by Angel Payne
And maybe the clouds would open up, and God would invite him upstairs for a beer and a chat. Preferably about where the fuck He was hiding the confident woman once known as Sage Weston-Hawkins.
“He’s not some recruit for your team, Sergeant. Keep my baby out of the damn muck.”
More snow wasn’t due until late tonight, but a sleet storm moved in on his heart now. Fury and bewilderment tangled with each other even as he battled a thick erection watching Sage’s ass during her retreat into the house, still wiping Race as she went. Damn it. He’d never been so enraged and in lust with someone in the same breath. It’d been weeks since they’d done anything more than kiss, a fact that hadn’t been earning him the customer satisfaction award from his cock. Now it seemed he was due for more of the same frustration.
All of that fueled the glower he swung at Wyatt and Josie as they approached. His uncle held their eighteen month-old girl, Violet, who lived up to her name with blue eyes featuring sparkling flecks of purple. Garrett’s cousin flashed a gap-toothed grin over the head of her princess doll. Despite his irritation, he ran a gentle hand over her strawberry blond curls.
“Guess we need to debrief.” Wyatt’s tone held a smirk, but his eyes didn’t fuck around.
“No,” Garrett countered, “we don’t. Thanks anyway.”
Josie let out a delicate snort. “How’s the view down in that hole, whelp? Seeing anything fun?”
Whelp. The only time either of them used his childhood handle was either with deep affection or irritation. In this case, it wasn’t complicated to rule out the former. “I know what’s going on, okay?” he snapped. “I know that Sage and I need to…talk.”
Josie switched her indignation for a smile. “It’s not a dirty word, G.”
“Though talking’s probably only the start.” Wyatt added it with calm that edged on grim.
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Tell him, Josie.”
His aunt, who looked happier than he ever remembered, turned a tender look up at him. “About four months after Vi was born, I started exhibiting a lot of the same behaviors you’re seeing in Sage. I couldn’t sleep. I’d be fiercely protective of Vi one second but push her off onto Wyatt the next, locking myself in the bedroom for hours to hide from the world.”
“Sound familiar yet?” Wyatt injected.
Garrett glared again. His uncle chuckled. Asshole.
“To be simple, I felt overwhelmed,” Josie went on. “And unworthy. And insane. I had no idea what I was doing with an infant at my age. I railed at God for giving me such a precious gift when He could so easily take it away.” Her next words brought a painful twist to her lips. “And…I thought a lot about that night when Sage, Rayna, and I were captured by King and held aboard his yacht. I put on a brave face for those girls during those hours, though deep in my heart, I was prepared to die the next morning.” A sheen of tears glowed in her deep green eyes. “But even that fear paled to all the things I suddenly felt for my daughter. The terror of losing her, along with the knowledge that some things in life are beyond our control…” A desperate sigh tore past her lips. “It was too much to wrap my head around. So I didn’t. I dropped out and fell deeper into my depression.”
Garrett clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. So much of what she’d relayed, behavior-wise, matched what he’d witnessed in Sage lately. How much of the rest was the same? How much was probably worse? Sage hadn’t spent just one night in King’s chains. The man’s Thailand dungeon had been her home for weeks.
He dragged a hand through his hair to help push past the despair toward something more constructive. A plan. “Okay, you obviously didn’t stay there, right?” he demanded. “In your depression?”
Wyatt arched his brows. “You think I’d allow that?”
He let his uncle observe the grin he barely held down. “No, Sir.”
“Damn straight, no sir.”
“Language!” Josie shot the rebuke with a laugh while Wyatt handed Violet, now squirming for mommy, back to her.
“So what happened?” Garrett questioned.
“Hauled her ass to the doctor right away, that’s what happened.”
A blush warmed Josie’s cheeks as she gazed up at her husband. “Hmm. Not right away.”
Wyatt cracked a wolfish smile. “Someone had to remind you about who was calling the shots, missie.”
Garrett watched as his aunt bowed her head and pressed it into Wyatt’s shoulder. How many times had he seen her do that, never fully understanding its meaning before now? It was a beautifully submissive move, made more eloquent when Wyatt tenderly stroked her hair then lifted her face for his kiss.
Josie turned her smile back to Garrett. “I was resistant about looking for help,” she explained. “Like a lot of the world, I thought postpartum depression was only something that struck a woman soon after birth. I had no idea it can hit up to a year after the baby comes. Like every good Army wife, I wrote off my feelings as a rough patch and tried to move on.” She leaned against her husband again. “Thank heavens I got a little push in seeing the light from my man.”
Garrett smirked a little. “You mean your Sir.”
Shit.
Impulsive and unthinking, meet mouth. He fell into silence, uncertain about how his aunt would react to that. Had Wyatt told her he’d come clean to Garrett about how the D/s dynamic existed inside their marriage? He hoped so. That heartfelt discussion had taken place over a year ago but Garrett remembered it like a conversation from yesterday. His uncle’s confession had been fifteen minutes of a world-changer for him. Wyatt had opened a window about what a Dominant’s boundaries and discipline, given with command but tempered with love, could mean to a submissive who’d been tapped out on doing things like that for themselves.
At the time, he’d finally seen that Sage was such a sub. She’d begged him to explore the dynamic, because she’d endured a year of simply trying to survive, and the chance to “turn off the switch” was her idea of paradise. He’d finally realized that, and in doing so, had given himself an amazing gift, too. Being able to relieve a fraction of her trauma infused precious solace to his soul, and the guilt that would never fully let him forget the hell she’d endured.
Josie’s delighted laugh hit the air, relieving his tension. “Yes,” she affirmed, “my Sir.” She giggled more when Garrett felt an idiotic blush rise up his neck. “Don’t stress, whelp.” This time she threw out the nickname with warmth. “There’s not a lot Wyatt and I keep from each other. Besides, I heard you spying on us when you were a kid, too.”
His flush turned into an inferno. “Fuck on a stick.”
“Language.” After the admonishment, she shrugged. “You were a curious boy in puberty. I think I would’ve been shocked to not find you lurking one night. And as much as I love your parents, you sure as hell weren’t going to get the four-one-one on the birds and the bees from them.”
Garrett kicked at the ground. “Now that the two of you have embarrassed me worse than the karaoke contest debacle, you gonna help me figure out what to do about Sage?”
“Hey,” Josie protested, “you were good!”
“I sucked ass. In front of Ellie Macallister.”
Wyatt grunted. “Who got knocked up by Jason Yearborn before your senior year was up. We saved you from that tramp.”
“Fair enough. How about helping me hang on to the jewel I did find?”
Wyatt scowled. “Wasn’t that what we were doing?”
Before Garrett could pile another layer onto the perplexity sandwich, Josie cleared her throat with diplomatic timing. “Master, may I speak boldly?”
Wyatt nodded. “Sounds like a damn good plan, pet.”
The woman took a moment to set Violet down, encouraging her to find magic snowflakes for Dora the Explorer and the Snow Princess. When she straightened, there was a glimmer in her eyes that conveyed a message of nothing but naughty. “Tie her down, command every sound she makes and breath she
takes until she can’t string two thoughts together, and make her see the light.” She lifted a grin back at Wyatt. “How was that?”
The man burrowed his face into the cowl of her jacket and openly nuzzled her neck. “Beautiful, darlin’. Simply beautiful.” He twisted his head when Garrett returned nothing but a tense silence. “What now? You still having trouble understanding the directive, nephew?
“I understand it fine.” He toed the ground again but put angry force behind the move this time, sending the snow into a fan that delighted his squealing cousin. “I just think there’s going to be a few issues with the mission execution.”
“What?” Josie retorted. “Why?”
Wyatt’s own response wasn’t so mystified. “Shit.” He drew out the word as he pulled away from his wife. Garrett swore he hadn’t seen such a glare out of his uncle since he was thirteen and accidentally flipped one of the tractors into a ditch of sludge. “Are you telling me the only action that playroom of yours has seen lately is from the dust bunnies?”
Garrett averted his gaze. It’d been a lot longer than “lately.” The last time he’d taken Sage to their BDSM playroom, he’d been home on a fast three days of leave between the battalion’s missions, and Sage was just starting to show the bump where his son was growing. “Well, they’re bunnies,” he finally murmured. “So if they need a place to get their kink on, the Hawkins playroom is—”
“Goddamnit, Garrett,” Wyatt growled. “Don’t make light about this. Haven’t you been talking to Zeke about any of this shit? He’s an experienced Dom. I expected him to advise you better.”
He huffed in exasperation. “Gee, so sorry, but Z and I are usually discussing other things, like how to take care of the scum-nuts threatening our national security while assuring our own balls come home intact. There hasn’t been a lot of time to talk about how completely lost I’ve been on how to touch my wife since she delivered our son while I lay unconscious three doors down in the hospital.”
“So you’ve just decided not to?”
Josie’s query didn’t accuse like Wyatt’s, but the implication clung. Heat spread up his face again. At this rate, he’d be able to shuck the parka and get a goddamn suntan out here. “I’m—I’m afraid of hurting her, okay? Her body’s been through a lot. Her heart’s been through worse.”
Josie shook her head. “But you haven’t given her any safe ground to express that.”
Pain radiated through his jaw as he clenched it…as his aunt’s words knifed into his heart. Sage had come back to him from death last year, but in many senses, he’d murdered her all over again. His wife, so used to being in control and “on top of things,” didn’t know how to access her vulnerabilities by herself. That was why their dynamic as Dom and sub was so important to her. She literally needed to be told it was all right to let go.
And he’d gone AWOL on her.
A growl full of self-loathing tore out of him. “Guess I’ve dicked this one up pretty good.”
To his surprise, Josie grinned. Not so shocking was her little hop forward, followed by pulling him into a tight hug. “Good thing we’re here to help you un-dick it.”
He threw her a sarcastic glance. “Oh?”
The glee behind his aunt’s smirk gained more steam. “Sir, I think it’s time to show the whelp what improvements you’ve made to the barn.”
Wyatt chuckled. “You took the words right out of my mouth, pet.”
“I’ll handle the rest.” Josie flashed one more grin at Garrett before picking up her daughter and heading back toward their place. “This is going to be so much fun.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sage had feigned sleep when it was time for dinner. The excuse wasn’t far from the truth. After losing it at Garrett in the yard, she’d tromped in and asked his mom to watch Race, knowing Maya Hawkins would cancel tea with the Pope to spend time with her grandson.
Less than ten minutes later, Sage was back upstairs, in sweats and a T-shirt, buried in bed. She’d been here ever since.
For the first hour after that, she’d tried to cry. Thrown her hardest concentration into it. Instead, every time the strips of her mental flogger came down on her soul, she’d taken the pain in a disoriented fog.
You don’t deserve to be his wife.
She felt nothing.
You’re not fit to be a mother.
Nothing again.
You can’t handle all this. Maybe the only place you truly have value anymore is with those slavers in Thailand.
She immersed herself beneath the covers and escaped into sleep. Though she’d roused a little when Garrett came in to check on her, bringing the savory scent of pot roast and fresh-baked bread with him, she quickly slipped back under.
Through her groggy consciousness, she’d listened to Maya giving Race his bath. Baby squeals. Her mother-in-law’s laughter. Garrett’s husky chuckles joining in.
A world she longed to join.
A reality she didn’t deserve.
In little stages, the house fell silent. She shifted, tucked the pillow back beneath her head, and curled back into a ball, steeling herself for the invisible flogger to return. She needed to stay strong. She couldn’t bend. She wouldn’t break.
The bedroom door opened. The strong boot cadence told her it was Garrett once more. His normal spice and pine scent was enhanced by the crisp kiss of fresh snow, denoting he’d been outside not long ago. She also smelled food. Against every will in her body, her stomach growled like a rabid Doberman.
“Sage.”
For a split second, she thought about continuing her charade. Stomachs could sound like flesh-craving canines even when somebody slept, right?
But something about her husband’s voice pulled her up like a physical force. A blend of tones she hadn’t heard for an achingly long time. Darkness. Demand.
Dominance.
Holy shit. He looked the same way, too. His hair was slicked back from his face in some Euro-lux look, though he’d left the stubble on his jaw, which was now steeled as he stabbed his ice-blue stare at her. He wore a gray Henley that showed every magnificent line of his torso, which topped formfitting black leathers finished with his heavy motorcycling boots.
Despite her exhaustion, which didn’t feel like that anymore, her eyes widened and her pulse jumped. Damn, those pants…on the tree trunks that did double duty as his legs…wow. Where the hell had he even found them, out here in the middle of Iowa? And did she really care?
“Uh…hi.” Her voice was raspy, sounding as stunned as she really was.
Garrett didn’t return the greeting. After turning on the lamp next to the bed, he ducked into the hallway and reappeared with a lap tray loaded with food. Slices of the pork roast she’d smelled earlier were joined by seasoned potatoes, spiced apples, and pecan rice. Occupying a separate plate on the tray was a hunk of hot, heavenly-smelling bread, and another dish held a slice of chocolate cream pie that was destined to settle humanity’s “pie or cake” debate forever.
“Sit up.” The words were light years away from a request. Her husband’s face, unchanged from the unyielding stare with which he’d entered, backed it up. As soon as she complied, he set the tray over her lap. “Eat. Every bite.”
“But I’m not—”
“Hungry? The fuck you aren’t. Eat.”
“Yes, Sir.”
It spilled out with barely a thought, as automatic as the sweep of her hands toward the knife and fork. She would’ve giggled if not for the deep breaths she took to wrestle down her astonishment, puzzlement, and…hope?
God, like she could even dare to think that his kinky dream makeover meant something. They weren’t at home. They weren’t even in the same state. The playroom wasn’t downstairs. Most significantly, they were parents now. Apparently, her new status as mommy had canceled out her role as subbie. Not that she’d given Garrett any reason to want that from her anymore.
He settled into the chair next to the window and watched as she took every bite. Sage foug
ht against stealing glances at him, but between the silvery light from outside and the golden lamp glow from inside, his usual masculinity was transformed into a double-gilded vision of pure power.
Ohhh, hell.
She rubbed her legs together under the covers. The motion provided just enough friction to turn the tingles in her pussy to full-bore arousal. Forget about the flurries outside; her gut twirled with enough climatic turbulence for the whole county. And food was rapidly becoming the last thing on her mind. “Honestly, I can’t get through all of this,” she finally confessed, letting the fork fall.
Garrett rose to his feet, looking like a tower of liquid flame brought to life. Despite what the sight did to her clit and its friends now, she huffed in resignation, assuming the return of her careful and understanding husband was surely near.
World’s biggest mistake.
“Not acceptable.” He punched every syllable with command. “What were my instructions about the food, Sage?”
She couldn’t help cocking her head and arching her brows. “Instructions?” But even her snarky take on the word didn’t stop her vagina from clenching again, or her heart from speeding to a new tempo.
Garrett’s reply came with matching attitude. “You go right ahead and keep up that sass, sugar. It’ll just make it more fun to show you why you’re gonna need every ounce of nutrition on that tray tonight.”
The remark was a sweep of raw arrogance, rendered on purpose by the only man on earth who knew what it would do to her. She didn’t try to hide her aroused whimper from him now. Garrett let a single soft chuckle out in acknowledgement but made no other sound until she started on the pie. Sage smirked in vengeance as she lifted the bite of pastry to her mouth but licked it all off the fork instead of biting it, making sure Garrett saw every purposeful inch of her action.
A sound spilled from him mixed between a groan and a grunt. A fast glance to the beautiful bulge in the crotch of his leathers proved she’d gotten the upper hand she wanted, if only for a moment.
When she dipped her fork in for her second bite of pie, Garrett snarled, “Stop.”
