by Lilia Moon
Last time Harlan sent me something to wear, I went to him full of anger and fury and darkness. This time he’s asking me to show up as my softest self—and he’s giving me an out. The option to hide it under whatever else I’m wearing tonight. To wear purple and lace for him and for me, and to be some comfortable version of Scorpio for everyone else.
He’s willing to let me hide. The man who’s favorite kink is public, and whose family will be at this dance.
I flop back on my bed, annoyed and uncomfortable because in two closets’ worth of stuff, nothing is close to what I need. I have fifteen pairs of army boots and not a single pair of dancing shoes, and that just drives home the message of the spanking that landed on my ass last night.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve gotten way too comfortable being tough.
I look at the two options on the foot of my bed that are the best choices I can find inside the four walls of my apartment. The first one is a dress I wore to Freddy’s wedding. It’s black and silky and a little bit frilly, and it fits the bill for what to wear tonight better than anything else I own.
Except for the fact that Freddy’s a coke-addicted asshole now and his wedding is divorce-streaked dust.
I don’t want to carry blood in with me tonight.
My second option is the only other dress I own. It’s short, sleek, and black with a fishnet overlay, and it goes great with army boots. All the Dommes would be jealous. Which is so not the way I want to feel tonight.
I growl at both options and pitch them into my monstrous discard pile. When did my clothes become my armor? When did I get this scared of being a human being who is soft and bleeds and is willing to let people see that?
And what do I do with the man who was willing to hold up that mirror for me even as I hissed and clawed at him?
I close my eyes and see his face in my office. The one that showed up asking for my trust. The vulnerable heart that lives beneath the leathers. That’s the man I need to dress for tonight. For him and for the woman he’s somehow made the space for me to want to be.
I laugh, and feel the energy of rightness billowing to life inside me. I know what I need to do. What I want to do.
I have two hours. It’s time to prove just how good I am at back-room miracles.
Chapter Forty-Six
Harlan
“Holy shit. Harlan?”
I turn and scowl at the evil grin of the man behind me. “Shut up.”
The woman beside him smiles at me, delighted. “Ignore him. You look totally handsome.”
I feel like a walrus that got lost and can’t find his way back to the sea. “It’s a dance. Ari said to dress up.”
Emily’s eyes are twinkling. “Okay. You stick with that story.”
I shake my head at her. “Since when did you get all wise and tough and gorgeous?” She’s in something yellow and shiny that lights her up like the sun.
Damon growls and tugs her in closer. “Go find your own woman.”
I’m trying, but she’s not here yet.
Emily’s eyes get wide. “Uh, sweetie—I think the mayor just walked in.”
We all blink—he’s kink friendly, but generally in a distant, hands-off kind of way. Apparently a nice hotel ballroom has changed his policy some. I watch as my best friend and his personal sunshine head off on an intercept course, and wonder what the heck I’m supposed to do with myself.
I try to stuff my hands in my pockets, but fancy jackets clearly aren’t meant to make that possible. I scowl and check out the ballroom instead. It’s big and pretty and the people dancing in the middle look happy, so I assume Ari has pulled off another of her decorating miracles.
Fettered’s membership is here in force, but they’ve heeded the request to be visible and interesting, but not outrageous. Which is clearly stretching some of them, and I can totally sympathize. I’m a Dom way out of his dungeon.
Ari swings by, dancing with the man who handled her so well at charades night. It’s too bad he’s just visiting. I let myself feel sad for her, even though she’d poke me in the ribs for it. Ari’s amazing, and there aren’t enough Doms who can truly partner her when she wants to surrender.
“It’s going to suck for her when he leaves.” Quint’s at my shoulder, watching the same pair of dancers.
“Yeah.” I look over at him, measuring. “She’s kind of screwed when all the best Doms in Seattle think of her as their little sister.”
He snorts. “I’m not fucking playing with Ari. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Just checking.” The rest of us have been a dead loss for years.
“I love her and I’ll take apart any guy who messes with her, and that’s where it ends.”
He’ll have to get in line. “She’s pretty good at taking care of herself.” Which is part of the problem. Finding a guy who can handle all of who she is won’t be an easy job.
Maybe not all that different from the one I’ve suddenly landed in.
“Ari’s not the only one I’m keeping my eye on tonight.” Quint points his chin at the woman who mans the front desk at Your Perfect Moment. “There’s some interest brewing there.”
Gabby’s dancing with Jacob, smiling up at him sweetly. “He’s way taken. Marla doesn’t share.”
Quint’s shaking his head. “She’s being smart and dancing with guys who are safe. But she’s starting to wonder what we do behind closed doors.”
I stare at him and then at the curvy woman on the dance floor who’s blushing furiously at whatever Marla has just said on her way by. “Gabby wants to play?”
“Maybe.”
Shit. We’ve all kind of adopted her as our sweet, sexy, cookie-baking older sister. “Didn’t see that one coming.” I don’t ask if he’s sure. Quint’s job is new-member intake, and he has that job for a reason. “Does Ari know? Or Emily, maybe?”
“Huh. That’s a good idea.” Quint starts scanning the ballroom, looking for the woman who’s wrapped our boss around her little finger and several other body parts. “I’ll get on that. You find Gabby some potential playmates.”
I give him a dirty look, even though I’m already running through the member list in my head. Probably not what I’m supposed to be doing at a charity ball, but at least Quint’s pulled my head out of my ass some. A little dungeon talk and I’m not feeling quite so fish out of water anymore.
I see movement over by the entry archway, the whispers and murmurs and energy swirls that mean someone special has arrived.
I know who it is. I don’t need the speculative looks my direction, or Leo’s appreciative whistle, or the stunned glee on Ari’s face as she does an excellent impression of a human pogo stick.
I stand still, my heart doing something stupid in my chest, and wait for my woman to arrive. I won’t deny her the grand entrance she deserves—or save her from it.
The crowd parts, and it’s all I can do not to scoop her up and eat her whole.
She walks toward me slowly, a gift in black and gold and shining eyes.
I try to drink it all in. She’s wearing a dress that looks like it fell out of an eighty-year-old movie. Simple and gold with a slit up the front that’s giving me glimpses of some very sexy legs and letting the whole damn world see what a glorious hip wiggle she has. Her hair is spilling down around her shoulders, soft and curly and begging for my hands.
But the part that’s stabbed me somewhere essential to breathing is the tiny straps of her dress and the plunging neckline that show off the black lace she’s wearing underneath. Wearing—and letting everyone see.
She stops a couple of steps away from me, and I’m not the only one staring.
It’s Scorpio who finally finds her voice. “Wow. We clean up okay.”
Way beyond okay. “You wore it.”
She grins at me, but I can see the anxiety dancing in her eyes. “You asked nicely.”
I growl, because my Dom wants in on this gig and he’s not in the mood to be nice. “You look totally fucking gorgeous
. And lickable.”
The nerves in her eyes flee, and she laughs.
I hold out my arms, because everything in me is running out of oxygen and I need to hold her. “Dance with me?”
She grins as she steps into my chest. “I probably should have warned you—I can’t dance.”
I swoop her in, because there’s no excuse on Earth that’s going to stop me from holding her. “Want to stand on my feet? Ari’s been giving me lessons.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Scorpio
I step into his arms, needing a moment to figure out the rules of gravity on this new planet where we’re not at the club and the only leather and chains are on other people.
He wraps me up like I’m everything that’s precious, and if I don’t know how to dance, I can’t remember that anymore. I feel tilted, giddy, off balance and not at all unhappy to be there. He nuzzles into my neck. “With the fancy shoes, you’re almost as tall as I am.”
The shoes are going to kill me dead, along with the sappy music that’s making me want to melt into him and never come back out. “Enjoy them while they last. I’m going to lead a barefoot revolution in this place in about ten minutes.” Club members got warned to stay suitably clothed, but nobody said a word about footwear.
Leo and Sam dance by us, and Sam waggles his eyebrows outrageously. “Scorpio, when you’re done with him, can he marry me?”
Harlan snorts. “Someone’s angling for a spanking.”
“Nope.” Sam grins. “I get to flirt with one gorgeous man a night, and you’re it, handsome.”
I look at Leo and laugh. “How do you keep him alive?”
He shakes his head ruefully. “I have no idea.” He neatly navigates Sam between two swirling couples and away.
Harlan growls into my hair, and I just grin. He can play all the Dom cards he wants, but he can’t fool me. Something entirely different is flowing here tonight—and I want it, so much more than I ever could have imagined. I want him, but it’s not just sex and I don’t just want to be his sub. I want what I asked him for before I ever signed his contract, even though I didn’t really know the fullness of what I meant. The in-betweens. The time between the edges.
And I’m dancing in the arms of a man who has invited, teased, cajoled, and spanked me into being brave enough to ask for what I want.
But there’s something I need to do first, because he’s also taught me the power of listening—and I’m hearing so many things from him tonight. I lean into his chest, feeling the strange lines of his crisp, sexy suit under my cheek. A hell of a statement from the man who normally dresses his soft heart in tats and leathers, and I know damn well he’s done it for me. To keep me company in my bravery. To be the wind and the Dom and the man at my back.
But maybe for more than that too, and that’s the piece I need to chase. I tip my head up to look at him, and the deep happiness in his eyes drowns all my words.
He leans down and kisses me, soft and slow and lazy, like there’s all the time in the world. “What is it, beautiful?”
It takes me a moment to remember. I raise a hand to his cheek. “What do you want, Harlan?”
He tips his head, adorably confused.
That’s because I’m not making any sense, which is totally the fault of his hands and his eyes and his huge beating heart. “You keep asking me what I want, and giving me that and more I didn’t even know I wanted. But you’ve never really answered that question for me.”
His hand tangles gently in my curls. “I’m not clear on all of it yet. Some different things than I wanted a week ago, for sure.”
I blow out softly. “Yeah. That makes two of us.”
He tips his forehead into mine. “I want more of this.”
I can’t hold in the smile. “Really? More time in a suit with me stepping on your toes?”
“Ah, you’re a lightweight.” He grins and kisses my nose. “But yeah. Maybe not the suit. But more time out of the club with you in my arms all soft and pretty—that would be pretty damn awesome.”
I give him the evil eye, which actually takes some effort, given my current goopy mood. “I can’t believe you just called me pretty. Take it back or I’ll go find Mari and feed her some lines about Fettered’s manager in his sexy suit.” The Dish reporter would eat it up, and probably nibble on Harlan too.
He growls, and the hand on my back swoops down over my ass. “Careful.”
I grin. There’s my slightly uncivilized Dom. “You can spank me later. For now, talk to me.”
He cuddles me in, and we sway together in something that isn’t so much a dance of bodies, but feels like a dance of hearts. “I have a really good life. A job I love, friends who go to the mat for me, things that stretch me and make me feel good every day.”
I smile, because he’s so speaking the words of my soul. “Yeah, me too.”
He nuzzles his cheek against mine. “And then you showed up and I see holes I didn’t know existed.” He reaches for my fingers, interlacing them slowly. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I walked down the street holding someone’s hand?”
He’s breaking me wide open with the aching wonder in his words. “We should maybe try doing that in broad daylight.”
His entire body stills.
He taught me to ask. To say the words. “Be my guy, Harlan.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Harlan
Be my guy.
I freeze. Being her guy is totally different than being her Dom.
She looks up at me and her heart is in her eyes. “Hang out at my apartment with me and eat pizza and binge-watch bad TV. Help me find a couch we won’t break. Walk on the beach with me so we can freeze our asses off and then find a fun way to warm up. Be my guy, Harlan—not just my Dom.”
I can’t breathe. She’s totally assaulted all the walls I have left. I kneel down on the floor, since that’s where I feel like I’m headed anyhow, and pull her into my arms.
This is not a scene. This is a man and a woman and there are no rules and no safewords and nothing in my training remotely knows what to do. But I do. I hold her to my heart, because that’s the only part of me left that knows how to speak and let the impossible tenderness that lives there wrap around both of us.
And then I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder, because we are so done here.
I don’t stop at the laughter behind me, or the helpfully shouted suggestions that will probably shock all the poor vanilla folks who were brave enough to come here tonight. I don’t even stop as Scorpio’s ass wiggles on my shoulder. I need her, and I need her right now, and I’m done with everything and everyone standing in the way of that.
She asked me what I want, and I don’t know all the answers yet—but I know some. It’s time to let her see them.
The bellhop’s eyes bug out of his head when I round the corner with Scorpio over my shoulder, but he scurries to push the elevator button for me. The doors slide open just as we arrive. I wait for them to close before I slide my gorgeous, disheveled woman into my arms.
Her eyes are huge, and I can see her biting back questions.
I lean down to kiss her. “This isn’t a scene, beautiful, at least not yet. Ask whatever you want.”
“Where are we going?”
I laugh, because the bubbling happiness inside me needs somewhere to go. “Up.”
She punches my bicep, hard enough to impress me with her right hook. “And after that?”
To everywhere possible. “You’ll see.” The elevator pings and opens on a small foyer. Four doors. The penthouse suites. I pick the one furthest left and swipe my thumb across the biometric scan.
The door opens slowly, and I watch Scorpio’s face as she catches her first glimpse of what lies inside. A slow, astonished inhale, and then her eyes are on mine, full of questions.
I touch the silky smoothness of the small of her back and nudge her forward.
She steps in with the slow dignity of a princess or a wedding proc
essional. And then she stops.
I know what she sees. The music, the candlelight, the rose petals. Simple and not very imaginative—but all of it done by my hands.
She’s looking around. Taking it all in. “You had this all set up. Before.”
She doesn’t have to say before what. I’ll never forget her words. Be my guy. “Yeah.”
She’s grinning. “You know, we’ve never actually had sex.”
I groan, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands off her. “You think I don’t know that?”
She spins to face me and her eyes are lit up with soft, embarrassed joy. “You did this for me. For our first time together.”
“You deserve soft and sexy and romantic.” And she wants it, which matters a hell of a lot more. “I know I don’t usually come across as the guy who wants that, or who can provide it.”
She snorts. “You mean the guy with the big marshmallow heart under his tats? Do you think I’m blind?”
I growl, which just makes her laugh. She leans up and kisses me. “Tough guy.”
It’s time to show her the best part. “Take one more look, because it’s going to be a while before we’re back down here.”
I feel her surprise, but I don’t answer it. I take her hand instead. I’m done with words. For the rest of tonight, it’s all about showing her.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Scorpio
I have no idea where we’re going, but he does. Up the winding staircase in the corner of our suite to a small landing space and a door. He pushes it open and the cold of a fall Seattle night rushes in.
His lips touch my shoulder. “Trust me.”
I absolutely do.
He takes me out onto the rooftop, and I’m expecting cold, but it isn’t at all. The heat registers first, the warmth emanating from magical outdoor columns of fire and light. And in the midst of them—a bed. An enormous one piled high with quilts and pillows and decadence.
The kind of bed where promises are made.
