Edge of the Enforcer (15 page)

WHAT THE FUCK.
DeVries stared at the little submissive in surprise. She’d gone from a warm, squirming armful to a frozen, blank-faced puppet. Horror filled her face as she looked at…nothing.

Trigger.
He’d hit a trigger, one he hadn’t been prepared for because—because he was an idiot. “Lindsey,” he said, his voice dropping into command mode. “Look at me, girl.”

She didn’t move.

He took her chin and turned her. “Look. At. Me.” He added a snap to the last word.

One blink. Two. She shuddered, her haunted eyes meeting his. Jesus, he’d fucked this up. Holding her gaze with his, he yanked her skirt down, covering her and turning her so he could cradle her in his arms. He’d mindfucked her right into something he wasn’t prepared for.

Sure, back before they’d first screwed, he’d checked through the records kept at the desk: her limit list, medical information, preferences. There had been nothing about past trauma or triggers. Nonetheless he should have gone over everything again with her. He’d gotten complacent.

Cuddling her against him, he glanced at the audience, seeing the appalled submissives. The more experienced Doms, including Ethan, wore frowns. They knew he’d stepped in it. He rose. “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to find somewhere quiet and deal with this.”

“I think you better give her to someone who has a heart.” Slender, short, defiant Dixon stood directly in deVries’s path, showing that, no matter the popular opinion, male submissives weren’t pushovers. “Another Dom can—”

“No.” DeVries shouldered past.

“Fucking asshole,” Dixon muttered and hurried away.

Hell.
A few steps away from the group, deVries stopped and considered. Where could he take her? Maybe downstairs. The dungeon had quiet aftercare rooms. “Hang in there, babe,” he said, rubbing his chin in the soft hair.

She didn’t respond.

Carefully, he moved around the tables and chairs, past the clusters of members, working his way toward the back of the room.

“Hold up.” Xavier’s deep voice halted him at the top of the stairs. Obviously the mouthy Dixon had found him.

Great. If the owner of Dark Haven thought deVries had overstepped with a submissive, their friendship would stand for nothing, which was the way it should be. “I fucked up. She did fine with a bit of erotic humiliation, but right after she came, she went into a meltdown. Damned if I know why.”

Xavier gently tilted Lindsey’s head. “Talk to me, pet. What’s your name?”

“L-Lindsey.” Despite being in deVries’s arms, she struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry, my liege, I didn’t—”

“You did nothing wrong,” deVries muttered. No, he was the one who should apologize—once he figured out what he’d done.

Xavier’s hand stayed on the little brunette’s cheek, undoubtedly feeling the shivers coursing her body. “Use my office. Get her back into her own head.”

“Thanks.” The office had a couch. Was quiet. “I’m taking her home after.”

Xavier considered him out of black eyes before nodding. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

The trust in his statement was one of the finest gifts deVries had ever received.

* * * *

Lindsey roused, hearing an even thudding sound and a low rumble. Blinking, she brought her mind into focus. Warmth surrounded her, and comforting…arms…were around her. Arms? Yes, she was on a lap, her cheek against a hard chest.

The rumbling was a man’s voice talking to her. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”

She tipped her head back and…met deVries’s concerned eyes.

“There she is,” he murmured. “You know where you are?”

“On your lap.”

“Right.” The corners of his mouth tilted up. “How about the general location?”

“Um.” Why was he holding her? Oh, she was in Xavier’s office. “Dark Haven.” She’d been talking with people. DeVries had grabbed her. She’d gotten off and… A tremor ran through her. There had been gunfire and—no, that couldn’t have happened.

Lordy, the top on the stage had been using a whip, and his bottom had screamed. And Lindsey had fallen right into a funk.
Good going, girl.
“I had kind of a panic attack, I guess, huh?”

“Something like that. Why?”

Oh, this was not good. Her brains weren’t moving fast enough to deal with questions. “A-a childhood trauma.” She swallowed at the disbelief in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Uh-huh.” He picked her up and stood her on her feet. “I’ll let you get away with that—for now.” He tugged a man’s T-shirt over her head—from the size, she’d guess it was Xavier’s. He put his leather jacket on her as well. “Let’s go.”

She was ushered into deVries’s car without any chance of arguing. Why did this routine seem familiar? Lindsey frowned as he fastened her seat belt for her. “I’m perfectly capable of getting home.”

“Maybe. Now you don’t have to.”

As he drove, she drifted. A few minutes later, she sat up straight. “Wait, this isn’t Mill Valley.”

“You’re coming back to my place.”

Wonderful, now he was being bossy again. He’d been so sweet in Xavier’s office, holding her and murmuring to her. It was hard to believe he’d totally humiliated her minutes before.

Even worse, she’d gone all mental on him. How could she ever show her face there again? “You’re such a jerk,” she muttered.

“Yeah, I know.” With the surprising agreement, he drove down a tree-lined street and into a parking garage under a small apartment building. Once parked, he helped her out of his SUV. If he’d only stop jumping between mean Dom and sweet guy, she wouldn’t be so dizzy.

His apartment was on the second floor, and he kept a light grip on her arm as he escorted her inside, through a dimly lit kitchen, and into the living room. When he flicked on the lights, she saw walls colored a beautiful blue-green with white trim around French doors. The steeply angled ceiling beams were also white and matched the mantel over the dark granite fireplace. He led her across a sisal rug and sat her down on the L-shaped sectional.

“Settle in, babe.” After tugging his coat off her, he took off her high-heeled pumps.

With a sigh, she curled into a corner of the couch, sinking into the warm suede fabric. “You have a pretty apartment,” she said. The austere lines of the wooden coffee and end tables, and the wrought iron hanging lights kept it masculine. And, of course, being a guy, he had a huge wide-screen TV over the fireplace.

“Thanks.”

He laid a fluffy quilt over her lap. “You want a hot drink or an alcoholic one?”

Something warm sounded wonderful. So did— “Both?”

With a snort of amusement, he circled to flip on the gas fire. Outside the bay windows, trees rustled in the light breeze.

The noise he made in the kitchen—cupboard doors opening and closing, the microwave running—was reassuring.

Normal.

Not normal enough. She felt the shakes starting anew. After pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees and hung on.

Something thudded on the table beside her. DeVries cupped her chin, his hand warm and hard. “Damn.” He picked her up and settled back down on the couch with her in his lap. She couldn’t quite let go of her legs, and he patiently rearranged her until she leaned against him.

“Haven’t we done this before?” she muttered through gritted teeth, remembering after the gang fight. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t get to this headspace by yourself, babe.”

After a minute of silence, she squirmed. He couldn’t sit here all night, doing nothing. That wasn’t right. “This is boring—you can’t—”

“Yeah, I can.” He ran a finger down her nose. “It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Little Miss Busy. Bet you never sit still for long.”

Well, sometimes. If she was doing paperwork. She tried to think of other times…

His chest rumbled with his low laugh. Picking up the remote, he flipped through the channels and settled on
Casablanca.
“This should be girly enough for you and give you something to focus on.”

At the sound of Bogie, she gradually relaxed. Her eyelids drooped, and she rubbed her cheek on the solid chest beneath her face. “Thanks.”

“Mmmm.” The amusement in his voice made her insides melt. “Now drink.” He held a mug to her lips, and she took a sip.

Warm liquid, sweet and buttery. She got a taste of cinnamon before the expanding rush of alcohol. “What is that?”

“Hot buttered rum. Never had it before?” He lifted the mug and drank some before returning it to her. The casual sharing was…nice.

“Uh-uh.” It was yummy. She took another sip before curling her fingers around the mug. “I’ve got it.”

“So you do.”

As he held her against him, occasionally lifting her hand so he could sip, she felt as if all her fantasies were being granted. She was enjoying a cozy evening at home on a Dom’s lap, sharing a show, a couch, a drink. But a sadist? One who didn’t want a relationship with anyone?

Pushing away the bittersweet knowledge, she reminded herself she couldn’t afford a relationship either.
Live in the moment, girl
. As she laid her cheek on his soft T-shirt, she inhaled the piney scent of his soap. Soap and man—with deVries, you didn’t get any additives.

As her muscles relaxed, she felt as if she were sinking into him.

“Babe.” He took the mug and kissed the top of her head. “Bedtime for little Texans,” he murmured.

Before she could find the energy to move, he stood, still holding her in his arms.

Her eyes opened. “Wait. No.”

“Shut up, subbie,” he said, and somehow, the bottomless growl was affectionate.

He carried her up the stairs. OMG, up the
stairs.
She clutched at his shoulders, just waiting for him to trip, sending them plunging to their deaths.

A chuckle rumbled against her ear. “You’re hyperventilating, Lindsey. Slow it down.”

Easy for him to say.

Inside a bathroom, he bent and set her on her feet.

She muttered her gratitude for survival, not to him, though. “Thank you, little baby Jesus.”

He burst out laughing and ruffled her hair. “Wash up and get into bed. There are spare toothbrushes, combs, and towels in the right cabinet.”

“But—”

The door closed behind him. Well. Obviously she was staying the night. The empty quiver beneath her ribs said she didn’t want to be alone. Fear wasn’t far away.

So much for brave independence, huh?

She turned toward the sink, saw herself in the mirror, and almost screamed like a ten-year-old facing Freddie Kruger. Her un-runnable mascara had run in black streaks down her cheeks. Her hair was tangled on one side, limp on the other. Any thought of not cleaning up went right out the window.

By the time she finished scrubbing, brushing, and combing, she was exhausted but felt almost human.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the lap blanket around her shoulders and opened the door. The light of a bedside lamp showed chocolate-colored walls with white wainscoting and window trim. The king-size bed had a wood-and-wrought-iron frame as beautiful as it was probably functional for a Dom. It left her breathless.

DeVries came into the room a second later and stopped to give her a focused survey and nod of approval. “You can wear the T-shirt. Lose the skirt.” He tossed back the quilt of browns and tans. “In.”

Without waiting for her response, he took her place in the bathroom.

She glanced at the door, unsure about sleeping with him again. And she really didn’t want any sex—not when her emotions had been through a log chipper. Sure, she and deVries had already done the deed once, but it was all so much more complicated now.

Even worse, she knew the feel of his skin, drawn so tightly over the underlying rock-hard muscles. She knew his murmur when he was pleased with her. She knew—

“Do I need to repeat myself?” came from inside the bathroom.

Right. She remembered too, how he sounded when he was impatient with her slowness.

She wrinkled her nose at the door—the most defiant act she could dredge up—laid the blanket over the chair, and removed her leather skirt.

The sheets were soft and cool. His scent was on one pillow; she chose that one on which to lay her head.

Would he expect to have sex? She shivered. Being with him was like barely managing to halt halfway down a steep, rutted road, all jostled and scared. Should she keep going and hope for the best? Or back up to try to pick a safer path?

He came out of the bathroom, saw her staring at him, and a corner of his mouth edged up.

Why did he have to have a dimple?

After turning off the bedside lamp, he stripped and crawled under the covers. His weight tipped her toward him. Her body braced, waiting for him to come down on top.

Instead, he rolled her onto her side and spooned behind her. His chest rubbed her back. When his erection nestled against her bottom, she tensed.

“Go to sleep, babe.”

Huh? “But—”

“Not going to fuck you now.”

“But you’re…” She wiggled against his erection.

“Teenage boys get a chubby half a dozen times a day. Doesn’t take long to learn a hard-on won’t kill you.” He curled his hand over her breast, settled in more comfortably. “You’d make a nice teddy bear if you’d shut up and go to sleep.”

Despite the hot drink, she had still felt chilled inside, as if her bones were carved out of ice. Now, with his living heat wrapped around her, the cold melted, leaving her limp. Warm.

Chapter Ten

DeVries came awake abruptly. Without moving, he checked his surroundings. Not yet dawn. The rumble of the garbage truck told him what had wakened him.

When Lindsey moved, he realized the noise had woken her as well.

He felt rested. The woman was better than any sleeping pill. Sometime during the night, he’d rolled onto his back, hauling her with him. Her head was on his shoulder, one leg lying over his, her elbow resting on his chest and her hand curled around the side of his neck.

“You really are a hell of a teddy bear,” he murmured.

“Thanks, I think.” She stroked her palm over the coarse stubble on his cheek. “Did you ever have a teddy bear?”

“Yeah.” He’d never slept without it. “Present from a neighbor.” For the pitiful kid.