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by Lea Griffith

  Bad for the seller, great for Ruthie. She now owned the warehouse, several other buildings, and the entire three hundred acres. Painting had served her very well.

  “The wall you wanted torn down is gone now, and the men are here installing the shelves and hardwood flooring you requested, Miss Copeland,” the Realtor informed her.

  “It looks great,” Ruthie said with a gentle smile.

  Stanton snickered, and Ruthie could only assume the Realtor’s face held a mask of confusion.

  “Yes, well, um, your check has cleared. The entire property now belongs to Ruth Copeland LLC. Here are the keys. I called a few of the local art galleries and they should be stopping by to chat with you. They were very excited to have the Blind Painter contacting them,” the man gushed. “If there’s nothing else, Miss Copeland, I’ll be off.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Howser, for finding this place and getting the deal set so quickly,” she responded, and patted Stanton’s arm.

  The clipped sound of the Realtor’s steps told her he was leaving.

  “He’s an ass, Miss Copeland,” Stanton quipped at her side.

  “Yeah, well, not everybody has that whole Southern charm thing down pat like you, Stanton,” she said around a muffled laugh. “Walk me to the windows, would you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It looks like a storm’s brewing.”

  “Yes, I can’t even see the shadows anymore. What does it look like, Stanton? Describe it to me,” she pleaded.

  “Well, the windows are kind of dusty,” he started, and chuckled. “I’m not a poet, as my wife will tell you.”

  “Wipe off a pane and give it your best shot, Stanton, and please call me Ruthie.”

  “How about Miss Ruthie?”

  “Better than nothing,” she grumbled with a smile. “Now back to the sky.”

  “It’s gray.”

  She barked out a laugh. “You are bad at this.” Ruthie patted his arm again and reached out. The cool glass beneath her fingertips was soothing. If only she could open her chest and press it against her heart. “Okay, put your fingers on the glass, Stanton, and stare outside. What do you see?”

  “Well, we’re about three stories up in this warehouse, so I can see over some trees, and I can see downtown pretty good.”

  She sighed. “What color are the trees?”

  “Green.”

  “What color green?”

  Stanton made a sound somewhere between a growl and a choke. “There are different color greens?”

  Ruthie shook her head. “Stanton, Stanton, Stanton, I think you’re like my Toby, blind to the beauty of the world around you. Let’s see—” She laughed again, unable to stop herself. “That’s funny, right? Let’s see…”

  Stanton said nothing.

  Another heavy sigh, and then she said, “You’re a tough nut to crack. What color are your wife’s eyes, Stanton?”

  “The blue of a stormy sea at dawn,” he answered automatically with zero hesitation.

  She clapped her hands together. “I have found your muse, Stanton!”

  He chuckled and then went silent. Behind her the sounds of people heading up and down the stairs echoed. There was no more nailing, hammering, or drilling going on, so Ruthie figured the workers must be taking a late lunch. Her skin prickled and she concentrated, but the sounds disappeared and she was left with silence. She shrugged and returned her attention to Stanton.

  “Now, if your wife’s eyes are the blue of a stormy sea at dawn, what does the sky beyond the window remind you of?” she asked softly.

  “Her eyes when she’s sad—kind of this grayish blue that gets all watered down. But there are some darker grays in there that remind me of a mourning dove’s back, soft and gentle. Oh! There’s the lightning, like a hot slice of sunshine in the middle of the gray.”

  “Oh, Stanton, there’s definitely a poet in there somewhere. Tell me, is the gray almost black?”

  “Not quite; there are these white puffs, like cotton balls, in the gray clouds that makes them seem less, I don’t know, menacing.”

  “Can you see the sun at all anymore?” she asked, and cleared her throat.

  “I can, Miss Ruthie. It’s pale as my wife’s hair and fading fast,” he answered, his tone reverent, as if just by opening his mind to the possibilities of color he’d found a way to connect to his wife.

  Some of Ruthie’s sadness dissipated. “The gray is chasing the light, hmm? I wonder where the sun hides when the darkness comes?” she asked of no one in particular.

  “Well, now, it finds its home in your heart, Miss Ruthie, because surely the sun wouldn’t dare hide from you,” Stanton mused solemnly.

  “I think this place will be perfect, Stanton,” she whispered as the sound of rain bearing down on the metal roof of the warehouse began to drown out everything else.

  She stood here, fingertips pressed to the glass, until the rage of the storm subsided. Stanton remained at her side, a stalwart companion as she reflected on her life. It had all led her here. Home.

  No way was she going back to Vegas. Had she not already resolved to get her man in check, she would have remained here in Georgia for the sun alone. It shone differently here, was a much less relentless beast than the one that stalked the deserts of Nevada. This sun she could hold in her palm, remember once the darkness fell.

  The sun of the desert never left memories and was too scorching to hold close. It threw shadows that were too long and too dark.

  It was the right decision to stay here. Absolutely.

  “They should finish quickly, maybe even by the weekend, and you’ll be able to paint soon,” Stanton informed her.

  “I cannot wait. Shall we go? I’m getting hungry.”

  “I’ll bring the car onto the covered loading dock and come back for you,” he told her, and quietly walked away.

  She pressed against the window once more, wishing she could feel the rain. The shuffle of a footstep brought her attention behind her. She turned, hand going to her chest, and asked, “Who’s there?”

  “You told me you were leaving,” Tobias responded in that infinitely deep voice that never failed to move her.

  Ruthie stilled, doing her best to blank her face but very much afraid she was failing. He made her feel, and after months, indeed years, of suppressing her emotions she didn’t want to hide a damn thing.

  “I did leave.” She gave her smile life. “The apartment.”

  He walked to her then and stopped within inches. Ruthie raised her head and inhaled. His scent moved through her, weakening her knees and forcing her to wet her suddenly dry lips.

  “I keep asking you to stay away and you keep ignoring me,” he whispered.

  A phantom caress over her lips had her insides shaking. “I beg to differ, because I stayed away for three whole years, Toby.”

  “I would ask why you came back, but you’ve already said you returned for me.” He cupped her head and lowered his own, his breath warm against her cheek. “I don’t know why, because all I do is hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, baby.”

  “Then don’t.” Ruthie shifted, pressing her length to his, her mouth now at his jaw. She could lick and taste him, but something was happening here, right now, and she didn’t want to confuse it with lust.

  “I’m afraid it’s all I’ll ever be able to give you, Ruthie.” He licked along the shell of her ear and then pulled away slightly. “From the moment I saw you I wanted you to be mine. I waited for years, giving you time to grow up, and then you came to me and we went to the movies and everything changed because I could hold you, taste you, and make you mine.”

  Ruthie’s hands were wrapped in the lapels of his suit coat. She was wrinkling the hell out of it, she was sure, with her death grip. A kiss ghosted over her lips and she tried to follow him, but he moved lower, kissing the hollow of her throat before he lifted away.

  “Then I wanted more, because in every one of your sighs was submission. I don’t know who told you about me, maybe Candace or
Daly, but they have no idea what’s in my soul, Ruthie. I am a Dominant, but it’s a need for me. I crave a woman’s submission, and I was able to separate the need for dominance from the need for love until I tasted you in that theater.”

  Her breath stuttered through her body, lungs billowing to pull in oxygen.

  “You offered everything and it scared the hell out of me. How could I visit the darker parts of me on someone as pure as you? It kept me up at nights—wanting more than I dared ask you for. Then you took the choice away from me by coming to me that last night, and it cracked something inside me.”

  Ruthie’s heart shattered anew. She’d never meant to hurt him. “I never—”

  His lips cut off her words—there one second, gone the next. “You submitted like every dream I’ve ever had, but I saw the marks on your back and I knew I had to get you away from me.”

  His hands moved down over her shoulders, along the sides of her breasts, and down to her hips. He pulled her to him suddenly, and she groaned at the evidence of his arousal. Would he pull away again? Hope bloomed in her chest, replacing her breath as she sank into his heat.

  “The sight of those marks made me wild. I wanted to wake you up and make you beg me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

  Ruthie groaned.

  “You want it even now—even knowing that there is something inside me I want to hold back, something I fear visiting on your body, you would demand it all of me. You want me in spite of this scar on my face that goes well below the skin. You have no idea how that scares me, Ruthie. Knowing I could have it all with you? It cuts me to ribbons because I don’t know if I can give that to you.”

  The scar meant nothing. His beauty went well beneath the surface—it went to the bone—so she didn’t respond, choosing silence as the better part of valor. He knew why she’d returned. There were no words she could say to plead her case any further. Colors bit into her mind and her heart stopped. There was one thing…

  “I love you,” she whispered at his mouth.

  He pulled away from her then, the loss of his touch leaving her desolate.

  “You have no idea what you’re asking for, but I’m going to give it to you.” His voice was rough and low. Tingles started at the base of her spine and slowly worked their way up and out, covering her flesh with the burn of anticipation. “Do you know why I’m going to give it to you, Ruthie?”

  She shook her head.

  “I can’t hear you,” he said in a voice so guttural she almost couldn’t make out his words.

  “No, I don’t know why you’re going to give it to me, Tobias.”

  The change in the dynamic between them was abrupt, but in the midst of her confusion at his capitulation was the assurance that he would care for her—indeed, take care of her. This was what she’d wanted. God help her now.

  “I’m going to give it to you because I love you, Ruthie, and it’s my job as your Dom to give you everything you need.”

  The tears fell; she couldn’t stop them and really didn’t want to. Had she heard him correctly?

  He made no moves to wipe her tears away, probably realizing they were cathartic. After a long, bitter struggle they had circled back around to the root of the problem between them. He was giving her an opportunity, and whether he realized it or not, she was going to free Tobias from his pain and guilt. She was going to submit to him, take his doubts and scatter them so there was nothing between them but desire and love.

  “I want to take you here one day, but I want the sun shining through those windows. I want to see the pearl of your skin against these dark hardwoods. I want to watch as the pink lips of your pussy grip my cock, taking it deep while your mouth begs me for more. I need to tie you down, play your flesh with my toys, and hear your breath break. I crave hearing you scream as my flogger hits the inside of your thighs, and I want to smell your musk as your body weeps for me. So many things I want, baby, and I’m going to make you hurt so good it might shatter us both.”

  She trembled, her knees threatening to give out, but she raised her head as she shuddered through the impact of his words.

  “And I will let you do all those things, Tobias. I will take everything you give me and return it to you because if I burn, then you’ll have to burn with me.”

  He hissed in a breath, and he was there once again, his body against hers, pushing her back to the wall and lifting her legs to wrap around his hips. He rolled his hips into hers and took her mouth at the same instant, plunging deep, mimicking with his tongue what he would do to her with his body.

  In and out, around and around, her mouth was a playground for him. He pulled away finally, leaving them both breathless and gasping to draw air. Her fingers were still clenched on his coat, so he gently disengaged them, kissing the knuckles before he lowered them.

  The only sounds were the steady beat of the rain on the roof and the rumble of thunder in the distance. Then her stomach growled.

  Tobias chuckled. “Worked up an appetite?”

  Ruthie’s smile was so wide, she wondered if her face would split. “All I’ve had lately is a Hershey’s bar and Cherry Coke. I could use some lunch—Oh, man, Tobias! Where’s Stanton? He was going to take me to lunch.”

  “I sent him home,” Tobias murmured into her hair.

  “Okay, well, then, who’s going to feed me?”

  He rolled his hips one more time. She moaned. “Which hunger are we talking about?” he asked.

  Her stomach growled again, and they both laughed.

  “Guess that settles it. My woman is hungry for food. How about Ruth’s Chris?”

  “Steak?” She was already foaming at the mouth. “You’re on.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and said, “Let’s go eat, then. We have a lot to discuss and then later, once your belly is full, I’m going to relearn your body, make you mine.”

  Her mind whirled. He had demanded she leave and returned only hours later, pulling a 180-degree turn. She wasn’t going to question it—her heart had long ago given itself to Tobias Edwards. She opted to trust the ring of truth in his voice and the feel of his lips on hers.

  As he led her down the steps, one hand on her lower back, the other providing support, she felt lighter than she had in three years.

  Maybe this time it would work.

  Chapter 8

  Tobias had them seated at the rear of the restaurant. Ruth’s Chris had the best steaks in Atlanta, bar none. The smell of grilled meat had his mouth watering, but the sight of the lovely woman who’d stolen his heart years ago had him ignoring his own rumbling belly.

  “Ruthie!” Chavonna, the maître d’, exclaimed as she seated them.

  “Chavonna, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Ruthie responded.

  Tobias settled against the sumptuous leather of the booth and watched the two women catch up. Ruthie’s cheeks were rouged with delight. Or maybe that was beard burn. A thrill shot through Tobias that possibly he’d marked her.

  It was absolutely instinctive, the need he had to mark her. He wanted everyone who came into contact with her to know she was his. His gaze landed on her bare throat, and he almost growled. He would put something there soon, a collar of red diamonds perhaps, because the pearl of her skin looked so good marked red.

  The more he thought about it, the more it seemed right that she have the rare gems against her skin, reminding her and anyone else who looked twice that she was Tobias’s.

  “Sir?” the maître d’ inquired.

  His gaze rose, and he noticed Chavonna staring at him. “Yeah?”

  “A drink?”

  “Scotch on the rocks, please, and a bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon,” he answered.

  “What year, sir?”

  “Do you have a ’98?”

  “I believe so,” she responded, and hastened to fill the order.

  “You’re pulling out all the stops, eh?” Ruthie asked. There were only a few feet that separated them, but it was too far fo
r Tobias.

  “Slide to your right,” he ordered as he then slid to his left. “That’s better, now I can feel you.”

  To prove his point he lowered his hand to her thigh, bemoaning the fact that she was wearing jeans, as he brushed across her mound before settling at the top of her thigh. Her cheeks pinkened further and she wet her lips.

  His cock went brick hard. “All the stops? Maybe I’m just trying to get you drunk,” Tobias murmured.

  “No need,” she replied with a grin. “Three years of pent-up sexual frustration sitting beside you, Toby. You had me at ‘slide to your right.’ ”

  His laughter surprised him. Then it crashed under reality. She was here beside him. Close. Anyone who was looking would see him as completely feral. He wanted to lift her up, lay her down on the table, and feast on her body. He settled for pressing his pinkie against her pussy and rubbing. Her legs spread automatically.

  Her responses had always been that way for him. Instantaneous. He asked, she gave. No questions or doubts to mar the moment.

  “I’m going to fuck you later,” he told her conversationally as the maître d’ reappeared with their drinks.

  Ruthie shuddered. “I surely hope so,” she said on a breath.

  Tobias reached for his drink, downing the contents in one swallow but never lifting his other hand from between Ruthie’s legs. Her body heated, the scent of jasmine overriding the smells of the restaurant.

  “Another,” he told the maître d’. She opened the bottle of wine, poured Ruthie a glass, and left to get Tobias another scotch.

  “I’ve missed you, Ruthie. The feel of your skin on mine, the way your pussy hugs my dick. I’m going to reacquaint myself with you tonight,” he promised.

  “I want everything, Tobias. I’m not settling for vanilla,” she warned.

  “Oh, baby, you’re going to get everything, I promise.”

  Chavonna returned with their waiter, and Tobias ordered for them and waited for the maître d’ and waiter to leave.

  His heart beat heavy, the rhythm echoing in his cock. He wanted inside his woman now, but then, he’d never been patient when it came to Ruthie. He’d contented himself with vanilla, and experienced more intense orgasms than any he’d ever had with another woman, but the dominance was always there, under his skin, waiting to break through.