His Contract: Legally Bound, Book 1

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  “Oh.” Lilly paused. “Are they…still trying to find you one?”

  She was attempting to sound casual.

  She was failing miserably.

  “No. I told them to stop.”

  It was only partly true. He hadn’t told Brady shit, but Patrick was a different story. Remorse gnawed at him, a hollow feeling in the pit of his gut. She’d told him so much. It didn’t seem right to keep the fact that Patrick knew about them from her any longer.

  “Lilly, I—” he began, but she started coughing again, and Jack shelved the conversation for another time. Her well-being was more important than relieving his guilty conscience. “I think you should see a doctor.”

  “I’m fine. I promise.”

  God, she was stubborn. “Fine, but I’m insisting that you rest. No more work tonight, understand?” He lowered his voice on the last word, making sure she didn’t miss the command in his tone.

  She sighed, long and drawn out, but he could hear her smile. “Yes, Sir.”

  They said good night, but the sound of her cough pricked at him in a way he couldn’t place, and his unease remained into the days that followed. By Friday morning he found himself needing some kind of confirmation she was feeling better. A quick call wouldn’t hurt. Asking about her health was a perfectly normal thing for a Dominant to do for his submissive.

  He started to dial, but stopped himself. Too much weekday contact could lead to her expecting more than he could give. He wrote up their contract, damn it. He should know when to stop the lines from blurring.

  When he arrived at the pub that evening, Jack pushed through the throng of bodies and scanned the tables in the back. Brady and Patrick were playing darts, their beers on a table next to them. No one else was there.

  Anxiety swelled, but Jack kicked the feeling aside. There was nothing to worry about, and it was early. Lilly said she was fine. She’d be here.

  “There you are.” Patrick handed Jack his darts. “Take my spot. There’s a blonde in the corner who needs attention.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “No, just opportunistic.”

  Patrick strode off toward the woman in question. Brady aimed his dart, took his shot and hit the wall.

  “Jesus. How could I have been so good at football, but suck at this and pool?”

  “Because darts and pool take actual skill, and football, well…”

  Brady gave him the finger. “Speaking of skills, it seems I’m going to be trying my hand at tennis this week. Patrick asked me and Nick to join you. Guess he’s getting bored with your scintillating company.”

  “You’re starting to sound like him.”

  “And now my life is complete.” Brady grinned and waved over Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack turned to see Nick and Gabe weaving through the crowd. Lilly wasn’t with them. They took a seat at the table and Nick ordered them a round as Patrick settled himself down with them, proudly flashing the blonde’s phone number. Jack hurled his darts, feeling frustrated and powerless. Where the hell was Lilly? When Brady stepped up for his turn, Jack palmed his phone, his best poker face on as he texted her.

  Where are you?

  He stared at the screen for several long moments, waiting for her reply.

  There wasn’t one.

  “So what do you think, Jack?” Brady asked.

  Jack glanced up to find his brother looking at him expectantly. “What do I think of what?”

  Patrick laughed. “I think Jack was having a senior moment. Which is pretty fucking appropriate, considering the topic at hand.”

  “Shut up. You’re as old as he is,” Brady said. “We were talking about your birthday. Patrick could host another one of his epic parties.”

  Jack nodded, barely listening. “Sure. Whatever. Sounds good.”

  Patrick snorted. “I think that’s professor-speak for ‘Thanks guys. That sounds great.’”

  The withering look Jack shot him could melt glass. It had no effect.

  “Two weeks from tomorrow.” Patrick lifted his glass in Jack’s direction. “Plenty of time for you to practice your grateful face.”

  Being grateful wasn’t on Jack’s agenda. He wasn’t looking forward to the reminder that he was turning forty-five, or the fact that he’d be another year older than Lilly. He hadn’t even planned on telling her it was his birthday. That obviously wasn’t happening now.

  He checked his phone again. She still hadn’t replied.

  Screw this. He needed answers.

  “Where’s Lilly tonight?” he asked, turning to Nick.

  “Oh, she’s really sick. Bronchitis.”

  Jack fisted his darts. Damn it. He knew it wasn’t allergies.

  “She looked like hell yesterday,” Gabe added. “Forrester sent her home. She didn’t come in today, either.”

  “Has she been to a doctor?” There was an edge in his voice he didn’t bother to hide.

  “She went this morning,” Nick said. “She hasn’t answered her phone all day, but I’m sure she’s sleeping. I’ll check on her tomorrow if I haven’t heard from her.”

  Jack swallowed, his irritation overshadowed by worry. If she was too ill to even answer her phone, he needed to get to her, but how the hell could he escape this goddamned pub without an explanation?

  Patrick pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced at it and grinned. “Must be that blonde calling me already. Be right back.”

  He strode toward the doorway. Jack flung his darts again, hard enough that one bounced off the wall. When he bent down to retrieve it, his phone buzzed. He palmed it eagerly, waiting for Lilly’s name to read out on the screen, but the call was from Patrick.

  “Yes?” he snapped.

  “Stop being an ass,” he answered quietly. “You obviously need to go to her, so I’m out here freezing my balls off and pretending to be on the phone so I can give you a way out. Act like I’m Josh. He’s having some kind of PhD crisis and needs to talk to his dear old dad. Now get the hell out of here.”

  Jack closed his eyes in relief.

  “Hey, Josh. What’s going on?” He handed Brady his darts, an absent-minded move that made him look as if he were distracted by his son’s words. “No, I understand. Grad school is hard… Yeah, sure. Of course, I have time to talk.”

  He motioned toward the door and Brady nodded. Jack pulled out his wallet, offering to pay for a portion of the beer he hadn’t even touched, but everyone waved him off, the illusion complete. He passed Patrick as he walked toward the exit. Their eyes met and Jack nodded.

  Jack hurried to his car, dialing Lilly’s number as he got inside. Her voicemail picked up, and he punched the steering wheel in frustration. Adrenaline racing, he sped through town, his driving more reckless than it should’ve been. He found a spot in front of her building, lucking out when someone stepped out of the main entrance. He hurried to grab the door before it closed and took the steps two at a time, pounding on her door the second he reached it.

  “Lilly, it’s me.” When there was no response, he knocked again, louder. “Come on, open up.”

  He kept knocking until the lock clicked and the door creaked open. Lilly peered out in her bathrobe, one hand on the doorknob. Her hair was a mess, her eyes glassy and red, her face so pale that her freckles stood out in stark contrast.

  “Why did I have to hear from Nick you were this sick? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m fine.” Her throat was so swollen her words came out garbled.

  “You’re not fine. Let me in.”

  Lilly shook her head. The movement made her wince in pain. “Go home, Jack. You don’t have to be here.”

  “Like hell I don’t.”

  She coughed hard enough to shake her entire frame, then leaned on the door for support. A tear streaked down her cheek. “You’re not my boyfriend. It’s no
t your job to take care of me.”

  Jack flinched. Her words hurt, but they shouldn’t have taken him by surprise. Of course she’d shy away. She couldn’t admit she needed him because of who they were to one another. But he was her Dom and he needed to take care of her.

  “Your welfare is my responsibility,” he said. “It absolutely is my job, Lilly.”

  Her face crumpled. She dropped her hand from the doorknob and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

  Jack took her into his arms and hushed her, rocking her gently as he looked around her small apartment. A knitted blanket was bunched up on her couch, the pillows haphazardly strewn across it. Her kitchen table was littered with files and papers. The sink was full of dishes. The garbage can was overflowing with tissues.

  “You shouldn’t come in,” she tried to insist. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “I have a strong immune system. And I wasn’t asking your permission.” Jack closed the door with his foot. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “This way.” Lilly started down the hallway, and a tiger-striped cat wound around her feet as they walked.

  He hadn’t even known she had a pet.

  It bothered him, that there were things he didn’t know about her, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Jack helped her onto the bed, tucked her beneath the blankets and felt her forehead.

  “You’re burning up. Have you taken anything?”

  She waved toward her nightstand, where a vial of antibiotics, Tylenol, cough syrup and a full glass of water sat.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said sternly.

  “I took the medicine the doctor gave me this morning. Then I fell asleep.”

  “When’s the last time you took Tylenol?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Today?”

  He glared at her. “Yes, today.”

  “No.”

  Jack sighed and reached for the painkillers. “I wish you’d called me.”

  “Can’t find my phone. Think Rumbles ate it. Been too tired to get his food.”

  As if in response, the cat meowed loudly.

  “Here, take this.” Jack cupped the back of Lilly’s head, helping her sit up long enough to swallow the pills with a swig of water. “Close your eyes. I’ll be right back.”

  He went to her kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he found tea and a can of soup. He prepared both before searching for cat food and pouring it into the bowl on the floor. When he returned to Lilly’s side with the soup, she seemed too weary to even lift a spoon to her lips, so Jack sat next to her and did the job himself.

  “My son had bronchitis for the first time when he was five,” he said. “It almost turned into pneumonia. Scared the crap out of me.”

  Hoping to keep her distracted while she ate, he told her a story about Josh and an unnecessary trip to the hospital. He was all bravado, strong and sure as he fed her with a confident hand, but inside he was caving. It wasn’t memories of Josh twisting his stomach into knots. There was an echo of Eve’s dying form in the way Lilly’s eyes slid slowly shut, all her energy and passion drained by illness. Jack drew in a shaky breath, forcing away the ghostly memories.

  This isn’t cancer. She’ll be okay again.

  “It took a few days, but after some rest and medicine, Josh was back to his old self.” Jack spooned out the last mouthful of soup. “You will be too. I promise.”

  He wasn’t sure which one of them he was assuring.

  Lilly closed her eyes. “Hope so.”

  Jack pressed a kiss to her burning forehead. “Sleep.”

  He listened to her shallow breathing as she drifted off. When her cat curled up at the foot of her bed, Jack realized he wasn’t going anywhere, either. Careful not to disturb her, he flipped off the light and went into the living room. He heard the chirp of a phone about to go dead, and found it in a bag slumped on the floor. After finding a plug on her counter, he set it to charge, then retreated to her couch and tried to sleep.

  He woke up several times during the night to check on her. By the morning her temperature hadn’t dropped. Jack made a quick trip home for a change of clothes and resumed his post. Lilly slept intermittently throughout the day, waking once to field a call from Nick. She was too groggy to manage holding it, so he put the call on speaker.

  “Hey, you sound like shit,” Nick said. “You want me to come over?”

  Jack stiffened, readying himself to leave. Nick should’ve been the one with her, not him, but Lilly reached for his hand. The pleading look in her eyes seemed to say “no, you”.

  “Thanks,” she told Nick when Jack curled his fingers around hers. “But I’ll be okay.”

  He spent another night on her couch. Her cough started to lessen by Sunday afternoon, but her fever was still too high for him to feel comfortable leaving. He left his secretary a message that his Monday classes were canceled, then insisted Lilly email her boss saying she wouldn’t be in the next day.

  A few hours later, her fever finally broke. He helped her out of her sweaty clothes and into a bath. She breathed in the steam as he rubbed shampoo into her hair and rinsed her body, watching her revive.

  Letting her soak a bit, he asked, “Where are your clean sheets?” She pointed to a closet in the corner, and Jack pulled a set from a shelf. “I’ll be right back.”

  He stripped her bed, replacing the sheets with fresh ones. When he walked by her dresser, he noticed a piece of paper tucked into the mirror above it. It was a printout of her firm’s roster. Her name was on it, and Jack swelled with pride. It was a big step—the beginning of a long line of successes she was sure to have. He was quickly distracted, though, by the photo next to it of Lilly with a man who must’ve been her father. Jack studied the lines on the older man’s face, knowing there were similar lines on his own. For the first time in so long, the age difference between him and Lilly felt inescapably clear.

  With a sinking feeling in his gut, he returned to the bathroom. She was sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees, her spine a curved line that disappeared into the water.

  “Feeling any better?”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But I think my fingertips are starting to prune.”

  Jack held out a hand. “Let’s get you dried off.”

  He helped her out and wrapped her in a towel. As he rubbed the excess water from her skin, Lilly watched him from the tunnel of terrycloth, her eyes clear and wide. Jack slowed his rough caress as he looked down at her, his heartbeat in his ears. The gratitude in her expression was more than that of a grateful submissive to her Dominant. It was a question and an answer all at once, one he wasn’t ready for. What could he possibly say? It wasn’t that he didn’t return the sentiment in her gaze. He did, more so than he’d been able to admit until this point. Every moment he’d spent in her presence had brought him back from the grave.

  He stroked the damp skin of her cheek. Lilly cupped her hand over his and turned her face to kiss his palm. It was so tender and sweet, and it broke his heart to watch. He pulled her to him and pressed his eyes shut. He couldn’t keep her, no matter how much he wished he could. That wasn’t what either of them had signed on for, and any real future between them was impossible, anyway.

  She let out a muffled cough, and he kissed the top of her head. This thing between them would have to end eventually, but not right now. He had to get a hold of himself. She still needed him.

  “Thank you,” Lilly whispered.

  “Nothing to thank me for.” He helped her into pajamas, then walked her back to bed. “How does some TV sound?”

  Her nod was shy but strong, and he handed her the remote before heating up more soup. They watched a sitcom as they ate, and she fell asleep a short time later with her hea
d in his lap. She whimpered when he moved away, reaching for him in her slumber. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her and spend the night by her side, but sleeping together would only make things more complicated. For both of them.

  He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I won’t be far,” he promised, and turned out the light.

  Jack awoke Monday morning to the sound of footsteps. He looked over the couch to see Lilly entering the living room. She’d changed out of her pajamas into sweats and a T-shirt. Color had returned to her face.

  She offered him a faint smile. “I can’t believe you slept on my couch.”

  “It’s a comfortable couch.” He peeled back the blanket. “You look much better.”

  “I feel better. And I’m starving.”

  Jack grinned. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  She offered to help but he made her sit. She was silent while they ate, though, hesitant glances thrown in his direction.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Her gaze fell to the floor. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to play this weekend. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “You actually thought I’d be upset about you being too sick to play?”

  She shrugged. Jack put down his coffee and took her hand. “I honestly couldn’t care less about the lost playroom time.” He tugged on her fingers until she met his eyes. “There will be other Saturdays.”

  She gave him a sheepish grin, so adorable and sexy and Lilly.

  “Come here.” He stood, opening his arms to her. She moved into his embrace, fitting perfectly as he tucked her head beneath his chin. Her skin was no longer clammy but warm and soft again. Jack closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in her scent.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For taking care of me.”

  “I told you. It’s my job.”

  She pulled back to look at him, her chin pressing against his chest. Her expression started to shift, eyes growing wider, her cheeks pink, and not with fever.

  “I’d like to change something on my checklist, Sir.”

  Jack’s body reacted to the title before his mind could catch up with it, desires he’d forgotten about all weekend reawakening. He tried to stifle it, but it was impossible with how close she was, her breath fanning softly across his chest.