him. She started to speak, then saw the phone he held to his ear.
“That’s right,” he was saying. “Sam said Dahmer called a few minutes ago. His background check passed, and he should get an invitation to the auction sometime this week.”
That meant the job was done. Kim hugged herself, trying to process her emotions. After her first scuba dive, she’d hauled herself up the boat’s steps, shucked off the heavy air tank, and dropped the belt with twenty pounds of lead weights. She’d felt as if she might float away. Very much like now.
My part is over.
Master R listened and then grinned. “Yes, he put on quite a show. Had one of the better screamers.” He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed but approving. “Kimberly did her job perfectly.”
A glow sparked to life and was snuffed out with his next words. “Since Sam is accepted, I think she should move to Gabi’s house.”
Kim stared at him. A slap in the face wouldn’t have hurt as much. What had she done wrong?
“No, she didn’t do anything wrong. But keeping her in a Master/slave relationship as she recovers from being kidnapped would be foolish. She’s getting dependent on me, Kouros.” He met her eyes squarely, not trying to hide anything.
Anger started to overtake the pain. Yes, she could hate him.
“No, she doesn’t need to stay here. Her job is finished. Even if Sam’s invitation falls through, I’d use one of your people for the demo, not Kimberly. I would never take her to a slave auction. We discussed this already.” His eyes turned cold. “Send her to Gabi’s. She’s done enough.”
Good to know
. Trying not to scowl, Kim poured herself some coffee.
Master R straightened suddenly. “When was this?”
The sharpness in his voice made Kim jump, and she hissed as coffee scalded her fingers. She set the cup down hastily, shaking her hand.
Ouch.
“Kimberly!” Master R pointed to the faucet.
She hesitated.
But I want to hear
. Caving in, she ran the cold water over her reddened fingers. Over the noise of the water, she heard him say, “I’m putting you on speaker. She has a right to know.” He set the phone on the island.
Know what?
“You’re a stubborn bastard, Sandoval,” came a man’s sonorous voice with the broadened
A
sound of someone from Maine. “Miss Moore, I was telling your master why I don’t want you to return to Gabi’s house.”
She swallowed.
I don’t know this man
. “Why?”
“I don’t know if Raoul ever told you, but we planted surveillance devices around the neighborhood. A simple precaution to keep you safe.”
Her jaw dropped, and she stared at the walls. What had they seen?
“No, gatita,” Master R said. “They’re only outside—the front and sides of the house, and one on the patio pointing toward the beach.”
The FBI agent snorted. “He wouldn’t permit anything else. We’ve spotted a few people watching your house since Raoul bought you. Very casual. But earlier today, a private investigator checked you out and took pictures.”
Kim wrapped her arms around herself, a chill running through her. The outside world wasn’t safe. She already knew that.
“With the prior surveillance they did, they’d know you spend a lot of time outside. If you suddenly disappear, but Raoul is still in the house, they’d wonder why.”
Watching the house. Ice crawled up her spine. “What if they try to take me back?” God, that was stupid. They wouldn’t steal from their own buyer.
“Kidnapping a slave they’d sold wouldn’t be good for business.” The FBI agent paused. “If it helps your worries, though, the neighborhood is well policed and has a neighborhood watch. Raoul has a hell of a security system on both the house and grounds, much better than the one at Marcus’s place. Nobody in their right minds would try to breech it.”
Master R gave her a small smile and whispered, “I grew up on the streets, remember?”
Huh
. She’d seen him making the rounds before bed, checking on stuff, and hadn’t bothered to ask why. So she was safe here. But to stay?
Master R remained silent, obviously giving her the choice.
I hate making decisions
. She wanted to go to Gabi’s…yet even if he didn’t care for her, she wanted to be with him.
With an effort, she pushed her personal baggage to the side. Her wishes were irrelevant. No matter what she felt, she mustn’t do anything to cause suspicions and blow the investigation. “I guess I’ll be here for another few days.”
“Thank you, Miss Moore. I look forward to meeting you later this week.”
With a low curse, Master R slid the phone shut; then his eyes narrowed on her. “Will you be all right with this?”
I might never be right again
. “Of course.” She winced when his brows drew together.
Telling the complete truth surely sucked at times
. “All right, it’s difficult, being so unsettled. I want to go home and get on with my life. See my mom.”
Stay with you. Run from you. Love you.
“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee, and the release of his intent gaze was like escaping a riptide. “You must miss your mamá very much.”
His voice held a wealth of understanding, and the tenderness with which he’d said “mamá” told her a lot. And left more unexplained. She frowned. “I thought your family lived in Tampa. Did you tell them not to visit?”
His mouth tightened. “We do not…speak.”
“How come?”
“They don’t approve of my BDSM lifestyle. At all. When they found out… They’d probably have reacted better if I’d been gay.” He rubbed his face. He might have thought his expression unreadable, but it wasn’t. Being alienated from his family hurt him.
“I’m sorry.” He was so loving. To have his family push him away must have been terrible.
“It’s not your problem, gatita.”
“I s’pose not.” She watched the coffee in her cup, making the black liquid swirl in circles.
Like my life
. He said she shouldn’t be in a Master/slave relationship, and that she’d become dependent on him. Maybe he was right. “Master R?”
He tilted his head. “Yes?”
“Can we live together as…as friends? No more of the master—sumisita stuff?
His frown cleared. “We can. It’s a good plan.” He tapped his fingers on his papers and then looked at her again. “You may have the guest bedroom as before.”
No more being wrapped in his arms at night? The kitchen seemed to darken. “Great. I’ll go move my stuff.”
Her knees held up nicely all the way to Master’s—no,
Raoul’s
—bedroom. She bundled together the clothing Gabi had given her and left the French maid’s costume in the closet for him to return to Z. After tossing everything on the bed in the guest room, she went back for her toiletries.
She turned her eyes away from the shower, refusing to remember how his big hands felt moving over her soap-slicked body. Warm and firm.
No
. One more week; then it was over. She’d go home and…do what? Aside from wanting to see her mom, she’d never thought about after that.
Her knees went weak, and she leaned on the counter, staring at herself in the mirror.
I should want to go home. To take up my life again
. Her friends would be overjoyed at her return.
Had her position at the marine lab been filled? Probably not—admin moved slowly. She’d go see them first thing and… A chill ran through her. What if she stepped out of the office or her house and…they took her again?
I have to go back to work. No choice
. She’d manage. She always did.
But she’d be so far from Tampa. How could she stand each day without Master R in it?
Her hands clenched.
Getting a little dependent, missy? Or a little in love
? Her inner cynic was so sarcastic that if it’d been a person, she’d have slapped its face. Because the answer to both questions was yes.
He…lifted her heart. She wanted to take care of him, put that special smile on his face, be there for him the way he’d been here for her. And why not? He obviously cared for her.
He did.
Only…he hadn’t exactly said “I love you” back to her.
Even if he did, they had differing goals. He was a master, and eventually he’d want a real slave, not a pretender. Cold seeped like a chill morning fog into her bones.
I’m not a slave
. That wasn’t the relationship she’d dreamed of—to kneel at a man’s feet, to take his orders, to serve him. She hauled in a shuddering breath.
I don’t belong here. Not really.
She needed to not pine after something that would never work. They’d be friends like she said.
After she finished moving her stuff, she went back downstairs. Master R—
Raoul, dammit
—was still in the kitchen, making notes on a legal pad. Why did he have to be so…so wonderful? The broad shoulders, the strong hands, the stern jaw. Why wasn’t life fair?
He looked up, and his smile faded as he got a
I-can-see-right-down-to-your-secrets
expression on his face. “Gatita, what is wrong?”
She shrugged. “Leftover nerves, I think.” She rubbed at a smear on the floor with her shoe and asked casually, “Do we have any plans for this week?”
“Only one. To keep you safe until you go home.”
Go home
. How strange he’d mention that after she’d been thinking about it. Go home to what?
“For today, I thought we’d celebrate surviving our evening with the Overseer. I keep a sailboat at a marina nearby, and we can pick up a picnic lunch.”
Be on the water again and be with Master R? Could anything be better? “Oh, yes. Please.”
“Good enough. After I change, we’ll head out. Meantime, can you get my toy bag out of the car?” He tossed his keys to her. “I don’t like driving around with it…just in case of an accident or police. The car’s parked in front.”
She managed to stifle the
yes, Master
and said, “Sure, I’ll get it.” Why hadn’t he parked in the garage last night? Because he’d had to carry her upstairs.
Duh
. And the garage was on the opposite side of the house.
As she crossed the great room, Master R started up the stairs.
She stopped.
Wait. Go outside? By myself
? “Um. I’ll… I’m not sure I know what your bag looks like.” Her chest felt as if someone was wrapping ropes around her ribs and kept drawing them tighter.
He leaned one hip against the stair railing. “It’s the only bag in the car.”
“But—”
“Get the bag, gatita.”
She didn’t move.
His eyes narrowed, and then he came back down the stairs.
She relaxed. “You’re going to escort me to your car?”
“No, I don’t think so.” His hand closed around her upper arm. He led her to the front and pushed her out the door.
She stood, stunned at his actions. Stood and stared down the curving drive. She could see the
street
—the street where anyone might wait. Where someone could shoot her and hurt her and cage her. “No!”
No no no
. She spun around and plowed into an immovable body.
He blocked the doorway, the light framing him, a dark angel. “Kimberly.”
“No. No, I won’t.” She was trembling so violently that her knees buckled.
His arms closed around her, and he held her firmly. “Take a slow breath, gatita. Now.”
She was cold, so cold. That was why she was shaking. Her fingers had even gone numb.
“Another breath. Let it out slowly.” He made her take a few more.
Her heart slowed. And she realized she’d just had another damned panic attack for whatever reason.
“Now look at me.”
The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze to his intense dark brown eyes. His expression seemed strange. Concern and anger and…pity?
How the hell dare he pity me
? She straightened in his arms and took a terrifying step away. “I’m just stressed from yesterday. Sorry.”
“Then perhaps you should try again?”
No!
But he held his hand out, and she set her fingers in his.
He walked to the car, and she was all right. Yes, she was fine.
He released her hand. “Stay here for a moment, gatita.”
When he started toward the house, somehow she was beside him, so close she was almost crawling into his clothes.
“Hmm.” Without speaking further, he led her through the house, out the back onto the patio. He stopped by the pool, watching her closely. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to figure out why she was still shaking and why she couldn’t go outside. She’d been outside before.
He pointed to the beach ball on the other side of the pool. “Bring me that.” No problem. She’d only gone halfway when he called her back.