by Eden Bradley
She let out a small sigh, suppressed it with a sip of her coffee. Jamie was nothing more than fantasy, one she’d come to realize was best left where it had always been, where he had always been—in her imagination. Him being at the club didn’t change that.
Liar.
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back until she felt the morning sun on her face, on the rise of her breasts that curved against the pale pink silk of her short nightie.
God, if only it could be him, just once.
Her body heated all over from more than the gentle sun—it was imagining Jamie spanking her, pulling her hair, as Maîtresse Renee had the other night. His arm coming around her throat and tightening . . .
A soft moan escaped her.
“Hey, Summer Grace.”
“Jesus!”
She jumped, her coffee splashing onto the brick walkway as she whirled, her face going hot when she found Jamie in all his six-foot-something glory behind her. Damn, but he looked good in his low-slung jeans and the white wifebeater that showed off the leanly cut muscles in his arms, the breadth of his shoulders. The small, curved bar piercing his eyebrow caught the sunlight, giving his beautiful face, which had always looked a little sweet to her, a hint of the bad boy beneath. The piercing and the scruff on his chin, his jaw. No man should look this good at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said, his tone low, the lopsided grin on his generous mouth letting her know he wasn’t sorry in the least.
“You don’t just sneak up on a person like that, Jamie,” she fumed, not sure whether she was more pissed off at being taken by surprise or that her nipples were going hard at the sight of him. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but couldn’t figure it out with the mug still in her hand and had to give up. What she wanted to do was flail. Jamie at the club. Jamie here.
Keep your cool.
“Really? he asked. “Like you did to me, oh, a few dozen times?”
She sighed and shoved her hair from her face. “Yeah, okay. But at least I had being young and stupid as an excuse. What’s yours?”
He paused, searching her face, his brows drawing together over green eyes that looked as if they were sprinkled with gold in the sunlight. Still the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Still the hardest-cut jawline and most perfectly molded chin. Still the most adorable dimples when he smiled—if “adorable” was a word one could use for the hottest man on the planet. The hottest Dominant man. A fact that was making her crazy even though she should know better.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, but his gaze on hers went dark and stormy, letting her know the casual attitude was a sham.
“I just wanted to see you.”
She studied his face, and his green gaze settled on hers. And she was consumed for several long moments, just like at the club. Desire. Confusion. Anxiety.
Desire.
No.
“You ‘just wanted to see me.’ Out of the blue? After seeing me at The Bastille, it’s out of the blue?”
“No, not out of the blue. I’d like to say so, but the truth is I’ve wanted to come talk to you since I saw you Friday night.”
She waved a dismissive hand, pretending to be unaffected by the idea of him watching her even as everything in her contracted with razor-sharp arousal. “If you came here to give me one of your lectures, you can save it. I’m a consenting adult and I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He took a step closer and she hated that her pulse went thready.
“I didn’t come here to lecture you. How could I? I was there, too, and I may be a lot of things, but I’m no hypocrite.” He paused, and she saw his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I also saw Allie and we talked, so I know how you came to be there, and I understand she’d have warned you I’d probably show up at some point.”
She nodded warily. Jamie wasn’t going to lecture her? That was a first. “She did. She informed me of all the risks I’d be taking. Nice place, The Bastille. Nice and roomy. Surely there’s enough space for both of us there. If it makes you too uncomfortable, I’ll schedule around you and go when you don’t plan to be there.”
He took another step toward her and her hand tightened around the ceramic mug, her pulse sputtering.
“Why would you want to go and do that, Summer Grace? It may seem like I don’t appreciate how much you’ve grown—that you’ve grown up. It may seem—and granted, you’d probably be right—that I’ve mostly treated you like a child. But—”
“You think?”
He cracked a grin then, his dimples flashing again. “I know. And I’m sorry. It’s time I stopped. Hell, it’s time I stopped denying what you seem to have known about us since you were just a kid.”
She blinked hard. “About us?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
She thought she did, too—she simply couldn’t believe it. “And this realization about us hit you on Friday night?” Her stomach knotted and a small rage burned through her. “Friday night, when I was naked at The Bastille and getting spanked? That’s when the stars aligned and you had this epiphany about wanting to play with me, or wanting to have sex with me? Seriously, Jamie?”
He had the grace to look surprised. “What? No, it’s not like that. Is that what you think of me?”
His tone was laced with that trace of Scottish accent that only came out when he was worked up about something, or sometimes when he’d had a few beers. He’d been in the U.S. since he was seven years old, and the accent was mostly long-buried. Something deeper was going on with him.
“No. No. I just . . . What is it then, Jamie? What are you trying to say?”
There was a long pause while his features relaxed. “Maybe it’s that I’ve woken up, and about time, too. All these years I’ve turned away from you, from what I’ve wanted, and now I’m not sure I even know why.”
“Because you’re so damn noble?” she teased, still half mad but unable to restrain her desire to make him smile. “The White Knight of New Orleans, saving fair maidens from having to make their own decisions.”
The dimples were back. “Yeah. I deserved that.” His tone softened. “I don’t want to turn away anymore. I want you, Summer Grace.”
“Jamie . . .”
She turned her back to him and took a few steps down the brick path, emotion roiling inside her. She’d been mad when she spit out the words, but he had just seen her naked. He had just found out about her desire for kink. And now he’d shown up in her garden on a Sunday morning telling her, after all these years, that he wanted her.
He wanted her.
How long had she been waiting to hear those words? How many times had he laughed her off or turned her down when she came on to him, denying the chemistry she knew was between them? Too damn many.
She whirled around, ready to give him a good scolding for being a superficial prick and send him on his way for a change, but as her body turned she collided with him. His arms went around her, yanking her in tight.
“Jamie? What the—”
He cut her off by crushing her mouth to his and she melted into him, her head bent back as he leaned over her, his hot, wet tongue parting her lips with a silent demand. And oh God, he tasted good. Like coffee and warm flesh and sex. His arms tightened until she could barely breathe, but it only made her go wet, her legs shaking. It was Jamie kissing her like this, with a hunger and a heat that went through her like a shot of pure desire.
When he paused they were both breathing hard. He hadn’t let her go. She couldn’t make herself open her eyes, afraid it would stop. Afraid he’d kiss her again. Afraid he wouldn’t.
No. Oh God, yes . . .
“Jamie,” she whispered, not sure if she was going to argue or ask for more.
He didn’t give her a chance to make up her mind. He buried his f
ingers in her hair until they were close to her scalp and pulled, exactly the right way. His mouth came down on hers once more, bruising her lips. She loved it. She loved . . .
No!
She dropped the mug on the brick path with a crash and pushed hard on his shoulders, pulling her mouth from his.
“Damn it, Jamie! Don’t do this to me. You’ve never wanted me before and now . . . Goddamn it, I liked that mug,” she sputtered.
“Shh. Come here, Summer Grace,” he said softly, his grip on her waist like iron as he moved her away from the shards but didn’t let her go. His hold on her was so hard. So commanding. “I’ve wanted you for years. You know how much. You always have.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck, paused to bite just hard enough to pinch the skin between his teeth, then kissed the tender spot again.
Her head was spinning, her body melting. But she was furious, too.
“I’m not that kid anymore.”
He laughed softly. “Oh, I can see that. I can feel it.”
She tried to struggle in his grasp, but he took both her hands in one of his and held on tight, pressing their hands to his chest, the other arm still like a vise around her waist.
“Damn it, Jamie. You can’t do this—just march into my quiet Sunday morning like you think you have the right. Like you can simply take what you want after telling me to run along.”
He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Tell me you don’t want this, Summer Grace,” he demanded, his tone a low growl. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I’ll go.”
“No.”
“No, what? No, you don’t want me here, kissing you, touching you?” He lowered his voice until it was a purr filled with heat and gravel. “Or no, don’t stop?”
She shook her head, her mind and body at war. “I don’t fucking know!”
He was quiet a moment, his gaze hard on hers. “Then answer this question: Are you all right? Are you still in subspace from Friday night? Subdrop? Did seeing me there fuck with your head space?”
“What? No, I’m fine,” she lied.
“Swear it to me.”
“I am fucking fine, Jamie. I was perfect until you arrived.” She tried to pull her hands away but he only tightened his grip.
“Do you want me to stop? Because you’ve been at the club and apparently mentored by Allie and Rosie, so you understand how this works. You know damn well I need consent, even with you. Hell, maybe even more because it’s you. I should have fucking had it before I kissed you.”
“Still the white knight?” she asked.
“Yeah. Still am. To a point.” He lowered his head until his lush lips were inches from hers. Until she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “But I need to touch you so badly that if you don’t tell me to go right now, the white knight act is gonna disappear in a hurry, and I will be all over you like an animal, Summer Grace. So what’s it gonna be? Yes? Or no?”
Her sex was wet with wanting—a wanting she couldn’t remember ever being without, but multiplied by a hundred with him so near. His lean, muscular body was pressed tight against hers, and she could feel the length of his hard-on against her thigh. She needed to feel it inside her so badly she was shaking. It pissed her off to know he could feel her trembling in his hands. That he could still do this to her after everything she’d done to get over him. But how could she say no to the man who had been her fantasy forever?
She was mad.
She was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
“No,” she said through clenched teeth.
His frown was fierce. “No?”
“No. Don’t you dare leave now, Jamie.”
CHAPTER
Two
SUMMER WENT HOT and loose all over as she watched the change come over his face, his eyes glinting a hard, glassy green, almost as if they were lit from within. There was fire there. And stark command. And Jesus, it was Jamie looking at her like he was going to eat her alive.
He kissed her again, and it was all hunger and need and hurting, he kissed her so damn hard. It was everything she’d ever needed. Her body surged against his, everything just out of control. She couldn’t think. It was as if he’d shocked her senseless, and all she knew was his hot tongue in her mouth, the flavor of him, the scents of something dark—sandalwood or patchouli mixed with a little motor oil—and all of it so deliciously male she never wanted to stop breathing him in. She was soaking wet simply from kissing him, from feeling the authority in the way he held her.
You are in big trouble.
She didn’t care.
“Your bedroom,” he muttered from between clenched teeth.
Somehow she stumbled into the house. He was right behind her, holding her wrist hard at the small of her back, his body tight against hers, kissing and biting her shoulder as they moved into the bedroom. He whirled her body in his arms, everything happening so fast she had no time to think. He stripped her nightie off and it fell around her feet, leaving her naked. Then he took a step back and tore his shirt over his head.
“Oh . . .” It came out on a sigh of pure, burning desire.
His body was amazing. Broad shoulders, muscular chest. The washboard abs, the narrow waist. Even his tattoo was sexy—she’d always found tattoos sexy—the words memento mortalitatem tuam, Latin for “remember your mortality,” she knew, tattooed in a line down his ribs on his right side in bold calligraphic script. And oh, God, when had he gotten his nipples pierced? The two small, steel rings made her want to curl her tongue around them.
Her gaze flicked up to his, then down again as she heard him unbutton his jeans, the quiet snick of the zipper coming down. The fact that he wore nothing underneath made her sex clench. But he kept the damn jeans on, the solid ridge of his hard cock hidden beneath the worn denim, tempting her. She could hardly stand it.
She licked her lips. “Jamie—”
“Shh, Summer Grace. I need you to be quiet now, sugar. No discussion. Because now isn’t the time to negotiate and I am going to have to rein myself in to keep things under control.”
“Don’t, Jamie. We don’t need control.”
He stepped forward and slid his hand around her neck. She gasped in pleasure, felt his fingers flex in response.
“Yes, we damn well do, sweetheart. No arguments. Just fucking kiss me, girl.”
She sighed through the slight constriction of her throat, loving the way he held her at that edge as she tilted her chin and his mouth closed over hers. She opened to his searching tongue, losing herself in the sweetness of his mouth. In his utter command.
When he pulled away, she was panting.
“Right now you are mine,” he whispered against her cheek, his hand still on her throat, his breath warm on her skin.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Her body already belonged to him. She couldn’t think of anything else at that moment but the desire—the need—coursing through her flesh, taking her over. He was taking her over. If he didn’t really touch her she was going to explode.
With his hand wrapped around her neck, using only the slightest pressure, he backed her up step by step until she felt the mattress behind her legs.
“Down you go, now,” he said, his tone quiet. He was so damn commanding he didn’t need to use a harsh tone, a raised voice. She’d imagined a thousand times what being with him would be like—and, as she’d gotten older and discovered her desire for kink, what being dominated by him would be like. But never had she imagined it being this good. This natural.
He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure, guiding her to sit on the bed, her damp thighs hitting the cool sheets.
He leaned over her, clamping his hand a bit tighter. “This time, Summer Grace,” he told her, “it’s just gonna be you and me and the tiniest edge of kink. Because I fucking need you right now. Do you understand? Later, if you want to, we ca
n do full negotiations. But I have to admit I am in no shape to do that. And judging by your eyes, your breath, your silence, by how beautifully hard your nipples are, neither are you, sweetheart. So tell me again. Is this still a ‘yes’?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed, the words whispering on a long sigh. There was no other possible answer.
He smiled, his dimples making small, charming divots in his cheeks, and she had a flash of Jamie at sixteen. That was when she’d first fallen for him. It had only taken fourteen years to get to this point. Fourteen years and her decision to finally end her pursuit of him. But he was right in front of her and she was naked and he was touching her—had kissed her! The kissing was a revelation in itself, the flavor of him still warm on her tongue. The answer had to be yes.
He kept his gaze on hers as he slid his hand down and his fingers bore down on the tender pressure points just below her collarbone, hurting her the tiniest bit. Letting her know his power, that he understood very thoroughly how to cause pain with the simplest touch. Then he moved a bit lower, between her breasts, pressed down, making a small hurting spot deep in her flesh. She sighed into the pain, needing to be touched. Needing to feel that little bit of pain. Needing Jamie. As if he heard her need, he gathered both breasts in his hands, kneading gently, his thumbs teasing her nipples, and pleasure arced into her like an electric current. He pinched one nipple and she gasped.
“Oh!”
“You like that, do you, sugar? Oh yeah, I can tell you do. No, no. Hold still for me.”
He pinched again and she had to bite her lip not to move. It felt so good.
“I can see how hard you’re trying. Good girl. Now try harder.”
He pinched her again, both nipples this time, and she cried out.
