Bound and Determined (6 page)

He'd been staring at Owen, not her, but it didn't seem kind to point that

out.

“It was the first time I'd gone there. A friend of mine, Alex, is a member,

and he—”

“Oh, I know Alex,” she interrupted. “He's the one who told me that you

had your eye on Owen.”

“Remind me to say thanks to him,” Sterling said dryly.

Carol began to pick at her Danish, separating out small pieces with

fingers tipped with nails painted much the same color as the filling, managing

to keep an eye on Sterling as she did it. Sterling wondered if she planned to

actually eat any of it; what she was doing seemed a real waste. Finally, she

popped a piece laden with frosting into her mouth and pushed the plate aside.

“It's no one at the club,” she said. “I'd know.” She preened, her movements

sensual and elegant; Sterling could see how she might have appealed to Owen,

though something in him hated the thought that Carol was Owen's type.

“People tell me things, always have.” She pouted thoughtfully. “It might be

someone from the theater… That's where I met him. There was this opening

night party, and we got to talking… I played…well, it wasn't exactly the lead

character, but Amelia had a
vital
role. Without her delivering the letter, Colin

and Susan would never have known that Susan's father suspected them. Owen

said my role was
pivotal
.”

Sterling could just picture Owen when he said that, the delivery bone-dry,

one corner of his mouth curled up.

Carol sighed and took a delicate sip of coffee, leaving the rim of the mug

smudged with deep red lipstick. “We were so good together at the start,” she

said mournfully, “but I knew I could never compete with Michael.”

Glancing over at the counter, which was customer-free, Sterling leaned

closer to Carol. “Michael?”

“Oh, you haven't heard? He was Owen's first—and you know what they

say about firsts.” Carol gave him a pointed look until he nodded, then went on.

“If you ever
do
get together with Owen, it'll only be temporary, because nobody

can measure up. Not that Owen still wants Michael.”

“He doesn't?” That sounded a little more promising.

Bound and Determined

21

“No, they agreed to split up. It's more that Michael is, I don't know,

representative of the relationship Owen is looking for. He just hasn't figured

out yet that it's not possible. He wants—hm.” Carol frowned at her plate, then

slid it toward Sterling. “Feel free.”

Sterling shook his head. “No, thanks.” Like he'd eat a Danish she'd picked

apart. “What does Owen want?”

“Not me, anyway.” For the first time, Sterling saw an unstudied, genuine

emotion; Carol looked forlorn, her bright mouth drooping. “I knew we wouldn't

have long—I see this psychic once a month, and she told me that I was still in

a self-discovery phase and that in a year I might find the perfect partner, but it

wasn't going to happen for a while and she'd guide me there.”

Sterling repressed the urge to ask how much the guiding would cost and

gave her an encouraging murmur. He wasn't sure how much of what she said

he could trust; she was a self-centered flake by the sounds of it, but even so…

“He wants you to be perfect,” she said abruptly. “He tells you to do

something and that's the way he likes it done, and he really hates having to

remind you if you screw up.”

That didn't sound too unreasonable to Sterling. In fact, he got a kick out

of the idea of Owen being that precise, that stern. God, yes—and he could be

everything Owen wanted him to be, he knew it.

“At the same time, if you do get it right—and I tried!—you can see him

switching off. He got bored with me. With
me
.” Carol tossed her head. “The sex

was nice, and he's
good
at the other stuff—
you
know. The spanking and the—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sterling said hastily. The place was mostly empty, but that

also meant that it was quiet.

“He's
really
good at that,” Carol said wistfully. “Just…hard to please. That

scene at the club; that was over the stupidest little thing. Really, really dumb.

He likes to talk; wants to know why things worked and other stuff didn't, and I

can't
do
that. Well, not the way he wanted me to, anyway. And I was late a lot,

and he just didn't seem to realize that I'm not a person who can be tied to a

timetable. I'm a free spirit. Look!” She thrust out both hands dramatically,

narrowly missing her coffee mug and exposing thin wrists jangling with silver

bangles. “No watch!”

That was proof, all right. Sterling revised his opinion from “self-centered

flake” to “potentially crazy flake,” then hid a grin as the “free spirit's” cell phone

rang.

“Sorry,” she said. “Hang on.” She answered the phone, her voice low, and

Sterling politely turned his attention to the glass display case where they kept

the pastries, noting that it was speckled with fingerprints from when customers

pointed to what they wanted. “Okay. Yes. Yes. I know—you too. Okay, bye.”

Carol looked at Sterling again. “Sorry—that was my astrologist.”

“Oh.” Somehow that didn't come as the slightest surprise. What was

surprising was that Owen, who had seemed pretty down-to-earth to Sterling,

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

had spent so much time with this woman. “So Owen didn't like it when you

were late?”

Carol pouted, something that Sterling felt sure she practiced in front of a

mirror to get the exact blend of sorrowful dejection and reproof. “He said it

showed a lack of respect for him, what we did, and his time.” Sterling noticed

that her voice altered subtly and guessed that she was using Owen's exact

words. They certainly sounded familiar. “He said he wouldn't start a session if

he was really annoyed with a sub and with me, it was becoming impossible to

feel any other emotion.” She tossed her head again. “I wasn't
that
late.”

It occurred to Sterling that he'd been late for a
lot
of Owen's lectures,

sometimes accidentally, because his morning routine had been interrupted by

something unforeseen, like his toast burning or a complete lack of clean shorts,

but mostly just to get that intense stare and a few biting, scathing words

thrown at him. He'd told himself that he enjoyed pissing Professor Sawyer off—

the man was such an asshole about things like handing work in on time—but

looking back, he wondered if he'd been looking for something more from Owen

even then.

For Owen to put out his hand and say, “Enough,” and
make
him behave.

If all those times when he'd been late were contributing to Owen's

reluctance to take him on… God, he hoped not.

“What else doesn't he like?” Sterling asked.

“Oh, lots of things.” Carol waved her hand, and her bracelets jingled

faintly. “Too much talking, for one. Which is ridiculous, because, well, normal

people
talk
, right? And he was so confusing about it! Sometimes he'd
want
me

to talk, and other times he didn't want me to, and I couldn't keep track of

which times were which.”

“That does sound confusing,” Sterling said diplomatically, even though he

thought Carol was probably just not that bright. Right—so Owen liked it when

you knew to keep quiet at certain times. That would be a challenge, sure, but

he could learn.

Sterling knew he was smart. He could learn.

Carol gave him a surprisingly shrewd look. “Nothing I say will make any

difference, will it? You still want him.”

“Don't
you
?” Sterling pulled a face. “You don't have to answer. I know you

do. Yes, I want him—more than anything. And I don't give up easily. When I

want something…”

“You think that you can make Owen do something he doesn't want to?

Owen
?” Carol shook her head. “No. The only way you'll get him to take you as

his sub is if you make him see you as a challenge, and right now, this new,

you're more like a chore.” She picked up her mug and took a long swallow. “It's

been a long time since Owen trained a novice.”

“Let me guess,” Sterling said. “Michael.”

Bound and Determined

23

“That's right. Everyone after Michael has known what they were doing and

didn't need training in the basics.” She gave him a look that might have been

intended as kind but came off as patronizing. “How much training would
you

need?”

“Not as much as you'd think,” Sterling said. “I've done a lot of research

already. And I learn fast.”

“It isn't book smarts you need for this kind of thing,” Carol said. “Honey, I

got straight As in school too, but believe me when I tell you, you either have a

knack for it or you don't. I've seen a lot of people who thought the scene was

going to be some big kink fest, that it was all about the sex. But it's not.

There's a lot more to it than that.”

Sterling opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, not really

convinced that he trusted her take on it, but intensely curious, even so. Just

talking to her had made him feel the first stirrings of an arousal that had

nothing to do with her and everything about the subject of their conversation.

He'd gotten the first words of his question out when the door opened and a

group of teenagers walked in, backpacks slung over their shoulders, carried

along on a tide of chatter and laughter.

“Damn,” he muttered as he stood up. “Sorry—hang on, okay? I'll be back.

Let me just get these guys.”

The kids at least knew what they wanted—most of them were in the store

a couple of times a week—but it took a while to make a variety of coffee drinks,

especially when they asked for add-ins like syrups and whipped cream. When

the last of them had paid and moved away from the counter, Sterling glanced

reflexively toward the table where Carol had been sitting, but it was empty.

Looked like he was on his own again.

The next time Owen bumped into Sterling, it was even more literal. He was

in the college library looking for a book he knew was on the shelf but which he

just couldn't seem to find. Finally, he set his keys down on a shelf and knelt to

check the lowest one, brushing his fingers along the spines of the books to

make sure he didn't miss the one he wanted.
There
it was. He slipped it from

between its companions, stood with a creak of joints that made him frown, and

headed back toward the elevator.

Two rows later, he remembered his keys. Owen swore and retraced his

steps, rounded the corner to the aisle he'd been in, and crashed full body into

someone.

“God, I'm sorry,” he said, finding his balance and using one hand to

steady the other person. “Are you—oh. It's you.”

“So I don't get an apology?” Sterling asked, grinning and not stepping back

when Owen let go of him.

“You're stalking me,” Owen said.

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Sterling shook his head. “I prefer the word 'following'; it sounds less

creepy.”

“But doesn't make it any less annoying,” Owen said, raising his eyebrows.

“You—almost—make me wish that you were mine to deal with; I can promise

you'd be regretting this behavior very soon.”

That wiped the grin off Sterling's face. “God, I wouldn't regret anything if I

was. Yours, I mean. I'd let you do whatever you wanted.”

“'
Let
' me?” Owen asked pointedly. “Somehow, I think you've

misunderstood the definition of
submission
.”

God, they were close to flirting here, in the dense hush of the library, their

voices lowered. Anyone could come around the corner like Owen had and find

them here, standing too near to each other, looking too…involved.

“Maybe I need you to clear things up for me,” Sterling said, inching closer

still. Owen stepped back, deliberately putting more space between them, and

Sterling moved forward again. “I can be good. Show me.”

“You give me orders and demands when you should be begging, and follow

when I'm telling you to back off; forgive me for doubting your ability to please

me,” Owen said, sarcasm an easy weapon to wield. “Would you be this

argumentative on your knees? I'm inclined to think you would. There's a big

difference between an interesting, challenging sub and one who can't and won't

learn. I
know
you, and I know what you'd be like.”

He let that ambiguity stand. Owen was certain which category Sterling

would fall into and completely sure of his own ability to tame and control him—

even if he was failing miserably at getting Sterling to leave him alone.

That failure was because of his ambivalent feelings, though, nothing more.