Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (23 page)

Hank continued to watch her. He used that hard grip to pull her forward, to bring her lips to his, to take her kiss whether she wanted to give it or not. As if she’d ever want anything else.

She opened to him immediately. Hank pushed his tongue inside, a sensual slide that had her moaning into his mouth. Their bodies didn’t touch, only his grip and their kiss connecting them, but it was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. And when his hand moved from her chin to the back of her neck and gripped her nape equally as hard, her knees wobbled. Two handfuls of his soft T-shirt kept her on her feet.

Hank released her, but he didn’t go far. “So…hickeys are okay then?”

Her smile might be shaky, but it was there. “I call them love bites.”

He already knew she liked his teeth on her skin; she’d made that plain last night. She liked his fingers stroking the evidence left behind too. Tilting her head gave him even more room to wander.

“What about other marks?” he asked, the words as cautious as his touch.

She considered that for a moment. “I don’t like deliberate bruising,” she said. That’s what Hank probably thought of when she said she liked marks. “Some things will leave behind a bruise just because I’m fair-skinned, and…I like that. Just as a bruise can remind you of the pain of a fall, it can remind me of the pleasure that put it there. Finger marks, love bites, redness from a flogging or spanking or wax.”

His laugh held more than a touch of strain. “I’m stuck back on spanking. Let’s leave wax play for when I’m a bit more experienced.”

Meaning he wanted to gain the experience it took to keep her safe, to please her and himself. She rose on tiptoe to kiss him this time.

Hank being Hank, he took over immediately. The rough grind of his mouth on hers, his stubble on her skin, his teeth and tongue and…

The timer on the oven beeped, warning her that the cakes were ready. Hank drew back with seeming reluctance. When she didn’t move, just stood there in a daze staring up at him with half-closed eyes, his mouth twisted ever so slightly. A light smack on her rear brought her out of the haze.

Oh yes. More.
“Hey!”

The teasing erased the hint of concern in Hank’s eyes, filled them with laughter. He rubbed the spot on her ass in a way that made her want to climb him like a tree. “You better get that before whatever’s in the oven burns. I don’t want to miss a treat because you were distracted,” he told her, voice low and still growly.

“Do that again and I’ll go,” she dared him.

She did manage to salvage the cakes, but it was a close call.

Sage took her cell phone outside. Seated on the steps, she dialed Deirdre’s number and waited for it to ring, enjoying a cooling breeze in the meantime. It had been a long week for all of them. She and Merry were training two new employees, Jill and Faith, to handle the cash register and taking orders and deal with inventory for the front of the market, so that Sage could be free to focus on the kitchen with Merry. They would still interact with customers—she didn’t want to lose that connection—but the two of them couldn’t handle it all, not and avoid getting burned out and overwhelmed. Jill and Faith had been a godsend in that respect. Training new employees when she was new herself, though, was a challenge.

And then there was Hank. She’d been dragging home late each night. He’d been feeding her and cleaning up and taking care of everything so she didn’t have to. She appreciated it, but this wasn’t how she’d wanted to spend their first week as lovers. He made her feel special, cared for. She wanted to make him feel the same. They’d had sex, but they hadn’t had the time to savor each other that she would’ve liked.

Soon. Things will settle soon.

After another ring, Deirdre came through the line. “Hey, girlfriend. How’re you doing?”

Deirdre was one of those people that, no matter how bad things were, just the sound of her voice could make you smile. It was what had drawn them together in college, Deirdre’s natural friendliness and Sage’s shyness, and over time they’d become inseparable. Deirdre had a husband and family now, but they still kept in regular contact. “I’m missing your mother, but you already know that, right?”

Deirdre laughed. “Of course you are. You’re just like the rest of us, latching on to her coattails and wailing for any small bit of attention you can get. It happens to everyone.”

It did indeed. “Think she’d deign to talk with me?”

“Of course.” The phone rattled as if her friend was moving it from one ear to the other. “Let me go find her. Dad had a doctor’s appointment this morning, so he’s asleep—they wear him out. She’s probably resting on the couch.”

“If she’s resting, don’t bother her.” Alice probably needed all the rest she could get right now.

“Oh hush.” The sound of footsteps echoing came through the line. “She’d want to talk to you; you know that.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Her or me?” Deirdre asked.

Sage laughed. “Both.”

“I’ll remember that. Here’s Mom.”

Another rattle—the phone being handed over. “Sage!”

The welcome in Alice’s voice brought tears to Sage’s eyes.
I’m just tired; that’s all.
She couldn’t even fool herself into believing that, though, so it was a good thing she was alone out here. “Hey. I was missing you.”

“I’m missing you too. How’s Hank? Got that boy into bed yet?”

Sage choked. “What?”

“Come on.” Alice chuckled. “I told him he better take care of you. He knew what I meant, but if he hasn’t made a move yet, you better tackle the big lug.”

Sage rubbed a hand over her face despite there being no one around to see her embarrassment. “Alice…good grief.”

A knowing silence filled the line, then, “So he did make a move. Am I right?”

“Of course you’re right!” A sputtered laugh escaped. “You’re right. He’s…uh…taking very good care of me.”

“Good. I knew he was capable,” Alice gloated. “And the way he was looking at you when you left Saturday night, I had a feeling he wouldn’t wait long.”

Not long at all. Like minutes. But she hadn’t called to talk about her sex life. “So how are you settling in?”

“Oh, you know Deirdre,” Alice said, the words somber. “She always has everything under control. We’ve…” A heavy sigh. “We were advised this morning to call in hospice.”

God. Sage’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

The words were no more than a rough whisper, but Alice heard them. “I know, dear. But it’s okay. Barry— Well, he’s ready. And I’m ready for him not to suffer anymore. We’ve had a lot of good years, you know.” A sniffle came through the line. “I think he was just waiting for me to be here.”

Sage thought about her mother, how those last few horrible weeks had sucked every last bit of will to live from her. It had been the most exhausting, terrible, unimaginable time of Sage’s life, watching her mother drift away. The only thing that had kept her going was the knowledge that Claire Lyndsey had finally been at peace, with her husband alongside her, after far too many years apart.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“I need to know that you and Merry are okay and the market’s doing fine. Nothing else,” Alice assured her. “There’ll be time for you both to help me later. Deirdre has everything under control here. I couldn’t want for anything if I tried.”

“She’s a good daughter.”

“So are you, Sage.” The words wrapped around her, a hug Alice couldn’t physically offer right now. “You loved your mother, and you were good to her; Deirdre told me. You’re like a second daughter to me, and I want you to know that. You might not be able to be right here with us, but you’re taking care of me and mine all the same.”

Sage couldn’t speak. Every word that came to mind tangled on her tongue, refusing to come out. All that escaped was a ragged sob.

“Hey now.” The crooning tone of Alice’s voice, so like her mother’s, soothed her in ways nothing else could. “No crying. You tell me what’s going on down there. How are the new girls working out?”

They spent long minutes talking about the training, the regular customers that had come in that week, the tweaks Sage needed to make to her raisin-rum bread to get it just right. When Alice told her she needed to go, a strange desperation rose, as if cutting off the call would cut the only line she had to Alice. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Alice seemed to understand what she couldn’t put into words. “I’m right here; you know that, right? Anything you need, you call.”

“I will.”

“And in the meantime, go give Hank and that terror of a dog big hugs from me. Can you do that?”

“You’re just trying to distract me.” The tiniest bit of light pierced the dark blanketing her.

Alice’s laugh brightened things even more. “Of course I am.”

“Alice…”

Her friend stepped into the silence. “I love you too, dear. Now go let your man hug you.”

“I will.”

When the call had ended, Sage sat for a long time, phone gripped in her hand, staring at the blank screen. Alice wasn’t the one dying; she had to remember that. She wasn’t losing her friend, but she had intimate knowledge of what Alice and Deirdre and Barry were going through, the hard road they were walking, and it hurt not to be able to make it better.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Merry’s gray head poked out. “You okay?”

She stared into Merry’s sweet gray eyes. She couldn’t change things for Alice’s family, but she had a legacy here that had to be nurtured, loved. People who needed her. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m okay.” She stood up. A quick dust of her backside and she moved away from the steps. “I’ve got raisin-rum bread to make.”

Merry patted Sage’s back gently as she passed the older woman.

By the time she got up to the apartment a couple of hours later, Knight was frolicking around the back field, chasing “prey” in the late-afternoon sunlight, and Hank was ensconced on the deck.

“Hey, you.” She crossed the deck toward him.

“Hey, baby.” Hank lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head, giving her a striking look at his hazel eyes. The intense focus he projected, the way he stared as if he was pushing all her layers to the side to get to the heart of her, every last secret, sent a shiver down her spine.

“What?” he asked. One hand reached for her; the other patted his lap. Sage let him settle her on his hard thighs. When his arms wrapped around her, it was like being wrapped in armor—completely protected, completely safe. Nothing could get to her here. And when he tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder? She wished she could purr but settled for a sigh as every muscle relaxed against him.

“I talked to Alice today,” she said.

Hank rubbed his stumbled chin along the top of her head. “How’s she doing?”

“It’s rough.” An understatement, but Hank talked to Alice every other day, so he knew exactly how rough things were. “They’re calling in hospice.”

She felt his nod, the gust of his sigh in her hair. “I know.”

They sat like that for a long time, absorbing each other’s strength. His arms helped ground her, but still the emotions of the afternoon churned beneath the surface. She needed to escape them, if only for a little while, escape the memories of her mother that her talk with Alice had brought back. They would never go away, but she needed to focus on something besides grief right now.

“Hank…” No, she couldn’t ask. This was all too new; she wouldn’t pressure him into anything.

Hank shifted beneath her, drawing her closer. “Tell me, baby.”

She peeked up at him from beneath her bangs. “You’re getting that command thing down fast,” she teased. Luckily, unlike more rigid Doms, Hank didn’t take offense. He did retaliate, though—one hand slid beneath her butt, his fingers gripping the flesh just below and giving her a squeeze. She jumped, laughed, then squirmed when he did it again.

The tense moment broke beneath his “punishment.” The relief gave Sage the courage to explain. “I want to ask for something, but…I’m nervous.”

“Why?” Hank’s wide palm began a mesmerizing stroke along the length of her thigh. “I want you to tell me what you want, what you need. How can I know otherwise?”

“You can’t. It’s just”—she shoved a hand through her hair, tangling in the long strands—“this is hard.”

Hank gently separated the knots in her hair until her fingers came free. Then he leaned close, closer, until his eyes took over her world. He kissed her, sweet and hot, wiping away everything but him.

“Talk.”

Head nestled once more in the hollow of Hank’s shoulder, barriers down, she found that she could. “When things started going downhill with Kevin…”

“I’m not Kevin,” he said, his hand stilling on her thigh.

“I know. Believe me, I know that very well.” Being with Hank was nothing like being with Kevin, and she didn’t think Hank’s inexperience with D/s was the only reason for that. “But our past shapes us, and…with Kevin, I tried telling him what I needed.”

“What was his response?”

At first? Understanding. Trying to fix things. But the more the situation disintegrated, the longer he’d worked and the less he’d listened. And the more she’d withdrawn.