by Chloe Cox
She closed her eyes. It made it easier, somehow.
“What happened, just before you got back?” she said. “Were you…are you…ok?”
Charlene opened her eyes, and looked up at her Dom.
Yeah, Luke had been in a state when he’d come back to the house, because he’d just decked Jimmy Walters for threatening Charlene and he’d had to race back to her like some kind of missile with a damn homing beacon.
But how the hell did she know that? No sub had ever picked up on anything like that before. There’d never been much to pick up on. Luke thought he’d been over that kind of reactive response, but there was something about Charlene that broke all the rules.
But he was her Dom, and he didn’t lie to women. And she was looking up at him, scared that she’d just crossed some kind of line by being worried about him. Time to nip that in the bud and apologize.
“I’m ok,” he said. “But I went to go have a talk with Jimmy.”
Charlene looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and somehow they got even bigger.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said softly.
She was right. He’d been out of bounds. But Luke felt her softness in his arms, felt her weight on his chest, and knew he’d do the same thing again in a heartbeat.
“No,” he said. “But I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.”
Charlene’s eyes softened even more, and she pressed her hand into his chest. She wasn’t mad. Instead she looked like she understood—which was impossible.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I only meant to give him some serious thought about his life choices,” Luke said gruffly.
“But Jimmy was Jimmy.”
That was one way of putting it. Another way was that he’d threatened Charlene. The memory still made him want to ball his fists and pound something.
But he had her in his arms now, safe. He held her a little tighter, but she wasn’t looking at him now.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. If that fucker had contacted her, he was going to pay for it.
But Charlene just sighed lightly, her breath warming his chest.
“You must think I’m an idiot for having married him,” she said.
“No.”
“It’s ok,” she went on. “I think I’m an idiot for having married him. It’s a perfectly valid opinion.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” he growled.
“So did it work?” she asked. “Your talk?”
Luke paused long enough to get her attention, and she propped herself up on his chest, looking up at him. He didn’t lie to his subs, and he couldn’t lie to Charlene, but goddamn, did he wish he could.
“I hit him,” Luke said. “He’ll be ok, and I’m not proud of it. But you should know.”
Charlene studied him while the memory of that moment came up on him. Luke remembered the clarity of it, just after he his fist connected with Jimmy’s face, of knowing he’d already failed because he’d swung, and knowing he couldn’t stop himself when it came to threats against this woman.
Remembered catching Jimmy, just to make sure. Remembered that stabbing, flashing fear that he was like his father.
“Does that mean you’re going back to your place?” she asked.
Luke blinked. It hadn’t even crossed his mind, but he saw the fear in her eyes. Again: unacceptable.
“I mean if you scared Jimmy off—”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me you feel safe,” he said.
She relaxed, but she didn’t stop watching him. It was strange to see that look on a sub’s face, that studied, attentive look. Like she was trying to read him.
This was new.
“That’s why you were so upset when you came back,” she said.
Luke growled. “He threatened you. Implicitly.”
Charlene grinned at him.
“Is that why you threw your cigarettes away?” she asked. “Because you saw him smoking that first day, blowing smoke on me because he knows I hate it, and—”
Luke grabbed her hand, still lying on his chest, and looked at her.
Jesus, she saw everything.
“That, and I don’t need ‘em,” he said.
She gave him what she would call a side eye.
“Really?” she said. “It’s ok if it’s outside or—”
“I don’t need them,” he said again.
Charlene fell quiet.
Shit. Normally Luke would leave it at that, but the way she was looking at him, she wanted more. And damn if he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her, rules be damned.
“I only ever started smoking to cover up the smell of whiskey and beer bombs, and to get out of the house when my dad looked like he was about to blow,” he said flatly. “Unless my sister was there, then I’d stick it out. But it was always just a tool. I don’t need it, and it bothered you. Easy decision.”
Charlene’s eyes had only gotten bigger. By now he knew that was trouble.
“That’s why you were so…”
She didn’t finish. Just pressed her little hand into his chest a little bit harder.
Then she looked at him hard.
“You’re not like him,” she said.
Luke looked back at her. He didn’t know what to say because he’d never been thrown, not once in his Dom life. But this woman. This woman did it. How did she know that was his fear? How was she still looking at him like that, like she believed in him?
Luke didn’t leave it long enough to find out. He leaned down to kiss her long and hard, and as she melted into him, he swore she’d never have cause to find out how wrong she was.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Luke looked up from the sander, pulled his mask off his face, and wiped the gritty, sandy sweat off his forehead as he watched Charlene walk across the front lawn.
He had to admit this was the best damn vacation he’d ever had.
Wanda had pointed out it was the only vacation he’d ever had, but just the same. He had a beautiful, warm, soft sub to look after, and he was getting to build things with his own two hands. Like this table she needed for the rehearsal dinner—fifteen feet of reclaimed wood, some ironwork he’d gotten from a buddy, and all the tools a man could want.
Charlene had pointed out that she had nowhere to put a fifteen-foot table, so he got an excuse to build a gazebo, too. She’d looked at him like he was crazy, but he hadn’t taken “that’s crazy” for an answer. It was clear his sub still didn’t know how to react to being taken care of because of her past, and that wasn’t going to fly with him.
He’d show her what it meant to be cherished and protected if it was the last damn thing he did.
And it didn’t hurt that he could have her whenever he damn well wanted, either.
But while there hadn’t been any sign of Jimmy since Luke had clocked him one, but that didn’t mean it was over. Luke was still waiting on the full P.I. report from Diego on Jimmy, and a wait like that couldn’t be a good sign. If he didn’t hear something soon, it would mean Diego was following up on leads. Which meant Jimmy was up to something more than just trying to get his ex back.
Luke stepped back from the table, keeping his eyes on Charlene. He couldn’t help but be protective, but it didn’t hurt that she was the best thing in the world to look at. He took of his gloves, his mind already starting to churn with plans for her, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Finally.
But it wasn’t the PI report. Just another text from his sister.
It said, “So are you bringing anyone??”
Luke shook his head. His freaking little sister. Sweetest woman in the world, but overly invested in seeing her big brother settled down. Rosie’d been able to do it, even if it hadn’t worked out for her, so she didn’t see why Luke wouldn’t. And Luke had protected her from as much as he could when they were kids, so she’d never understand why he was different.
It was going to break Rosie’s heart eventually
, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
He knew bringing Charlene back would bring out the biggest smile on his sister’s face, but as he watched Charlene pace across the lawn with her clipboard under her arm and her phone plastered to her ear, he knew he couldn’t do that to this sub. His sub—for now. If there was anyone in the world who would get him to even consider breaking his rule of no relationships, at least for a little while, it was Charlene Bastien. But she’d already been through too much, and she deserved better than to have to deal with Luke’s demons, too.
Even as he watched her now, he could see the stress start to come back into her shoulders, her neck. She was getting better, more confident, but slowly.
Maybe it was time to speed things up.
Charlene was screwed. Royally, royally screwed, and not in the good way.
The very last location she’d had in mind for Gavin and Olivia’s wedding had just said no, for the umpteenth time, and Charlene was out of ideas. She didn’t want to call Olivia without a solution, but the only solution she could think of was, well, Club Volare. And Olivia was adamant—she was not closing the club for any length of time just for their private wedding.
After hearing Gavin’s story, and Charlene’s story, and so many others, Olivia completely refused to take the club away from anyone, even for a weekend. Because she was a sweetheart. A sweetheart who was impossible to plan for.
So the club was out, and Charlene had nothing.
Time to bite the bullet.
“Liv?” she said as soon as her friend picked up.
“I was just thinking about you!” Olivia squealed into the phone. She sounded so happy, and Charlene grinned. Their plan to keep wedding stress from complicating Olivia’s pregnancy was working, anyway. At least for the next thirty seconds.
“Hope they were good thoughts,” Charlene said. “Because I have bad news. Baddish news, anyway. Not ideal news.”
Olivia laughed. “Just spit it out, sweetie.”
“I lost Columbus Hall,” Charlene said. “That was the last place.”
“Oh, honey, do not stress yourself out about that,” Olivia said. “I figured out where we’re going to do it.”
Charlene blinked.
“You did?”
“Like five minutes ago.”
Charlene blinked some more, trying to process that. But then she got a look at Luke on the other side of her lawn, shirtless and sweating over the giant table he was building for her, muscles sliding under his skin, which glistened in the freaking sun, and her brain stopped processing anything at all.
“What?” she said absently.
Olivia laughed again. “I said I’ll tell you at the rehearsal-ish dinner,” she said.
“You know it’s not really a rehearsal dinner unless you plan on eloping the next day,” Charlene said. “And if you officially have to tell me if you’re eloping the next day.”
“That’s why I said ‘rehearsal-ish’,” she said. “We just want to see everyone. And it will be a surprise.”
“You are torturing your wedding planner.”
“I’m doing you a favor,” Olivia said. “Your biggest problem is solved, one way or the other.”
Charlene doubted that, very much.
She doubted it even more as she hung up the phone, her eyes locked on the Dom who had invaded her life. Because she could think of several problems she had that had nothing to do with wedding planning.
Like the fact that she’d needed Luke to come to rescue every time Jimmy had raised his dumb head, and Charlene wasn’t sure she trusted herself to put it all behind her without her Dom’s help. And she definitely wasn’t sure an inexperienced and shaky sub deserved a Dom like this in the first place.
Like the fact that she knew this couldn’t last, and she was maybe falling for him anyway.
And like the fact that she had a hot and sweaty Dom looking right at her.
So she did what any nervous, insecure sub would do, and ran the hell away. Well, she ran inside, anyway, but it wasn’t just cowardice; it was so she could get him a pitcher of something sweet and cold, and maybe a snack if she could whip something up. And it wasn’t like being outside of his sight helped at all. She was utterly conscious of every movement she made, every brush of her dress against her skin, every sensation.
Somehow there was something sexual about bringing him things now. About making sure the lemonade had just the right amount of sugar, about cutting the bread, about spreading freaking mayo.
This is insane.
It got even more insane as she carried the tray back out to Luke, who had poured water over himself—Jesus—and was using a towel to wipe the dust off his body. She gripped the tray so hard the pitcher of lemonade shook, and her hips started to sway all on their own, her thighs caressing each other with every ridiculous step.
When he looked at her, every muscle in her body tensed.
“That for me?” he said.
Silently, she nodded. Then she looked down at his feet. Easier to talk that way.
“You’re working so hard, I thought…”
What is wrong with you? When had she turned into a dickmatized airhead?
Right around the time he took his shirt off.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
She did.
Dammit. Still blindingly sexy.
“Are you still nervous about the dinner?” he asked.
His blue eyes locked on her while the sun glinted off his muscled chest and Charlene gave up on sounding like an intelligent adult.
“A little,” she said. “Some. Not as much. It’s just that it’s new?”
Luke looked at her, his eyes almost glowing. And was that a growl? An actual growl?
“You are a natural sub, Charlie,” Luke said. “And you are mine, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about. And I will prove that to you as often as is necessary. Starting now.”
Somehow Charlene remembered to breathe. Then she licked her lips, carefully bent down, and put the tray she’d carried on the ground.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
She watched him inhale deeply, and she felt her nipples start to harden. Which was ridiculous. But everything about Luke Logan was ridiculous.
She looked down.
Everything.
“Lose the clothes,” he said. “And keep them off. I’ll want you later. And in the meantime…”
Luke threw the towel on the unfinished table, his eyes still locked on her, and came close. Close enough to touch.
And touch he did.
He slid his hand up from her hip, into the dip of her waist, and over her breast, pausing there to squeeze her hard, hard enough to make her gasp. And then he deftly pushed her dress aside, popping her breast out of her dress. He toyed idly with her nipple while he stared down at her.
“In the meantime,” he said, his voice low, “I want to look at you. Understood?”
Dimly, she nodded. It was hard to hear, see, think anything over the roar of the fire he set inside her every time he touched her, but somehow his voice always got through.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Thank you. Sir.”
And she meant it. Because right now, when they were together, everything was perfect.
She just hoped it would stay that way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlene tried so hard not to look back at Luke’s truck as she walked across the street to her own restaurant, but she only made it about ten feet before she sneaked a look over her shoulder. She could tell that man had something planned for the ‘rehearsal-ish’ dinner they were throwing for Gavin and Olivia that night, and it was making her crazy. And she was already nervous about everyone seeing her as his sub, as anyone’s sub, after all these years, which she knew was silly and foolish, so she was ignoring it.
But she could not ignore the butterflies in her stomach, or the way she felt when Luke looked at her like that, or the way her entire body came alive when she thought about what he might do to her later.
And she couldn’t ignore how good it felt when he insisted on driving her to her restaurant. It was all she could do to get him to stay in the car while she went in to get some of her special Spanish saffron. Ostensibly this was all because Luke was still paranoid about Jimmy, and he wasn’t going to let Charlene out of his sight. But the way he looked at her made her think it wasn’t just about her safety.
In fact, the way he looked at her made her think a bunch of things. That man was like a loaded sex gun, and at any moment that Dom might go off, and it kept her constantly wet.
Better be quick, then.
She smiled. Well, not too quick. An impatient Dom was a beautiful thing.
Charlene opened the big glass front door to Charlie’s, her pride and joy, and looked wide-eyed at a packed house. She smiled at Anna, the hostess working front of house, who was glued to her phone—taking more reservations?—and kept her head down as she speed-walked back to the kitchen. The dining room was packed and full of happy people, but the kitchen…that would be the real test of how things were really functioning without her.
And the kitchen was perfect.
Which meant that everything was in absolute chaos, because it was a working kitchen. But it was controlled chaos, like a tightly choreographed circus where every act performed all at once. Her sous-chef, Beverly, whirled around like an incredibly precise dervish while the range cooks diced and flambéed and plated all around her. Charlene stood there for a moment and just watched.
This was what she loved—beautiful, delicious food borne out of this complete chaos.
And it was all working, like a crazy, brilliant clockwork circus, without her.
Charlene had imagined this while she took all this time away from the restaurant, plenty of times. On bad days she’d been afraid that she’d come back to find her restaurant in total disarray, but on good days she knew she could count on her people. But she wondered if she’d be sad, to see that she wasn’t needed.
Nope. She was happy. She was excited. Because now she didn’t have to be afraid that it would all come crashing down around her if she wasn’t good enough. She could just go back to doing it for love.
