by Chloe Cox
“It’s already the default,” he said.
Charlene bit her lip. God, there was something about how he said that…
“You’re like my own secret service agent,” she said, teasing him. “I can’t believe you let me go to Belinda’s by myself this morning.”
Luke looked even taller, if that was possible.
“I didn’t,” he said. “You had a buddy.”
“Pfft.” Charlene waved it off. “You’re getting soft.”
Suddenly Luke was really close, really quickly. He stood close enough for her to catch his scent, something musky and masculine under clean soap, and she had to fight the urge to bury her face in his neck and just…nip at it.
“You want to see me hard?” he said.
Charlene gripped her phone and snapped her head up, her whole body suddenly at attention, only to find Luke grinning down at her.
Then he waggled his eyebrows.
She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.
“You jerk,” she said.
“You walked right into that,” he said. “I would have had to turn in my Dom card if I hadn’t done something with it, come on.”
Charlene fought another smile, but it was useless. How could he have known she would laugh, instead of get embarrassed? But he had. And he’d known she’d feel better if she laughed.
“Fair point,” she said, and smiled up at him, forgetting, for once, about all the tension, all the risks, all the things that kept her up at night. Just smiled.
And it hit her like a ton of bricks.
Luke kept looking at her, and slowly the heat began to rise behind those golden eyes. God, the way he looked at her. Like he could melt her panties clear off.
“This is hard for you,” he said finally. “But I’m not sorry.”
“What do you mean?” she said, without hope. She knew exactly what he meant.
They both knew exactly what he meant.
And to make the point, Luke fixed her with those eyes, hard, and tilted her chin up towards him. No hiding now.
“You want to be my sub,” he said. “You want to beg to be my sub. But you can’t. Yet.”
Yet.
Charlene’s pulse thudded in her veins, pulsing her forward, telling her to just do it. Just throw caution to the wind. Just…
No. You can’t trust it. You can’t trust…
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said instead. “I’m sorry.”
And it was true. On top of everything else, the humiliation of a Dom knowing that she wanted him and doing nothing about it was pretty hard to take.
Luke set his jaw, and his eyes flashed.
“Let me be clear,” he said, his voice resonating deep inside her. “When I’m around you, it’s all I can do to stay friendly. Civil. And I will do that as long as it is needed. But with every breath I take, I want you. I want you with my collar on you. I want you naked, bound, and begging. But your safety is always going to be my first priority, Charlene. Emotional and physical. So stop being so nervous. I’m not taking you as my sub until you’re ready.”
Her blood thundered, pulsing against every nerve, every extremity, every damn place she could feel. Time seemed to stop. She could see, clearly, each little golden fleck in his eyes, every twitch of his muscles, every beat of his heart in his neck. She could feel the heat from his body on hers.
She closed her eyes, and forced herself to lie.
“I’m not your—”
“Stop,” Luke ordered, his voice shattering the stillness in the kitchen. She did, her eyes flying open immediately, compulsively. She had no choice but to look at him.
“Why do you deny what you are?” he demanded.
Luke could look at Charlene Bastien all day, but now it was starting to feel…inadequate. Everything in his body screamed to touch her. To show her. To take her.
Seeing this pain on her face, knowing it was unnecessary, fucking hurt him. Actually hurt him. He needed to help her almost as much as he needed to have her.
Which was a problem. Luke had never needed anyone. He’d made a point of never needing anyone. And he’d made damn sure no sub had ever needed him, for good reasons. His first duty was to protect her, to help a sub in need. And that included protecting her from him.
That snapped him out of it. He’d keep his iron control. He’d have to.
Especially with the question he’d just asked her.
“I don’t deny who I am,” Charlene answered him, her eyes bright and angry now. “I know what I am.”
“Tell me,” he said.
Charlene inhaled deeply. She was frustrated. Cornered.
Too bad. She needed to say it.
“I’m a sexual submissive,” she said. “And I always will be. Don’t think I don’t know myself, Luke.”
“Fair enough.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s…” she trailed off.
She was having trouble speaking, thinking while he was this close to her. He felt it too. Something in the air between them short-circuited brains.
Luke backed off, and Charlene breathed deeply.
“Look, what we are?” she said, her voice softer. Sadder. “It’s not something you can be by yourself. It needs another person. And I just…”
“Don’t trust Doms,” he finished for her.
Charlene rolled her eyes. “You say that like it’s just about you Doms.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You remember what the scene was like back then, just people’s living rooms and—”
“I remember,” he said. He would never forget the site of her crying by that St. Andrew’s Cross. If he’d known the extent of it…
“Well,” Charlene said, and sighed. “All of those people, those people I was friends with? You didn’t really know them, or me, but, well, they all knew. They all knew Jimmy was cheating, they knew the whole thing was abusive, in a way. But no one said anything. No one looked out for each other. They all just watched. And I just…I let it all happen, too. And it’s hard to be reminded of that.”
Luke focused on his breathing. Calm. Steady.
Not the breathing of someone who was about to search out everyone who’d ever hurt Charlene Bastien and make them pay for it.
“I would have said something if I’d known,” he said. “I would have done something.”
Charlene smiled sadly, and it tore at him. He would begin to fix this. Now.
Before he got anymore attached than he already was. Before he had to worry about protecting her from himself.
“But that’s not your problem,” he said.
“I feel like I say this all the time,” Charlene said, “but excuse me?”
Luke fixed her with his gaze, one last time. He had to power through this. Had to get this out.
“Your problem is you don’t trust anyone,” he said. “Because you don’t trust yourself. You don’t even trust what you feel, Charlene. How long do you think you can go on like that?”
Charlene couldn’t bring herself to do much more than stare at him. Luke had just dropped a whole bunch of truth bombs, and they felt destructive as hell.
You don’t even trust what you feel. How long you think you can go on like that?
“I’ve been doing just fine by myself,” she lied.
Luke’s lip curled up in just the semblance of a growl.
“I won’t lie to you, ever,” he said. “Don’t you lie to me.”
“You seem to do just fine on your own,” Charlene retorted. “Why haven’t you ever been married?”
It came out of left field, even for her. She hadn’t had any idea she was going to say it before the words came out of her mouth. But they hit Luke square in the heart.
For just a second, he looked like he’d been hit. Then his eyes darkened, his mouth got tight.
“Because some people shouldn’t have families,” he said.
And that hit Charlene square in the heart.
She felt a chill, the sort you f
eel when you hear someone speak your greatest fear aloud. Charlene had never had much of a family, just what she’d been able to scrape together, and even that hadn’t worked out too well for her. It hurt every time she thought about it. Only Luke had been talking about himself, and she recognized the ache she saw in his eyes the way you recognize your own heartbreak.
It made her want to touch him. To hold him. This man who’d turned his life upside down to protect her, who’d always pushed her towards honesty even when it made her crazy—how could he think he didn’t deserve a family?
“Tell me what your plan is for tomorrow,” Luke said suddenly. Gruffly. Like he was a million miles away. “So I know where I need to be.”
Charlene couldn’t take her eyes away.
“We’re throwing Olivia a kind of bridal baby shower thing at the club,” she said.
Luke nodded. Then he looked at her, one last time.
“I meant what I said, Charlie,” he said. “This security system will hold for now, but it doesn’t mean I’m done. I’ll do what I have to do to keep you safe.”
And then he walked away, out of her kitchen, leaving more questions behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlene was in trouble.
She had so much to do. She had all of her organizational stuff with her, her lists, her binders full of more lists, and pens to make even more lists later. Hell, she had it all open on her lap, and Luke was driving them both to Club Volare for Olivia’s combination shower thing that they’d somehow managed to throw together, and it was all so she could have that much extra time to call possible locations.
And she couldn’t concentrate worth a damn.
Because Luke was sitting next to her.
The drive to the Garden District and Club Volare wasn’t long, but time had stopped anyway, so it didn’t matter much. She just couldn’t stop looking at him. Or thinking about him.
Which was a problem, because really she should be preparing herself for a visit to Club Volare. Charlene didn’t make a big deal about it, but she generally avoided places that reminded her too much of her own bad experiences. Especially BDSM clubs. She knew what would happen when she’d walk in—she’d see something that reminded her of something that Jimmy had done, of some moment of cruelty or some hurt, and she’d feel it all over again.
And normally it would be something she could just push through, at least for a short period of time. But now that Jimmy was actually back in town and trying to get back into her life…she was on edge.
Or would be, if she could think about anything other than Luke. She watched him shift gears out of the corner of her eye, and found herself lost in the way the muscles in his arm undulated whenever he moved. He was dressed like a Dom going to a club, which didn’t help—black shirt, black leathers.
Then she thought of him in the club, with access to everything the club had, and she had to close her eyes. The way Luke made her feel was fighting the way the club and her memories of Jimmy made her feel, and her insides were the battlefield.
I just have to get through this shower. Just a few hours. You can do it for Olivia.
As they drove under the shade of the old oak trees of the Garden District and the club neared, she tried to make herself think of literally anything other than how freaking hot Luke was in the seat next to her. Or like how he’d shut her down the previous night when she’d asked about his past. Granted, maybe she’d been a little rude about it, maybe she’d pushed kind of hard. But he seemed to know so much about her, and she wanted to know about him. Like why he didn’t he think he could have a freaking family. Charlene had a reason to think that about herself; after all, she’d tried and failed. But Luke was already the most protective, honest, and weirdly sensitive-in-a-Dom-kinda-way guy that she’d ever known. It made no sense.
On the other hand, if he didn’t do commitment, then maybe she could keep it casual, or whatever that was called…
NOT helpful, Charlene!
Or maybe if they couldn’t be Dom and sub—and Lord knew they couldn’t be, even if it was all Charlene thought about, because she knew she could not handle it—they could at least be friends.
Ok, that was the worst lie you’ve told yourself yet.
No, Charlene was just going to have to find a way to power through it, even as her attraction to Luke and her reaction to the club—the club that was now coming into view, a Georgian mansion that was peeking at them over the tops of the trees—even if those two things fought for control of her heart and thus conspired to make her completely insane, she’d find a way to get through it. One thing Charlene Bastien didn’t do was let people down, especially not people she cared about. And this was about Olivia and Gavin, after all.
Right.
She unbuckled her seat belt as Luke was pulling into the long drive on the club’s property, and he glanced over at her and frowned. Luke pulled the car to a stop and looked at her.
“Wait,” he ordered.
Charlene froze. Was it his tone? Was it on purpose? Or was it that she was just so primed by the prospect of entering a BDSM club that everything out of a Dom’s mouth sounded like an order?
Well, no, that part could totally just be the Dom thing.
She watched as he got out of the car, juggling her keys in his hand, and walked over to the passenger side door.
Which he then proceeded to open for her.
Before offering her his hand.
This is not helping, buddy.
Charlene had no choice. She took his hand, and let him help her out of her own car. And she made eye contact while she did it.
“Will you be ok here?” he said.
Damn it. Those gold-flecked blue eyes saw everything. And he demanded to know, like it was his business. Like he wasn’t making it harder.
“I’m not missing my best friend’s baby bridal shower,” she snapped, then thought better of it. Luke was in Dom mode. “I’m a grown-up, I can take care of myself,” she said, her voice a little softer.
“Have you ever told anyone that it’s hard for you to come here?” he said.
He’d let go of her hand, but he was still standing between her and the club. Still looming over her, like she might trip and fall and if she did, he was going to be there to catch her. Still acting as though this was his business.
Meanwhile, all she wanted to do was press her face into his chest and inhale. Maybe do some licking while she was there. At least she’d forget about everything else for a little while…
Dammit. Control yourself, Charlie.
“It’s fine, Luke,” she said, and avoided his eyes as she stepped around him. He let her go—and there was never any doubt of that, that he let her go—but she could tell he wasn’t happy about it.
And goddamnit, he was right. The second she stepped foot into the club her senses assailed her. It was like the volume was turned up on everything—lights were brighter, sounds louder. The sting of the underwire of her bra cutting into her skin was that much sharper; the fabric of her dress brushed against her thighs with just a bit more tease.
It was way worse than she thought it would be.
She pushed through it, making small talk, hugging people. Shying away from bright lights, keeping her eyes on the floor lest she see anything too provocative. Or too memorable. Totally normal behavior, right?
More like totally exhausting.
Everyone else seemed to fade away, as though they were very far away, and she was alone with all of these overwhelming sensations. Except when she looked at Luke. It was the only thing she was sure of happening right then, in the present—where he was, physically. What he was doing. It was such a relief to watch him that she couldn’t stop looking at him. She couldn’t stop thinking about what his body felt like, what his skin felt like. About the weight of his solid muscle on top of her. Inside her.
Charlene was screwed. She was too freaked out to function when she tried to ignore him, and too turned on to function when she didn’t ignore him. And she
could never, ever have him, because while the thought of letting go enough to trust a Dom again scared her, the thought of letting go enough to trust herself again absolutely terrified her.
She looked at Luke again, hard. He looked like a muscle-y sex mountain, standing over by the bar, on his phone. Slowly her grip on the arms of her leather chair relaxed. Better. Sort of, if better was feeling her nipples start to peak beneath her thin dress, and the heat between her legs start to spark into something more…uncontrollable.
Ok, better for now.
“Charlie?” Olivia said.
Uh-oh. From her worried tone, it was clear Charlene had just completely zoned out.
“Sorry!” she said and smiled. The group of women that Olivia had befriended since moving to New Orleans—all of them members of Club Volare, except Charlene—were all looking at her, expressions of concern on their faces. Damn. She’d been really obvious.
“I’ve just been thinking about the location,” she admitted, which was almost true. “After the dress shop, I just don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
Internally, Charlene winced. She really hadn’t meant to bring up the fact that, as of this moment, Olivia didn’t have a dress.
“Don’t stress yourself out too much,” Olivia said. Her friend was watching her, her brown eyes soft. “Please? It’s not your fault.”
“I’m going to fix it, I promise,” Charlene said. “There are other dressmakers.”
“Have you called that too-young-by-half little genius that made your getups for Charlene’s charity ball last year?” Lady Blue said.
Charlene loved Blue, who owned and ran the only BDSM-friendly old time cabaret club Charlene had ever been to, but this was not a welcome observation.
“Oh my God, those were brilliant,” Olivia said.
Simone didn’t say anything, but Charlene could feel her eyes.
Simone had totally asked about that. But she hadn’t called Belle Donna Simmons, had she? She hadn’t even seriously thought about doing it, she just…hadn’t trusted that it wouldn’t be a burden. Even though Belle was the sweetest genius on the planet, and she was a huge fan of Olivia’s.
