To Sir (21 page)

God, her parents would kill her if they knew she was entertaining the idea. That she’d already let Chase push her so far past her comfort zone she wasn’t sure which end was up. The disgust on her father’s face before he’d locked her in her bedroom when she was a kid flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away, like she always did, and focused on the present. She’d let him run enough of her life; she wasn’t going to let him taint the path she was on now.

“It means that this is something you would
never
allow to happen, and if it did, we would be done.”

“Okay, then yeah. That’s definitely a hard limit. Outside the confines of this room, I can’t be kowtowing to you, doting on you, obeying you.” Ugh, just the thought of it was like a cold shower. She shivered, and not in the good way.

“Wow.”

“What?” she asked.

His hands stilled on her hamstrings, and he leaned down next to her, his head a few inches away from hers. Those dark eyes searched her face. “That
really
hits a nerve for you, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed. Crap. Was she that transparent, or was he that observant? She wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. The result was the same. She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the pillowcase. Even that slight movement felt sensual.

“You want to talk about it?” The fact that he asked instead of demanded gave her a glimmer of hope. Maybe this being-submissive thing didn’t have to mean giving up her whole self for someone else.

“More daddy issues, I guess.”

His lips pressed into a line. “Abusive?” he asked after a moment of staring at her.

“Not strictly speaking. Never physically, at least. But harsh. Traditional, head-of-household, my-word-is-law crap. Emotionally abusive, definitely.”

“Is he a Dom?”

“God, no! He’s way too straitlaced for that. This stuff, if he knew I was doing it, he’d probably keel over from a heart attack. It’s… Well, in case you didn’t notice, I kind of have a strong personality.”

His wry grin told her he had, in fact, noticed.

“And that was a problem from the minute I was born. I was as strong-willed as a kid as I am now. Maybe more so because when you’re a kid, the power struggle for independence is worse. And anything that didn’t fit inside his perfect little family persona was unacceptable. Pretty much everything I did fell on the list of unacceptable.”

“So is that why you write erotic romance?”

“Probably.”

He laughed.

“No, seriously, I started writing to escape when I was young, trying to figure out a way to do what I wanted. Being locked in my bedroom with bars on the window for hours at a time meant I had the freedom to do a lot of writing. Some reading, though only certain books that were allowed in the house. My mind and the stories that came out of it—those were things he couldn’t take away from me. As you know, I still have some language issues, with the swearing. That was a lesson I learned real quick. Swearing under my parents’ roof was like the worst sin, right up there with sex and drugs. And I was a trifecta of badness, doing all three by sixteen. Sneaking out—hell,
breaking
out whenever I got the chance.”

“And where did tattoos fall on that list?” he asked as he reached out and traced his way down the main branch on her back.

“I got the one on my foot the day I turned eighteen. I wore socks a lot that year. I was out of the house, thank God, but I still saw my family regularly.”

“Family’s important, but if they make you feel so miserable, it might be a good idea to distance yourself from them.” His words were as gentle as his hands, and for the first time, she really believed what he’d been trying to tell her about a D/s relationship.

She bought into the idea that he was just a man, albeit a Dom, and he wanted to help her in some way. Maybe even protect her. Not since tackling her father and storming out of her parents’ house had she felt like maybe she would be okay. Until now. She’d been ignoring the hollowness inside her by burying herself in her book for three days and nights straight, barely stopping to eat or snooze. Now she’d had a lot of downtime, and the hollowness threatened to consume her. Except Chase was here, helping her keep it at bay.

“Well, I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore.” Usually her mom called every few days to discuss banal stuff or prattle on about a church function or her dad’s career. It had been radio silence for the better part of a week now. She didn’t think she’d ever gone that long without at least one message from her mom. And though she knew it was probably for the best, an ache unfurled inside her.

Chase closed his eyes briefly, a slight pained expression on his face. “That’s why you were so upset the other night? You had a falling-out with your parents?”

“Oh, you could say that.”

Chase resumed rubbing her sore muscles, but he lowered his body fully to the mattress and lay next to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lain in bed with a guy and talked like this. As she took a second to really think about it, she figured it had been never. This was something her characters did, baring their souls and allowing intimacy with other human beings. She hadn’t thought she was capable of it. Until now.

Maybe breaking down the kink barriers and trusting Chase with her body had loosened the iron walls she’d kept up around her emotional self. She sighed.

“You okay?”

She shifted, rolling out her shoulders and inching her arms lower so her fingers were more in-line with her chin instead of her hairline. Chase turned onto his side, his left hand coming out to touch hers while his right continued pressing into her flesh.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“What happened with your parents?”

“I was a moron. I left my purse unattended; my notebook was sticking out. I’d started writing scenes for the book in there—notes, that kind of thing. My dad saw it and lost his cool. Started screaming and stuff. Then he went to chuck it in a sink full of soapy water. I tackled him.” She burst into a fit of giggles. It had been comical, really, the way she’d flown through the air to reach him before he could release his hold on her precious words.

Chase was trying to hold off a smile; she could see it sparkling in his eyes and in the way his cheek muscles twitched. She laughed harder. He shook his head. “You are a wild woman,” he said, grinning. “Clearly only a bedroom sub.”

Eventually she managed to stop laughing. “Right. I guess.”

“That means you’re only submissive in a bedroom or a sexual setting. Like at the club, you would still be my submissive in the main areas as well as in private because it’s part of the lifestyle, and here in your bedroom, or in my office when there was sex or sexual satisfaction involved, you would submit. But the minute we walked out the doors of the club, or here, out of the bedroom, you wouldn’t be submissive.”

“And that’s, like, a thing? Only being submissive when I want to be?” Was that excitement in her voice? Quite possibly. That could be a lifestyle she might be able to get behind.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.” His voice held a warning. “And we are still in the bedroom.” The light in his eyes told her he was teasing. Mostly. There was a kernel of truth to his words.

“So what does that mean for us?”

“Whatever we want it to. That’s the hardest thing for people who don’t live this lifestyle to grasp: there is no right or wrong way to be kinky. As long as it’s between consenting adults, everything else is up for discussion and different for every couple.”

She took a deep breath that quickly turned into a yawn.

“You need sleep,” he stated.

“I guess we’re still in the bedroom, so I’ll let that one slide.” She grinned. Maybe the next four weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

“I didn’t say
go to sleep
. I said you needed sleep, a truthful statement.”

“Are you okay with a bedroom sub or whatever it’s called?”

“I’ve never had one before. Any long-term sub I’ve had, that’s been more of an all-the-time deal.”

“How many have you had?” she asked. She shouldn’t have, but she’d shared with him, and it was a two-way street.

“Only two live-in subs. The rest have been ones I’ve played with at the club, usually.”

“Do you always get off when you play?”

“No. It depends. Especially at the club. We’re careful of sex on the premises. I always get satisfaction when I play, but I don’t usually come, if that makes any sense. There’s this thing called Domspace; it’s like subspace, where the rush of endorphins dulls the outside world, heightens the experience, and is like its own amazing high. That’s what I play for. The control, the power exchange, and the mental state.”

She blinked at him a few times, not sure what to say to that. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“I told you it wasn’t about pain. Except maybe for the pain sluts.”

She laughed. “What?”

“Pain sluts. People who like the pain aspect of the lifestyle, or ones who are only in it for the pain or can only get off from pain.”

“Oh. Do you think you can shut it off, though? Not be a Dominant when we’re not in a scene?” Because he was the bossiest man she’d ever met.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. “I don’t know, but I’d like to try. If that’s a limit, I’ll respect it. But you have to expect me to fuck it up. Maybe a lot.”

“Fair enough.” He was compromising. She could appreciate that.

“Like right now, I want to tell you to go to sleep while I go finish cleaning the kitchen and cook you dinner.”

“Nope. Not gonna work.”

“See? I figured that. Which is why I haven’t told you to get some sleep, even though I should. Even though I
need
to take care of you the same way I
need
you to let me hold you down or restrain you when we play. You really won’t even let me take care of you like that, will you?” God, he sounded so sad.

Was her need to be independent that kind of need? She’d always thought so. But maybe not. If he could compromise and try to respect her limits, maybe she could give in a little too. As long as it was only a little. “You wouldn’t get very far, even
if
I wanted to let you. Unless you plan on making boiled salt for dinner. ’Cause that’s about all I have in the house.”

His eyes brightened. He was like a kid, staring up at her with hopeful eyes. If she gave in on this, would it only be a matter of time before he plowed right over her hard limits altogether? It could be a slippery slope, but he’d been pretty good at helping her embrace her darker nature and catching her when she fell.

“Tell me to get some sleep,” she whispered.

He beamed at her. “Really?”

“Really,” she said, smiling. Aside from making him deliriously happy, she also seriously needed the sleep. And a home-cooked meal wouldn’t suck either. “But don’t make a habit of it.”

He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. Apparently, I’m going to the grocery store.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. A second later, he was wrapping blankets around her and ruffling her hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She didn’t respond. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard the soft click of her bedroom door and couldn’t help the contented, safe feeling that wrapped itself around her just like the blankets. Was this what it felt like to belong to someone?

Liz realized in a sudden rush that she didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit.

Chapter Twelve

Chase couldn’t stop smiling.
His.
She was all his for four whole weeks. He took a minute outside the bedroom door to digest the information, his cheeks becoming sore from holding the smile on his face. His life might be falling apart around him, but right now that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman sound asleep—if she knew what was good for her—in the bedroom behind him.

He rolled his shoulders and neck, rubbing his hand on his dark-wash jeans to soothe the glorious sting there. After a few moments, he pulled his head back to reality and got to work, tackling first the rest of the kitchen, then dining and living spaces. He sneaked into her office last, taking a deep breath. This was probably the equivalent of having her inside his playroom. He ran his hand along the wall, trying to absorb what had just happened. He’d mulled it over as he worked.

Could he deal with her limits? His other two subs had wanted more. Had
needed
to cede more power to him, and he’d never been quite satisfied with that. But he would miss the daily submission. With Suzanna, he’d always texted or called, left her instructions, taunted her with what he was going to do to her when she got home from work. She’d loved his constant attention. And he didn’t know if he would be able to go without it. It was one thing not to have had the constant submission since he hadn’t had a full-time submissive under his protection and care. It would be another thing entirely to train Liz without complete domination.

Whatever he did, he had to make sure he didn’t let Liz weasel her way any further under his skin. Not until he was sure she would be happy with their arrangement. He’d already let himself get too wrapped up in her. Because she was so different from anyone else he’d ever met. And maybe because he selfishly wanted something to distract him from the fact that he was slowly losing everything else in his life that he cared about. So no matter what happened over the next four weeks, he had to find some way to protect himself, to stop from getting attached to Liz in case she ran away again. Or decided she couldn’t handle the lifestyle.

He let that idea sit for a bit and parked his ass in Liz’s desk chair. The temptation to open her computer and read her work was almost overwhelming. As he glanced at the notes and various mess of papers around him, he knew he couldn’t clean this space. It was sacred to Liz in a way he could understand. He didn’t belong in here meddling. So he rocked in the desk chair, his mind still reeling, warning him that he’d maybe done exactly what he always did—bitten off more than he could chew.

He needed a sounding board. And it wouldn’t hurt to check in on Dusty and see if he’d had any brilliant ideas to pull them out of the hole they were in. Digging in his pocket for his phone, Chase walked back toward the front of Liz’s cottage. He found the key right on the floor where he’d left it and locked the door behind him as he dialed D’s number.