Crave

by Sierra Cartwright

  “And thrown away the key.”

  Her pulse stuttered.

  “Damn it, Sarah. Really? Do you think I would have done that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never made you do anything you didn’t want to, until you were ready. We could have worked it out.”

  “That’s my point.” She curled her hands into tight fists. “You’d have been relentless. You would have worn down my defenses. I’d have capitulated to make you happy. And that wouldn’t have worked for me. I would have ended up resenting you. I know what it represents to you.”

  “Tell me.”

  Part of her thought this discussion was ludicrous. But, as she’d told Julien, she hadn’t really expected Reece to make it easy for her. “Ownership.”

  “Like a car?”

  “No.” She reached for a sip of wine. The conversation seemed surreal. “Like a slave.”

  “And that would have changed our relationship, how?”

  “I wasn’t a slave. I could never have been a slave.”

  “A slave. That’s your word, Sarah. It’s not mine. It was never mine.”

  She scowled, mentally sifting back through their numerous conversations about submission and Dominance.

  “At any rate, tell me what you think that would have meant to you.”

  She took a breath. “I would have been at your mercy all the time.”

  “Go on.”

  “It would have meant that I put your needs above mine. That I subjugated my will to yours.” She picked at the edge of her napkin.

  He closed his hand over hers. “Look at me when you talk to me,” he said.

  She was spared from further discussion when the waiter returned to collect the salad plates.

  Seeing the untouched food, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Reece said. “Hold off on the main course for about twenty minutes.”

  The man nodded then left them alone. She was aware of a little more noise around them as, apparently, more diners were being seated on the other part of the patio.

  Without her really noticing, the sun had set, and solar lights spilled out a gentle, soothing blue beam that didn’t defuse the tension between them.

  “I’m waiting,” Reece prompted.

  Tension arced between them.

  “My whole life would have been wrapped up in thinking about you, trying to please you. And what about me? I wasn’t as strong as I am now. You would have consumed me, Reece.”

  “Well then, in that case, you were right to run.”

  Sarah frowned. She’d expected him to deny it or argue, but to essentially agree with her? “Do you deny it?”

  “We can’t go back in time. But tell me, what is a collar?”

  “What is this?” she countered. “A pseudo-intellectual discussion?”

  “Humor me,” he suggested, still holding her hand. “Let’s keep it at this level, rather than a personal one, for now.”

  “We had friends in the lifestyle, Reece. We both know what it means.”

  “I know what it means to me. Educate me about you.”

  When he used a tone that sounded engaged and interested, she was helpless. “The collar…it was unyielding.” She shivered.

  “Of course it was. That’s the point.”

  “It had an O-ring on it. So you could use it for bondage, as well?”

  “It was more decorative, but yes. Your point is well taken.”

  “God.”

  “Keep talking. Beyond that, what does it mean?”

  “It’s a symbol. An expression to the whole world that you’ve claimed me.”

  “Only people in the lifestyle would recognize its significance.”

  “Reece, if I wore a collar that obvious, everyone would know something was up.”

  Repeatedly, he feathered his thumb across the back of her hand. “So your objection is that others would know you’re my sexual plaything?”

  “No. Yes.”

  “Why would that bother you? Most couples have sex.”

  “Why wouldn’t it bother you?”

  “Because I was proud of you. Because our rings would have shown our commitment to each other.”

  His comment caught her off guard. “You would have worn a wedding ring?”

  “Proudly.”

  “I’d have bet you would have refused.” What else had she presumed? What else had she gotten wrong?

  “The collar would never have meant that you were my sexual plaything. I find that insulting. It would have demonstrated your devotion to me.”

  She pulled her hand back.

  “There’s nothing nefarious about it. I never intended to put you on a leash and tether you to a wall while I was gone. Nor did I consider buying you a steel cage.”

  That image made her recoil, just as she was sure he had intended.

  “To me, Sarah, your love was my most treasured possession.”

  Tears stung her eyes.

  “I valued you above all others. I spent a week shopping for a collar. When I couldn’t find something that suited, I had it made.” More quietly, he continued. “Maybe I was wrong about you. Perhaps you didn’t possess the sense of self to wear my collar without losing yourself. But frankly I was never worried about that. I would have never been interested in a woman without a backbone. A woman who considered herself less than my equal wouldn’t have kept my interest. And I certainly would never have considered dating her, let alone marrying her. But perhaps you knew yourself better than I thought I knew you.”

  Not much left her speechless, but this—he—did.

  “I would have never put it on you, let alone locked it into place and thrown away the key without a lot of discussion with you. Treating you with great care was of paramount importance.”

  “And what if I had refused it?”

  “I would have naturally hoped you would reconsider. I would have asked repeatedly, hoping to wear you down. But I would have never forced you into it.”

  She suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  Instead of wine, she grabbed her water and took a big gulp as she struggled to right her skewed emotions.

  The waiter returned with their dinner plates.

  “Spiny lobster?” she asked. Her mouth watered despite the conversation that had stolen her appetite and fractured everything she’d taken for granted.

  The waiter nodded his confirmation. “Melted butter,” he said, indicating a silver-colored cup. “And blue cheese butter. Anything else I can bring you?”

  After ensuring she had everything she needed, Reece said, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir. Enjoy your meal.”

  Despite her nerves and upset, her stomach grumbled. “You remembered that I said I wanted to try this?” she asked when they were alone.

  “Sarah, I remember every word you ever uttered.”

  She speared a piece of the meat and dipped it in the blue cheese butter. The combination, succulent lobster with clarified butter and pungent cheese, was an explosion on her taste buds. She closed her eyes.

  “I always enjoyed watching you eat,” he said. “You could make a saint dream of going to hell.”

  She looked at him. His gaze was locked on her, and she realized that he hadn’t taken a bite.

  His single-minded focus and pursuit were something else she’d missed when she was with other men.

  “So how is it?”

  “Everything I imagined. Not as sweet as Maine lobster. And, this might sound strange, but it tastes a bit meatier. I’m a fan.” She took a sip of wine. “Even this was well thought out.”

  “I asked the sommelier. She tells me the Sauvignon Blanc is not intimidated by the melted butter.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Could I make that up?”

  “I suppose not.” She grinned for the first time that evening.

  He smiled back. For a moment, just a flicker of time, she was reminded of the easy evenings they’d once shared at home.

&nbs
p; “Everything is perfect.”

  “You might think I was trying to seduce you,” he said.

  She regarded him over the rim of the glass. “Are you?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “How brave you are. How honest you’re willing to be.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Tell me what you really want. You accepted my dinner invitation.”

  “Invitation?”

  “You could have refused. Why did you come? Curiosity, or something more? Julien suggested that you were hoping to exorcise my hold over you. Earlier, our scene… Did it work?”

  She remained silent, and she pretended that her hand didn’t waver as she put the glass down. “No,” she said finally. “I was left more restless. And, to be honest, this dinner is making it worse.”

  “How so?”

  “The way you put your attention on me… It’s as if I’m the only woman in the world.”

  “To me, you always have been.”

  Her lungs deflated. “I hurt you.”

  “Devastated.”

  She swallowed deeply. “Julien said as much. I told him that was an exaggeration.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “I will tell you this much, Sarah. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  From what she’d seen in the press about his recent success, she’d have said he never made mistakes.

  “If you want me to beat you and fuck you, I will. But there will be rules around it. No promises, no expectations. We’ll both call it what it is, exorcising the demon of the past. After the weekend, you go home, we never see each other again.”

  With boldness that surprised her, scared her, she asked, “And if I want more?”

  “Right now, that’s not an option. You’d have to earn my trust, show me you deserved it. If I scared you before, I would terrify you now. Before I’d consider anything with you, Sarah, I would test you in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  “Is it working?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “Good. You should be frightened. The collar would only be the beginning of what I would demand from you. I wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than your total honesty. I would want to own every one of your reactions. Even that wouldn’t be enough. I’d want to know your every thought, every fear, every inhibition. I’d want to hear every scream and savor every tear. And I’d demand you turn to me to wipe them. There would be no place for you to hide.”

  The chill in his voice rippled through her.

  “Well, what will it be, Sarah? Shall I just walk you back to your room after dinner?” He raised an eyebrow. “How brave are you now?”

  Chapter Three

  Reece watched several emotions chase across her face. Her lips had parted as she’d listened to him. Now, slowly, she closed her mouth. Then she frowned. He saw shock. Disbelief. Resignation. And now, with the set of her lips, determination.

  Reece told himself that her answer didn’t matter. She’d vanished once, and he’d survived it. When he’d accepted the invitation to Julien’s party, Reece had expected to find some female companionship for the weekend. Playing with her could be an interesting diversion, as long as he didn’t allow himself to fall under her spell again.

  “I’m sure that you’re right that I should be scared. But maybe I’m more foolish than frightened. For right now, I’ll settle for what you’re offering.”

  “The weekend?”

  She nodded.

  He reached for the bottle of wine and topped off her glass. “Eat up. Your dinner is getting cold.”

  She picked up her fork, and he did the same.

  “This really is good,” she said.

  He took a bite. “Agreed.” He wasn’t talking about the food.

  In silence, they ate for a few minutes.

  “I like it best with the blue cheese butter,” she said.

  “I prefer it with a squeeze of lemon.”

  She took one more bite then pushed her plate aside. The waiter appeared a few minutes later.

  “Key lime pie for dessert?” he asked.

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Coffee?” Reece offered.

  “I’m done.”

  “Bill it to my room, please,” he told the waiter.

  “Certainly, sir.”

  As soon as they were alone, he stood and pulled back her chair.

  Taking her hand, he said, “Come with me.”

  “Not upstairs?”

  “Not yet.”

  He led her down a path toward the ocean.

  “Moonlight stroll?”

  “Among other things.”

  In the dimness, he saw her eyebrows draw together.

  The resort had done an artful job with using shrubbery to make the path clear. There was enough lighting to be safe, but not enough to ruin the Caribbean ambiance.

  Only one other couple was on the private beach, and he guided her away from them.

  The resort loomed in the distance, providing a point of reference. Clouds drifted in front of the moon, casting shadows before moving on.

  He led her close to the ocean, where the sand was damp, packed, easier to walk on.

  “Now what?” she asked when he pulled her to a stop.

  “Naked.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I want you naked.”

  “Here?”

  He waited.

  She glanced around. Then she worried her lower lip. “You’re serious?”

  “If I help you undress, there will be a penalty.”

  “Will I like it?”

  He remembered her teasing him like that in the past. Sometimes she’d opt to pay the price. Other times, she just wanted to know what her options were. When he spoke more harshly, she obeyed, even if it was slowly, reluctantly. “Do you like that dress?”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” she said.

  She kicked off her sandals. Then she pulled her dress over her head.

  He took it from her, then said, “The bra, too.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  He stood there while she removed it. “I may keep you like that for the whole weekend.”

  She opened her mouth but closed it without saying anything.

  “Into the ocean.”

  “You remembered.”

  “I told you earlier,” he said. “I remember every single word you say to me.” He took off his jacket and spread it on the sand while she waded into the water, then he placed her dress and bra on top.

  “Come on!” she called.

  Reece stripped, dropping his clothes on top of hers.

  She was already waist deep when he headed toward her.

  When he was close, she splashed him. “Are you a strong swimmer?” he asked, dragging his hair back from his forehead.

  “Awful,” she insisted, slowly backing away.

  “That’s unfortunate.” He stalked her.

  She laughed, moving backwards. “No. Really. I’m a terrible swimmer.”

  Concentrating on her, he didn’t reply.

  “Reece?” She crossed her arms in front of her.

  He dove beneath the water and came up behind her. After catching her up in his arms, he turned, then tossed her into the water.

  Seconds later, she came up sputtering.

  “You’re wet, Sarah.”

  She wiped her hair back from her face. Then, shocking him, she dove beneath the water and swam strongly toward him. He momentarily lost sight of her, but then felt something against the back of his legs.

  He pitched forward as his knees buckled.

  “Don’t underestimate the power of revenge,” she told him when he regained his footing.

  She’d used the distraction to move quite a bit closer to shore and, like a siren, stood there, feathering back the long strands of her hair from her eyes and wearing a brilliant smi
le.

  “Come here,” he said.

  “I…”

  He pointed to an imaginary spot directly in front of him. “Now.”

  With an exaggerated sway of her hips, she complied. “What can I do for you, Sir?” she asked, finger-combing her hair as she looked up at him.

  Her nipples were tight beads, and goosebumps dotted her arms. She’d never been lovelier.

  His cock hardened.

  In the two years they’d been apart, he’d dated a handful of women, even played with a couple of subs at an exclusive club in the Colorado Rockies. But his body responded to her in a way it didn’t with any other woman.

  He reminded himself to be careful with this one. Despite the emotional damage she’d caused, he wanted her. Bad. No one had turned him on like she did. No one else had made him think of the future.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “About your breasts.”

  Salt water ran down her chest. “Do men ever think about anything else?”

  “What’s the question?”

  She cupped her hand and scooped up water to toss at him.

  He captured her wrist and dragged her closer.

  “You’re every bit as sexy as you ever were,” she said, running her free hand down his upper arm.

  Until he’d met her, he’d sworn off love. In fact, back in college, he, Julien, Kennedy and Grant had gotten drunk on a very expensive, and very stolen, bottle of Scotch as he lamented the fact that Mindy Bates had broken his heart.

  He’d caught her in bed with one of their professors, and the lucky guy had been getting a blow job. Julien had started planning a strategy to get the guy fired. A remote video camera would be involved, along with sending the feed to the college’s president.

  Grant had clapped Reece on the back in sympathy.

  But it was Kennedy who had been the real hero. His girlfriend, the amazing and sultry Samara, had flashed her gorgeous, enhanced breasts at the liquor store clerk while Kennedy had swiped the bottle from the shelf.

  Then she’d been understanding while Kennedy had gone out with the guys. Reece had always thought that Kennedy should have married the woman. His family would have never agreed to that. Going to school in Texas had been as big a rebellion as he’d been allowed. The fact that Kennedy had finally relented and accepted family money and been packed off to an Ivy League graduate program had meant he had finally understood the weight of the mantle that would be transferred onto him when his father passed.