MasterofVelvet (4 page)

Beth! But she must have left twenty minutes ago—what was she
doing back here? He was about to go to her then realized she was on the phone.
She put the receiver down and promptly burst into tears—not great, dramatic
floods but heartbreakingly stifled, half-swallowed sobs that spoke volumes
about loneliness and despair.

Something ugly twisted in his gut. “Beth, what’s happened?”
He moved swiftly to confront her, his state of semi-undress forgotten.

She looked at him and he was struck immediately by her
valiant attempt to regain her composure. “Nothing. I—” Her lovely mouth
trembled for a moment. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here. My bag was
snatched and I fell. My shoes—” She looked down at the scuffed shoes sitting
untidily to one side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.”

It was then that he saw the torn nylons and the grazes to
her knees—the heels of her hands were probably skinned too. “Let me see,” he
commanded gently, hating seeing his so-capable assistant looking so bewildered
and so vulnerable.

When he took her hands in his, Beth felt her distress start
to melt away. His hands dwarfed hers but his touch was so very gentle. He
examined the light grazes that were stinging now rather than just smarting and
told her to wait. A few minutes later he returned, this time carrying a small
bowl of hot water, a bottle of antiseptic and some supplies from the first-aid
box. She tried very hard not to stare at the muscular chest only partially
concealed by the unbuttoned shirt.

“We have to get you cleaned up. It’ll be easier if you take
those off.“ He nodded in the direction of her nylon-clad legs.

Momentarily forgetting the damage to her ankle, Beth went to
stand up, only to gasp again at the sharp pain that shot through the joint. She
sat down again, waiting for the pain to subside.

Her employer was frowning at her. “What is it?”

“My ankle.” She pointed to the offending limb. “I fell when
he snatched my bag. I think it might be sprained.” Her teeth bit into her lower
lip.

“Here.” He stood in front of her, holding out his hands,
palms up. “Let me help you up and then put your hands on my shoulders.”

There was something about his voice that quelled the protest
she was about to make about managing on her own. Instead she put her hands into
his and allowed him to help her. He guided her hands up to his broad shoulders
so that she could steady herself while standing on her good leg.

“Tights or stockings?” His gaze held hers as he asked the
question. Surely the rising tide of intimacy was just a figment of her
imagination?

“Tights.” Her voice was little more than an embarrassed
whisper.

She gasped as he lifted her skirt without so much as a
by-your-leave. With deft movements, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of
her tights and gently pulled them down over her hips. Was it her imagination or
did his hands linger a little longer than necessary over the curves? And was he
taking just a little too much time in drawing them down her thighs, taking even
greater care when he reached her damaged knees? She looked down at the man
crouched in front her and all of a sudden it was getting so hard to breathe
normally. Especially when those hot, masculine hands smoothed her skirt back
into place.

“Sit.”

She obeyed instantly and then one leg at a time, still with
the utmost care, he removed the tights completely. The crouch became a kneel
and she could hardly hear him telling her that “this” was going to sting a bit
for the pounding of her own heartbeat.

It was the sting that broke her trance-like state and
enabled her to breathe again. Her sharp intake of breath caught his attention
immediately. He stopped bathing her knees to ask her if she was all right.

Although she nodded, Beth was biting her lower lip. Adam
suspected that she was hurting more than she was prepared to admit. The grazes
were minor but she could barely put any weight on her right foot and then there
was the possibility of shock to consider. There was no way he was letting her
out of his sight tonight.

“At least he didn’t get the office keys,” she murmured, her
hand closing on the bunch of keys she’d left on her desk.

Adam made an impatient noise. “Sod the bloody office keys!
What about your own keys? And your credit and debit cards? What else did you
have in your bag?”

No cards—she’d left her purse at home by accident this
morning and her keys were still in her coat pocket. “My mobile phone.”

After the theft was reported to the phone company, Adam
continued with his questioning. “Was there anything with your address on it?”

When she told him that there was, it sealed the deal for
Adam. She was going home with him whether she liked it or not. Furthermore, he
was going to get Dan Chesterfield to check her place and make sure that
everything was all right.

Beth couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Her
employer was on the phone, arranging with his friend for a check to be made on
her home. Something niggled at her for a moment, then she realized what it was—Adam
hadn’t asked for her address but he’d given it to Dan all the same.

With the mugging already reported to the police, all of a
sudden Beth was overcome by a yearning to go home.

“Not just yet, love,” Adam said absently, concentrating on
cleansing her hands. “I need to get you cleaned up and comfortable, then I need
to get changed. And after that you’re coming home with me.”

No! She couldn’t possibly do that. “Mr. Granger, please.”
Beth tried to regain her composure and some sense of control. “I’m perfectly capable
of taking care of myself—“

“Normally, of that I would have no doubt, Miss Harrison,” he
agreed, with additional emphasis on her name. “However, would you care to
explain why you’re shaking like the proverbial leaf?” He took her hand in a
firm but gentle grasp, carefully avoiding the grazed area.

All of a sudden, Beth was close to tears again. Her knees
were hurting, so were her hands, her ankle was giving her hell and she just
wanted warmth, comfort and familiarity.

Her employer’s chest wasn’t helping, either. She knew he
worked out and it showed in the hard, sculpted muscles that moved so enticingly
as he worked on her injuries. Then she remembered something he’d said earlier
in the day.

“You were going out this evening,” she recalled quietly.
“I’m sorry. Look, I can get myself home—”

“And then what?” His voice was neutral. “You can’t walk. You
need someone to take care of you.”

He stood up. “Stay here. I won’t be long.” With that he
disappeared back into his office.

Beth sighed. She wasn’t used to being taken care of like
this. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek and she swiped it away with the
back of her hand. Now she was just feeling sorry for herself. She had her bus
pass, it was in the same pocket as her keys and she was sure she could get to the
bus stop.

She slipped her feet back into her shoes, wincing when it
came to the right one, then stood up somewhat gingerly, taking her weight on
her left foot.

Her brief cry of pain and collapse back onto her chair were
timed beautifully for Adam emerging from his office. He was pulling on his suit
jacket. The shirt was buttoned now, although he had left it undone at the
collar and his tie was looped loosely around his neck.

“What the hell…? Beth, for once in your life, will you stop
being so bloody stubborn and independent and let me take care of you? You’re
staying with me tonight and that’s final! And stop bloody apologizing!”

The words died on her lips. How had he known what she was
about to do?

“Take these.” He held out his keys—office, car and she presumed,
the keys to his apartment. “I need you to lock up—I’ll have my hands full.” And
with that he slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her back.
Automatically, her arms went around his neck.

With her face inches from his, Beth almost stopped
breathing. Her senses were overwhelmed by the feel of his arms around her,
holding her effortlessly to his chest, the clean, masculine scent of him. And
then all the visuals—dark eyes framed by thick, black lashes that women would
kill for, clear skin stretched taut over cheekbones that would challenge the
skill of a master sculptor and the rugged hint of five o’clock shadow clinging
to the firm lines of his jaw.

And his mouth. What she would give to be the woman entitled
place a gentle kiss to those lips…

The office secured for the weekend, they rode in the lift
down to the basement car park. Beth expected Adam to let her down while they
were in the lift but she remained securely in his arms. Neither of them spoke,
but to Beth it felt like there was a whole subtext going on. It had to be her
imagination working overtime, painting Adam into the role of the Dom in her
manuscript again.

At this time on a Friday night it wasn’t surprising to see
only a handful of cars there. Adam installed her in the passenger seat of his
black Aston Martin and moments later the car’s powerful engine roared into
life, taking them out of the subterranean cavern and into the bright lights of
London.

There was something surreal about travelling through the
bright lights of the city, in a breathtaking car driven by an equally breathtaking
man, so it was hardly surprising that Beth’s mind was a million miles away in a
secret place that was warm, dark and intimate—and she’d taken that man with
her.

In the darkness her imagination was in danger of running
wild. No one could see the way she moistened her suddenly dry lips or the way
her expression changed with what was going on in her mind.

The journey didn’t last long. An expert driver, Adam guided
the expensive car through the traffic with cool confidence, heading for an
equally expensive part of town. She stole the occasional glance at his hands on
the steering wheel and the gear stick, picturing those hands on her own body,
his touch arousing her and giving her pleasure such as she’d never experienced.
The effort to drag herself back to reality required a huge intake of breath
that finally broke the silence.

“Are you all right, Beth?”

Not trusting herself to speak coherently, she nodded, then realized
he probably wouldn’t be able to register such a response in the darkness. She
had to speak. “Fine, thanks.” How did she manage to sound so relatively normal?

“How’s your ankle?”

She flexed the offending joint, wincing as pain shot up her
leg. “Still sore.” At least speech was getting easier.

“It will be. When you’ve had a shower I’ll get an ice pack
on it and strap it up for you.”

Shower? Who said she was having a shower? Obviously his
perception of her visit to his apartment was at odds with her own. But Lord,
she thought as she flexed her stiffening shoulders, she could really do with a
shower—when the bag thief had sent her flying, parts of her body had moved in
ways they weren’t supposed to.

She got to his apartment the same way she’d got from the
office to his car—in his arms. And whatever she’d imagined that apartment to be
like, it was nothing like the masculine statement of the reality—a wide-open
space decorated in black, brown and cream with the odd, rich dark-red accent,
all in an ultra-modern style.

The main living area was split-level. The central sunken
area provided a focal point, with comfortable seating arranged around a large,
chunky coffee table that could almost have been a piece of modern art. The
raised outer area was almost like a wide walkway round the perimeter from where
other rooms could be accessed. Almost diagonally opposite the main entrance
there was an open-plan kitchen and dining area—again ultra-modern.

Adam carried her down to one of the huge comfortable-looking
sofas and gently lowered her to it. Her eyes quickly took in other features—the
modern flame-effect fire on the wall, the bookcases, the impressive-looking
sound system, all very masculine. There were only two other doors, one of which
had to lead to Adam’s bedroom.

The man himself looked down at her, his expression
unreadable. “Right. First things first. I’ll show you round later, not that
there’s much to see. Can you tolerate aspirin? Good, stay there and I’ll bring
you some.”

She watched him covertly as he moved around the kitchen.
He’d divested himself of his jacket and tie and in the fitted white shirt she
could appreciate the play of his powerful muscles. She shivered slightly,
remembering how it had felt to be in his arms, cradled carefully against that
broad chest. When he turned to bring her the medication and a glass of water,
she saw that he was also carrying a plate of crackers and cheese.

“You need to eat,” he said, his expression unyielding. “You
can’t take aspirin on an empty stomach and since we haven’t had dinner yet, you
have to have something.”

Beth waited for him to leave the plate on the coffee table
so she could help herself. The last thing she expected was for him to sit
beside her and actually feed her the snack. Was he really sitting there, large
as life, presenting the cracker and Brie as if he were feeding a child?
Wide-eyed, she looked at him and in return received a raised eyebrow and a
stern look.

“Eat.”

Her eyes never left his as she took a bite, chewed and
swallowed. If she’d thought that that would satisfy him, she’d was sadly
mistaken. He let her take a sip of water, then watched as she took a second
bite. When she went to take the cracker from him, the look in his eyes was
enough to stay her hand. The process continued until both crackers were
finished. He then dropped the aspirin into her hand.

“And make sure you have all the water. Good girl.” He took
the glass from her when she’d finished it. “I think we could do with a drink.
Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee. Thank you.” Again, she was unable to meet his gaze.
Why did the image of a sub thanking her Dom for attending to her needs come so
easily to mind?

She watched him again while he made the coffee. He really
was irresistible as a spectator sport. At one point, his mobile phone rang and he
took the call in the kitchen area. She couldn’t hear his side of the
conversation but something made her think it was to do with her predicament—a
feeling that Adam confirmed when he returned, bearing a tray laden with elegant
white mugs, sugar, cream and a large coffeepot.

“That was Dan. He’s checked your place out himself and
everything looks okay at the moment but he’s going to have someone keep an eye
on things for you over the weekend.”

Beth’s eyes widened. Suddenly a thought occurred to her—how
could Dan Chesterfield have checked her home when she still had her keys?

“Beth, my sweetheart, he’s an expert in his field—you’ll
never even know he was there.”

Stunned, she stammered out her thanks—but she was taken
aback by the watch being put on her humble flat.

“Dan said it’s the least he can do for all the fantastic
cups of coffee you’ve made for him over the last few years, quote, unquote,”
Adam cut in. “Beth? Are you all right?”

No, no, she wasn’t. All of a sudden the way Adam was taking
care of her, the way his friend was making sure everything was all right—it all
combined to make her hands tremble and her eyes fill with tears again.

Adam’s arms pulled her into the shelter of his body, his
hand on her hair freeing it from the barrette she wore to keep it tidy for the
office so that he could thread his fingers through the tumbling waves.

“Shhh, love, it’s all right.” His rich, low voice comforted
her in a way that made things worse as well as better. “You’re safe, I’ll
protect you. I’ll always protect you.”

That voice was her undoing. Suddenly all she could do was
howl noisy tears when all she wanted was some stability and for the feeling
that her world was being pulled out from under her feet to stop.

Not to mention the fact that Adam was holding her as if he’d
never let her go.

* * * * *

Sometime later, Adam was contemplating the world through a
generous measure of his favorite whiskey, his thoughts running through the
events of the evening. While Beth had showered without his assistance—it must
have been down to sheer determination on her part—he’d rustled up a simple
pasta dish and while it was in the oven he’d waited for her to reappear.

He’d left his navy terrycloth robe for her to wear and as
soon as he saw her standing at the doorway, he’d fought down the urge to strip
it off her and take her to bed. Instead he’d carried her back to the sofa where
he’d applied an ice pack to her bruised ankle before strapping it up. After
dinner—where he hadn’t pushed his luck by feeding her that as well—he’d given
her an hour or so before ushering her off to bed.

His bed, since it was the only one in the place. He’d had
the spare bedroom converted into an office a long time ago. Visitors to the
apartment were generally female and generally tended to share his bed.

Now clad in jeans and a faded T-shirt, he slouched on one of
the sofas, his bare feet up on the coffee table, sharing his thoughts with the
glass of whiskey and the classical music that softly enveloped him. So much to
think about. The way she’d accepted him feeding her the crackers, the way she’d
looked when he’d checked on her ten minutes ago, a goddess bathed in moonlight.
The vulnerable, hurting woman who’d cried in his arms.

He really did want to protect her—for the rest of his life.

The sound of the entry phone muscled in on his contemplative
mood—that would be Dan, coming round for a drink and a discussion after his
visit to the club, where he’d gone after leaving Beth’s flat.

“How is she?” Dan’s voice was uncharacteristically serious,
devoid of its usual levity.

Adam nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Asleep now.”

The two men went to the bedroom door. Adam pushed it further
open and the sight that met him almost stopped his heart.

He’d given her one of his t-shirts to sleep in but in the
time since he’d last looked in on her, she must have got too warm and removed
it, leaving it lying in a pool at the bottom of the bed. She was now sleeping
on her side, the duvet bunched around her waist and revealing magical curves
cast in shadow and light—enough to turn a man into a creature of primitive
needs and drawing him to worship at the altar of her femininity.

“Christ, Adam, she’s beautiful,” his friend breathed.

Adam gestured for both of them to leave so as not to disturb
her. Once away from the bedroom, he knocked back the last of his Scotch.
“Drink? I need a refill.”

His glass replenished and matched by the one he gave his
friend, Adam sprawled on one of the two sofas arranged round the coffee table.
Dan took up a similar relaxed position on the other.

“I was going to take her to Amsterdam on Monday,” Adam
began, gazing into the distance. “Told her it was a business trip, otherwise
she’d never have agreed to go.”

“And now?”

Adam hoped his shrug looked more casual than he felt.
“Trip’s off, obviously. I’ve cancelled the flights and the hotel for now, at
any rate. She’ll be staying here for the weekend, maybe longer—depends on how
her ankle heals. What the hell are you grinning at, Dan?”

The other man allowed his grin to become a brief chuckle.
“You have got it bad, old man. And on the evidence in there,” he nodded toward
the bedroom, “I can’t say I blame you. There’s something about her and the way
she looks right now. It’s there in spades.”

A sober, thoughtful look settled on Adam’s features. “She
writes, you know.”

“Let me guess—romance?” Almost rolling his eyes, Dan had the
air of a man confident in his prediction.

Adam laid his head back on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the
ceiling. “Not exactly—not the way you mean.” He closed his eyes, remembering
what he’d read and how it had made him feel. “Romance with a D/s twist and from
the way she described the sub she sees herself in that role.”

The other man gave a low whistle. “You say that like it’s a
bad thing. What’s the problem?”

Adam’s short laugh was lacking in humor. “The problem is,
does she want to submit, or does she just want to write about it? That’s the
question. She doesn’t know I’ve read her notes, but if they’re part of a larger
work, I’d sure as hell like to read it.”

“You’re overanalyzing this, Ad.” Dan took an appreciative
sip of the twenty-five-year-old Scotch, unadulterated by ice, water or any
other pollutant, conventional or otherwise. “You’ve seen how she is in the
office—how she’s been for three years. She serves. Were you planning on making
a move on her in Amsterdam?”

“Something like that. I wanted her to start getting used to
the idea that we don’t just have to have a business relationship and that if
she’s a sub, she can explore that safely with me.”

Dan nodded, considering. “She needs looking after—she’s
special. You know as well as I do that while she may be this strong, capable
woman in the office, she’s also kind, considerate, honest to the point of being
her own worst enemy— “

“Will you shut the fuck up? You don’t need to sell her to me.”

“I know. Anyway, when and if you decide to take this further
you know I’ve got your back.”

It was gone midnight by the time Dan left and time for Adam
to make himself comfortable on the couch for the night. Over the years, he’d
slept in far worse places—one in particular, the most putrid, terrifying
shithole imaginable. The question was with Beth there, even a room away, would
the nightmares make their regular visit?

He finished the last of his Scotch, troubled by the thought
of how much alcohol he’d been going through lately. There were several
contributing factors—one was in his bed right now—but she was only a small part
of the full picture. A lot of it was how he spent his nights—the erratic sleep
patterns, the wakefulness. The just not wanting to go to sleep in the first
place.

With the lights dimmed he stretched out on the sofa, taking
long, slow breaths, counting each one in and out, focusing inward. Sometimes it
worked and he managed to get some sleep. Sometimes it didn’t and then he’d pace
the apartment for awhile or just look out over the city. Or there was always
some work to be done—his business stretched around the world.

When sleep came, it didn’t last long—it never did. Cold and
sweating, Adam sat bolt upright in his makeshift bed. The horrific nightmares
that still haunted him had struck again, sending him back to that hellhole of
ten years ago. He focused on his breathing again, taking deep, measured breaths
that gradually began to slow his racing heart rate.

His thoughts went to Beth. Unable to resist the temptation,
he rose and padded silently to the doorway of his bedroom, just to check that
she was all right and he hadn’t woken her up.

She was still fast asleep in his bed, lying on her front
this time, her hair an unruly cloud. The thought of curving his body around
hers was so tempting, Dan was right—submissive or not, she was special.