Unrestrained (31 page)

She linked her fingers with his hand up near her head. Did he realize he’d equated retirement with the loss of his leg, the two incidents apparently interchangeable? “Were you okay with me removing it tonight?”

“I wasn’t, not really. I’m guessing you caught on to that. But it’s time, Athena. I tell you that you have to trust me, but that goes both ways. I have to trust you at some point, trust that you won’t see this as anything more than it is. It’s functional, practical; it’s not who I am.”

Actually, it had sculpted some aspects of his personality in positive ways, but she held that thought for another day. For now, she just nodded, pressed her cheek into his biceps.

“I like you better this way,” she whispered. “It’s not your legs that make you my Master. Not at all.”

His arms tightened around her. Though he didn’t say anything else for a while and neither did she, she could feel him thinking about her words. She hoped he believed them, because they were simple, powerful truth.

T
he night of the dinner, Athena donned a sequin sheath and swept up her hair. She’d normally wear her diamonds, but she was worried that might be overkill. A couple of times this week, she’d wondered if she’d made a mistake. Perhaps this wasn’t the best event to introduce him to her board of directors and society friends.

The dinner was being held at one of New Orleans’s upscale hotel ballrooms. The guest list was over five hundred people, including most of Louisiana’s top business people, government officials and some local celebrities. Which of course meant society reporters would be milling around outside to take pictures of the elite coming to play together and raise money for a good cause. Louisiana native Harry Connick, Jr. would be joining the full orchestra for a couple of songs.

She should have waited until she was having a private dinner with her board and their spouses to introduce them to Dale. But she’d followed her intuition in that quiet moment in her guest bedroom. What was done was done. However, she’d leave the diamonds in the box for the night. She settled for a simple gold chain and matching earrings.

Certain Dale wouldn’t be comfortable walking the red carpet among the shouting reporters and their flashing cameras, she’d told him she’d meet him at the hotel. She’d added him to the list of those who would take the quieter entrance blocked off by hotel staff for more discreet arrivals.

Therefore, she was surprised when Lynn contacted her over the house intercom system and told her “Mr. Rousseau” was waiting for her in the foyer. “Thank you, Lynn,” she managed. “Ah, see if he wants a drink. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Already done, ma’am.”

Of course it was. She didn’t know why she told Lynn such obvious things, but perhaps it was simply to reinforce the courtesy.

She checked her hair and told the butterflies in her stomach to settle. As she hurried toward the landing, she told herself it was all going to be fine. Then every thought fled her mind.

She came to a full stop at the top of the stairs, even putting her hand on the banister to steady herself. When he turned toward her, she needed the support even more.

He hadn’t rented a tuxedo at all. Instead, she beheld the breathtaking sight of a man wearing naval dinner dress blues, and Master Chief Dale Rousseau knew how to wear the hell out of them. Her gaze slid over a narrow lapeled, short black coat with gold buttons, worn over black bow tie and studded shirt, a gold cummerbund and perfectly creased black slacks. Gold striping and insignia adorned the left sleeve, and his gold Trident rested over his ribbons on the left panel of the coat.

She’d expected his military bearing and handsome, stern features to set off a tuxedo well, but seeing him in the uniform he’d earned, he was more than a formidable figure. She was swept off her feet.

He had his white hat with its black brim and gold anchor embellishment tucked under his arm, and now she realized he was carrying a trio of roses, tied with a ribbon. She made her feet move at last, though wisely she kept a firm grip on the banister. He cocked his head, considering her with those vivid eyes. The way they covered every inch of her in the form-fitting dress made every workout she’d done, every dessert she’d given up, worth it.

“It’s a good thing you did invite me to this shindig,” he said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “If I’d seen photos of you in the paper wearing that thing, and you without an escort, we would have had a problem.”

She loved the possessive threat. “I told you that you could meet me there.”

“Yeah, you did. You were trying to handle me, make things easier for me. We’ve had that discussion, a couple times now, haven’t we?” He softened the reproof by touching her face. “You invited me so you wouldn’t have to go alone, Athena. That means from beginning to end.”

His tender caress, the knowing look, made her throat tight, her heart expand painfully in her chest. “Actually,” she said, “I invited you to show you off. My gorgeous SEAL boy toy.”

“Man toy,” he corrected her, with a quirk of his lips.

Now that she was closer to him, she could see even more details of his uniform, the ribbons and embellishments that reflected his career with the SEALs, the honors he’d been given. They were a map of who and what he was. “Dale, you look . . . amazing.”

He ran a thumb along her cheek. “I brought a gift for you. Something I’ll give you later.”

“Not now?” She’d never been good at waiting for gifts. Her visible disappointment was the right response, because the lines around his eyes creased with good humor.

“Well, since you look even more gorgeous than usual, my resistance is low.”

He freed a small velvet bag from his clasp on the roses. Handing the flowers to her, he loosened the drawstring and spilled the contents of the bag out into his hand.

It was a necklace, a beautiful choker of braided silver and gold. The pendant was the SEAL Trident, one crafted by a jeweler who knew his trade, every detail precisely sculpted. Now that she had been with Dale awhile, she knew the significance of every part of that symbol. The eagle with the bowed head, honoring the fallen, the trident he grasped representing the SEALs’ connection to the sea. The cocked flintlock pistol showed the SEALs’ state of readiness at all times. The pendant was gold, a scattering of diamond chips gilding the symbol to give it a more feminine look.

Dale let it drop into the waiting cup of her palm. As he did that, the pendant turned over, such that she saw the engraving on the back. Her breath caught in her throat. Though her other hand still clasped the roses, she found herself also clutching his sleeve for support.

At the club, a sub being collared by her Master was sometimes a ritualized public event, though for most it happened in private. To some, it was as sacred as a marriage proposal. She’d been going twelve different ways tonight, worrying about Dale, figuring out how to ease the experience for him, how to make sure he had a good time . . . handling him, just as he said. Underscoring firmly what he’d said from the beginning, he’d chosen this moment to give her a collar. He was in charge. He was escorting her, helping her not to feel alone at this event for the first time in three years. She was the one in his keeping, not vice versa.

She had male friends who could have taken her in years past, but it wasn’t the same. She’d done what he’d wanted her to do from the first. Make a choice because it was what she wanted and needed, down to the depths of her soul. She’d acted as he expected her to do—as she wanted to do—relying on and trusting her Master, using his dominance as a form of confidence and shield both.

Property of Dale Rousseau.

She lifted her gaze from that remarkable engraving to meet his eyes. “I want you to wear my collar, Athena,” he said. “I’ve never offered it to a woman before.”

In answer, she put the roses on a side table, threading them into the vase of cut flowers already there. She unclipped the chain she’d been wearing, let it coil onto the table’s surface. When she presented her back to him, her breath was shallow, her heart beating high in her throat. She closed her eyes. He put his hands on her bare upper arms, and she felt the coolness of the necklace between his palm and her flesh. As he stepped closer, the wool of his uniform was against her bare back.

She opened her eyes so she saw him bring the necklace down in front of her face. Tucking the dangling pendant beneath her chin, he clipped the choker at her nape. The pendant lay perfectly in the pocket of her throat, the choker snug enough to remind her of his ownership.

“I thought about wearing diamonds earlier,” she said. “I like this so much better.”

His fingers closed on her shoulders again as he put his lips on her throat, just above the choker. She quivered in his grasp, turning her chin to her shoulder to give him full access. “Did you think I wouldn’t be comfortable with the diamonds?” he asked.

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

He slipped his hands around her waist, coming up to capture her breasts in the thin fabric. She arched into his touch, needing him, wanting him.

“I’ll give you a pass, because right now you’re just too beautiful and perfect for me to scold.” He folded his arms around her then, holding her close. “I love you, Athena. Don’t say it back. I know you’re not ready to do that.”

She wasn’t, but hearing him say it made her grip him harder, digging her nails into those strong, callused hands folded across her abdomen. “Thank you for your collar, Master. Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.” He turned her then, pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket and dabbed carefully at the corners of her eyes, saving her makeup. “None of that, now. I can’t bring the hostess late to her own party. Are you ready?”

With him at her side, she felt ready for anything. She smiled, pushing back tears to please him, savoring the firm clasp of her hand on his. “Yes, Master.”

“Then let’s go to this party.”

—

S
he’d read about SEALs, their missions, the situations where instant adaptation was the difference between success and failure, life or death. As such, she should have realized Dale was trained to make any situation work for him.

He’d never spoken of his rating before Lawrence and Neil called him Master Chief, but she’d looked it up after that day and learned it was one of the highest designations an enlisted SEAL could earn. She could only imagine the career of dangerous missions he’d had, proving his leadership ability time and again and demonstrating a success rate that proved he could get the job done, whatever was required. He’d known what it was to command men, to lose them. Even if she hadn’t deduced that from her reading, she would have picked it up from everything she knew about him.

That aura of command he carried so well with the uniform resulted in a blend of intense curiosity and unconscious respect from the other guests throughout the evening. As well as a lot of female stares, which made her feel like Dale did about her wearing her sexy dress. With exasperated amusement, she quelled her possessiveness. Somewhat.

Dale fortunately made it easy to manage the feelings, since he rarely left her side. He was a good listener and engaging conversationalist with her guests, but she was keenly aware of his constant attentiveness to her as well. While they were talking to others, he’d often put a hand on her mostly bare back, sliding it provocatively along the low scoop edge of the dress, telling her he was very aware of the body beneath it. He held her chair to sit down for dinner, and when she was seated at the table, he dropped a kiss on her shoulder before taking a seat next to her, his knee pressed against hers. All not-so-subtle signs of possession that made her knees weak and the butterflies continue to roam pleasantly through her stomach.

During the appreciation speech she made, she noticed those sharp blue-green eyes sweeping the crowd, as if he considered himself her personal security detail, same as the men who’d attended with the mayor and some of the celebrities. It was automatic to him, to be protective, but she loved feeling that safe. She should tell him that.

After dinner and the first set of award ceremonies, the dancing started. She was surprised when Dale rose from his chair and offered his hand to lead her onto the floor. It was a slow piece, allowing them to move in an easy four-step. She loved it, being held in the arms of a lover, dancing once again.

“I
can
dance,” he said, noting her surprise. “Just don’t ask me to jitterbug.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d be up for that myself. So are you having a good time? I saw you met the mayor.”

“Yeah. We both agreed the sausage and cheese things would make a great tailgate addition for the next Saints’ game.” He gave her a smile. “You were fantastic up there. You’re a great public speaker.”

“It always scares me to death. My stomach flip-flops like crazy, no matter how much I’ve done it.”

“It doesn’t show. But it does explain why you picked at your dinner.”

“Well, that and this dress. There’s really only room for me and one meal in it, and I already had breakfast.”

He grinned. “Serves you right, trying to get all these men hot and bothered.” He held her even closer and she slid her hand from his shoulder to his nape, caressing the short, soft hair there. Lifting onto her toes, she brushed her lips over his ear.

“I only care about getting one man hot and bothered,” she whispered.

She’d taken steps toward claiming her identity as a submissive. She’d been timid with those first steps, mannerly, obedient. But over the past few weeks, a transition had happened, times like this when she embraced how broadly she could explore this sense of herself, teasing her Master at the same time. So now she pressed her lower body against his, managing a discreet rub against his groin as they made the turn.

His eyes glinted dangerously. “Just wait until we’re where I can get you out of that dress. I’m going to remind you of your manners . . . and make love to you while you’re wearing nothing but my collar.”

She reached up, touched his mouth, connecting them like a kiss. “In my bedroom. Please.”

She still had a mix of feelings about it, but overriding all of it was the desire to have him there, to wake up with Dale in her bed. She wanted to take that step with him. She wanted to make her bed their bed.

“We’ll see.” But in the past he’d simply told her no, so she knew he saw things were shifting for her.

“May I cut in?”

Seeing Larry standing beside them, she suppressed the surge of irritation. She’d been aware of his close scrutiny several times tonight, though he’d kept a fairly proper distance. However, with his impeccably poor timing, he’d chosen what anyone else could see was an intimate moment to interrupt their dance.

“I haven’t had a chance to dance with the loveliest woman here tonight,” he said, shifting his gaze between them. “I’d like to speak to Athena for a moment or two. If you don’t mind?”

Dale glanced at her and she gave him a stiff nod. He tightened his fingers on her briefly, then stepped back. “I suggest the jitterbug.”