by Lynda Aicher
“Yes.” Quinn smiled and waved him in. “Marcus, this is my mother, Mary.”
He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Mary’s stiff movements indicated that ingrained politeness was the only thing forcing her to take his hand. But that was all she managed. There was no return of pleasantries or a welcoming smile.
Marcus came around to stand on the other side of the bed. She caught a whiff of fresh air as he leaned in to kiss her. “How are you feeling?”
She couldn’t wait for everyone to stop asking her that question. “Good. The nurse said the doctor will probably release me this afternoon.”
“Wait a minute.” Her mother finally found her voice. “You’re that man from the pictures.” And there was the accusation. “Quinn, what is going on?”
Marcus wrapped his arm around Quinn’s shoulders, the subtle pressure urging her to scoot over until she could lean into him. A series of dawning realizations flashed over her mother’s face in a slow wave from shock to confusion to understanding.
“Marcus is the father,” Quinn confirmed before her mother could ask.
“But...but,” her mother sputtered. “He hit you.” She shook her head, her mouth gaping as she took a step back. “He’s one of those Dom thingies.” She fluttered a hand like that explained everything.
Marcus tensed behind her, but Quinn only smiled. It was juvenile, but rattling her unflappable mother still held an element of fun. “Mom. Marcus has never harmed me. He never would. You said yourself that the picture was fake. He was catching me when I tripped. Not hitting me.”
“But he is one of them, right?”
“One of what, Mother?” There was no way Quinn could keep the irritation from her voice. “A man? Someone who loves me? Yes. He is one of them.”
Her mother’s glare was the practiced one that warned of the coming reproach. “A Dom, Quinn,” she snapped. “Is he a Dom?”
“Yes. I am.” Marcus’s even tone held no emotion, but his hand tightened on Quinn’s shoulder, and she leaned into him more, taking every bit of strength from him that she could.
“He’s a good man,” Quinn defended. “You can call him whatever you want, but it won’t change that fact that he’s a part of my life.”
They waited as Mary glanced between them. She clasped her hands, her mouth leveling into a thin line of disapproval. “Is he the reason for all of your career changes?”
“Yes and no,” Quinn answered honestly. Instinctively she knew there was no right answer. “I’m doing them for me. But yes, Marcus helped me to see what I wanted. He also showed me that I could have it if I spoke up and said it.” Her lips quirked when she thought of how he’d managed to show her that.
“I don’t understand you.” Her mother shook her head as she bent to snatch her purse from the floor. She pushed her hair away from her face and leveled another hard glare on Quinn that didn’t quite hide the hurt that was behind it. “You just told me you wanted to control your life, yet you’re letting this man tell you what to do. He’s going to destroy your career.” She gave one last scathing scan over Marcus before she turned and stalked out of the room.
Quinn stared at the door as it slowly swung closed. She wasn’t surprised by her mother’s reaction, but it didn’t stop her stomach from twisting at the disappointment. She should’ve known her mother wouldn’t take well to the thought that she was being replaced.
Marcus sat down beside her and she went into his arms without thought. “Give her time,” he murmured.
Quinn nodded. He was right. It was going to take them all some time to adjust. She just didn’t know if it would solve anything. There was still so much for her and Marcus to discuss and figure out, plus the issues with her mother. So many decisions and problems to resolve. She was starting to wonder if there would be enough time to solve them all.
Chapter Thirty
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Marcus asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Yes,” Quinn repeated, again. “I’m fine. If you don’t stop hovering, you’re going to drive me insane.” She bit back her sigh at his scowl and tried to remember that they were both stressed. It helped some, but it didn’t relieve the worry that still hounded her thoughts. She sat up on the couch and held out her hand. “Sit with me.”
A small breeze came in through the cracked window, relieving the sundrenched room from the baked heat warmth that always descended in the late afternoon if the drapes weren’t pulled.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before finally complying. Like always, he managed to look commanding, even in a plain navy T-shirt and jeans. She’d been released from the hospital that afternoon like the nurse had predicted, and they’d both benefitted from a hot shower, one he’d insisted on taking with her. Not that she’d objected. He’d shaved too and she kind of missed the scruffy rogue image.
He plunked down beside her with a sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he tucked his arm around her to pull her into his side. “I can’t stop worrying.”
“The doctor said I’m fine. I’ll tell you if I’m not.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” The annoyance must have transferred in her voice because he tugged her closer and planted a kiss on her temple. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. His chest was strong under her hand, his presence comforting. She wanted more than anything to just stay there like that.
The lights sparkled on the Christmas tree in the corner of her bedroom suite. The impeccably decorated fake tree was trimmed in a blue and white theme this year. Her mother bought new ornaments every year to fit her new vision for each tree in the house. There was a time when Quinn had loved the mystery and surprise in seeing what her tree would look like that year. Now it was a reminder of all the things she let others handle for her.
She tucked the light blanket around her legs, curled into the safety of Marcus’s arms and gathered the strength she needed for the coming conversation. They couldn’t put it off any longer. Well, they could, but avoidance wouldn’t help. Something else she’d learned in the last couple of months.
“When are you going back?” She stared at the empty boxes wrapped to perfection under the tree, feeling a strange kindred of sorts within them.
“I don’t know. That depends on you.”
“It does?”
“Of course it does.” He turned her around until she was forced to look at him. Yeah, this discussion deserved to be done face to face. He searched her over before running his fingers through her still damp hair. “I’m not going away.”
Logically, she’d known that, but it helped to hear it. The time had come to tackle the elephant in the room. “What are we going to do?”
“Figure it out. Do our best.” He smiled and looked down at their clasped hands. “Be honest. That’s probably the first step.”
“Yeah,” she breathed. Her stomached churned, but she made herself continue. “We should start there. What do you want?”
“You. Us.” He squeezed her hand. “I want us to work.”
She had to force herself to exhale. He’d said exactly what she’d wanted to hear and exactly what she’d feared he say. How could it be right and wrong? “How do we make us work?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. She was reassured by his honesty. He wasn’t trying to plow through with all of the answers and that in itself eased some of her worry.
“Let’s start at the top then,” she said, throwing more conviction into her voice than she felt. “Our jobs. It’s what broke us apart.” She wasn’t sure where her bravado was coming from, but it wasn’t a role. Not with Marcus.
“More like my job broke us up.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I left because of my job.”
“And mine,” he insisted with a glare that dared her to contradict him. “I’ll quit. Okay? I’ll move here and find another job. I’ll make it work.”
She chuckled, blinking back the threat of tears and
cursed the flux of hormones the nurse had warned her about. “So we’ll be unemployed together?” His confusion was cute—and that had to be the hormones thinking. “I’m quitting my job,” she explained. “I can’t go back to that role. It’s not me.”
“Thank God, Quinn.” Marcus leaned in to press a hard kiss to her forehead, his hand gripping the back of her neck. “I don’t know if I could’ve let you go back.”
Her hero coming to save her, just like the movies. “I’m also firing my manager and publicist. We disagree on where my career should go.”
“It’s about time.”
She chuckled in complete agreement. “Yeah.”
He frowned. “So why now?”
She found her answer in the memory of the conversation she’d had around a coffee table with three remarkable women. “Sometimes you put up with things until there’s a better offer or a reason to get out. I have both now.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach, thinking of the responsibility growing within her. “I’m taking a break. I want to enjoy being me, Quinn, for a while. I need to figure out who she really is. Hopefully, I can do that before I’m a mom.”
He swallowed and sat back, his smile receding behind a line of confusion. “And that means?”
“I want to go back to Minneapolis, with you.” She ignored that evil mistress called fear and took the plunge, trusting he was with her.
He hauled her into his arms and surrounded her in a hug that threatened to crush her ribs. “Yes, Yes. I’ll buy a house. I’ll get a new job. We’ll do this.”
As much as his words and excitement warmed her, it wasn’t want she wanted. Not exactly. She eased away but stopped to press a kiss to his lips. His willingness to change his life for her proved how much he loved her, not that she doubted him. Not anymore.
She shook her head as she leaned back. Unable to resist, she reached up to wipe the worry lines from his brow. “Thank you. But we need to talk about that too. I don’t want you to change your life for me.”
“But—”
“No. I told you want I wanted. Now tell me what you want.”
“You.” The look he gave her said it was that simple for him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy.
“There has to be more than that,” she insisted. “What about your job, the club, your loft, the new partnership? You’re going to throw all that away and then what? Resent me six months down the road when you’re unhappy? You’re not the kind of man who will enjoy living off my money. I know that about you.”
He sighed and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What do you want from me, Quinn? You walked out after seeing me in a Scene. That is my job. I’m a Dom. You said very clearly when you left that it wasn’t okay with you.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t then. But I’ve had a lot of time to think.” Almost too much time. Hours spent dissecting every second of their time together, both in and out of The Den. When he didn’t respond, she went on, ignoring the nerves that threatened to dispel the light lunch she’d eaten. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Have you thought about how you’ll feel when my acting part requires me to be intimate with another man?” His lips thinned and his nostrils flared with the possessive spark that flashed in his eyes. “I’m an actress. I can almost guarantee that will happen. Should I quit my job because you don’t like that portion of it?”
It was the question she was almost afraid to ask but had to. Her stomach rolled in protest of what he might say, but she had to know, no matter what his answer was. If they couldn’t resolve this issue, then there was little hope for their future together.
His irritation slowly morphed to a scowl before flattening with another sigh. “No. You shouldn’t stop doing what you love. You’d hate me for it eventually.”
“Exactly.” She smiled and hung onto that nugget of truth. “And I can’t ask you to do that either.” She rubbed his arm and waited until he turned his head to look at her. “You are a Dom. I get that and I love that about you. I don’t want you to change. Expecting you to stop would be like you telling me I can’t be an actress. Or that you have to approve all of my parts.”
And that would never work. She was finally taking the steps to own her career and she couldn’t go back to letting someone else dictate it for her. But she couldn’t imagine him not being a part of the process. She needed his support, wanted his opinion and that strong guidance that had helped her get this far.
His frown returned, and she was starting to wonder if it was becoming permanent. “So what does that mean?”
“Don’t leave The Den. Be who you are. I’ll still be here.” She would. Always.
He searched her eyes, his head slowly shaking. “How? You hate the thought of me with another subs. How will that work?”
“And you hate the thought of me kissing another man. How will that work?”
“Shit.” He raked his fingers through his hair before reaching over to hug her close. “I don’t know. That’s the point. I don’t know how to fix this, but I have to.”
And there was his Dom control showing. It wasn’t his responsibility to fix “this.” It was both of theirs.
She curled herself onto his lap, tucking her head into that comfortable spot under his chin. “Can I tell you how I felt when I saw you that night? Doing that Scene?”
“Do I want to know?” He shook his head, his chin tickling her scalp. “Shit. Sorry. Tell me.”
She smiled and sought comfort in the solid strength of his arms around her and the consistent beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Proud. Amazed. Stunned. Jealous. Awed. All of those things. You were amazing to watch. So in control and in tune with the submissive. I wanted to be that sub and I hated him, but I didn’t want you to stop either. I realized all of those things after I got home and had time to process it all.”
“But...” His arms flexed, his tension flowing into her. “There’s a but, right?”
She bit her lip, sorting out her thoughts before she sat up to meet his gaze. “You told me the strongest underlying element of the BDSM lifestyle is trust, right?”
He nodded, his thoughts concealed, but he wasn’t stopping or contradicting her.
“Then I trust you when you tell me you won’t have intercourse with any of your clients.” She blew out a breath and found the core of belief within her that back up her words. “In many ways, you take on a role for your job, just like I do. The man I saw in the Dungeon is not the same man sitting here with me. They are, but they aren’t, right? I finally understand what you’ve been trying to tell me all along. You’re a Dom, I’m an actor. They are elements of who we are, but not all we are.”
He was silent for so long she was afraid she’d been wrong. This—them—wouldn’t work if he couldn’t see the truth behind her words. She knew that he did, but could he accept her, love her for who she was, just like she did him?
When he finally reached out and stroked his thumb down her cheek, she almost lost her fight against her tears. “How’d you get so smart, kitten?”
“I learned from someone who was patient enough to teach me.”
He smiled then, his lip curling in rueful disagreement. “I think it was you who taught me.”
“Not a chance.” She laughed, the joy slowly replacing the worry and doubt. “Or maybe we taught each other.”
He swooped in and took her lips in a kiss that contained everything she’d missed. Strong and confident, he pressed in and stole her breath along with her thoughts. His tongue found hers and danced in a hard tango of bends and dips that fired the heat within her. He was back, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Ever.
* * *
Marcus forced himself to pull back from Quinn’s tempting mouth. She amazed him with her words and understanding. He’d make it right. They’d make it work. He was confident in that.
“I love you.” More than he ever thought he could love someone. He ran his finger over her soft lips, marveling in the fact that they were tr
uly his. “Others might kiss you. But you’re mine, Quinn.”
“Yes, Marcus.” She flicked her tongue over his finger. “Only yours.”
The declaration kicked at his heart. It probably always would. He traced a line across her throat, his stomach clenching. There was so much riding on the next question. “Where does that leave us, kitten?”
She searched his eyes, her face serious before she slid off the couch and went to her dresser. He held his breath, not wanting to hope or think or dare to push what she’d already given him, but he couldn’t stop himself. His breath expelled in a single gush when she lifted her collar from the drawer. Could she really mean it?
There was a smile on her lips when she lowered herself to her knees and extended her collar to him. That simple black leather lay like a promise in her hands. “I told you, I’m yours. I love you, Marcus. More than I ever thought possible.”
She was giving him more than he’d dared to dream. He would never understand how he’d gotten so lucky with her, but he wasn’t passing it up. No, he was taking it all.
The leather was cool and smooth beneath his fingers when he took the collar from her. If he’d known what it would come to mean between them, he would’ve gotten her something better. Nicer. He still would, but this first collar would always be the most valuable.
He almost groaned when she bowed her head and crossed her wrists behind her back. He’d been right since the very beginning—she was way better than perfect.
“I’m yours, Marcus. If you’re mine.” Her hair fell in golden-white waves around her face that tempted and teased, and he wanted to thread his fingers through it and hold on forever.
“Christ.” He swooped her up and settled her on his lap in one easy move. Her oversized sleep shirt was over her head in the next. She arched back, and he lifted her up to claim her the only way he could right then. Her breast was soft yet firm beneath his mouth as he sucked his mark onto her flesh.
“Yes,” she breathed.
