“Since?” I ask.
“Don’t bullshit me. Since you and that girl you were into split. You bought a woman’s tennis outfit last week and you’ve been depressed ever since. You’ve never played tennis with one of your girls before. You must have really liked her. Did she break up with you because you don’t know how to take it easy? Did you pelt her with a tennis ball?”
I laugh at the memory. “Actually, she’s the one who hit me. I still have a bruise.”
Olivia throws her head back and laughs. The sound of her laughter makes me grin. “Damn. And you let her get away?”
“When a woman makes it clear she doesn’t want to be in a relationship, it’s not really letting her go.”
Olivia shrugs. “I guess you have a point. Still. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Logan.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“But you’re planning on seeing her again, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say.
“Liar.”
“It can be really annoying talking to someone who practically reads your mind, you know,” I say.
“You do the same shit to me, so don’t even complain.”
I smirk. “Yeah, good point. I was going to ask about the way you’re practically glowing. Did you finally get laid?”
She shifts in her seat, glaring at me. “Just because I stick my nose in your business, it doesn’t mean you have permission to stick your nose in mine.”
“Trust me, I try to keep my nose as far away from you as I can.”
She gives me a level look. “If you really knew what I was thinking, you’d be hiding that stapler, because I’m seriously considering hitting you in the face with it.”
I laugh, but casually tuck the stapler into my desk drawer. I’ve known Olivia long enough to know she really might attack me if I press her too much.
Dean saves me from her by stepping into my office. “Logan, we need to talk.”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” says Olivia. She stands, waves, and lets herself out.
Dean’s wearing a dark suit and has his hair pushed back, but there are uncharacteristic bags under his eyes. He sits down where Olivia was just moments ago and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “China and India pulled out this morning.” Something is off in his tone. It’s almost gloating, but I ignore it. Dean’s personal issues are very low on my priority list at the moment.
I purse my lips. “Fuck them. We’ll find new investors.”
“It’s not going to be that simple. The list of people who can provide the same kind of capital is a short one, and we’ve already talked to everyone on the list.”
“Then we’ll talk to them again,” I say irritably.
Dean looks down, flicking a piece of dust off his pants. “China and India backing out has the rest of our investors getting nervous, too. This whole thing could come crashing down, Logan. You might want to seriously consider liquidizing whatever assets you can and getting out before it goes to ground.”
I clench my fists. “Don’t they realize my personal life has jack shit to do with how I can run a business?”
Dean chuckles. “You know how it is. Image is everything.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m not giving up on the company. And fuck anybody who expects me to. I’ll use my personal funds to invest in new businesses if I have to. I’ll go on fucking foot and find them. I don’t care. This company isn’t dying.”
I swore I would stay away, but the bullshit with my company has me on edge. Against my better judgment, I decide to go to Club Crave. Even though I know it’s a weekend and Emmaline might be working, unless I scared her out of the BDSM scene all together. I doubt it though. If I know her at all, she will keep her job here to keep her business alive. She’s a lot like me in that regard. She’ll do what she has to do keep her dream burning.
The club is particularly full tonight, even for a Friday. I can’t stop myself from scanning the crowd in the lobby for Emmaline. There are at least six employees of the Club in my immediate view. Two bouncers at the door checking member IDs, the Matron making her rounds, two behind the bar, and one bouncer watching the hallway leading to the play rooms.
I grab a seat at the bar, ordering a drink. I normally stay away from the bar at the club because one of the primary jobs of the bouncers is to watch for members who are too drunk to play safely and eject them. Today though, I order a bourbon. One drink won’t kill me. Once I’ve drained it and the alcohol has started to melt away some of the stress I’m carrying, I wander toward the play rooms.
Even though I can’t stop looking for Emmaline, I have no idea what it is I plan to do if I find her. I pushed her too far and too fast. As much as I tried not to, I fucked things up with her and I have to pay the price for that now. Still, whether I logically realize that or not, I can’t stop myself from wanting another chance. It’s not even just the sex that has me chasing after her like a fucking kicked puppy. I saw something in her more powerful and admirable than I could have imagined. I’m so used to looking down on the women I’ve been with. So many of them are vain, petty, and lack ambition. Emmaline is none of those things. She is everything I ever wanted in a woman.
And like Olivia said, I let her get away.
Fuck.
I eventually find her in the same play room with the stage set up like last weekend, except this time she’s not facing the stage where a woman is moaning while a man in a mask drips hot wax across her naked body.
A man in a white mask and a dark suit is standing very close to Emmaline. He’s leaning forward slightly, talking quickly while Emmaline is avoiding eye contact and looking uncomfortable. I’ve already taken a few steps toward the guy, fists clenched at my side, when I realize she’s allowed to talk to whoever she wants.
She’s not yours anymore, Logan. You made real fucking sure of that.
I stand, seething as I watch, not noticing anything else around me but the man speaking to Emmaline and the way she’s looking more and more uncomfortable.
He reaches and takes her upper arm, pulling her slightly, but she pulls back, shaking her head, still not looking up from the ground.
Fuck it. She can be pissed at me if she wants, but I’m not going to let some asshole make her uncomfortable. When I get closer, I realize who he is. Most of his face is covered, but I recognize his posture and jaw. It’s Taylor Bonnichsen, a real estate tycoon who invests heavily in my company. I don’t even hesitate though. I’ve already lost China and India, so what if I lose Taylor.
Technically speaking, I have the personal funds to walk away from everything and live a lavish lifestyle for a thousand lifetimes. I have enough money to be my own soul investor and float the entire company. But that’s never what this was about. I chase success. I strive for success. But right now, protecting Emmaline matters more to me than any of that ever could, whether she’s mine to protect or not.
I yank his shoulder back, pulling him so he’s forced to face me.
“What the--Logan?” he asks. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but--”
“Leave her alone,” I say. “I’ll only ask once.”
He straightens to his full height, stepping closer to me, but Taylor is a few inches shorter than me and not as broad. I step into him, looking down, waiting. There’s a strict rule against fighting in the club, and a brawl could get both of us banned for life. I’ll do it in a heartbeat if I have to. I may have fucked things up with Emmaline for myself, but I’ll still do anything in my power to protect her.
Taylor finally relaxes, shaking his head and turning to walk away. “That was a mistake,” he says over his shoulder.
I move to leave too, but Emmaline’s small hand grips my arm. “Wait,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Any time,” I say, trying again to leave, but she doesn’t let go.
“You know, if I had your number, I would’ve called you that night. I wanted to apologize.”
I turn slowly to face her, to read the expression on her beautiful f
ace. Her eyes are wide and sincere. The innocence in her features only amplifies the sexuality of her full tits and wide hips. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
She bites her lip, stepping closer to me and reaching for my chest, but pulling her hand away hesitantly. “I do though. I should have been clear from the start. This is all so new to me. It’s exciting and scary. I’m figuring it out as I go, and I just wasn’t sure. I have-” she swallows, looking down, her fingers curling against my chest. “I have trouble with trust.”
I chuckle, cupping her cheek and making her meet my eyes. “That just means you’re smarter than most people.”
She laughs a little, the corner of her mouth pulling up in a grin. “For a smart person I can do some really stupid things.” She bites her lip, looking uncertainly up into my eyes. “Stupid things that I should be punished for... Sir.”
My cock stiffens. “Emmaline,” I say slowly, not sure I’m willing to give up the chance of doing things the right way with her, even for what would definitely be the fuck of my life.
She looks down, cheeks reddening.
I tilt her face up to me with my forefinger. As much as I want to drag her up to a private room right now, I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe she’s asking for it, but what she’s really doing is letting herself try to trust me again, and I know how hard that is for her. I need to show her she can trust me, absolutely and completely. She may think the way to solve this is in the playroom, but it’s not.
“Your punishment,” I say slowly, “Is to come with me. To dinner at my place. I’ll cook. And you’ll be forced to watch my favorite movie while we eat.”
She frowns briefly in confusion and then a beautiful smile splits her lips. There’s uncertainty in her face, but she seems to push it down, nodding. “Okay. When?”
“Tonight,” I say.
“But I have work,” she says.
“I’ll talk to the Matron for you and get you the rest of the night off. Don’t worry about that.”
She hesitates, sucking in a breath before continuing. “I can’t afford to miss work.”
I smirk. “I’ll make it clear to the Matron that you’re still working, whether you’re on the premises or not.”
She smiles shyly. “Yes, Sir.”
37
Emmaline
I’m sitting at a barstool in front of Logan’s kitchen island, watching him cook. He’s still wearing the black shirt from the club, but he undid another button at some point, and when he turns just right, I can catch a glimpse of tanned skin. I’m ashamed by how much my body responds to him at first, but I mentally scold myself for my shame. I have nothing to feel bad for. He’s a drop-dead gorgeous man who’s single. I’m single. Why should I keep battling these feelings of guilt? He woke something sexual up inside me that I never knew was lying dormant, and now that it’s out, it seems to be really out.
Even while I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by letting our relationship get complicated, my body has no doubts at all. I wore white cotton panties again. I blush a little thinking of how I promised myself I would keep my distance from him, but still wore white cotton panties just on the off-chance that he would see them. I guess I knew how this was going to end, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself.
“Whatever you’re making over there smells ridiculously good,” I say, eyes locked on his perfect ass.
He tosses a heap of vegetables and sauce skillfully in the skillet. The food sizzles and pops, bathing me in a delightful scent of something almost floral and sweet, like a good red wine cut through with butter. It has my stomach rumbling already. He checks something in the oven and knees the oven door shut, spinning around to finish chopping garlic. I twirl my hair as I watch him, marveling at how quickly my doubts are fading into background noise. This might be okay. Maybe I’ve been making too much out of nothing.
I think the thing that is giving me the most pause is how I can consolidate the kind of sex life a man like Logan offers and a normal relationship. I’m so incredibly drawn to the powerful, domineering side of him that comes out when he wants me, but how can he be both the dominant I need in the bedroom and the more normal, understanding kind of man I need outside of it? Maybe I could learn to love the charming, thoughtful, and almost kind side of Logan I see now. But wouldn’t that compromise my ability to fear him in the bedroom and quiver at his slightest touch?
I sigh quietly, nibbling on my thumbnail until I realize what I’m doing and stop, pressing my hands to the marble countertop to keep myself from fidgeting any more than I already am. Logan makes me feel batshit crazy. Like I’m being forced to choose between the sex life I never thought I’d have and the most perfect guy I never thought I’d deserve. Maybe I don’t though, but I’m starting to think if I have to, I’ll choose him. I made it this long without a real sex life, and I can make it the rest of my life if I have to.
“So you said we’re watching your favorite movie. Am I allowed to ask?”
He turns slightly, narrowing his eyes as he apparently decides if I get to know. “No. I think it should be a surprise.”
I laugh. “Should I be scared?”
“Probably,” he admits as he slides the chopped garlic into the sizzling pan and adds another layer of deliciousness to the smell. He flips the contents of the pan a few more times and then sets it off the burner.
He opens the oven and pulls out four bowls made out of pastry-dough. They are golden, flaky, and shimmering with a hint of oil and egg wash. My mouth waters just to look at them, and then he spoons some of the vegetables, beef, and sauce into each bowl, topping them with a handful of shredded cheese before sliding the pan back into the oven.
He moves to the cabinet and pulls out two wine glasses, setting one in front of me and then opening a door that leads to an entire pantry full of wine racks. He runs his finger thoughtfully over the bottles before finally selecting a beautiful bottle that’s probably incredibly expensive. He uncorks the bottle and swirls it, letting some air in. Logan pours us both a glass and raises his.
“To building trust,” he says, meeting my eyes.
I blush a little, clinking my glass against his. “Yeah. To trust.” I sip the wine and raise my eyebrows. “Wow. That’s really good.”
He smiles, jogging over to the living room and fishing out a DVD from a cabinet beside his huge television. He inserts the disk and jogs back to the kitchen to pull out the now perfectly cheese-crusted pastries full of meat, vegetables, and sauce. He plates one for each of us and nods toward the living room couch. “You don’t mind eating on the couch, do you?”
“I actually always eat on the couch,” I say. “Eating around a dinner table has never really been my thing.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he says.
We both take our spots on the loveseat and he shows me how to pop the recliner out.
“Oh my God. This couch is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on,” I say.
He laughs. “Thanks. I think it was imported, but I had a woman from France take care of all the decorating. I don’t get to spend much time here.”
“I can imagine,” I say, thanking him as he hands me my plate. I set my wine glass on the end table to my left and try a forkful of the steaming pastry. The flavor explodes in my mouth. The melted cheese on top has a perfect bite and slightly crunchy texture around the edges, and the pastry is buttery and smooth. The meat inside has a faint sweetness from the wine and is cooked to absolute perfection. The vegetables add just the right amount of crunch and an earthiness that brings everything together. I swallow and turn to him, eyes wide.
He catches my look and laughs. “You like it?”
“Like it? I love it. Holy shit,” I say, laughing down at the pastry. “I wasn’t planning on embarrassing myself by pigging out, but I may have to go back for seconds.”
He looks at me seriously, hand squeezing my thigh and sending waves of heat through my body. “You should never be embarrassed around me. Do you understand?�
��
Do you understand… His words call up memories of how he was with me as my dom. I’m struck by the overlap. Maybe he is kind at times and maybe he is charming, but I’m starting to realize there’s an undercurrent of expectation beneath his kindness. He expects obedience, whether he favors me with smiles or not. He may not be as extreme outside of the club, but he is still dominant. I’m surprised by how much that matters to me. I don’t even want to start digging into my past to figure out where the switch flipped that made me think I need a man to dominate me, but it’s there. I never felt or saw it before, but after my first night with Logan at Club Crave, it’s so painfully obvious I can’t believe I never saw it before.
I need it. I don’t know yet if I need it in every facet of the relationship, but the small hint Logan just gave me feels right somehow, like a gentle tease and reminder that he may be playing nice, but he still expects me to do as he wishes.
“Emmaline…” There’s a hint of warning in his voice. Don’t make me ask twice. He doesn’t say it, but I can sense it on the tip of his tongue.
“I understand, S--” I clamp my mouth shut, blushing. I was about to say sir.
His smirk says he knows exactly what’s going through my head. He raises the remote and turns the T.V. on and then starts the DVD. I laugh out loud when I realize what movie it is.
“Terminator 2? This is your favorite movie?”
“You’ve seen it?” he asks. The hint of excitement in his voice makes me laugh.
I grin. “I don’t know. Maybe like thirty years ago when it was released.”
He shakes his head. “It was released in ninety one, and you wouldn’t have been alive to watch it if it was released thirty years ago.”
I smirk at him. “I was just trying to see if you knew the release date.”
He laughs. “Well, you caught me.”
We watch the opening scenes of the movie in relative silence while we eat the delicious meal he prepared and sip our wine. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. I get the impression Logan has seen the movie more than a few times, but he’s still extremely focused on the screen, even leaning forward slightly. It’s another side of him I haven’t seen, and it’s humanizing in a good way. I needed something like this. Something slow and more normal. I feel like I can finally catch my breath. I’m with Logan and it’s not like we’re sprinting full-speed ahead.
Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance (Babies for the Doms Book 1) Page 26
