Drawn Together (17 page)

“Why does it matter to you?” She needed to know, though she wasn’t sure how she’d feel when he answered.

“It matters because you matter. I can’t remove your past. I can’t kill anyone to avenge you. I can’t make it better that way. But the thought of you here alone after all the stuff you’ve revealed tonight? After the shit with Gwen and my mother, after what you’ve told me about sleeping alone? It tears me up. Because I care about you and I want you to know you mean something to me. I want you to understand I’d do anything for you, including going back to my house alone if that’s what you need. But I don’t think it is. I think you’ve been alone for so long you think it’s normal. But it’s not. Let someone care about you. Let me fucking help in some way.”

She took the bag out of her mug and sipped. Chamomile would soothe her nerves and her stomach too.

“All right,” she said at last.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Drink your tea and we can get a bag together for you.”

13

He tried to ignore the sound of her in his bathroom. She moved slow, like she’d been in a car accident or something. And he supposed in a sense she had.

He’d brought her to his place. She even let him drive her car. He’d put her bag in the guest room just a few doors down from his. She’d run her fingers over the lock on the back of the door as she’d left the room and his heart broke anew.

He’d urged her to his bathroom, telling her he’d return with a glass of wine in a few minutes, and she’d nodded without saying anything.

For then though, he stood in his hallway, leaning against the wall where pictures of his daughter, of his friends and family hung and felt, in no small amount, like that car had hit him too.

She was damaged and jagged. It was true. No one who lived a life like the one she had could have escaped it without a healthy bit of baggage.

That she was so bold and blunt and brutally honest, even with herself, didn’t make her weak. It made her strong. He wished he knew how to make her see it. But he desperately didn’t want to fuck it up. Didn’t want to make her regret sharing.

She seemed confused—befuddled even—that he hadn’t rejected her. That he wanted to take care of her and hadn’t walked away. The helpless rage of it battered his heart.

Because he loved her.

God help him, he loved her so fucking much it hurt to breathe as he thought about her just on the other side of the door. Holding it together because that’s all she had.

He sucked in a breath and stood taller. He’d be what she never had. He’d love her with the same surety he did everything else. There was nothing but that to be done. He knew he had to be careful not to feel sorry for her, though goddamn, he did in so many ways. But she didn’t want or need pity. His pity would only drive her away, or worse, make her think the reason he wanted her was to fix her.

He tapped on the door. “Ready for wine?” He didn’t go in, though he wanted to. There would be time, later, to dominate her and help her let go of the control she clung to so hard right then. But she needed it for the next little while.

“Sure.”

Her voice was small, but a little better than it had been earlier. He’d take that as a win.

She was in his bathtub, her hair wet, slicked back from her face, leaving her young and vulnerable. “You’re beautiful even without makeup.” He shook his head as he brought the wine to her. “Enjoy it. I’ll be back in a while to see if you want another glass. Just call out if you need me. For anything. I’ll be in my room.”

She let out a shaky sigh as she sipped. “Do you have music?”

“I do. What would you like to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

He bent to kiss the top of her head. “All right.”

“And then . . . you can come back. If you want.”

He tried to remain nonchalant but inside he was celebrating the bit of ground she’d just given up to him.

“Give me a few. I’ll be back.” Always.

She sipped a rather fine glass of red and sighed when Beth Orton began to fill the air.

He wasn’t irresistible enough? He had to like Beth Orton too? How much was a girl supposed to take anyway?

He gave her space. She needed it and he’d known that. For a man like him—so infuriatingly pushy and bossy—to have backed off and let her process had been important.

He came in a few minutes later with a bottle and another glass.

“This okay?”

“I love Beth Orton. Also, this is a very good wine. I should probably get out. The water will be getting cold.” But she made no move to do so.

“I have a pretty big water heater tank. Want me to freshen the water with hot?”

She cracked open an eye. He stood here, his hair tousled, wearing a T-shirt and low-slung sleep pants. He was a thousand kinds of hot. Protective. Dominant.

“You scare me sometimes,” he muttered, though he smiled and ruined the effect. Or rather, made it a million times hotter.

“What have I done to be scary? I mean right now.”

“You look at me and I know you’re thinking stuff. Sometimes it’s stuff that makes me really lucky. Other times I worry for my safety.”

“Keeps you on your toes.” She stood and felt better at the way he took her in. It wasn’t the gaze of a man who felt pity, or that she was damaged goods. His eyes were hungry, lit with appreciation and desire.

He put the wine down and wrapped her in the towel when she stepped out.

“Let me.”

She struggled, taking the towel and stepping back. She’d only just managed to get her control into place. The lure of letting him take over was a lot to get past. But she needed to or she’d fall apart.

“I need to do it myself.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned against the counter, sipping his wine as she dried off. He handed her the lotion and she slathered it on, filling the room with the scent of coconut.

The rhythm of it soothed her, the scent, the warmth of the room and the slight buzz from the wine. And him. She should not get used to him, get used to drawing comfort from him, but it was past that.

“I forgot a brush.” She squeezed the water from her hair with the towel.

He opened a drawer and moved things around before holding one up. “Will this do?”

She nodded.

“Can I?”

She nodded, turning to face the mirror. He moved up behind her and began to slowly brush her hair. She closed her eyes and held on to the counter in front of her to keep from melting into a puddle.

“How about you get dressed and then we can go into the guest room and you can settle on the bed while I finish brushing? It’s been a long day and you’ll be more comfortable. Plus, you’re all glisteny and you smell good and you’re naked. A guy can only take so much.” He smiled at her reflection and she leaned back against him before nodding.

She pulled panties and her pajamas on and then socks. He smiled at her the whole time. “What?”

“What’s not to smile at? There’s a sleepy, gorgeous woman in my house. Also, it’s sort of cute how you wear socks.”

“There is nothing cute about me. Anyway, my feet get cold. It’s fall.” She frowned, but it didn’t last long as he settled on the bed and she joined him. He was so gentle with her she sort of melted into him, totally relaxed.

After what felt like a very long time, he leaned down and kissed her. “Go to sleep. I’ll take you to breakfast tomorrow if you like. Wake me when you’re ready.”

He went out, locking the door before he closed it, and she realized she was in way too deep with Jonah.

She pulled the blankets up and snuggled down. The room smelled like him, which calmed her jangled nerves.

She figured dreams would keep her awake, or nervousness would mess with her sleep, but it didn’t happen. She was asleep before she’d been able to obsess over it too much.

14

He woke up early, as he usually did, even on weekends. Decades of being up for 8 a.m. meetings had pretty much ruined his ability to really sleep late.

But she was there too. That’s what woke him. She stood in his doorway, hugging the doorjamb, looking hesitant.

He pulled his blankets back and she came to him. “Best wake-up I’ve had in ages,” he said as he snuggled her up against his body.

“Yeah?” She climbed atop, grinding her cunt against him.

“Well, I do like to say there’s
always
room for improvement. You’ve got a good start.” She was glorious in the morning. Her hair tousled and soft around her face. No makeup. She was warm and soft and goddamn, he wanted more.

The shadows from the night before were gone. He knew those memories took up a permanent place inside her, but he was glad she looked better.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Bed is very comfortable. It’s quiet. You have a great house. Thank you for . . . you know, everything.”

He cupped her neck. “Anytime.”

“Yeah?”

He tried to focus on the words, but hello, nearly naked woman grinding herself against his cock. “Careful there, missy, you’re playing with fire.”

She pulled her shirt up and over her head. “I am? Gosh, I sure wouldn’t want that.”

He rolled and she landed on his bed on her back. One quick movement and her pants and underwear were gone and she was gloriously naked on his sheets. Where she should be.

“Now then. Are you being deliberately provocative?” He tugged a nipple between his teeth and she moaned.

“What gave me away?”

He laughed, really liking this side of her.

“Don’t move.” He got out of bed and she watched him, a smile on her lips.

He went to his drawer, the one he’d begun to think of as Raven’s drawer. He kept his toys in it. Things he’d bought with her in mind. The chain he’d bought for her was there and he thought of a good use for it. Just not right then.

He saw what he was looking for and pulled it out, turning.

Her gaze went to the collar in his hand, one of those imperious brows of hers rising.

“Kneeling please.”

She did it immediately and he liked that more than he could put into words. Her hands went behind her back.

After he’d gotten her in bed the night before he’d stayed up very late thinking about the entire situation. Whether or not it was a good idea to continue with the D/s nature of their relationship. The last thing he wanted to do was harm her. Or push any of her buttons related to what he knew was a pretty fucked-up childhood.

But then he’d realized that if he had pushed buttons that way she would have told him. Probably not directly, but Raven Smith did not do things she didn’t want to do. And she got off on their relationship just as much as he did. It wasn’t therapy. It wasn’t a balm to her wounds. She liked it when he dominated her and he liked to do it. All the other stuff wasn’t a part of it. And if it ever became part of it, she’d call a halt to it.

“You see, I was thinking about you. As I often do. And I realized how much it would please me if you wore a collar. My collar. But you’re not a leather-collar type of woman. I wanted something that would be unique. Like you are. He held up the platinum choker.

“You want to collar me? Like a slave?”

He laughed. “No. I don’t want a slave, and if I did, you and I wouldn’t be together. I want you to be reminded of me; of the way you’re mine. All day. Every day. I don’t need the whole world to know it. Just you and me.”

Her eyes glittered. Not with anger. Not with fear.

“I’m not one to make a commitment.”

“Because none of the people before were right for you. I am. You know it or you’d have stormed out of here two minutes ago when I first held up the choker. You like it. When you get these fool ideas about how flighty you are, or how you don’t do monogamy, you can think about what you’re wearing around your neck and know you’re lying to yourself. You’re mine, Raven. Try to deny that. I dare you.”

She sucked in a breath, her mouth opening to speak. He waited.

“No one owns me,” she said at long last.

“No one but you. I said, I don’t want to own you. When I say you’re mine, you know exactly what I mean. And you’re scared. Scared I’ll fuck you over, or run away or whatever. I’m telling you right now that you’re here with me. Like I want. Like I’ve wanted since the first conversation we ever had. I get what I want and I want you. Not to own. Not to harm. But to cherish.”

He held the choker closer to her and she examined it. But her hands were still clasped at her back.

“And if I wear it, what does that mean?”

“I told you what it means to me. What would it mean to you? Hm? That’s not something I want or even am prepared to tell you. You own your own feelings, your own reactions. When I put it on and you’re wearing a declaration of your connection and commitment to me, what would it mean to you?”

She took a slightly shaky breath.

“I don’t know.”

He smiled at her. She was scared and he didn’t blame her. “Yes, you do.”

He stroked a hand down her neck with the backs of his fingers. “Cosseted? Hm? Protected? Safe in the knowledge there’s someone out there who adores you, flaws and all? Confined, but in the best way? All these others who tolerated your refusal to commit, they were one thing. I’m another. We’re another and you know it. Will you wear it?”

She swallowed hard and then nodded.

He slid it on and it felt totally right as he secured the two clasps to hold it. It glittered against her skin, fitting perfectly. It was a lovely piece of jewelry. Something she could wear and no one would think twice over. But she’d know. And he would too.

“Beautiful.”

Her gaze dropped and he tipped her chin up. “Mmmm. Can’t deny it, gorgeous. Beautiful. And mine. Like I’m yours, and that’s good too. Makes me hard.”

“Would you like me to do something about that?”

She knew that he found her attractive, yes, but there was this way she had, she got right to him. It wasn’t coy, it wasn’t practiced, and though she certainly wasn’t innocent, the way she got to him was.

He shoved his pants down and off, kicking them to the side. “Now you can. Suck my cock.”

She gave him one last look. “Can I move my hands? This angle will make it hard to keep from falling off the bed.”

“Yes.”

She bent forward, kissing his belly and over to his hip bone before doing the same on the other side. He watched her back, the shock of how alluring she was ricocheting through him.

With one hand braced on the bed, she grabbed his cock at the root with the other and held him out so she could take him into her mouth. First she sucked slow, keeping him really wet. She licked around the crown, sucking hard and then soft, enough to bring a grunt and a flex of his hips, demanding more.

She slid her fist down, holding the skin taut as she followed, taking him deep. She stretched her fingers out to stroke his balls. Up and down. Over and over. It was so good he let it go longer than he should have. He was right up against climax when he put a restraining hand on her shoulder and stepped back.

He struggled for breath as he looked down at her.

She licked her lips and he grinned. “Goddamn. I’m going to fuck you.”

The choker was cool against the skin of her neck. It was wide enough that she knew it was there. It wasn’t a piece of jewelry she’d forget about, which she guessed was the point after all. It made her feel . . . it anchored her, the solid weight of it, the way it seemed to caress her throat the way he held her throat in his palm at times.

It made her pussy slick, hardened her nipples and her clit. She wanted him to fuck her so badly it had taken all her control not to beg him, to keep sucking his cock the way she knew he liked. Knowing he’d take care of her.

It was a big step and one that had scared her spitless. Trusting anyone else to put her needs first and foremost wasn’t something she did often. The number of people she trusted like that, she could count on one hand.

But this man, this reason she broke her rules, well, there seemed to be nothing else she could do. She was still scared enough to shake a little. But she was so sick of being scared and alone.

“I want you facedown on the bed. One leg bent, knee up. I want you open.”

She did it quickly. Placing her hands high, like she knew he’d tell her to.

He hummed his satisfaction and she knew she’d made the right choice.

One cuff slid over her hand and to her wrist where he tightened it. He hooked it to the strap on his bed. A few ticks later and she was stretched. Not painfully so, but certainly very aware she was giving over to him.

The other wrist, same movements, and she had to close her eyes against it. Nothing in her life had ever felt like this. She wasn’t even sure what
this
was. Only that it kept her from floating. His hands on her, his attention and focus made her feel beautiful and desired. Not as a thing. Not as some white-trash whore as she’d been regarded for many years. But as this man’s woman.

A shiver ran through her as he ran covetous hands from her fingertips, down her arms and back. He stopped at her hips and held on, his fingers digging in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. It drives me out of my mind to see you this way in my bed.”

She heard the condom wrapper tear and knew he’d be in her soon. Even so, she couldn’t help but arch as much as she could to take him deeper when he finally nudged her open with the head of his cock.

He swore under his breath and she loved it. His fingers tightened on her hips and she loved it. She did it again, taking him deep, and he let go, slapping one ass cheek so hard she could picture the red mark he would have left. It burned against the coolness of the room, burned against his skin when he adjusted, fucking her in earnest now.

His weight pressed her into the bed, limited her range of movement. And she loved that too.

“More,” she managed to gasp out.

He let go of her hip and she waited for the slap on her ass. But he slid a hand between her body and the bed and found her clit. He managed to squeeze her clit with the tips of his fingers as he continued to fuck her deep.

“You can’t come until I say so.”

She wanted to argue. It was ridiculous after all to order such a thing. She’d come when she wanted to, damn it. It wasn’t as if she was a yogi with that sort of mind/body control.

But she knew it would be a lie. Knew she’d do her damndest to make it happen however he wanted it to.

He kept thrusting and she sort of floated awhile, the pleasure flooding her system, lulling her even as it excited. She wanted to come. Wanted him to come. Wanted to please him.

She squeezed her inner muscles over and over and he hummed. “Well now, that’s quite lovely.” And then he growled as she kept it up. His fingers on her clit sped up a little, squeezed just a little harder. “I’m ready. Come around my cock.”

Like he hit a switch, orgasm burst through her with alarming speed. Brilliant. Sharp shards of pleasure seemed to slice through her as she heard him say her name, knew he was coming too.

It went on and on for some time until he pressed a kiss to her shoulder and pulled out gently. The bed moved as he got up, but she was content to keep lying there, her arms up above her head, wrists bound. On display.

All the noise quieted when he touched her. What all it meant she didn’t really know, only that it made things better.