Club Wicked 2: My Wicked Nanny (17 page)

“No kidding.” Anya turned so she could keep an eye on the
floor, wondering where the hell Jesse was. “Your head still hurting?”

“Like muskrats are making a den in my skull.”

A man’s deep voice came from over her shoulder. “Woman, you
need to go to a doctor.”

Anya turned to find Master Hawk glowering at the pretty
bartender. After seeing Hawk in a dozen action movies, she found it rather odd
to be standing next to him. While Jesse was still the hottest man on earth, she
had to admit the smooth, bronze expanse of Hawk’s muscled chest was rather nice
to look at through the opening of his black leather vest.

Sunny closed her eyes, the strain she was under showing in
the tight line of her jaw. “I’m okay.”

Hawk moved so he stood as close to Sunny as he could with
the bar between them. “I know you don’t like taking painkillers—”

“Back off!” Several heads turned their way, and Sunny let
out a weary sigh. “Please, Hawk, not tonight.”

Anya started to move away, wanting to give them their
privacy, but Hawk turned his angry gaze on her. “Jesse is waiting for you in
room sixteen on the second floor.”

Elation filled her even as she kept a worried eye on Sunny.
“Thank you. Sunny, I have to agree with Master Hawk. If your headaches are
making you lose weight—”

Hawk let out a low growl. “You’re losing weight?”

Sunny shot her a nasty look. “I’m fine. Hawk, why don’t you
go fuck Goddess and leave me alone.”

Anya gasped, not used to seeing her friend this mean. “Sunny.”

The other woman looked away, and Hawk turned to Anya. “Go to
Master Jesse, Dove. I will make sure Sunny is taken care of.”

She beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to be there when the
storm clouds building between Sunny and Hawk broke. Things would be so much
easier if Sunny told Hawk she was in love with him, but Anya sure as heck
wasn’t in any position to speak about honesty. A dozen times this week she’d
almost mustered the courage to tell Jesse, only to wimp out at the last moment.
Maybe after tonight she would tell him. Have one last good memory with him
before he never wanted to see her again.

After getting lost twice and having to ask a passing
Mistress for directions, she finally made it to room sixteen. Her heart
hammered in her throat, and she knocked on the door. A few moments later Jesse
opened it and stared down at her, his expression unreadable. No, not totally
unreadable; for a second she thought she saw real anger tighten his features.
The coldness in his gaze was so different from how he usually looked at her
that for one moment she wondered if somehow he’d found out about her deception.

When he didn’t speak, only continued to give her that
intense look, she took a step back. “I’m sorry I was late. Please don’t be mad
at me.”

He didn’t say anything but stepped aside so she could enter.
When she got a good look at the room, a shiver of apprehension skittered up her
spine. It looked like she was in some type of police interrogation room,
complete with a table, two chairs, and a video camera in the upper corner.
There was even a two-way mirror, and she hoped no one was beyond it. Sitting on
a stainless steel table along one wall were a variety of whips, canes, and
other implements she didn’t even have a name for.

Swallowing hard, she backed up until the edge of a chair hit
her knees. She looked behind her and noticed the chair had restraints on the
arms and legs, but that the middle of the seat was missing. When she realized
why it wouldn’t be there and what parts of her body the chair would expose to
his touch, a flush of heat pushed away her unease.

“Master, do you want me to sit here?”

He nodded and waited until she’d positioned herself, then
came over and efficiently strapped her in place. Efficient was the only word
she could use to describe his touch. He didn’t caress her or even look at her.
In fact he seemed to be touching her as little as possible. She jerked at the
restraints around her arms, but they didn’t move an inch. The leather was hard,
unforgiving against her skin, and bit into her wrists.

“Please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

He ignored her and moved one of the regular chairs from the
other side of the table and brought it over in front of her. He took a seat,
his knees almost touching hers as he leaned back and folded his hands over his
stomach. She searched his face for something to tell her it was okay, but she
couldn’t find anything to reassure her.

She forced a laugh and gave him a coquettish look. “Do I
have to earn my way out?”

Instead of smiling at her, his expression grew even darker.
When minutes passed by and he did nothing more than stare, her unease grew. He
just stared at her with a flat, cold look. The laughing, smiling man that had
brought her so much pleasure was gone, leaving behind a guy she didn’t
recognize. Unease spooled out in her belly, making her heart pound with a trace
of real fear.

“Untie me. I don’t want to do this.” She jerked at the
restraints, but the chair didn’t even move. “Let me go! Jesse, what is wrong
with you?”

He took a slow breath, the air pouring into his body seeming
to flame the anger banked in his gaze to a conflagration that burned her.

“The question is, what is wrong with you, Anya? How long
were you going to fuck me and then go back to my home, watch my children, and lie
to me? Were you ever going to tell me the truth? Or were you going to keep on
playing me, then vanish off to Paris?”

Oh God.

His unusual actions of the week before finally made sense.
No wonder he seemed to seek her out after pretty much ignoring her for the
entire time she’d worked for him She thought it was because he genuinely needed
her help with the boys, or maybe he enjoyed her company.

She’d been such a fool.

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough. My mom wanted me to invite you to dinner, and
I went to the carriage house to ask you. All your costumes were on display,
easily seen through the French doors. To say I was shocked, hurt, and really
fucking pissed is an understatement.”

All the breath left her body in a painful rush, and she
struggled to get free, to cover her face, to hide her shame and fear from him.
The more she struggled, the tighter the bonds got until her wrist and ankles
hurt. Her brain yelled at her to say something, to explain herself and get him
to let her go. Her heart raced, and the metallic taste of blood flavored her
mouth as she bit her lip.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a
deceptively relaxed pose. “I gave you every opportunity to come clean this
week, to tell me the truth. But you continued to lie. You played me for a fool.
I trusted you. In fact I thought Dove”—his lips curled in disgust, and she died
inside—“was one of the most honest, intriguing submissives I’ve ever met, but
it was all bullshit. You never intended this to be anything more than a fling.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Right. When I was inside of you, looking into your eyes, I
thought I saw something beautiful.” Hurt replaced the anger, and for a moment,
he looked weary. “What did I ever do to you that would make you want to deceive
me like this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Everything closed in on her, choking the air out of her,
filling her with panic and shame. “Please, let me go. I’ll go back to your
place right away and get my things, or you can have them sent to my dad’s
house, just please let me go!”

She screamed the last word into his face, and his eyes
cleared. He sat back and rubbed his face. His anger faded a bit, and he frowned
at her. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

She jerked at the bonds repeatedly, struggling to get free. “Let
me go!”

“Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

“Let me go!”

She jerked against the bonds, and the chair rocked with her
struggles. Her wrists burned and her arms ached, but she didn’t care. She
wanted to run away, to go hide from her shame, to never have to see him look at
her with such hurt and betrayal again. The fact she was a liar, a manipulative
bitch who hurt him to satisfy her own selfish needs, cut at her soul.

“Anya, calm down. You’re hurting yourself.”

“Ivy, damn you! Ivy!” She screamed her safe word at him so
hard her throat hurt, but her words had their intended effect.

He reached over and unstrapped her wrist. As soon as her
hand was free, she shoved him away and fumbled with the other strap, her wrist
stinging and burning. Unfortunately her hand was shaking so bad she couldn’t
manipulate the simple pull and release. Her hair hung in her face, obscuring
her view as she jerked at the restraint.

He hated her, and she deserved it.

“Dove, Anya, whatever the hell your name is. Stay still so I
can unstrap you.” He deftly freed her, and she scrambled away from him,
slamming her hip into the table with a painful
thud
, then bouncing off of it. He followed her, but she fled,
trying to put the table between them. He simply slid across the surface to her
side and reached for her. He managed to grab her arm before she raked at his
hand with her nails.

He froze and closed his eyes.

“Don’t touch me!” She was backed into a corner now. She
grabbed one of the canes off the nearby table, brandishing it in front of her.

“Anya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go like this. I
just wanted to get you to talk to me.”

“You tied me up in that horrible chair!”

He roughly ran his hands through his hair. “What was I
supposed to do? I tried to get you to tell me all week! Being nice wasn’t
working, so I had to try something else.”

“Goddamn you, I didn’t want to lie to you!”

“Then why did you?” He batted the cane away, the metal tip
clattering against the cement floor.

A sob stuck in her throat, and she shoved at his arms,
kicking at him and trying to get away. “Leave me alone!”

“Shh.” He picked her up and almost dropped her as she
struggled. “Anya, let me hold you so you can calm down and listen to me.”

“No! You’re going to put me back in that chair. You had no
right!”

“I’m sorry. I handled this badly.” He sat down on the floor
and dragged her with him, trapping her struggling body with his strong legs.
“Stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

She shuddered and went limp. It didn’t matter what she said,
what she did, he wasn’t going to let her go until he was done with her. All she
could do was endure until he finished ripping her a new one. Her heart ached,
and even now she yearned for his touch. God, this was so messed up.

She was so messed up.

“If you don’t want to hurt me, let me go.”

“I wish I could,” he muttered while lifting her right wrist,
his face going pale at the deep red and purple mark from the strap against her
flesh.

“Why did you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me you
knew?” She hated how her voice sounded like a hurt little girl’s. She wished
she sounded stronger, was strong enough to not crave the reassurance of his
touch even now.

He gave her a sharp look and brought her wrist to his mouth,
placing gentle kisses over her abraded skin. The scent of his cologne and
laundry detergent enveloped her. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I… What was I supposed to say? Hi, Jesse. I know I’m your
nanny, but I would also love to be your submissive? When I look at you, I want
to kiss you until neither of us can breathe? I want you more than I’ve ever
wanted anyone?” Now it was his turn to stay silent, but he continued to press
oh-so-soft kisses against her wrist. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll stay until
you can find a new nanny, but you won’t have to see me. I’ll make sure to leave
as soon as you’re home.”

She took a deep breath, tears slipping from her eyes and
rolling down her mask. With her free hand she peeled it off and threw it onto
the table, then pulled her hair forward so he couldn’t see her face. Nothing
made any sense right now, and all the justifications she’d come up with sounded
as weak as she felt.

“Anya.” He loosened his hold until he was cradling her in
his arms instead of restraining her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She took a shuddering breath and tried to muster
the strength to leave his arms, but she couldn’t. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. If I
could take it all back, I would.”

He brushed her hair from her face, capturing her chin in his
hand when she tried to look away. To her surprise he leaned down and kissed
away the tears trailing down her jaw, the soft brush of his beard against her
face making her close her eyes. His lips trailed closer to her own, and he
stilled, his breath washing over her mouth.

“You’re so young. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t
resist you, Anya.”

His lips drifted over hers and brought more comfort than
passion. She attempted to pull back, but he wouldn’t let her. That started a
low burn in her belly. She tried to fight it, tried to resist the need to seek
his forgiveness, but when he gently cupped her cheek and began to seduce her
mouth with his own, she was lost.

He was so careful, so gentle with his kiss, nibbling against
her mouth and coaxing her lips open so he could suck on her tongue in a way
that made her toes curl. She could taste the salt of her tears on his lips, and
his grip on her firmed when she tentatively stroked her tongue against his.

With a groan he pulled away. “No, we can’t do this.”

Anger had her struggling to get away from him again. “Then
stop kissing me like I mean something. It’s not fair, Jesse.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He stared down at her, brushing
her hair back and examining her features. “How could I miss how beautiful you
are?”

Thrown off-balance, she frowned up at him. “You never really
looked at me.”

“I’m a fool.”