Afterlife

Afterlife

Joey W. Hill

Part of the Knights of the Board

Room series.

Rachel gave up seeking a Master

years ago. After a

failed marriage and terrible tragedy,

she’s wal ed her soul

against going down that dangerous

path again. Then Jon

joins her yoga class. He’s thirteen

years younger than she,

but his Dominant nature threatens her

shields from the

moment she recognizes it. Not only

does he understand

what her body wants—he knows

what her soul craves.

Part of the five-man executive team

of Kensington &

Associates, Jon uses his calm,

philosophical nature to

defuse volatile acquisition

negotiations. He can compel

opponents to wil ingly surrender

when he draws the sword

that closes the deal. As a sexual

Dominant, he employs that

same expertise. A spiritual y driven

Master who enjoys

connecting with a woman’s soul, he

wins her utter

submission with his skil s. But with

Rachel, it goes beyond

that. She’s the submissive his own

soul has always

hungered to have, and he won’t

hesitate to use his talents,

as wel as that of the other four K&A

men, to claim her.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica

Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Afterlife

ISBN 9781419930959

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Afterlife Copyright © 2010 Joey W.

Hill

Edited by Briana St. James

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication

November 2010

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This book is a work of fiction and

any resemblance to persons, living or

dead, or places, events or locales is

purely coincidental. The

characters are productions of the

author’s imagination and used

fictitiously.

Afterlife

Joey W. Hill

Trademark Acknowledgments

The author acknowledges the

trademarked status and

trademark owners of the fol owing

wordmarks mentioned in

this work of fiction:

Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

Corporation

Cinderel a: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Corol a: Toyota Jidosha Kogyo

Kabushiki Kaisha Toyota

Motor Co., Ltd

Dunkin’ Donuts: Dunkin’ Donuts

USA, Inc.

ESPN: ESPN, Inc.

Godiva: Godiva Brands, Inc.

Hal mark: Hal mark Licensing, Inc

Limoncel o: B M Distil ed Spirits,

LLC

Mol y Maid: Mol y Maid, Inc.

National Guard: Army National

Guard Agency of the

Government United States

Nike: Nike, Inc.

Obi-wan: Lucas Licensing Ltd.

Oz
: Turner Entertainment Co.

Superman: DC Comics E.C.

Publications, Inc.

The Mummy
: Universal City Studios

LLLP

Weather Girls, The: Rhodes, Dynel e

Individual

Chapter One

“I better get a good report on you

today, Sergeant. Any

whining and you’l get your ass

blistered soon as we get out

of here. Maybe sooner.”

Rachel sucked in a surprised breath

as Dana’s white

cane shot out toward Peter’s

unprotected shin with

impressive accuracy. Despite his

formidable size, Peter

sidestepped it with practiced grace,

tossing Rachel a grin

as he slid an arm around Dana’s

waist, drawing her to his

side. Closing his hand over her slim

fingers, he plucked the

cane from her. “And I’d best hold

onto this for you.”

“Chicken,” Dana retorted. She turned

her face up to him.

“Afraid a little blind girl’s going to

take you down with a

plastic stick.”

Rachel pressed her lips together

against a smile as

Peter used one arm and a quick move

to hoist his petite

fiancée over his shoulder. Though

Dana threatened to

dismember him in creative ways, he

simply steadied her

with one hand spread across her

attractive bottom. When

he hooked his thumb in one of the

pockets of her snug

jeans, that intimacy alone was enough

to make Rachel

ache. “Where do you want her?” he

asked. His storm gray

eyes lingered on Rachel’s face, his

brow creasing

thoughtful y as if he saw something

there he shouldn’t.

Snapping her gaze away from the

placement of that large

hand, she nodded toward the usual

cot for Dana’s physical

therapy. Since she was standing at

her corner desk in the

therapy room, Rachel shuffled

through her calendar,

pretending to finish up some things

before they got started.

In reality, she was breathing through

that sharp twist in

her lower bel y, the one she

recognized as yearning. It was

a far-too-frequent feeling since Peter

had started bringing

Dana to her PT sessions. It wasn’t

their teasing loveplay.

They were being a little more blatant

than usual today, but

since they were engaged, it wasn’t

unexpected. Their

romantic vibes fairly oozed out over

everyone around them.

The only reaction it should have

triggered from her was

indulgent amusement, maybe a touch

of motherly

exasperation. But there was an

additional component

between them.

Most people would miss it, though

they might pick up on

something about Peter and Dana’s

interactions that

mesmerized or made them feel

inexplicably uncomfortable.

Unable to place what it was, they’d

cal it something else, or

shrug it off as those engagement

vibes. She’d done the

same thing, but she’d known from the

first she was fooling

herself. Even after al these years of

trying to mute her

desire, she seemed to have a radar

for it.

It was in the way Peter fol owed

Dana’s movements,

tracking her facial expressions,

picking up everything she

was feeling and anticipating it so wel

. He was as aware of

Dana’s physical and emotional state

as the woman herself.

Probably more. Each word she

spoke, every syl able of her

body language, elicited some type of

response from him.

Pure, monitored attention.

Rachel had convinced herself men

like that didn’t exist.

Another of the many lies she’d told

herself for way too long.

When Peter made that sensual threat

to blister his

fiancee’s ass, the faint tinge under

Dana’s mocha skin said

she knew he’d live up to that

promise. And she’d welcome

it—as a reward, not punishment.

Their weekly visit was both the

highlight and curse of

Rachel’s week.

He was carting Dana back to the cot

as if he was

carrying a grain sack. “Got to get you

back in shape,

soldier. I expect you to wait on me

hand and foot like a

proper wife should. I’m running out

of patience with this

coddling.”

“I’l be happy to put my fist or foot

right where it’l do you

the most good,” Dana returned

sweetly. She had her right

elbow propped on Peter’s wide

shoulder, holding herself

up. Rachel noted she was guarding

the left arm. They’d

need to do extra work on that today.

However, the stomach

muscles were admirably strong.

Peter slid Dana off his shoulder and

onto her feet, as

smooth and gentle as if she were a

porcelain dol , belying

his words. It was in his face, every

time he looked at the

black woman who barely came up to

his chin and yet had

the force of personality to match his

larger-than-life

presence. There was nothing he

wouldn’t do for her. Except

let her give up on herself, which

Rachel knew was why he

came to every session with her.

Dana wasn’t a complainer. She was

always stoic and

cheerful, such that Rachel was sure

she and Peter were the

only people who knew how hard

these sessions were.

Before the end of it, Dana would

have her teeth gritted

against pain, tears running down her

face as she pushed it

a little further. Like so many patients,

she also waged a

mental battle against despair,

confronted with a body that

would never be the same again.

Dana had been injured in Iraq, losing

her sight, most of

her hearing and some mobility and

strength in her left side.

Not only had she required multiple

surgeries, she’d needed

physical therapy to regain flexibility.

PT was never easy, but

Dana’s had been rougher than most

because she’d battled

post-traumatic stress disorder and its

attendant deep

depression for over a year, letting the

already damaged