Under His Command (Six-Alarm Sexy)

by Kristine Cayne

  He slowly turned to her, the tinted lenses making it impossible for her to read his mood. On the other hand, the stiffness of his posture and the turning in of his lips told her plenty.

  She pushed some more. “We need to talk about what just happened. About what happened on our reunion night.”

  His face as unmoving as a statue, he made a tiny “go-ahead” gesture with his hand, as if she weren’t worth the effort of movement or conversation.

  She huffed in annoyance. “I can’t do this alone.”

  “No?” His brow arched over the rim of his glasses and his mouth curved into a smirk. “You’ve proven you’re quite good at doing things alone.”

  Erica closed her eyes. She deserved that dig. Jamie was tough, but she’d pushed him, hurt him, over and over this past year. But despite everything, he’d only shown his pain to her twice—the night of the earthquake and right now. “I’ve handled a lot of things very badly where you’re concerned, Jamie. I’m sorry about that. But it doesn’t change the fact that we have serious problems. Problems that have to be resolved before we can move forward.” She flicked a glance at him. He was watching the water, his manner dispassionate, disinterested. It made her blood pressure rise. “Problems that aren’t all mine,” she finished, her tone sharp.

  “Ah, so this is going to be a what’s-wrong-with-Jamie lecture. No thanks.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “That’s not it at all. I just want us to talk, really talk. No judgment, no recriminations. Let’s lay everything on the table so we can figure out how we can fix”—she waved her hand between them—“us. And this isn’t just about what happened in there. The sex is just a symptom, a casualty, of the fact that we can’t seem to communicate anymore. If we ever even did.”

  Steepling his hands in front of him, he ran a finger over his lips. “You want to talk? Fine. You want us to put our cards on the table? Fine. But I go first.”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms across her chest. When he flicked off his sunglasses and stared at her arms pointedly, she sighed and laid them on the armrests.

  He picked up his beer and tilted his head back as he finished it off. When he lowered his face, she was caught off-guard, floored by the turmoil boiling in the depths of his eyes, as impenetrable as the ocean. “Let me start by saying that I’m fully aware that getting pregnant on our one-night-stand ruined your life. Don’t get me wrong, I love our daughter, but if I had to do that night over again, I’d have made sure to protect you better.”

  Two sentences that said more than he’d said in the entire duration of their marriage. “You didn’t ruin anything. I got pregnant, that wasn’t your fault. We used condoms, and neither of us noticed one break.”

  “But did we use one every time? I honestly don’t know.” He pinned her with his gaze. “You made me so crazy. All I could focus on was you.”

  When she blinked, he turned away.

  Her heart stuttered, then took off at a harrowing pace in her chest. The intensity of his stare had robbed her of breath. “Uh… it was the same for me.”

  He jerked his eyes back to hers. “Explain.”

  “Seriously? I came so many times, I almost went blind.”

  A sexy grin softened his expression, melting her insides. “If I recall correctly, you were blind at the end.”

  Heat raced to her cheeks, but she couldn’t keep from smiling back. She’d cherished the memory of their night together. Replayed it so many times in her dreams. Sometimes when she and Jamie were making love, she’d fantasized about the blindfold he’d tied over her eyes. Wishing he’d do it again. It had been a guaranteed orgasm. She squeezed her trembling thighs together and became aware that his grin had fallen. Her continued silence seemed to unnerve him. It was now or never. “It was the best night of my life.”

  “Because of Chloe, you mean.”

  She shook her head. “Because of you.”

  He laughed, sounding pained. “You can’t possibly mean that. Hooking up with me that night was probably the dumbest thing you ever did.”

  “You really have no idea, do you?”

  “None whatsoever.” He scrubbed his stubbled cheek. “Afterward, I kept wondering if you’d been drunk and I just hadn’t noticed.”

  “I was stone-cold sober. Why would you have thought otherwise?”

  His lips quirked up for just a moment before flattening again. “Rickie, you were studying to be a lawyer. I’m just an idiot who runs into fires and falling buildings. You’re a proper lady. You have style and organization. I’m loud, crass, and it’s a hallmark day when I can find the remote without tearing the living room apart.”

  Snorting, she sat back and crossed her arms. This time when he glared at her, she ignored him. “A proper lady? What is this—the nineteenth century? I grew up in trailer parks and people’s basements, anywhere my mother could stash me while she went on another bender.”

  He leaned forward and started to extend his hand as though he wanted to take hers. But then he let out a breath and straightened. “That’s just circumstances and poor choices on the part of the adults who were supposed to take care of you. The person you are now? That’s who you were meant to be, minus the law degree.”

  “You make it sound like we’re two different species. If I’d known you felt this way, I’d have made a point of leaving wet towels on the floor.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t sound good on you, honey.”

  “I did my best to compromise.”

  “Maybe. But the house looks just like you now. There’s nothing of me left.”

  “I kept the recliner.”

  He snorted. “How kind.”

  She rubbed her forehead. This conversation wasn’t going how she’d intended. “Do what you want with the house. I don’t care about any of that.”

  “What do you care about, then?”

  “Us, Jamie. I care about us. I care about Chloe having two parents who love each other.”

  “Do you, Rickie? Do you love me? You said you did, but emotions were running high after the earthquake. And honestly, I’m not seeing it.”

  “What are you seeing?” His gaze turned to the ocean, and a terrible fear clutched her heart.

  “I’m seeing a woman who is very confused about what she feels and what she wants. A woman who pushes me away with one hand and pulls me to her with the other. A woman who now claims that the first time we had sex was the best of her life, but froze up like a popsicle stick whenever I acted even remotely the same way.”

  “I… No, Jamie… I…”

  “What do you want from me, Rickie?” He sighed, a horrible tired sound that echoed the depths of his frustration.

  She blew out a breath, prepared to take the blame she deserved. All of this was her mess, her fault. “I want you to love me. Not because I got pregnant and gave you Chloe. But because you like who I am. Even if I am neurotic.”

  “I love your brand of crazy. I love you.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  “No. It isn’t. It can’t be.”

  His hand curled into a fist on the tabletop. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Besides my family, I’ve never said that to another woman.”

  “I don’t understand how you can love me.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine, Erica.” His use of her full name took her aback. Anger seethed from his pores and coated his words. “The real problem is and always has been that you don’t trust me. I understood that in the beginning. You had no reason to trust me back then. But I’ve worked hard to be a good husband and a good father. And until I went to Indonesia on that search-and-rescue mission, I thought our marriage was pretty damn great.”

  His admission had butterflies fluttering in her belly. “It would have been great, Jamie, if you had trusted me.”

  “I did. I do.”

  “You can’t possibly trust me after everything I’ve done.”

  “The night of the earthquake, I tru
sted you enough to let you take the place of a firefighter and save our daughter.”

  “Those were extenuating circumstances. You didn’t really have a choice.”

  Reaching out, he ran his fingers over her hand. The gentleness of his touch had hope welling in her chest. “Maybe what’s really going on here is that you don’t trust yourself,” he said.

  She frowned at him and shook her head. He was wrong. “God, Jamie. You took me in when I had nothing and no one. And what did I do to repay you? I made you feel bad about who you are. How can you love or trust me after all that?”

  Yanking his hand away, he growled. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t feel bad about who I am.”

  She flinched at the curse and instantly regretted it. Jamie thought her enough of a prude already. “That first night, you let me see a side of you I’ve rarely seen since. That’s on me.”

  “It was supposed to be a one-time deal.” He shrugged as though to brush it off, but his features hardened.

  “How does that matter?” she asked.

  “No woman wants to marry a man like that.”

  “I thought you weren’t ashamed of who you were.”

  “I wasn’t. Not until—” He clammed up.

  “Until I pushed you away. And that’s my fault.”

  “I should have been more sensitive, once I knew your background.” He pressed his palms against his eyes for a moment. When he lowered them, he asked, “Had you ever done anything like that before?”

  “I wasn’t a virgin.”

  “What we did wasn’t vanilla, and you know it. Was it the first time or not?”

  “Yes. Okay? Yes, it was. So what?”

  “You were young, naïve, and horny. A very combustible combination.” He smirked. “You experimented, let yourself go because you never expected to see me again.”

  Ever the hero. Always taking the blame. “You didn’t force me to do anything, Jamie.”

  He raised his brows. “I never gave you much choice.”

  “Listen. First time or not, if I hadn’t wanted to do the things we did, I wouldn’t have. I stopped you today, didn’t I?” There, that ought to be clear enough, even for him.

  “Yes. Let’s talk about that.”

  “Gah! Are you really this dense or are you just being difficult?”

  “Use real simple words,” he said, his jaw tight.

  “You are such a frustrating man. Let me be very clear. I stopped you because you were being too nice. I might like fine china, but that doesn’t mean I want to be treated like it! I like sex a little rough, a little bit”—she swallowed and decided to use Dani’s word—“kinky. Deal.”

  Jamie pushed his chair back and stood, looking at her like he didn’t recognize her. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  Erica watched, utterly bewildered as he turned his back on her and marched inside the cottage, taking her heart and her hope with him.

  Of all the things he could have imagined, hearing Rickie say she liked sex a little rough, a little bit kinky, was dead last. In fact, it wasn’t even on the list. After that first night, every time he’d acted the least bit dominant with her, she’d stiffened and fear had crept over her features, making him feel like a goddamn rapist. And now she was telling him she liked it rough? Liked it kinky? Fuck.

  He strode into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Kinky. As soon as the word had left her lips, his cock had instantly given her a salute. A movie reel of all the adventures they could have shared over the years played in front of his eyes, making him pant. Sweat beaded his forehead and a most incredible sensation wound in his belly, a building pressure that signaled he was spiraling out of control. Take it down a notch, Caldwell.

  His hand drifted down to the bulge in his shorts. He needed to rub one off right now before he burst through the door and drove her into the mattress.

  A knock on the door.

  “Jamie? Are you okay?”

  Like a teen caught charming the one-eyed snake, he dropped his hand to his side. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice rough. Guilty.

  “Are you… um… coming out?”

  Hell yeah, he wanted to come out. In. So deep inside she’d feel him push against her heart. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

  After listening to her walk back to the sitting area and switch on the television, he opened the tap and splashed cold water on his face, willing his loose jimmy away. He took his time, even used the toothbrush and toothpaste provided by the resort. He’d been so anxious to have Rickie, and then after she left, he hadn’t felt like unpacking. All he’d wanted was a beer and time to think. He’d resolved to follow his mother’s advice—tell Rickie how he felt about his own responsibility, beg her to give him another chance, and try to rediscover who he was. Who he’d become.

  Kinky. With that one word, Rickie had thrown a Halligan bar into his carefully thought-out plans. With that one word, who he was, the man he was—it all became crystal clear. She’d set the stage and he needed to act. If he went about this the right way, he could have everything he’d always wanted.

  He had to take it slow. Draw her in with care. His poor wife had no idea what she’d set in motion, but he’d make sure she never regretted it.

  His face dry, his dick in its place, he rolled his shoulders and opened the door. With a few steps, he was in the sitting area. He stopped in front of Rickie. She switched off the set, but made no other move.

  All right. Good start.

  He was so excited, so fucking joyful, it was all he could do not to grin like a boy in the Nerf section of a toy store. Slow down, Caldwell.

  “If that first time was so damn special, why did you nun-up every time I got a little demanding with you?” Until they had this figured out, there was no way he was going any further. He wasn’t risking that kind of hurt again.

  She crossed her arms and rubbed her throat with one hand. “I was scared.”

  Christ. He recoiled in horror. “Of me?”

  She dropped her head forward. Her hair shielded her face, and he didn’t like that. He lifted her chin up. “Eyes on me.”

  Swallowing hard, she met his gaze. “I was afraid that you’d turn into Mr. Asshole.”

  “Mr. Who?”

  “That’s the name I used for my mother’s boyfriends.” Her eyes blazed and whiteness ringed her mouth. “At least the violent ones. The ones who’d talk dirty and slap her around. Who’d punish her with kicks and punches whenever she was too slow or did something they didn’t like.”

  Jesus. He’d known things had been difficult for her growing up, but he hadn’t known her mother had been abused. Then a sickening thought speared though his gut. He crouched down in front of her. “Did any of them ever… touch you?” He’d kill any fucker who’d so much as laid a finger on her.

  She squeezed her lids closed and shook her head. “It came close a time or two, but Mom always managed to distract them.”

  Thank God. Patting her knee, he stood back up. “This certainly explains a lot. I wish you’d told me earlier.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t think I was as afraid of you turning into Mr. Asshole, as I was of me turning into my mother. She let them do those things to her.”

  He walked back to the couch and sat beside her. “Your mother was a substance abuser. She let them hurt her because they fed her addiction, not because she liked it.”

  “But that’s just it, Jamie. I liked it. I liked when you spanked me. I’m exactly the same as her. Maybe she started out liking it too. And then things went too far and she couldn’t stop it anymore.”

  Pulling her against his chest, he stroked her back, her hair, her arms. He could feel her body tremble beneath his hands. “What those men did had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with power. I’d never do anything you didn’t want. And I’d never let things go too far. With me, you don’t have to be afraid of what you like and what you want.”

  She clung to him as though he w
ere a life raft. “I really want to believe you, Jamie. I want to trust you.”

  “And yourself.”

  “And myself.”

  “I have an idea that might help us get there.” But first, he had to make sure they were on the same page. Her kinky might be his vanilla. “Tell me. What exactly about that night did you like?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, so much like they’d been the night they’d met. And despite the seriousness of what they’d just discussed, his cock hardened.

  “I liked what we did,” she whispered.

  Could she be more cryptic? “Give me specifics.”

  “It wasn’t so much the ‘what’. It was more the ‘how.’”

  “Details, Rickie.” His tone was firm. Low. Exactly the tone he’d used with his subs in the past.

  She sat back and jutted her chin out, and he almost smiled at the show of resistance. “I liked the way you spoke, the words you used, the way you touched me.”

  He stood up and took a few steps. “Do you know what BDSM is?”

  Her eyes flicked to her suitcase before returning to him. Hmm. He’d have to find out what she had in there later. “Whips and chains? People who like pain when they have sex?”

  “Uh… not quite. It’s a combination of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. They’re lumped together like that because many times, people who like one, like them all. I’m different. I’m not into the last one. But the rest?” He stepped closer and leaned over her, boxing her in with his arm on the side of the couch. When he was an inch from her ear, he murmured, “Those are a definite turn-on.”

  He felt her shiver as much as he saw it. He stepped back, pleased to see the spark of arousal in her eyes. She licked her lips and his belly flipped. Rickie was even sexier now than she’d been when they’d met. She’d gone from a girl to a woman, and he loved every inch of her.