The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (21 page)

Drake watched me while I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

"You still look good enough to eat, Ms. Bennet. I don’t know if I like you spending the morning alone with a bunch of artist-dudes."

"They have nothing on you, Drake. They're still at that flaky stage of manhood. You  know, not wanting to settle down. Looking to hookup with as many women as they can, sow their wild oats. I'm not interested so you don’t have to be the least bit concerned."

"I know," he said and sighed. "Just want to defend my prized territory."

"You and Sun Tzu…" I said, referencing the author of
The Art of War
. "Or was it Machiavelli?"

"Both. There's a reason they say all's fair in love and war. Both involve conquering and surrender."

"I already surrendered, remember? The agreement?"

He cracked a grin, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the bathroom doorjamb.

"You did. I enjoyed it immensely, even though I'm not so sure you're all that submissive in the end and that's just the way I like you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't want a submissive woman. I want a woman who submits in the bedroom. There's a difference."

I nodded. "I like that." I went to him and put my arms around his waist. "I want to submit to you in the bedroom. Outside of it, I want to be strong. Competent. Capable of looking after myself."

"You are. But let me take care of you as well. Everyone needs someone to fall back on when things get too heavy. Just so you know you have me."

"And you have me."

He kissed me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his body.

He dropped me off at the studio with a promise to come to pick me up when I texted him. I said I'd probably be a couple of hours, no more and maybe we'd do a late lunch.

Inside the studio, Nathaniel was already busy at work on his piece. I went to his side and examined the canvas, which was small, detailed, and vivid, with a crazy array of media all mashed together.

"Hey, sweets," he said and craned his neck to see me. "How's it going? I don't see that man of yours. Did you leave him at home today?"

"He's busy with work."

He nodded. "Jules is in the second studio, so you'll probably hear a lot of hammering. He's doing some kind of metal work today. You have any music in particular you want to listen to?"

I pulled out my iPhone and called up my iPod. I handed it to him and he scanned my playlists.

"This I
like
," he said, pulling up my albums by Sigur Ros, an alternative band from Iceland. He selected their newest, putting it on shuffle.

With the music playing in the background, we spent the next few hours finishing up the frames for the canvases, stretching the canvas over the wood, and then I applied the first coats of gesso on them.

While we were standing at the sink washing up the gesso from brushes and containers, Jules came in from his studio. A cute young senior with hair almost to his waist, pulled back with a bandana around his forehead, he had a perpetual smile on his face. He pulled out a joint and lit it up.

"Time for some herb," he said and winked at me. The music was loud and so I cupped my ear. He held up his joint. While Nathaniel and I finished cleaning the brushes, Jules took a long pull on the joint, holding it in his lungs for a long time. Then, he blew it out. "Ahhh," he said. "The reward for a good morning's work." He held the joint out to me, but I shook my head.

"No thanks," I said, shaking my head. "I don't indulge."

"Come on, sweets," Nathaniel said, raising is voice above the music. "It's some good Indica."

"No, really," I said.  "I stick with demon alcohol."

"Alcohol will rot your brain," Jules said. "Herb is good for you."

I smiled. Beside me, Nathaniel took the joint and had a toke. With Jules on one side of me and Nathaniel on the other, the two passed the joint in front of me while I worked on the implements in the sink. In the background, one of my Sigur Ros albums blasted, the song Brennisteinn one of my favorites from their latest album.

Nathaniel jerked his head to the door. "Looks like your ride is here."

I turned to see Drake standing in the doorway, a half-smile on his lips. He raised his eyebrows when I caught his eye.

"What time is it?" I said, checking around to see if there was a clock on the wall.

Nathaniel shrugged. "Daytime?"

"
Drake
," I shouted, drying my hands off on the apron I was wearing. I went to the sound system and stopped the music. I put my arms around his neck. "I didn't hear you come in."

"How could you hear anything?" he said, his eyes merry, his arms going around my waist, pulling me against his body.

"What time is it?"

Drake smiled. "It's 1:30."

I inhaled sharply. "I forgot to check. Have you been waiting long?"

He shook his head. "I decided to come by and see what was going on. I figured you were otherwise occupied and just forgot about the time."

"I did. I was so busy putting on the gesso I lost track of time. Forgive me?"

Drake kissed me quickly. "Nothing to forgive. Let's go. Unless you want to stay…"

I shook my head. "No, let's go. I can't do anything until the coat dries.  I have to finish cleaning up first."

He released me and I went back to the sink to finish drying off the brushes. He came closer and glanced at Nathaniel and then Jules, a look of restrained mirth on his face.

Jules held the roach out to Drake. "Have a toke, man," he said.

Drake shook his head, holding his hand up, palm out. "Thanks, but no."

Jules shrugged and turned away, sauntering back to his studio.

I said goodbye to Nathaniel, thanking him for helping me with the canvases and we left, walking to the car. Drake opened the door for me and then went around to the driver's side.

"Did you smoke pot with them?"

I glanced at him. "No," I said. "I'm not really much of a pot smoker. Never did like it. Besides, with the hanging judge for a father? No
way
…"

He smiled. "You looked right in your element at the studio with that paint on your apron and cheek," he said and reached over to touch my skin. "You looked really happy."

"I was. I am," I said and took his hand. "I haven't even started on the work but it feels so good to be doing art again."

He squeezed my hand.

We returned to the apartment in Chelsea where we had a quick lunch and spent the next hour sitting together on the couch, watching the news and drinking our hot tea.

Later in the afternoon, Drake received a call from Maureen.

"She wants me to come by to talk about Liam," Drake said to me when he hung up. I had been in the kitchen checking through the fridge, deciding what to make for supper and didn't hear the details of the conversation.

"Do you have the memento you wanted to give to him?"

Drake nodded. "Yes, I'll bring it along. I hope she lets him have it. I don't know what cover story she can give him, but it should be his."

"What is it, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked, curious, but not wanting to push him.

"A picture of Liam outside a field hospital in Vietnam receiving the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of two soldiers who were in a burning helicopter that crashed. I hope that one day, Maureen will show it to him, let him know who his real father and family were."

I said nothing. I doubted that Maureen would indulge Drake. Even though he might be key to saving Liam's life, I imagined she'd be just as happy to have him back out of her and Liam's life as soon as possible.

"Speaking of later tonight, I was thinking about supper," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "The fridge is pretty empty. Should we have supper with my father and Elaine? Or would you rather stay here?"

He shrugged. "Up to you. I am entirely at your command."

I hesitated. It was nice being alone with Drake, but at the same time, I wouldn't see my father for a long time. "Let's go to my father's for dinner. Once we go, I won't see them for six months, so it would be nice to see them as much as possible."

"Fine with me."

I called my father and let him know we'd be over for supper. He seemed pleased and said he'd be on a conference call between five and six o'clock, but would be glad to see us for drinks after that and dinner at seven.

Drake and I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to news reports on the television about an earthquake in China, lounging around the apartment, reading the paper and talking about the trip. I finally felt relaxed and enjoyed our together time. I felt like we were a real couple for a change.

It was nice.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Later, while I was getting dressed for supper, while I was still in my bra and was bending over, pulling up my stockings, Drake came up behind me in the bathroom and grabbed hold of my hips, pulling me against his body.

"Ms. Bennet, when you stand like that, with just your garter belt and your bra, I'm unable to resist you." When I tried to stand up, he stopped me, one hand on my shoulder keeping me still. "No, stay like this for a moment. I like this position. I'm getting
ideas
…"

I smiled and glanced up into the mirror, watching as he ran his hands down my back to my buttocks, pulling me against his hips once more. I could feel his hardness pressed between my cheeks. We hadn't had sex the previous day or that morning and even I felt a bit deprived. But I said nothing more, waiting to see if he pushed things or was enjoying it.

Finally, he let go of my hips and pulled me up so that I was standing facing the mirror with him behind me. He watched my face and body in the mirror, our eyes meeting while he stroked my belly with one hand and cupped a breast with the other. Then he exhaled and bent down to kiss my shoulder and said nothing more. He slid his hands down my bare arms and clasped my hands, standing with his cheek resting on my shoulder. All he had to do was touch me and I was ready for him.

"Well, as much as I'd love to fuck you right now, I guess we better get going," he said finally, letting go of my hands. "Don't want to keep your father waiting."

I nodded and resumed dressing. Despite his happy news about the donor match, I could hear the fatigue in Drake's voice. He sounded crushed by the burden of stress of the past few days. I wished I could do more to comfort him, but wouldn't push anything, letting him use me for comfort in whatever way he wanted.

We arrived at the apartment on Park Avenue and found my father and Elaine sitting in the living room with drinks in their hands, some light jazz playing on the sound system.

"Come in you two," my father said in his gravelly voice. "What can I get for you?"

Drake held up his hand. "Let me bartend," he said and went immediately behind the bar. He took out Yelena Kuznetsova's shot glasses and poured us two shots of Anisovaya, then brought them over to the couches by the fireplace. He handed one to me and then held up his glass.

"To us," he said.

"To us," my father replied. We all held up our drinks and toasted each other and then Drake and I shot back the vodka.

"We've been so looking forward to dinner tonight," Elaine said. She turned to us when Drake sat beside me. "We thought you two would be gone in a few days. We're glad we'll have you here for a few more weeks."

"I'm happy to stay for as long as Drake wants," I replied. "Everything's packed and repacked and repacked again. We have our passports and Drake has his papers and offers of employment so as soon as Drake's ready, we can go."

Drake rested his arm on the back of the couch behind me, saying nothing as if he was content to listen to the conversation. He was still so subdued, I knew he wasn't yet over the shock of this news – his son, the leukemia, the donation. It was a lot to process.

"So Drake," my father said, turning his attention to Drake. "You're still going to be able to teach?"

"Luckily yes," Drake said, brightening. "The third semester starts in March. I'm going to teach two courses in the Masters of Medicine Neurosurgery program. One is intro to neurosurgery and the other is for 6
^th
year students and was the final neurosurgery course in the program. It's called
HMS 1001:Principles and Practices of Neurosurgery
and focuses on the kind of surgery I do at Columbia. Stereotactic surgery for epilepsy and deep brain stimulation for Parkinson's and other movement disorders."

"Are they lectures or is there actual surgery involved?"

"Both," Drake replied. "Lectures, demonstrations, and surgical rotations with me. It's really hands-on at this point. The final course is taught in the last year of their neurosurgery program so they're almost finished."

"You must be pleased."

"Very. I've wanted to go and teach there for a while. Ever since I did some volunteer work a couple of years ago."