by Angel Payne
She didn’t have a map for this.
The best thing to do was squeeze her eyes shut, let the pain come, and attempt to hang on.
“One minute at a time,” she whispered. “One minute at a—”
A pounding at the door sliced into her mantra.
She gritted her teeth. The housekeepers on shift today apparently didn’t know how to read their own Do Not Disturb signs. This was the fourth time one of them had tried to get in. This one was persistent. She forced herself to sit up, but she didn’t move from the floor. As the urgent knocks continued, she ran Vegas-style bets in her head about the odds of a sweet little maid being mighty enough to break in a solid wood door in the name of fresh towel delivery.
“Rosalind Fabian!”
The booming voice stopped her heart.
“Shit!” It was barely a breath on her lips.
“Rose, I won’t knock again. Open the damn door!”
She stumbled to her feet. But then froze. Raw energy spiked her bloodstream, followed by a sluice of fear. Mark’s bellow was a battering ram of fury. She stumbled back, shaking her head in quick little jerks. “I…I can’t. Please, go away! Go away and try to understand!”
“Rose!”
She retreated as far from the door as she could, palming the tears from her face and falling into a chair next to the patio slider. “I won’t do this. I can’t do this. I break everything I touch, and damn it, I won’t break you! Just forget me and— Shit!”
The oath spilled out of her on half a scream. She got the sound out as a figure in black cargo pants, black T-shirt, and a matching thunderhead of a glower hoisted over the fence onto her patio. She was amazed Mark’s beard hadn’t gone the shade of ink too, as he slammed the slider back and stomped into the room.
His presence threatened to stretch the walls. His stare was filled with fire. She curled in on herself, despite every cell of her body thrumming back to life, as he approached and then braced in front of her chair. He literally loomed over her.
“I told you I wouldn’t knock again.”
She jerked her chin up, reacting to his King-of-Siam tone, but almost lowered it again. That was when she saw what her attitude did to him. Even through his rage, his mouth parted, his gaze narrowed, and the juncture of his thighs swelled. He really wasn’t afraid of her. He wanted her strength.
But this wasn’t about what he wanted. Or what she did either. Sometimes life wasn’t about a kiss from kismet and a happy ending. She’d walked in his stratosphere for a few incredible hours. It had to be enough. Anything more, and she was bound to misstep so badly, she’d tumble out of his cloud—and bring the whole thing down with her too. Then she’d stumble from the mess she’d made, only to watch him bolt out the door, carrying half her heart with him.
Half? Who was she kidding? He already had that much.
“Look, if you want an explanation, I’ll do my best to—”
“Stand up.”
His tone didn’t brook a shred of rebellion. Rose complied and then instantly balked. Where the hell was this going to get them?
“Fine.” She jerked up her jaw. “You want to talk. I get that. So let’s sit down like adults, and—”
“Where’s your phone and your purse?”
She blinked. “Pardon me?”
But by then, he’d spotted her cell and her purse. He stomped over, scooped them up, and then tossed the first into the second. “You can bring these,” he stated. “And that’s it.”
“Bring them—”
“Let’s go.”
“What the—no!”
When he only responded by stomping across the room and jerking the door open, letting in the peach-and-orange light of the coming sunset, she locked her hands to her hips.
“Mark. Damn it. What the hell is—ahhhh!”
She screamed as the world tipped over—and she realized the man had swung her up and over his shoulder. With the world flipped and his biceps wrapped around her middle, she barely had a chance to comprehend he’d carried her right out the door.
“Are you freaking kidding me? Seriously, Pirate Pete?”
He didn’t say a word. Just skirted the beach, now arriving at the resort’s dock.
“Are you really doing this? Because carrying me off on your galleon will not extract a damn confession.”
“It’s not your time to talk, Rose.” His steps were determined and steady on the heavy planks of the dock. “There’s going to be plenty of time for that. But not now.”
He approached an expansive sailboat she didn’t remember seeing at the dock this week. Though the ship’s hull was cut in a modern design, everything from the deck up was really and truly an ode to pirate decadence, with rigging, yardarms, and two sails ready to be hoisted. If she were in a more dignified position, she would’ve stopped to admire the polished wood, gleaming fixtures, and obvious care given to the boat—but right now, maintaining equilibrium was a bigger priority.
The task got more complicated when he flipped her back over and set her to her feet. He kept one hand locked on her wrist as she tried to gain back some dignity along with her balance.
“You okay?” The words were sincere though his tone was tight.
“Reasonably.”
“Good. Then we’ll start things here.”
“Things? Wh-What do you mean, things?”
He answered as if she hadn’t spoken. “You know your safe word. Use it if you need to.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her face up. “Using your safe word to avoid a question does not qualify as need.” With another sweep of command, he stepped back and used a jerk of his head to back up his order. “Now get on board.”
His voice, so full of that no-isn’t-an-option timbre, still made her hesitate. It had nothing to do with fearing for her physical safety. She knew, deep into her gut, Mark would never lead her into danger.
Her decision dealt with a bigger peril. If she got on the boat, he expected her to talk. To tell him everything. To completely bare her heart and soul to him.
It was going to be hard.
She didn’t want to do this.
She wanted to do this more than anything.
She couldn’t just sail off into the sunset with him.
Could she?
Rose looked up into the ropes, rigging, and sails of the magnificent vessel. And like the breeze gently swaying them, words filled her mind as if brought by the cosmos themselves.
Life doesn’t give you a lot of chances to grab happiness, Rose. When the anchor’s pulled up, then you’d better sail that ship for everything you’re worth.
She bowed her head.
And walked down the gangway.
She knew damn well how selfish the choice was. This wasn’t going to be easy, nor was it going to be forever—but for a little while more, Mark would be her captain. Her Dom. Completely hers.
She latched on to the feeling, relishing how her heart soared, her blood raced…and her pussy clenched. Maybe he knew that already—though she doubted it changed his plan. He’d clearly thought this through. She contemplated that in full, looking around as he helped the skipper release the ropes off the vessel. Precision planning like this was usually inspired by one of two things. Rage or lust.
How much trouble was she in if his incentive had been both?
He walked toward her as they motored toward the horizon. She’d been trying to appreciate the cottony cirrus feathers floating across the sunset sky, but they were overshadowed by the black clouds in his gaze. He kept his distance from her with a wide, braced posture, as if trying to chisel his way into her brain from the outside in, making her shift on her feet with more discomfort by the minute.
Finally, she couldn’t take the standoff anymore. “Did you do all this just to stand there and glare at me?”
“I’m asking the questions right now, Rose. And I expect answers. Honest ones.”
She wet her lips. “Fine. Ask away. You’ll get them.”
“Will I?” His words seared
like blowtorches. “How do I know that?” At her questioning stare, he turned up the flames even hotter. “I thought I was getting honesty from you this morning. I thought you really meant those Yes, Sirs. I thought you liked being there, in my bed, waiting for me.”
“I did.” She stepped to him, trying to grab his arm. “I meant it! Every word!”
“Bullshit.” The wind whipped at his hair, making his snarling features an even more daunting sight. “You left! And this—” He yanked out her note from this morning, now creased in a million places. “This doesn’t constitute asking permission to leave!”
She endured a war of emotions. Part of her ached to take the paper back, tear it to pieces, and then toss it to the wind. Did he think it had been easy to write that? Even if it had, his permission wasn’t required, damn it! The last time she checked, the Victorians and their restrictions had been evicted from the Bahamas.
But another part of her, the part that had broken free for him, because of him this week, acknowledged his words.
Then embraced them.
And yes, needed them.
Even the fury in them.
He had his own easier choices than this…than her. A lot of them. Apparently, even dates with Gwen Stefani. But here he was, on a boat he’d gotten from God-knew-where, after he’d literally pulled her off her feet and carried her here, fighting for her with every ounce of his being.
And just like that, a little more of her heart slipped away in his grasp.
Tears. She tried to force them back but ended up choking. “I…I’m sorry. You deserve an explanation. I…I’ll try to give it to you now.”
He jammed the note back into his pocket. “And I’ll believe you why?”
She spread her hands. “I haven’t openly lied to you.”
He grabbed her wrists and shoved them down. “The fuck you haven’t.” Surging close, aligning his face inches from hers, he glared with eyes like stoked coals. “You agreed to an instruction of your Sir, and then you defied it. So yes, you essentially lied, Rose.”
“I didn’t defy you!” She pushed back again, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. He was close enough to pin her in now, and he did, blocking out the sky with his damnable, beautiful nearness. “I mean, it wasn’t my intention!” She couldn’t help it anymore. The tears broke free. “And I can’t ever call you Sir again, so it doesn’t matter anyway. It was a ridiculous dream, Senator—and now it’s over.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mark’s breath left him in an agonizing rush.
Senator.
He’d expected her apology. He’d even expected her to protest about her disobedience being unintentional, that it had been because of things beyond her control. Then he’d expected her to accept his forgiveness for the former, his swift punishment for the latter, and then his direct order, as her Dominant, to tell him exactly what the fuck had happened in that half hour he’d been gone. Then together they’d deal with her asshole of a brother and move on.
It wasn’t going to be that easy.
Senator.
It wasn’t just the goddamn word itself. It was how she’d said it. Defeat underlined every note. The finishing dip of her head could’ve placed her at a funeral.
She’d really given up. Not just on them and on him, but worse, on herself, on that piece of her soul that had finally pushed free and lived at the villa last night. Her spiritual release had been as beautiful to behold as her physical climaxes.
That bastard brother of hers had shoved all of it right back into a cage.
But so help him God, they weren’t getting off this boat until he found the key again.
He watched Rose grow restless beneath his scrutiny. She only wore a T-shirt and shorts, and the setting sun illuminated her pebbled nipples, her wriggling hips. Good. This was good. Her words denied him, but her body sure as fuck didn’t.
He pressed a little closer. Sure enough, the heat from her skin ticked higher. “A dream,” he murmured. “And you’ve woken up, is that it?”
Oddly, she looked relieved he’d said that. “Right. Yes.”
He contemplated her reaction. She was still on edge, but he could tell she hedged an inner hunch, maybe thinking he’d gotten fed up enough to let things lie here. And why not? It was the shit she’d gotten from every other significant man in her life. A completely absent father. A fiancé who’d walked out on her wedding day. Coworkers, threatened by her strength, who teased. And a brother who used all of it to make her fit his own cookie-cutter brand of behavior. She clearly thought he was like all of them. She was clearly wrong.
But right now, she didn’t know that. And she wouldn’t believe it either, even if he climbed to the top of the mast and declared it to the whole ocean. Why would she?
He had to show her. And he would have to get sneaky about it.
“Okay,” he said. “If that’s how you’re going to spin it, then that’s how we’ll roll.”
“R-Really?”
“Yep.” He pushed back but resumed his resolute stance. “If that’s how you feel after your punishment, then that’s what I’ll honor. You have my word as a man and a Dom.”
Her follow-up to that was also what he expected. A bunch more blinks. A puzzled frown. “Wait. After my what?”
He prefaced his comeback by stripping off his shirt. The move was completely calculated. He knew how formidable he looked now, standing there with his chest bare, his hands clasped at his back, the wind shoving his hair, his gaze a direct drill into hers. “You heard me, Rose. You want to be free from me, from our dynamic, then fine—but you’ll fulfill your obligation to it first. You say you left this morning for reasons beyond your control. I believe you. But since you’ve chosen not to share the reasons with me, I have no choice but to punish you for the defiance.”
Her mouth popped open. But her breasts jutted hard against her clothes, their defined buds proving how his tone affected her. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
He dropped his scrutiny to the juncture of her thighs. She’d crossed her legs. Very tight. “Do you want to test me and find out?”
She tried to laugh. The effort was feeble. And adorable. “And what if I refuse?”
He shrugged, another intended move. “You have that prerogative.” He raised his arm, pressing his elbow to the bulkhead next to her head. “But I don’t think you want to exercise it.” He used his other hand to jerk her face back to his. He heard her breath catch, felt her body tremble. “I think, before we officially say goodbye, you’d want to make good on your integrity. I think you’d want things clean.” He used his foot to nudge her ankle, untangling her legs. “Complete.”
Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes. “Shit!” she muttered.
“What?” He pressed fully against her now. “What is it? What did I just push, Rose?”
She shoved at him. “What didn’t you just push!” She shot up a stare that knifed him with its anguish. “Clean. You want clean? From me, Senator? Really? Have you Googled Rose Fabian lately? Lots of things pop up, I assure you. None of them even remotely means clean, complete, tidy, or simple.”
“I never said I wanted simple.”
“And I never committed to anything more than last night.”
“Which is why you rewrote your parting shot fifteen times,” he countered, “and then showed up in class looking like a shark chewed you up and spit you out.” He jammed his hand into her hair now, refusing her any extra movement. “Last night was just a taste, and you loved it. You want this, pet. No, you need it. And you need it from me.”
Her eyes darkened, and her nostrils flared. “You have no idea what I need.”
He let out a black laugh. “Then enlighten me. Here’s your forum, honey. I’m all ears.” He screwed his hold tighter. Though she took a sharp breath, her nipples turned to gumdrops against her shirt. “Talk, Rose. Now!”
Her tongue darted over her lips, but then she reset her luscious mouth into a line. Her gaze, while raised to his, was cloaked behind a curtai
n of stubbornness.
“Damn it.” He let his fury surge into the words. He’d hoped to go at this more civilized than he had last night, not knowing what her brother had said to make her flee this morning. But she was throwing up an emotional version of the goddamn Great Wall of China.
“Fine.” He pushed back but kept his stare fixed to hers. “I don’t take silence as a safe word. You won’t talk, so instead you’ll strip.”
The sheen in her eyes turned to shock. “Excuse me?”
“That’s not your safe word either. Do you remember your safe word, pet?”
A shudder claimed her body when he dropped the last word on her, even if it was a snarl. He watched, alternately fascinated and relieved, as her face began to transform, to soften. Christ, maybe yanking out his heavy Dom was really the key. Did she feel this as he beheld it? Was it possible that she still didn’t understand how she was meant for the pleasure of D/s as much as he? That even a simple subbie endearment began changing her into this breathtaking creature, her head starting to bow, her whole body swaying toward him?
Why the hell was she walking away from something she so clearly wanted?
But more importantly, how was he going to change her mind?
The answer to that came as easy as his next breath. He’d do it by focusing everything he knew as a Dominant, and everything he felt as a man, into setting her free even more than before. Even better than before.
“O-Of course I remember my safe word.”
Fuck. That hoarse edge to her voice just juiced him hotter. He leaned in again at her, cocking his head. “Of course I remember…what?”
“I remember, Sir.”
He hummed in approval. She shook from head to toe. So goddamn sexy. “And are you using that safe word now?”
She darted her gaze away. He waited, holding his breath. If he lost her again, it might be now. He forced himself to wait through that taut wire of a moment, determining whether they’d keep heading for the horizon together or turn back for the shore—and the finality of her fear.
“No. I’m not using it, Sir.”
Mark closed his eyes. “My beautiful, good girl. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And now that we’ve got that squared away, you’ll strip for me, please.”
