I quickly enter the welcome warmth of the lobby, my long strides eating up the path to the elevator. If I end up with proof that Ava’s alive, I have to tread carefully. I won’t go to the police and let them screw up a chance to catch her. I have to get to her before she gets to me and the people I care about.
Once I’m back on the fiftieth floor, I’m keyless and forced to knock, vowing to remedy that situation quickly. “Who is it?” Crystal answers after a good minute.
“Me,” I say.
The door cracks open but she doesn’t appear. I step inside to find her walking away, her hair wet, her skin damp, with nothing but a towel covering her. I’m in the hallway, locking the door in an instant, in hot pursuit. I catch her just as she rounds the corner to the living room, snagging her wrist and pulling her around to face me.
She whirls on me. “Damn it, Mark, let go.”
“Not a chance,” I say, pulling her to me, inhaling her sweet, floral scent, which is becoming as addictive as she is.
Her hand flattens on my chest. “When I’m pissed, don’t touch me.”
I flatten one hand on her back, molding her to me. “I have to touch you. That’s just it—I have to. And that’s not familiar to me. I’m trying to be honest here, Crystal. And I’m asking you not to push me on some things right now, and don’t shut me out. I’m doing what I feel I have to do—but you’re the one thing keeping me grounded.”
Her fingers curl on my chest. “You’re riding grief and guilt, Mark. And you’re scaring me.”
“I’m not going to do something foolish, but I’m also not sitting back and letting you or my parents get hurt. If anything happened to you or them right now . . . I would lose it. And I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions anymore.”
She wraps her arms around me. “I’m scared for you, Mark. Let the police handle it.”
A knock sounds on the door and I kiss her, a deep, possessive claiming, before I start to set her away from me.
She grabs my arm and wraps her arms around me again. “I want to be here with you and for you, and I’m not shutting you out. But I’m also asking you not to shut me out.”
“Whatever I do is for your protection.” There’s another knock and I kiss her again, hard and fast, and this time I set her firmly away from me, turning away to end the conversation. “Who is it?”
“Jacob.”
I glance over my shoulder to make sure Crystal’s no longer standing there in a towel, to find nothing but the towel remaining. My groin tightens. She’s sending me a message and it’s loud and clear. She won’t be dismissed, and it worked. I unlock the door, pulling it open to reveal Jacob and my bags. I have only one thing on my mind. Her.
I wave Jacob forward, and he rolls a cart inside. “Where do you want them?”
“Just leave the cart. Come back in about twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.”
“Will do. Luke Walker wanted me to give you a message.”
Unease rolls through me. “And that would be what?”
“The kid started talking before he got there. He has no idea what was said, only that they asked a lot of questions about you.”
“Are you saying the kid accused me of beating him up?”
“All Luke knew was that you were the focus of the questioning.”
I inhale and hold in the breath a moment before I say, “I need to make a phone call. We’ll go by my hotel after the hospital, on the way to Riptide.” I glance at my watch. “It’s eight twenty. Be back here at nine.”
I snatch up the towel and turn away, already grabbing my phone from my pocket and dialing my attorney, Tiger. The door opens and closes, telling me Jacob has left. I wait through a series of rings and get voice mail, which doesn’t please me.
I say, “Call me when you get this. I might need you in New York. And yes, I know it’s going to cost me. When have you ever been cheap?” I end the call and stuff my phone back into my pocket. Clutching the towel, I stare down at it. Everything inside me wants to go find her and fuck her. Everything inside me just wants her, period. Selfishly. Completely. In the face of danger she shouldn’t be a part of.
But it’s too late. If I send her away, fire her, alienate her, and tell my mother why, her safety would still be at risk. There is no way to be sure she’s safe except to keep her right here, right now.
A dark edginess I know all too intimately begins to overtake me, a part of the Master that has been long buried hard and fast in the act of sex.
Aware that time is ticking, I stalk toward the bedroom and open the door. It’s empty, the bed still a mess from where we slept. Together. I don’t know how it’s happened, but since the day I met her, she’s become such a part of my life that no matter how I fight it, or her, she’s in my blood—a part of why I exist. Yet so is Rebecca. I don’t understand it, and I do not like things that I don’t understand.
I walk into the bathroom to find Crystal in her pink robe, finishing her makeup. Memories of Rebecca doing the same freeze me in place, as I realize the intimacy this means I have now with Crystal. And I like it. I like it in a way that I never allowed myself to with Rebecca—which rips at me like a chain saw.
Crystal’s eyes meet mine, and I know she’s seen what I feel. My ability to hide my emotions has gone to shit, along with my ability to deny they exist—at least where she’s concerned. I have that sense of connection with her. It’s a vulnerable moment, and I find myself fighting the rawness of the emotions it stirs. My cock thickens, the need for sex and release—my way of coping with what I don’t want to exist—hitting me hard and fast.
“We’re leaving at nine, instead of eight thirty,” I say, walking past her to the shower. After stripping down, I open the door to turn on the water and don’t wait for it to warm. Stepping forward, I let the cold water wash over me and turn my back to Crystal, pressing my hands on the wall.
“Mark.”
Her voice whispers over my nerve endings and my body doesn’t seem to care how cold the water is. I want her. “Not now, Ms. Smith.” I grab her shampoo and soap my hair, the damn flowery scent surrounding me. I rinse it off but it’s too late; the scent is all over me. I wipe water from my face, smooth my hair back, and turn to the damn wall again, smelling roses and jasmine mixed together. Rebecca. Crystal. Confusion.
The door opens, telling me Crystal has ignored my dismissal, but what’s new? I cut her a hard look over my shoulder. “What part of ‘not now’ do you not understand?” I ask, my eyes traveling her naked body, her tight little pink nipples, and I growl low in my throat with the thickening of my cock, turning away to let my head fall forward.
“Oh dear God,” she gasps, “the water is freezing.” In a moment the cold becomes warm, like my blood.
“Go away, Ms.—”
“Crystal,” she corrects as she ducks under my arms to rest on the wall in front of me, her hands settling on my chest and turning my warm blood to hot.
Grinding my teeth, I compel myself not to touch her. “Damn it, woman. Don’t you get it? I fuck when I’m in a bad place. That’s what I do. I fuck, and I need to fuck you right now.”
She wraps her arms around me, my erection pressing against her hip, and it’s torture, absolute torture, not to touch her. “Then fuck me,” she whispers.
“What part of ‘we don’t have a condom’ have you forgotten?”
“I’m on the pill.”
“And you didn’t tell me last night,” I say, part a demand for explanation and part accusation.
“You told me you always use condoms. I knew that made you safe for me, but I wasn’t sure you’d think it made me safe for you.”
“How many partners?”
She blinks. “Partners? Oh. Partners. One without a condom, and I lived with him for over a year. He was clean. I made sure of it, and just to be clear, I’d never go without a condom for a one-night stand. Or even several, like we were. But now you’re—”
“Moving in with you,” I say, wrapping my fingers around her neck,
pulling her mouth a breath from mine. “That means you belong to me now.”
“No,” she says. “It means—”
My mouth slants over hers, cutting off her words, my tongue pressing past her lips, delving deeply, possessiveness rising in me so intense that it’s a living, breathing thing. I hate the man she lived with. I deepen the kiss, wild hunger rising inside me, driven by darkness and the self-blame that I’ve lived with for ten years. What am I doing with Crystal? What the fuck am I doing?
I turn her into a corner, my hands on her shoulders, and step back enough to loosen her grip around my waist. “You should get me the hell out of your life, before I destroy you like I did Rebecca. Tell me to leave.”
She laughs without humor. “Like you’d listen?”
“Damn it, tell me to leave, Crystal,” I demand.
“Your staying or leaving doesn’t impact the premise of your demand, which seems to be that I have no control over myself. That’s wrong. I decide who destroys me, not you, Mark Compton.”
“You think Rebecca didn’t say that?”
“Apparently being a Master has confused you, or made you a little too arrogant for your own good. I have a mind of my own.”
“That’s what she said.”
Her hands go to my arms. “And she left you, Mark. That’s not a woman who lost her backbone or her own mind. She wasn’t too weak to survive you and whatever you think you did to her.”
I tangle my fingers in her now damp hair. “You don’t know everything. You were right when you said I’m an asshole. I am.” I turn her to the wall and lean in close. “You want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?
“Yes. I want you to stay.”
“Then you need to know who and what I am. I’m going to spank you and it’s not going to be gentle. And in the future I will flog you, clamp you, and torment you in ways that you have never dreamed of. Still want me to stay?”
“Mark—”
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, rubbing her backside to get the blood flow where I want it.
“Yes. I do.”
I keep rubbing, warning her with my touch, preparing her. “Do you understand that means I’m going to spank you now?”
“I—”
“Do you—”
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
I don’t hesitate. I squeeze her backside, caressing for several seconds, and she stiffens. “Relax or it will hurt more.” She doesn’t, and I command, “I said, relax your muscles.”
She makes several heavy, gasping sounds, but her body eases. Not giving either of us time to think, I spank her. One firm smack is followed by another, and another. Seven total, enough to leave a burn but no pain in its aftermath. The instant I’m done, I turn her and force her to face me.
She won’t look at me, and I don’t make her. I don’t want to see what’s in her eyes. I just want to take away the sting and give her the full experience, the full erotic pleasure this can be—not just the shock and pain. My fingers tangle into her hair, lifting her mouth to mine, and I kiss her, and damn it, she doesn’t taste like anger as I expect. She tastes like forgiveness and understanding that I don’t deserve. It’s me who becomes angry now, me who knows who I am, when she still doesn’t seem to understand. Guilt, so much fucking guilt, claws at my insides, at my mind.
I wrap my arms around Crystal’s waist and lift her. Her legs close around my hips and I bury my cock inside her, the only place that gives me any peace. She leans into me, her arms clinging to my neck, her sweetly scented hair teasing my nostrils, the now-hot water blistering my back.
And I want it to. I want the punishment, understanding Chris Merit and his craving for the whip now in a way I never have before.
Tightening my grip around her waist, I pull her down on my cock, thrusting upward. She moans, and I don’t even recognize the sound that comes out of my throat in response. I force us into a rapid pump, counting with each of the motions. One, two, three, four. I grind and thrust until finally, finally, I find that place where everything fades into erotic sensations, and I expect Crystal to be this nameless body . . . but she isn’t. Somehow, some way, in the dark place of pleasure I don’t deserve, I am aware that it’s her. I pull her closer, cupping her backside, holding her tighter.
She leans back to look at me, as if she senses the desperation that I don’t want her to see, but can’t hide. I see no contempt or blame in her eyes. I see the same understanding I tasted in her kiss, and the rush of pleasure borders on pain. My balls tighten, the edge of orgasm coming with unexpected force. Another thrust, another pump, another sound I don’t recognize from myself follows.
My lashes lower and my head sinks to her shoulder, hers to mine. Spots sprinkle the darkness behind my closed eyes, the intensity of being inside this woman almost too much to bear. She is my escape, not the sex, and it’s a terrifying reality. I need her. I want her. I can’t seem to let go of her.
“Oh God,” she pants, her lips brushing my earlobe in a rocketing sensation I feel in my cock. “Mark, I—”
She spasms around me and I pull her down hard on my erection, thrusting hard and deep. My release comes in an intense rush, and suddenly we’re both leaning against the wall, and I barely remember when I pulled out of her, or when her legs left my waist to settle on the floor. Or why we’ve huddled into the corner.
When reality comes back to me we stand there, staring at each other, the awareness of what has passed between us far more forceful than the water pounding on my back.
Her hand comes gently to my cheek. “You didn’t make Ava kill Rebecca. Stop blaming yourself.”
“I just spanked you, and you’re comforting me?”
“Did you spank me because it’s erotic, or because you wanted to scare me away?”
“I don’t know,” I say, and it’s as honest as I’ve ever been. She’s as honest as I’ve ever been in every possible way, and I find myself needing to know this is real. That something in my life is real. “What I do know is that I invited Ava and Ryan into my and Rebecca’s bed, even though I knew that she hated my sharing her. And hated them in particular.”
Shock rolls over her face. “Why would you do that?”
“Our contract said I could make that choice.”
“That’s not an answer. Why would you do that?”
“Because she was breaking down my walls. I needed to raise them back into place—yet I hated sharing her. So I selfishly made sure the only people who fucked her besides me, never had a chance to take her from me. It was my asshole way of being possessive while I held her at a distance. But Ava wanted me, and I’m sure Ryan wanted Rebecca. I created the jealousy in both of them that led to Rebecca’s murder.”
“You really think Ryan was a part of it.”
“I know he was somehow involved.”
“He’s really what’s motivating your anger and need for vengeance, isn’t he?”
“I considered him a friend. He tried to bury me with the police. He did bury Rebecca, and I’m going to force him to confess.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry. Killing him doesn’t interest me. Even torturing him wouldn’t last. I have other plans. Like I said—tell me to leave and I will.” I push off the wall and exit the shower.
“Mark,” Crystal says, but I don’t want to hear her logic and reason.
Grabbing a towel, I dry my hair and wrap it around my waist.
“Mark,” she calls again.
I walk into the living area and roll the cart with my bags into the bedroom. There I grab a garment bag and set it on the mattress, and remove a suit, shirt, and tie.
I half expect Crystal to appear and tell me to leave, but she doesn’t. Maybe she doesn’t know what to say to me. But I need to know what she has to say, what she thinks. I need her forgiveness.
Like I need what I can never have. Rebecca’s forgiveness.
Twelve
Crystal . . .
I turn off
the shower, replaying the first bite of his palm on my backside. He spanked me. I can’t get my mind around the reality of it—or Mark’s confessions. Far more emotionally frazzled than I let on, I wait, expecting flashbacks from the past . . . but they don’t come. They just . . . don’t. This experience hasn’t triggered memories, yet his harshness in his parents’ library did. It says something to me about what I felt from him then and now, and that explains how I was aroused, not afraid.
But what he did to Rebecca . . . I’d never tolerate such things, but his reasons, though flawed and even unforgivable in many ways, were honest. And I’m not sure he’s been honest with himself in a long time. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been with myself, either—and maybe that’s part of our bond. He admitted things to me that he hates about himself, and he’s claimed he needs us to be the one honest thing in his life. And I think that translates to his need to have someone in his life who trusts him, when he doesn’t trust himself.
And there it is. The reason I said “yes” to the spanking.
On some level, I’d known it was about trust.
Shaking myself, I step out of the shower. In a rush of activity, I dry off, attend to my hair and makeup again, and finally pull on tights and a red dress with a belted waist and a fitted skirt. With a deep breath, I prepare for whatever I might feel when my eyes meet Mark’s, and I enter the bedroom. He is nowhere in sight.
Exiting into the living area, I find him standing at the floor-to-ceiling window just outside of my dining area, which connects to my living room. He’s on the phone. “From what I understand,” he says, “the first thing the police did when Corey woke up from his beating was ask about me.” He pauses. “My thoughts exactly. I need my attorney here, not in San Francisco. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get the plane here tonight.”
Easing out of the room, I allow him privacy and return to the bedroom. Noting the open garment bag, I walk to it and stare down at the contents, contemplating all I’ve experienced this past hour. No matter what, I have feelings for this man, and I know in my heart that he needs to have a safe place to heal and to let go of his anger. I remove several suits from the bag and carry them to the closet, shove my clothes to one side, and hang up Mark’s things.
I Belong to You Page 11
