The Velvet Ribbon

by Christie Adams

  Alex’s arms around her pulled her into the shelter of his body, his hand busy freeing her hair from the barrette she wore to keep it tidy for the office so that he could thread his fingers through the tumbling waves.

  “Shh, love, it’s all right,” he comforted her, his low, rich voice making things worse as well as better. “You’re safe. I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.”

  That voice and the words it spoke were her undoing. Suddenly, all she could do was howl noisy tears, when all she wanted was some stability and for the feeling that her world was being pulled out from under her feet to stop.

  And for Alex to carry on holding her as if he’d never let her go.

  ~~*~~

  Sometime later, while he was contemplating the world through a generous measure of his favourite whisky, Alex’s thoughts ran through the events of the evening. While Beth had showered—without his assistance, it must have been down to sheer determination on her part, a fact that surprised him not in the slightest—he’d rustled up a simple pasta dish and then waited for her to reappear.

  He’d left his robe for her to wear, and as soon as he saw her standing at the bedroom doorway wearing it, he’d had to fight down the urge to strip it off her and take her to bed. Instead, he’d carried her back to the sofa, where he’d applied an ice pack to her bruised ankle before strapping it up. After dinner—where he hadn’t pushed his luck by feeding her that, as well—he’d given her an hour or so before ushering her off to bed.

  A low growl vibrated in his throat. He could really do without the image that filled his mind at that memory. He had Beth precisely where he wanted her and couldn’t do a thing about it. The mental torture was every bit as excruciating as—

  No! He wasn’t going to think about that, not now, not ever. And he certainly wasn’t going to think of it in any way that might connect it to Beth. She was pure and innocent, not to be defiled by the festering darkness that lay in his past. Was he really doing the right thing? Not for himself but for her?

  Yes. It had to be right. If she wanted to explore submission, she needed a Dom she could trust. Moreover, he needed her to be with a Dom he trusted, and that narrowed down the field significantly. He’d grudgingly consider Cam…or maybe not, given the surge of feral jealousy he experienced at the thought.

  Now clad in jeans and a faded T-shirt, Alex slouched on one of the sofas, his bare feet up on the coffee table as he continued to share his thoughts with the glass of whisky and the classical music that softly wound its way around the apartment. So much to think about. The way she’d allowed him to carry her, the way she’d accepted him feeding her the cheese and biscuits…the way she’d cried in his arms.

  He really did want to protect her—for the rest of his life. There was no point in denying it. And if he didn’t even want Cam to be the Dom she went with, there was only one option left. Just as well he’d already decided to take it.

  The sound of the entry phone muscled in on his meditative mood—that would be Cam, coming around for a drink and a discussion after his visit to the club, where he’d gone after leaving Beth’s apartment.

  “How is she?” Cam’s voice was uncharacteristically serious, devoid of its usual levity.

  Alex nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Asleep now.”

  The two men went to the bedroom door. Alex pushed it further open, and the sight that met him almost stopped his heart.

  He’d given Beth one of his T-shirts to sleep in, but she must have got too warm—it was lying in a pool at the bottom of the bed. She was resting on her side, her back towards the door with the duvet bunched around her waist, revealing magical curves cast in shadow and light. A sleeping goddess, he thought somewhat whimsically, with the power to turn him into a primitive creature of full of need, compelling him to worship at the altar of her glorious femininity. Sheer, raw want flooded through his body all over again.

  “Christ, Alex, she’s beautiful.”

  He wasn’t about to argue with Cam’s assessment, although Alex was fleetingly tempted to punch him for it. Recognising the instinctive possessive reaction for the nonsense it was, he gestured for both of them to leave, so as not to disturb her. Once away from the bedroom, he knocked back the last of his Scotch. “Drink? I need a refill.”

  His glass replenished and matched by the one he gave his friend, Alex sprawled on one of the two sofas arranged around the coffee table. Cam took up a similar relaxed position opposite.

  “I was going to take her to Antwerp on Monday,” Alex began, gazing into the distance. “Told her it was a business trip to look at some diamonds, otherwise she’d never have agreed to go.”

  “And now?”

  Alex hoped his shrug looked more casual than it felt. “Trip’s off, obviously. I’ve cancelled the flights and the hotel, for now, at any rate. She’ll be staying here for the weekend, maybe longer—depends on how her ankle heals. What the hell are you grinning at, Cam?”

  The other man allowed his grin to become a brief chuckle. “You have got it bad, old man. And on the evidence in there –” he nodded towards the bedroom “– I can’t say I blame you. There’s something about her, and the way she looks right now? It’s there in spades.”

  A sober, thoughtful look settled on Alex’s features. “She writes, you know.”

  “Let me guess—romance?” Almost rolling his eyes, Cam had the air of a man confident in his prediction.

  Alex laid his head back on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Not exactly—not the way you mean.” He closed his eyes, remembering what he’d read and how it had made him feel. “Romance with a D/s twist, and from the way she described the sub, I think she sees herself in that role.”

  The other man gave a low whistle. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s the problem?”

  Alex’s short laugh was lacking in humour. “The problem is, does she want to submit, or does she just want to write about it? You know as well as I do how many women walk into Aegis thinking that they’re submissive and end up all but running out screaming. She doesn’t know I’ve read her notes, but if they’re part of a larger work, I’d sure as hell like to read it.”

  “You’re overanalysing this, Alex.” Cam took an appreciative sip of the twenty-five-year-old Scotch, unadulterated by ice, water or any other pollutant, conventional or otherwise. “You’ve seen how she is in the office—how she’s been since the day she started working for you. She serves. Were you planning on making a move on her in Antwerp?”

  “Something like that. I wanted her to start getting used to the idea that we don’t just have to have a business relationship and that if she’s a sub, she can explore that safely with me.”

  Cam nodded, his expression contemplative. “She needs looking after—she’s special. We both know that while she may be this strong, capable woman in the office, she’s also kind, considerate, honest to the point of being her own worst enemy –”

  “Will you shut the fuck up? You don’t need to sell her to me.”

  “That’s good to hear. Have you thought how far you’re going to take this? Further than just training her—if indeed that’s what she wants? She might just be –”

  “Cam, don’t.” Alex didn’t have to be a genius or a mind-reader to know what his friend was about to say. “One step at a time, okay? She may not want to take it any further than writing about it.” He wasn’t sure what he’d do if that were the case. Offer his services as a technical advisor, maybe.

  “Good point.” Cam’s agreement was surprisingly sober. “Anyway, when and if you do decide to take this further, you know I’ve got your back.”

  It was gone midnight by the time Cam left, taking with him the spare set of keys for the office so that he could let the staff in if Alex and Beth didn’t make it into work on Monday. Now that that was taken care of, it was high time for Alex to make himself comfortable on the sofa for the night. Over the years, he’d slept in far worse places—one i
n particular being the most putrid, terrifying shit-hole imaginable. The question was, with Beth there, even a room away, would his nightmares make their regular visit?

  Alex finished the last of his Scotch, troubled once again by the thought of how much alcohol he’d been going through lately. There were several contributing factors—one was in his bed right now—but she was only a small part of the full picture. A lot of it was how he spent his nights: the erratic sleep patterns, the wakefulness…the just-not-wanting-to-go-to-sleep in the first place.

  With the lights dimmed, he stretched out on the sofa. As he tried to relax, he took long, slow breaths, counting each one in and out, focusing inwards. Sometimes it worked and he managed to get some sleep. Sometimes it didn’t, and then he’d pace the apartment for a while, or just look out over the city, or there was always some work to be done—his business stretched around the world.

  When sleep came, it didn’t last long—it never did. Cold and sweating, Alex sat bolt upright in his makeshift bed. The horrific nightmares that still haunted him had struck again, sending him back to that hell-hole of ten years ago. He concentrated on his breathing again, taking deep, measured breaths that gradually began to slow his racing heart rate. Controlling his respiration like that was about the only piece of advice he’d taken on board when they’d tried to tell him how to deal with the root cause of the bloody nightmares.

  His thoughts swung back to Beth, his true north in so many ways. Unable to resist the temptation, he rose and padded silently to the doorway of his bedroom, just to check that she was all right and he hadn’t woken her up.

  She was still fast asleep in his bed, lying on her front this time, her hair an unruly cloud. The thought of curving his body around hers was so tempting. Cam was right—submissive or not, she was special.

  And she was naked in his bed, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Jaw rigid with frustration, he turned to leave; the last thing she needed was to wake up and find she was the victim of a priapismic Peeping Tom. Where the hell was that double whisky that had his name on it?

  Jeans pulled back on, he was back on the sofa, nursing that Scotch and absorbed in thought, until he heard the sharp intake of breath behind him.

  Beth wasn’t sure what woke her. She never slept well in strange beds anyway, and when the strange bed belonged to her employer—for whom she still harboured distinctly non-business-like thoughts—there was no chance she was going to sleep soundly.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up. Too hot to sleep, she’d finally resorted to removing the T-shirt Alex had put out for her—only to find that being naked in his bed was just as disturbing.

  Beth didn’t know what to do with herself. Had she been unable to sleep at home, she’d have dug out her notebook and started writing, but that was impossible in the present circumstances, so the next best thing was reading. There were no books around in the bedroom, so that meant braving the room where Alex was sleeping—there were plenty of bookcases out there and maybe, if she were quick enough and quiet enough, she could grab a novel.

  But not like this. Even if her body had been perfect, she still wouldn’t be prancing around naked out there, it simply wasn’t her style. Her legs were probably the best part of her; she’d been blessed with long legs, and even though she was her own worst critic, she knew that they were in pretty good shape. Beyond that, though, the appendectomy scar was old and faded, but still visible and thankfully her breasts were still adequately defying gravity. However, without the camouflage of her clothing, anyone could see the tricky areas where no amount of dieting and exercise had ever been able to shift the few extra pounds she carried. And if a man she was seeing was disappointed by that…well, that was his problem, not hers. Not that she was seeing Alex. Nope. Not her. No, siree.

  Beth reached for her glasses and then the discarded T-shirt, a garment long enough to cover what needed to be covered. Unbidden, a hot shiver scurried down her spine as the soft fabric that usually covered his skin caressed hers. The sensation triggered the memory of Alex deftly bandaging her damaged ankle, or more specifically, the gentle touch of his firm, capable hands. At the same time she’d wanted it both to stop and to last forever.

  Enough. She’d procrastinated for long enough. It was time to put all those silly fancies out of her head and do something about trying to get some sleep. The first step with her right foot was painful but manageable—perhaps there was something to that ice pack treatment after all. She might just get away with this.

  There was still a glimmer of light coming under the door. Alex couldn’t possibly still be awake—he’d probably just fallen asleep and left the lights dimmed. Beth didn’t even want to think of facing him in such a skimpy outfit. There was only so much embarrassment she could take in one day.

  As she left the bedroom, her focus was on the bookcase straight ahead of her. It was only as she drew level with the end of the sofa that she realised that, far from being asleep, Alex was still awake, half-naked, and nursing a glass of something alcoholic between his knees as he leaned forward, staring into the middle distance.

  The sight of him was perturbing enough, but when she saw the crisscross of old, ragged scars, emphasised by the way what little light there was fell across his back, the gasp left her lips before she could stop it. When he turned in her direction, she felt like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights of a car.

  “Beth.” He rose in one smooth movement, depositing the glass on the coffee table before taking the most direct route to her, straight over the back of the sofa and up to her level. The sheer grace of it made her breath catch in her throat. “What are you doing out of bed? Can’t you sleep? Is it your ankle?”

  The volley of concerned questions couldn’t initially get past the impact of what she’d seen. She looked up at his face, the question plain for anyone to see in her eyes. What had happened to him to cause those scars?

  Alex met her troubled gaze. Even in the subdued lighting, he could see the threat of tears in her eyes—she must have seen the long-healed wounds that stretched from his shoulders to the small of his back.

  “It’s all right, Beth,” he said softly, knowing that he needed to reassure her. “It was a long time ago.”

  She found her voice. “What was it?”

  “IED. I was lucky; others, not so much. Now, what’s up? You should be asleep.”

  The IED was only part of the story. He’d been left with the rest of the scarring after the incident that still had a terrifying night-time hold on him, and he’d see hell freeze over before she’d hear one word about that from him.

  Beth was shaking her head. She still had that troubled look in her eyes, and he found himself wishing he could kiss it away. A Dom’s job didn’t always mean administering a sound spanking. It meant taking care of his sub’s worries and problems too. It meant protecting her.

  “Come with me. I think some warm milk may be in order.”

  Damn, but she felt good in his arms, as if she’d always belonged there—he’d carry her anywhere. Somehow, she made his incredibly sexless T-shirt look incredibly sexy. Her mouth, with its perfect, pink Cupid’s bow, was just inches away from his and begging to be crushed in a kiss that she’d feel all the way down to her toes.

  He deposited her carefully on the sofa, and then tucked the supersized lightweight blanket that had covered him around her. “Stay there, love. I’ll be right back.”

  While he worked in the kitchen, Alex kept a surreptitious eye on his houseguest. At least she wasn’t in any hurry to move from where he’d deposited her. He was also remembering her reaction to his scarred back—gentle concern rather than pity, and something else that he was hesitant to name.

  He poured the warm milk into a glass, then added a little honey and a touch of vanilla extract—warm milk on its own might do the trick, but it didn’t taste very interesting.

  “There you go, try that,” he said when he returned to her side. She accepted the glass
and took a delicate sip, followed by a slightly less ladylike one that left her with a subtle but visible milk moustache. Before she could do anything about it, he produced a clean handkerchief and did the honours. “Like it?”

  She nodded. “Delicious—thank you very much, Mr. Lombard.”

  They were both half-naked, and she was still addressing him formally. For a potential sub, she was exhibiting some very strong-minded tendencies. He liked it. “You’re most welcome, Miss Harrison,” he replied with a slight incline of his head, formality masking the hint of unexpected amusement.

  He watched her finish the milk, a glimmer of a smile appearing in his eyes as her eyelids began to droop. She didn’t react when he took the almost-empty glass from her. He wished he could say the same for himself when she leaned against him with a sigh, her breathing relaxing into the easy rhythm of sleep when his arm went around her. If he could get a hard-on when she was just around him in the office, he stood no chance with her snuggled against him like a sleepy kitten…and there was the evidence, pushing against the fly of his jeans.

  He should have taken her back to bed immediately, but now that she was settled there was no sense in waking her up. He just hoped that the nightmares wouldn’t come again—once in a night was enough, but his main concern was that Beth shouldn’t witness their effect on him. She didn’t need that.

  And neither did he.

  Most nights, Alex was reluctant to close his eyes—but not tonight. Beth felt too good beside him. She felt right. He pulled the huge blanket over both of them, and then let himself relax, his feet up on the coffee table. Whether her ankle was better or not, she was spending the weekend here, with him. Tomorrow he’d talk her into letting him collect some clothes and anything else she needed from her apartment. For tonight at least, he could pretend that she was his.

  4

  A slow stretch shouldn’t have had her wincing, but the shaft of pain across Beth’s shoulders caused an explosion of memories that had her sitting bolt upright and staring wide-eyed at the man sitting beside her. She could still feel the comfort of the arm that had been wrapped around her and the heat from the body she’d been curled against all night.