All's Fair in Love and Mastery

by Sparrow Beckett

  Anger flared, but he tamped it down. Losing his temper wasn’t going to lead to a satisfactory resolution when it came to this conversation. It wasn’t him she was so sure would cheat, it was just her instinctive reaction to being exclusive again, right?

  “Well, I’ve been faithful to you for the past year or so without any agreement between us about exclusivity. I think that’s got to count for something.”

  She nodded, gnawing on her bottom lip but still not able to meet his gaze.

  “I could sell it,” he blurted.

  Her gaze snapped back to him and she glared. “You think I’d let you sell this place because of me? We started dating five milliseconds ago, Ellis. That doesn’t make any sense. You were looking for something of your own to take care of—something to do with your life. I’ve seen how happy you are here. I wouldn’t take all of that away from you. It’s an awesome business concept and I think you’re going to make a shitload of money.”

  “If I have to choose between this place and you, there’s no competition.”

  “If you sell this place because of me, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Sounds like every man’s ideal relationship,” he said, winking at her.

  “I’m serious! If you sell this place because of me our relationship is over. You can’t make your life all about me. That’s just as bad as me making my entire life about you. Relationships end. Building your life entirely around another person isn’t safe.” She glared at him with earnest ferocity.

  Although he wanted to argue with her, he couldn’t come up with any examples of long-term couples who were still happy together. Lord only knew his own parents hadn’t been happy, and even his father and Kim had a cold, distant relationship by the time he and Will had left home. That was probably to be expected, considering the fact that their father was an asshole and Kim was worse. Sure, they had friends who’d been together for a few years, but that wasn’t the same as having some elderly couple to point to as evidence of long-term true love being possible.

  “We’ll make it work.” He finally said, hoping he was right. With things between them being so new he had no way of knowing whether even a week apart would end their relationship. If things ended, though, it wouldn’t be because of him. Not after he’d been hoping for so long to wear her down and get her to agree to this.

  * * *

  * * *

  After a few days spent cataloguing the supplies he’d need before opening the lodge to the public, Grant had to admit there wasn’t much missing aside from getting signs made and some kink equipment brought in.

  Oh, and hiring staff.

  In the evenings, while Arabella talked with Andromeda through long, dreary details about Evil Pixie’s beer garden plans, he worked on job ads and posted them online. Surprisingly, he’d received many responses right away even though it was seasonal work—teachers, college students, and various types of self-employed kinksters were only too eager to make some extra money over the summer at a vacation spot with free room and board.

  When dark fell on their last night alone together, and the Dread Queen of Mosquitoes had called her minions home, they ventured out to the huge stone patio. Grant wrapped Arabella in a blanket and sat her in one of the big Adirondack chairs as though she was a doll that needed to be taken care of, then worked on remembering how to go about setting up a proper campfire.

  “I can’t believe the mosquitoes are gone again,” Arabella said for maybe the fifth time since they’d ventured outside. “They vanish with a swirl of their evil cloaks, twirling their tiny mustaches.”

  He chuckled, loving that she got just as ridiculous as he did sometimes. “Maybe the Dread Queen has imposed a curfew. It seems like they’re at their worst around sundown.”

  “Like the little vampires they are,” Arabella replied. “Maybe we should be shopping for bug repellent laced with spray-on silver. Although, the stuff from the gift shop here seemed to work really well compared to what I picked up at the pharmacy back home.”

  “Back home we don’t have mosquitoes that regularly dine on moose. I think it affects their DNA.”

  “I bet mother moose have to hide their babies at sundown to make sure the mosquitoes don’t carry them off.”

  He chuckled, inordinately pleased when his stack of logs caught from the smoldering kindling. Fiery licks travelled up the wood, looking promising. He’d have to remember not to add more wood though. Tonight he had plans that didn’t involve Arabella nodding off at the campfire the way she had the night before.

  “Well! All that, and an arsonist too. If the zombie apocalypse ever happens I’ve definitely hooked up with the right guy.”

  “And how exactly do you plan to repay me for keeping you alive?”

  “Blow jobs, obviously. Aren’t blow jobs the standard currency during a zombie apocalypse?

  “I’m not sure they’re currency, exactly, but they’re always an excellent way to say thank you.”

  “And yet you turned down the one I offered you in the alleyway after the bachelor party.” She shook her head in mock disgust. “You’re really hard on a girl’s self-esteem, Ellis.”

  “I was very proud of my self-restraint that night. It’s not every day a man can bring himself to turn down a blow job he’s been fantasizing about for ages.”

  She tsked, but her mouth quirked. “I was so pissed at you I almost hooked up with some random at the club.”

  He turned toward her, scowling, although the effect was probably lost on her considering it was full dark and the fire was at his back.

  “Hey, you don’t get to growl at me for that. You turned me down and hurt my pride. I figured if you didn’t want that blow job, I might as well give it to someone who’d appreciate it.”

  He tried to follow what she was saying, but the visual he had of her leaving the club with some stranger had him so worked up he didn’t trust himself to speak. If it had happened it would have been his own damned fault. Intellectually, he knew that. Animalistically, she’d considered giving another man what was now his.

  “You were pretty adamant about shooting me down every time I tried to seduce you. I honestly didn’t think I had a chance with you anymore.”

  “You knew what I wanted.”

  “And now you know why I can’t give it to you—at least not entirely. Part of me kept thinking that if you really wanted me you’d accept me on terms I could live with.”

  “Honestly, I thought the reason you wouldn’t accept a collar from me was the same reason why I’m always single.”

  Her brows knit. “Oh?” she asked, her tone teasing and light. “You don’t seem to have any trouble finding subs willing to share your bed.”

  “Getting women into bed was never the issue for me.” He hesitated, but then decided he might as well just say it. “You know my history. The challenge has always been trying to get people to give a shit about me outside of bed. I’m not the kind of guy people love. When it comes to women, I’m the kind of guy they get their rocks off with, then ditch.”

  “That’s not true! What about Sarah from the club?”

  He tried to get himself to stop talking but now that he’d opened this can of worms, he couldn’t seem to shut up.

  “Why bother? As soon as she got to know me she’d bail. People don’t like me, Arabella. People have never liked me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to fix it. You’re the only person other than Will and Bethany who’s gotten to know me and hasn’t run away screaming.”

  She was staring at him, her lips parted. “That’s not true.”

  “It is true. My father, my sister, my stepmother—my own mother. The woman who made me can’t stand me. She rejected me not once, but twice, just to make things super fucking clear. Then you came along. You’ve always understood me and accepted me the way I was, and then we were together that night and I thought
maybe there could be more between us.” He took a breath and plunged on, his words like a runaway stagecoach in an old western, and he was pretty sure it was headed for a ravine. “When you said no I wasn’t surprised, but I had let myself hope, just a little. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t seem to help it. And then when you wanted to be friends with benefits, I . . . just couldn’t do it. Not even if it meant I could be close to you and pretend you—”

  He stopped his tirade, realizing he was making an ass of himself. Why did he keep telling her these things? It was as if Canada’s fresh air was laced with magic truth vapor and he couldn’t stop blurting out the stupidest, most embarrassing shit.

  The urge to stalk off was hard to ignore, but she deserved better than that. He was glad it was dark, though, considering how hot his face was. Even his ears were burning.

  She was hugging herself, her eyes wide.

  They’d been together for less than a week and he’d already fucked things up.

  Well done, Grant, you fucking idiot.

  She swiped a hand across her eyes.

  Great. He hadn’t just over shared, he’d made her cry.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, cramming his restless hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know what it is about this place. I just keep telling you shit.”

  “You tell me things because you trust me—because you know I love you.” She said it quite clearly. Without hesitation.

  He blinked at her. “You love me?”

  “Oh my god, Grant. How could you not know that? After everything you’ve been through in your life I can understand why it would be hard to believe, but think about how close we are and how long we’ve been friends. Who do I call when I’m having a shitty day? Who listens to you when you’re having a shitty day? Who do I choose to spend my free time with? Who’s the only person who has a key to my house? Who do I own an imaginary timeshare dog with?” She wiped her face on the hem of the blanket wrapped around her. “Just because I can’t handle a stupid symbol of permanence doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there. You know damn well how I feel about you.”

  Maybe he’d sort of known that. It made sense, but he’d thought it was sort of a low-key affection—that she found him funny enough to hang out with and put up with him when he was pissy. He’d never really considered there might be an attachment that went both ways.

  Forget attachment though. She’d said “love.”

  She loved him.

  She loved him, of all people. How did he even deserve that?

  “I love you too,” he said, half afraid she’d laugh at him and say she’d been joking. Too late to turn back now. “I think I always have.”

  As she rose from the chair, she let the blanket fall. Underneath, she was wearing one of his T-shirts that reached the middle of her thighs, and a pair of leggings that hugged her every curve—she’d even kicked off her flip-flops. In the firelight, she was small, and tousled, and vulnerable. She walked carefully over to him, mincing over bits of gravel, then wrapped her arms around his middle and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and shadow-filled.

  “And as for your family—barring Will—I have no idea what the hell is wrong with them. They should all be ashamed of themselves for what they did to you. Just because they’re your blood relations doesn’t mean they’re not toxic. They went out of their way to make you feel disposable. Who does that to a person—to a child?”

  “I wasn’t the easiest kid to get along with.”

  “I don’t care if you were Attila the Hun! They brought you into this world and they had a responsibility to make you feel safe and loved, and they fucked that up! That’s not on you, that’s on them.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Arabella held Grant to her, surprised by the narrowness of his waist and hips every time she wrapped her arms around him.

  Frustrating, ridiculous man.

  He loved her.

  He’d actually said the words, and a feeling of lightness rippled through her, reminding her of the way sunlight played off the still lake during their days here. This was something real—something they’d been working on for years without even realizing it.

  How could the man possibly think she didn’t love him? It wasn’t the sort of thing she said easily, but he should have known her feelings from her actions, if nothing else. Did he seriously think, after all these years, that she didn’t?

  Sure, things between them had started off light, and platonic, with them hanging out and joking around at the club, sharing their exploits and egging each other on. But then they’d started talking about more serious things. They’d been there for each other through work problems and stalkers and movie marathons. They’d bought each other cakes to celebrate birthdays and didn’t knock before strolling into each other’s places.

  It had only been one small step from all that to realizing that her love for him wasn’t the brotherly kind. Hell, there had never been a time where she wasn’t exquisitely aware of how hot he was. But he’d treated her like a buddy, not like a girl. She was pretty sure he’d never even given her a second look before the night they’d hooked up, but he’d been staring at her ever since.

  Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The meeting of their lips was long and sweet and made her chest ache. That feeling scared the hell out of her. That feeling, that pull toward another person, was the exact thing she’d been trying to guard herself against. No other man had managed to get through her defenses, but Grant had snuck through a side door she hadn’t even been aware existed.

  She’d heard of friends becoming lovers, but had always assumed that any feelings between them would be placid and boring. Ever since the first time they’d been together, though, she’d been obsessing over him.

  He lifted her and carried her back to her chair, then settled her on his lap and covered them with the fleece blanket. The warm feeling in her chest spread.

  They kissed for what felt like hours, lips and tongues exploring, Grant’s patience with foreplay never ceasing to amaze her. By the time they came up for air, she was squirming and ready for anything he had in mind.

  The crackle of the fire had died down, and the night air chilled the bits of her that weren’t covered in blanket.

  “Maybe we should move this inside.”

  “Sex inside?” she teased. “That doesn’t seem to be our thing.”

  “It’s like we have some sort of an objection to being comfortable.”

  “Being comfortable is so vanilla.” She snickered, and he grinned down at her.

  “I guess if we’re going to defile the lodge we’re going to have to start now. Not much needs to be done to the place before we open, and I’m not enough of an exhibitionist to have sex in the common areas after our guests arrive.”

  The “we” and “our” parts of his statement would have sent her running for the hills just days ago. Maybe he was just so used to having a business partner with Catacombs he reverted to an automatic “we”? However, the warmth in his voice made it sound like he thought of the island as theirs.

  To be fair, it wasn’t like she’d ever be able to come here again without thinking of their time alone here. Maybe he felt the same way.

  She thought of him owning this place in the future, after they’d split up, and sharing adventures like the ones they’d had together with some other woman. Maybe even with Sarah.

  Dex didn’t like that idea at all.

  It had been so long since she’d let herself get attached and insecure about someone that she wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

  Grant swept her up and walked into the lodge with her, like he had the first day. A few insects still buzzed around the light above the door, but they passed them without being abducted.

  “You really need to stop carrying me around like this. I’m going to get home and forget how to mov
e from one place to another on my own two feet.”

  “You’re one of the most independent women I know,” Grant said with what sounded like approval. “I’m just trying to help you conserve energy for our next adventure.”

  “Our next adventure? We’re only going to be here until tomorrow.”

  “I am about to do terrible things to you in various parts of the lodge.”

  She groaned in fake dismay. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be having a headache out of the country in a few minutes.”

  The arch of his brow made her shiver. He always seemed to know when she was bratting—then again, when wasn’t she?

  “You’ve found a faster way home than driving?”

  “Wormhole.”

  He sighed and sat her on the kitschy log welcome desk, putting his hands on either side of her hips to pen her in. “I can’t believe we’re already out of week.”

  His tongue flicked over her lips and she groaned again, but instead of complaining, this time she pulled the elastic from the bottom of his braid and undid his hair. Loose, it fell around them in a silken curtain, shielding them from the world. It felt like heaven between her fingers, and she tugged him down to her and kissed him again.

  The week had flashed by so fast, and she was very sorry it was over.

  He pulled away but didn’t go far, speaking against her lips. “We have to talk about how we’re going to handle things when we get back home.”

  It seemed like he was holding his breath, but she guessed that was fair, considering how hard of a time they’d had even getting to the point where they’d agreed to be in a relationship.

  “Well, I’m down with telling people, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, watching as his expression turned from wary to ecstatic. Her heart leapt at the joy on his face. She’d made him happy like that, and her own elated response to his excitement surprised her. In all their time fighting, she’d almost forgotten how much she loved his real smile, instead of the edged, angry one he’d kept aiming her way.