The next two weeks passed in an erotic blur. Chase kept most of his hard-core stuff out of sight. But she’d become wonderfully fond of his bondage spanking bench. And she’d been terrified at first of his riding crop. That edge of fear seemed to heighten her pleasure. Like she was an adrenaline junkie. But she didn’t care.
He’d used the crop to tickle her into submission and then whacked her into orgasm with it, and she’d realized that scary could be as incredible as everything else she’d experienced so far with this man. She was starting to fear she wasn’t going to have any hard limits where he was concerned. Everything she’d originally been hesitant about, he’d talked her into completely or negotiated her into trying a modified version of. He always weaseled the truth to his questions out of her eventually, and after four hour-long negotiations and postplay adjustment sessions, she’d stopped trying to evade his queries and answered them honestly. Not just for him, but for herself as well.
When she was alone in her office at night, he’d text her. Asking her how she was, talking dirty to her. Threatening to punish her if she wasn’t making sure to take care of herself while she was working. Sometimes his orders chafed, bordering on the only a bedroom sub policy they had. But every time she read one of them and felt a thrill of desire, anticipation, and satisfaction, she let it go. She liked them, for crying out loud. Even if they were unmodern and overbearing in their caveman style.
Though she was writing most nights, she was still spending too much time with him and not nearly enough on her book. Her deadline was one week away, and she had a quarter of the book to finish.
And as exciting as things were in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or the playroom, Liz couldn’t help but feel like she was exposing too much of herself while Chase still only let her have glimpses into his life. He was holding back, and she didn’t like it. He wanted everything from her, her full surrender. But he wasn’t giving her the same in return.
He kept pushing, and she kept growing into her role as a part-time submissive, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do this long-term. Sooner or later, his overbearing nonsense would be too much for her to handle, stifling her life, her writing, her career. Like any other relationship she’d tried to have.
Tonight she had to lay down some new rules and remind herself, and him, that if this was going to work for another two weeks, she couldn’t be the only one compromising. She sat across from him at his dining room table, an empty plate in front of her.
“So, this impending book deadline means I need some space. And a few days in the writing cave.”
“Okay…” he said.
She could tell by his reluctance that he knew what she meant, but she had to say it anyway. “As in, like, alone. No contact, two or three days straight, so I can finish on time. I’ve never in my life missed a deadline, and I’m not going to start now.”
His lips pressed into a line, his brows lowered, and he glared. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care,” she retorted, anger bubbling to the surface. “Besides, I think it’s a good time to have a bit of space between us. I’m sure you’ve got to work this weekend anyway, right?”
“So that’s it. I have to work, and so do you, and we suddenly can’t see each other for the next three days?” His voice was hard.
“Pretty much, yeah. I told you that if we were going to do this, I would sometimes need space and time to myself. You agreed to that as part of the deal. Whether you like it or not.”
He reached across the table and captured her hand. She tried to yank it back, but he held on. “You’re running away again,” he said, real pain reflected in his eyes.
She sighed. She wasn’t. Not really. But she needed him to understand that she couldn’t follow his orders and change her entire life. The past couple weeks had been equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, but that didn’t mean she could spend every waking moment with him when he wasn’t at work. It wasn’t healthy. And it wasn’t who she was.
“I’m not. But I need to work. And I can’t work with you there. It’s impossible to concentrate with you constantly fondling me. You have to give me at least a few days.” If he couldn’t even compromise with her on this, what the hell was she supposed to do? She would suffocate if the next two weeks went like this last one had.
“You’ve been working half the night every night this week, and I’ve been trying to be good about giving you the time you need, but now you simply want to disappear for seventy-two hours, and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
What the hell was his problem? He sounded wounded. What she was asking for wasn’t unreasonable, was it? “This is my job we’re talking about here. Just because I don’t have set hours I need to work like some people doesn’t mean that this isn’t work, and that I can brush it off.”
“Your need to work is an excuse, and you know it,” he challenged.
“So what if it is?” He was right. She didn’t absolutely need the whole three days to write. She could make time for him here and there between chapters. She just didn’t want to. But there was no way she’d tell him that. “Regardless, this is what I want. What I need. I thought that was supposed to be your job?” She lobbed the blow at him, knowing it would hit a nerve.
He let go of her hand as if she’d burned him, and she couldn’t help the small flip in her belly. That had been a low blow, but if he was going to play dirty, so would she.
“Fine. Go, then,” he said, pushing back from the table and snatching up the empty plates between them. He turned his back on her and carried the dishes into the kitchen and out of her sight.
Crap. She tamped down her guilt. She would not feel guilty. She needed her space, and she was going to get it. Period.
She groaned. But she couldn’t really get up and leave with them in such a state. She grabbed the glasses off the table and stormed into the kitchen. He slammed the dishwasher closed and didn’t turn around when she came in.
“I can’t be the only one to compromise here,” she said, trying for a neutral tone but failing. Her voice was an accusation, nothing less.
He still didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he clanged two copper pots into the sink and began scrubbing them vigorously with a soapy sponge. She stood across the kitchen from him and felt like screaming. Or crying. She couldn’t decide which.
“Damn it, Chase, look at me,” she demanded, banging the glasses down on the counter.
CHASE WHIRLED ON her, his anger rising to meet hers. “What?” he bellowed, his voice ringing in the kitchen. She tensed but didn’t back down. She wasn’t the only one compromising. But he didn’t tell her that he missed being able to text her when he wasn’t with her, that he wished he could take care of everything for her. He’d tried hard for fourteen fucking days to keep himself from being too overbearing, to make sure he wasn’t demanding too much of her.
Apparently, that didn’t matter. She was pushing him away already, and they were scarcely through the first half of their agreement.
“I’m not backing out of our deal. I’m not even changing the parameters, really. And if you would stop being such a jackass for two seconds, you might realize that. But maybe that’s too much to ask,” she said, her voice low but not unsure.
He ground his teeth, reaching behind him to shut off the water. He took a deep breath through his nose and held it a moment. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, waiting. As soon as she’d opened her mouth and asked for space, he’d panicked. He’d picked a fight with her and he knew it, but she couldn’t brush his feelings aside. Yes, it was his duty to take care of her needs first, but that didn’t mean his didn’t matter at all. And his need to see her was quickly bordering on obsession. Unhealthy, yes, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“So I’m just supposed to be okay with you ignoring me for three days? That’s never going to happen, and I’m not going to apologize for it.” If he gave her three whole days to herself, would she logic herself into ending their deal early? He’d kept her busy and thoroughly
sated in the hopes that she might become as addicted to him as he was to her.
He’d almost given up on trying to stop himself from getting too attached. Right up until the part when she’d announced she wanted space. That was the first step to cutting herself off from him, and he wasn’t going to let it happen without a fight. If she’d said, Chase, I really have to get this book done. Can I call you tomorrow when I’m ready for a break? he probably would have been able to deal. But her declaration of no contact had frazzled his brain, making him forget how precarious their connection was.
“Right this second, I don’t particularly give a shit if you’re okay with it or not. That’s what’s happening. Get over it or don’t. I’m going home. Expect the door to be locked if you show up between now and Monday.” She turned from him and stormed out of the kitchen.
Son of a bitch.
He raced after her, barely catching her before she was out the front door. “Liz, wait,” he demanded.
“Why? Because you said so?”
“Yes. No. Damn it. Hold on a second, okay?”
She turned to him, her face a mask of fury. “If I stay in this house another minute with you, I will probably say something we’ll both regret. Let me go, Chase.” Her voice turned brittle over his name.
“I can’t,” he whispered, reaching for her. His voice was raw, his throat tight.
Her shoulders heaved as she sighed, her face relaxing into some semblance of calm.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I told you I was going to fuck up sometimes, didn’t I?”
She nodded. “I guess I just thought since you’d been doing well keeping yourself in check outside of playtime, this wouldn’t be such a big deal.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips but was gone a second later. At least she’d noticed he was doing everything he could to be on his best behavior.
“Promise me this isn’t you running away again, okay?”
She took a step toward him, and he met her halfway, wrapping his arms around her. “This is me walking away and hiding in my work for a few days.”
He didn’t know if that was any better. But at least she’d admitted she was using her work as a shield. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to work, that he wasn’t itching for her to finish the book solely so he could read it. It was simply the terror that had so suddenly clawed up his gut at the idea of this being her first step of many away from him. “That’s the best I’m going to get, huh?”
“Yup. Take it or leave it, bub.”
He kissed her, holding her body tight to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her tongue sliding against his. She broke the kiss first, releasing him and pushing lightly against his chest.
“Okay. Fine. But you have to text me at least twice a day and let me know you’re okay.”
“Like I’m going to drown in my laptop or something?”
He forced himself not to grin at her sarcasm. “That’s the only way I’ll agree. I have to have some kind of communication with you. And if you won’t let me call or come by, you can at least let me text.”
Let. He really didn’t like the sound of that. But she was obviously not giving him a choice in the matter. Her work was important to her, and he wouldn’t be upset about that. All he could do was sit by and wait. And hate every second of it.
“Fine. I’ll text you. But you can’t blow up my phone with eighty texts a day.”
“All right. I’ll keep it down to, like, forty-five.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, all right. I have to go now,” she said. “Can’t take the chance you’ll try to change my mind if I stay.” She pulled back from him, and he let her go, though it galled him. He’d had a fun scene planned for tonight. Apparently he’d have to wait until she was done with her book.
She slipped out the door without another word and closed it behind her. He stood there a few minutes, staring after her until she pulled out of the driveway and drove away. When she was out of sight, he turned and sulked into the kitchen. He busied himself cleaning it as his mind taunted him with all the ways she could use the next seventy-two hours to rebuild the walls around herself that he’d been slowly chipping away at.
As he hung the last pot back on its rack above his island, his phone buzzed to life from his pocket. He removed it and sighed when he saw Liz’s text.
Home safe and sound. Going to start working tonight. Thank you.
He didn’t respond.
* * * *
Saturday came and went, and as Chase paced around his office like a caged tiger Sunday afternoon, his fingers itched to text Liz. He’d texted her quickly yesterday to ask her how the book was going. If she wanted space, he was going to give it to her, no matter what it cost him. Maybe a few days of no contact would make her realize she missed him. He sure as hell was missing her.
His cell rang, and he charged his desk to grab it after the second trill.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hey, bro.” His heart sank at the sound of his sister’s voice. Guess it was too much to hope Liz had broken and called him.
“Hey,” he said, trying not to sound disappointed.
“Mom’s doing really well in the new facility, and Dad wanted me to call and say thanks for the money. He got the second check this morning. I didn’t realize your business was doing so well,” Giselle said.
“It’s not,” he admitted. Shit. Why the fuck did he say that? He was too distracted to be having this conversation right now, too busy worrying about Liz and what she was doing, what she was thinking.
“Oh. So then where did you…” Her voice trailed off.
“I had some money saved. It’s no big deal, really,” he lied, trying to brush it off.
“Well, if things at the club aren’t going well, you should have kept that money. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s no big deal. Really,” he repeated.
“Chase,” she said, drawing out his name in that motherly tone.
“Okay, so maybe it’s a big deal. But Dusty didn’t want to use the money for the business, and he’s right. It wouldn’t have been enough anyway.”
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Leave it up to Giselle to cut right through the BS. “We’re in serious danger of losing the K Club,” he admitted. Saying it aloud made him cringe. His stomach clenched.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I thought for sure things were good out there. I mean, five years is a long time in the club business. I figured you guys were solid.”
He loved that she didn’t have the slightest hint of disapproval in her voice for the kind of club he’d opened or the lifestyle he lived.
“We were. But there’s been a lot of crap from a local senator and judge stirring up some trouble for us. And they’re no doubt behind the bank’s decision to deny our refinance and extension of our business loan. We should have been able to pay it back by now, but some unexpected expenses added up, which would have been fine if we weren’t supposed to be due for our balloon payment on the loan and if the bank would work with us.” Now he was babbling. As soon as he’d opened the floodgates, it seemed he couldn’t stop. He shared with Giselle everything about the past few months at the club, and by the end, his throat was raw with trying to hold himself together.
“Oh, honey. Dad will send the money back to you as soon as he can.”
“No way,” he said, his voice adamant. “Mom’s health comes first. Don’t worry about me. Dusty and I will figure it out.”
They had to. And fast.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. But you call me if you get into trouble. We all know how hard it was for you to pick up and move out there on your own. To start a business from the ground up. I’d hate to see you lose it.”
Yeah, me too. “I’ve got to go,” he said. He wouldn’t burden her further with his problems. She had enough to deal with. “Love you.”
“You too. I’ll talk to you in
a few days.” Giselle hung up, and Chase blinked hard, trying to dispel the burning in his eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
It was Monday night. Liz had barely heard from Chase in three days, and she was starting to worry. She’d wanted space, and he was giving it to her. Great for her deadline, but not so awesome for her. Instead of establishing boundaries and reminding him that he needed to compromise too, her fight for some independence just made her frustrated.
With him for listening to her and completely ignoring her, but more with herself for missing him. Damn it. What was that saying? Be careful what you wished for. Yeah, that. She reached for her phone for, like, the hundredth time today. Still nothing from Chase. Was he trying to give her space like she’d asked or punishing her with silence for wanting a break? At least her frustration was translating well into the book. She was so close to the end she could taste it.
She rubbed her ear with one hand, holding her phone in the other and willing it to ring or ding or buzz. Something. Anything. As long as it was Chase on the other end of the line. She’d taken a long break earlier this afternoon to shower, shave, and make herself presentable, as it was their last day of the breather she’d insisted on, and she was planning on seeing him if not tonight, then definitely tomorrow. She hated when a plan backfired. Stupid male.
She set down the phone and put her fingers back on the keyboard—for a whole twelve words before she wanted to check the phone again, even though it hadn’t made a sound. Crap. Her pride demanded he be the one to end the silence first. But she couldn’t go another two and a half weeks like this until the end of their deal. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to back out on it. She was a woman of her word.
Sighing, she picked up the phone and opened his last text from early this morning.
How’s the writing?
Fine, she’d replied.
Taking care of yourself?
Yes, she’d promised. Though she was pretty sure he would think otherwise. She’d slept last night for five or six hours and eaten two meals today, so that had to count for something, right? To her, that was taking care. As opposed to Monday and Tuesday, when she’d hardly slept, eaten, or done anything except sit at her computer or pace her office.
To Sir Page 19
