The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please #4) (27 page)

Now, it seemed I would have to reconsider everything. I
needed a way to teach Gibson how to trust himself. I felt overwhelmed.

I returned to the sofa, handed him a mug then sat down. I
blew into the cup, hid behind the steam and pondered the difficulties.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I’m going to have to come up with a whole new plan of
action to if we’re going to fix this relationship.”

He blinked. “You’re not angry.”

“What?”

“You should be angry, that I held back. I wasn’t honest with
you.”

“Oh Gibson, I see why it all happened the way it did.”

“Which is why you should be angry.”

“No, it’s why I love you.”

He bodily flinched. “But I’ve done everything wrong. I’m an
ass who drove you away because I was too proud to admit my failures.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Again. You’re an incredible man
who made some mistakes and drove me away because you wanted to protect me more
than you wanted to satisfy yourself.”

“You’re still making excuses for me.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about it. I love you and
that’s that. You’ll just have to deal with it, whether you want to or not.”

He ran an unsteady hand through his dark hair, ruffling past
the small patches of gray I thought added so much to his considerable
attractions. “This isn’t going how I thought it would.”

“What did you think would happen?”

“That I’d tell you everything and you’d throw me out,
permanently.”

“And you came here anyway?”

“I had to try. I thought there was a small chance I could
convince you to let me try to make it right.”

“And here we are. Your small chance paid off. Once again,
I’ve disrupted all your plans. And the only thing you have to do to make things
right with me is work on this relationship.”

“You love me.”

“Desperately.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know.”

“How long have you known?”

I waggled my head slightly, pondering. “Since I ran into you
on the landing out there.”

“For the record, I’ve loved you a long time, even before I
realized it.”

“Same here.”

We smiled at one another, tentatively at first, then giving
in and smiling wider.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

“Yeah, but let’s wait. We’ve rushed it too much before, and
look where it got us.”

“You’re right.”

I sipped at my coffee, as did he. I enjoyed the pleasure of
watching the way he held a cup, the way he pursed his lips before he blew on
the coffee. I was happy with the reminder of how he looked taking a drink.

“We need to make a plan of action,” I said. “I had one
earlier, when I was going to get you, but it has to be thrown out because of
all the new info.”

“You were coming to get me?”

“I was going to storm your office and demand that you give
us another chance. I had it all worked out. I even had a power song to keep me
pumped.”

“‘Eye of the Tiger?’”

“Wrong ‘Rocky.’ The first one.”

“‘Gonna Fly Now.’”

“Is that the name?”

“Yes.”

“Kind of boring. Anyway, that was the one playing in my head
when I charged out of here,” I said.

“And then you ran into me in the stairwell.”

“And the rest is history.”

“No, we’re just getting started.”

A warm flush spread through me. I wanted to climb all over
him. It had been a long, cold and lonely winter. “We need to go slow.”

“Agreed.”

“Go on a date, maybe.”

“I don’t want to go on a date.”

“Me either.”

“What do you want to do?”

He set his mug and the file folder on the trunk that served
as my coffee table. “I want to kiss you, and then I want to hold you for a long
time.”

I put my mug next to his and leaned forward.

He met me in the middle.

Our lips touched and I could have melted away. It had been
so long since I’d felt him, since I’d tasted and smelled him. He raised his
hand and cupped my cheek, his fingertips feather-light on my skin. I lifted my
own hand to his cheek.

And we stayed that way for the longest time, breathing in
one another, kissing softly and sweetly.

When he was through with that, he scooped me up and lifted
me onto his lap. He held me in his arms, and I lay my head against him, curved
my arm up and over his shoulder.

He nuzzled my hair while he cradled me. He surrounded me,
enclosed me in the bliss of his protection. I closed my eyes and somehow didn’t
cry at the sweetness of it. The relief. The homecoming.

I don’t know how long we sat there. My phone rang but I
ignored it. A short while later, it rang again. And again. Worst of all, I
recognized the ring tone, I knew who was calling.

“Should you answer that?” Gibson asked.

“Yes, I don’t want to, though.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

And I reluctantly climbed off his warm lap and found my
phone. I made the call. It was exactly what I thought. I said okay, then ended
the call and tossed the phone into my purse. I turned to Gibson.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“My boss. The owner of the store downstairs.”

“What did he want?”

“He needs me to cover for someone, as usual. A co-worker
called in sick, meaning he’d rather get drunk with his buddies tonight than
work.”

“You agreed.”

“I did. I can’t help it. No one else will do it.”

“When do you need to be there?”

“Five minutes.”

“And when will you get off?”

“Closing, around nine.”

“I can’t wait until nine to see you again,” he said, making
my heart flutter.

“Me either. Come sit in the shop with me. It’ll be fun, and
it’s never busy.”

He made a “why-not” gesture. “I did want to get a closer
look at the mushroom thing you painted.”

“Oh, well, it’s not there anymore. Someone bought it.”

“And they didn’t tell you what it was?”

“They didn’t know either.”

“But they bought it anyway?”

“You wouldn’t believe the stupid things people buy.
Especially men,” I said.

He stood up, walked toward me. “Maybe they just bought
whatever was at hand so they’d have a reason to talk to the beautiful lady
behind the counter.”

“You think so? I hadn’t thought ... no. That’s ridiculous.”

He held my waist in his big hands, looked down into my eyes.
“Men will do all sorts of crazy things for a pretty girl. And you, Nonnie
Crawford, are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I smoothed my palms over his chest. “I’m not, but I love
that you think so. And Gibson, we’re going to work this out.”

“We will.”

“We can outline a plan down in the store. I’ll bring my
sketchpad. We’ll make notes.”

He nodded.

“We’ll have to go through my checklists, but not right away,
probably,” I continued. “I think it’s going to be important for us to work
together on what we do for a while, maybe know ahead of time how far we’ll go.
It won’t be as spontaneous, but it’ll be for the best. And we need to focus on
honesty. What do you think?”

“I think we should talk about it, like you said. As for
honesty, I’m having a hard time concentrating at the moment.”

“Me too. Okay, so we’ve talked business and we’ve committed
to an early plan. I think that qualifies as doing the smart thing. Now we
should be rewarded.”

He lifted an eyebrow, one of his sexiest quirks. “What kind
of reward?”

I glanced at my watch. “We have to leave in three minutes. I
think we should be allowed to do whatever we want, but it has to be over in
three minutes.”

“I’m praying you’re saying what I think you are.”

“I’m saying it.”

“Good.”

And for the first time in what seemed forever, I welcomed
the good-girl tingle.

“Three minutes,” he said, his hands tightening on my waist,
pulling me against his hard body. “I’ll take it. You did say we could do
whatever we want.”

“Yes. You know the clock’s ticking, right?”

“I do. I think I might be overwhelmed with the choices.”

“Pick something. Anything.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes shining. “I love you.”

A perfect choice. “I love you, too.”

And then we took full advantage of every remaining second.
Four months of longing and sorrow, erased in less than three minutes.

A miracle.

A beginning.

Chapter 23

I knelt on the mat in the dungeon. It wasn’t simple getting
to this spot, on this night, this time with this man. We’d struggled,
disagreed, compromised, regressed and progressed. And though the journey was
neither speedy nor easy, we never faltered. Too much was at stake.

With patience and care, we moved forward. I flew secure
inside the safety of his charge. He never failed me. I knew he wouldn’t. He was
the best man I’d ever known.

And now, after weeks of work, it was my turn to let him fly.
Twice already I’d failed, or not so much me personally, but us together. His
courage wavered, or mine slipped at the wrong moment. Whichever it was, I had
knelt on this mat twice before with the same intention that impelled me on this
night.

To set Gibson free. To let him think only of himself for
once, to let him have the abandon he deserved and which he readily gave me, to
take what he wanted without fear of it being too much, or going too far. And
for that he’d have to trust himself, and he’d have to trust me, trust that I’d
learned enough, that I could take what needed taking and stop what required
stopping.

So much practice, me learning to stay out of subspace, how
to hold it at bay so my mind remained clear, so I could make a call if it
needed calling. I accepted the absolute necessity of remaining present,
recalled the many speeches I’d given myself about what I could bear for him.
For my love.

Clarity. This was a night of clarity. Of vision and focus.
Self-possession. I couldn’t fail him. I wouldn’t. Please, don’t let me fail
him.

If I were to founder, it wouldn’t be the end. We were more
committed than that. But I desperately wanted it for both of us. And I believed
it would happen on this night.

So I knelt on the mat, naked, chest out, hands on thighs and
knees spread. And I looked to my lover, who stood nearby, his back to me,
sorting through a box of I didn’t know what, preparing for what was to come.

He was a fine sight from behind, his torso bare and a pair
of well-worn leather pants snugged low on his hips, stretched across his
muscled thighs and firm rear. His shoulder blades shifted under muscle and
smooth skin as he dug in the box.

My heart thumped loudly when he turned to me. He held
something in his hand, but I wasn’t paying it any mind. It didn’t matter what
he held. I was a captive of his stride, his forward momentum, every traversed
inch that brought him closer to me. Closer to the moment.

Another step. Another. I shivered, felt my insides shift.
The dimmed light played across the supple leather of his pants, the flat
flexing plane of his stomach, the foreboding swing of his arms.

And I felt miniscule, a fleck, a mote. I foundered in
jumbled worry that I wasn’t enough. There could never be enough of me for this
man.

Then he stopped, stood before me. I trembled with waiting,
and I had to see. Had to know.

So I looked up at him, met his dark gaze, searched for who
would take me.

There he was. Gibson. Unleashed. Insatiable. Unstoppable. I
read it in his eyes. He would take what he wanted, my wants be damned.

This was the moment.

He raised his hand, reached for me.

I thought I might falter, shrink away.

He was coming for me.

I remembered to breathe.

And time ... stopped.

Stop.

Time.

Stop time.

See me there on the floor, a tiny bundle of weak flesh and
fragile bone. I am insignificant, an afterthought, powerless in the shadow of
the force which looms over me.

See how mighty he is, how easily he could break me, tear me
apart. He is everything. I am nothing. A cowering, flimsy vessel.

In the next instant, he will loose himself on me. He’ll
descend and I’ll accept it as I must. As he demands. As he pleases.

Wait.

Not so fast.

A new sense springs to life inside me, straightens my spine
when it should have bowed, pushes me forward when I might have fallen away.
Because I see how it is, how it truly is.

Step back.

Widen the field of view.

Get the bigger picture.

Look again at me kneeling on the mat. I understand that when
his hand closes on me, he depends on me to stop him if he clamps down too hard,
takes too much. It only requires the slightest shift to see the picture change.

I am growing larger and larger, the tiny bundle that was me
expanding, swelling. I realize that only I can give him what he wants. And only
I can deny him. I can deny.

I am the power and the control. I have the last word. I am
mightier than the beast and can stop the unstoppable. The knowledge inflates
me, raises me up and lends me infinite courage.

If I am a vessel, then I am made of steel.

And I have a limitless capacity because only I can contain
him. But beyond that, in this stopped-frame realm where I’ve grown to tower
over him, I recognize yet another truth.

It’s he who must please me. Because consent belongs to me
alone, and because he has the integrity and strength to honor my ownership, he
must always serve my final will.

The ultimate power to please is his.

The ultimate power is mine.

And I know that this night we’ll find success. It doesn’t
matter what the details are of what he does, of what I accept and what I won’t.
It’s unnecessary to weigh up what he takes and to measure it against my
sacrifice, to judge the value of the sides. There’s no meaning or merit in
that.

All that matters is we’ll do what we intended, achieve what
we’ve worked for. Go further than we dreamed. Then there will be no stopping
us, ever again.

Strength courses through me as I continue to grow. I
transcend this place, and I become someone I’ve never been, someone I’ve been
waiting to become.

Whole. Complete. With him and without him. I am vested with
the ability to do and be anything. To mould my future. To stake my claim.

He is mine. I am his.

Tonight and forever.

And now the lesson is learned and I’m ready to leave this
stopped frame, to resume the clock, let it tick time forward once more. And I
will begin what I’ve already finished.

Being a woman who’s worthy of being pleased.

Start.

Time.

Start time.

I am.

At last.