by Livia Grant
"Good morning," she offered quietly.
Only when she got to the kitchen island that also served as an eat-in dining table did he acknowledge her verbally with a simple, "Morning."
She didn't have to ask for coffee. He placed a large mug in front of her, pouring the hot liquid to the top, barely leaving enough room for a splash of creamer and a packet of zero calorie sugar substitute. She didn't want to evaluate how he'd known how she took her coffee. Not that it was a matter of national security, but they'd never shared a meal together. Not even a beverage, other than bottled water during the Valentine Roulette event. Was it a lucky guess on his part?
She doubted it.
Khloe took a seat on the high stool and had only downed one sip when the second half of his breakfast delivery arrived. Ryder slid a platter in front of her. The sheer volume of eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes, topped with melted butter and syrup nauseated her. It was more calories on one plate than she normally ate in two or three days combined.
Pushing the plate away, she complained. "I'm not really hungry."
"Too fucking bad. I got sidetracked last night. It won't happen again." There wasn't a trace of negotiation in his voice.
Since the first words out of his mouth when he'd seen her were that she was starving herself, Khloe suspected he would be digging in on this subject. She contemplated her options, deciding between telling him to fuck off because what she ate was none of his business or placating him by taking a few bites. Her stomach growling helped her decide.
Ryder had stopped his cleanup activities to lean his ass back against the kitchen counter directly in front of her, crossing his arms, watching her intently, making his expectations clear. There was nothing sexual about the scene, yet her heart raced, recognizing he was determined to take his proven natural dominance of their sex lives into other aspects of their relationship.
What relationship, Khloe? He hasn't said shit about a relationship.
The thought annoyed her. Part of her wanted to press him on what kind of game he was up to coming back into her life like a tornado. Would he be blowing back out as quickly? If so, she owed him nothing, including modifying her eating habits, even if deep down she'd known for a while she was skating dangerously close to the edge of her previously diagnosed disorder.
She felt his stare as she looked down at the plate of food, suddenly fighting the urge to cry. Damn him to hell. She'd been relaxed for the first time in ages and he was ruining it, acting like he couldn't care less about her now that he'd gotten what he wanted from her the night before. At least last time, he'd made a clean break after the life-altering sex.
Picking up her fork, she decided to eat the whites of the over-easy eggs. She'd learned to take small bites, psychologically trying to fake her body out that it had received a full meal. She knew it was stupid, but it didn't stop her. She could feel his glare as he focused on her slow progress.
If she were alone, her breakfast would be over once the whites were gone, yet a quick glance in his direction told her he wasn't satisfied yet. Looking at the remnants of her options, she picked up the glass of orange juice next, slowly sipping down a quarter of the cool beverage.
This time when she glanced his way, she detected a small lift at the corner of his mouth. It was the first sign of levity from him since they'd woke. She wasn't sure she wanted to know why it was there.
"I know what you're doing. It isn't going to work."
"I don't know what you mean. You said eat, so I ate," she said as she pushed the plate away from her toward the edge of the counter.
"From now on you'll eat like a woman, not a bird. Today, you'll eat at least half of what's left."
Her temper flared. "What the hell? I'm not some toddler being told to clean their plate."
"No, you're not. You're a grown woman who knows better which means you should also know what the consequences are for disobeying."
"Excuse me? What the fuck are you talking about... consequences?"
"Don't play coy with me, Khloe. We may not be at Black Light, but you know damn well what I'm talking about."
She argued back, despite her heart rate spiking at his mention of their only other night spent together–him, her master–her, his sex slave. "Look around you, Ryder." She waved her hands widely to make her point before continuing. "Like you said, we aren't at Black Light. That means you can't make me do shit. Hell, you couldn't even then. It's all just a big game, remember?"
It felt good to throw his hurtful words from their goodbye up in his face. She jumped down from the stool, grabbing her coffee mug and heading back in the direction of the bathroom. That shower was sounding better.
She barely made it to the couch when he pounced on her from behind. Hot coffee sloshed out onto her hand, burning its way down to the area rug beneath them as Ryder wrestled the mug from her before placing it on the coffee table.
The sudden escalation of their disagreement unnerved her. Khloe used the distraction to take off running towards the bathroom, hoping to get behind the locked door before the angry man chasing her caught her. But she didn't have a chance in hell. Ryder's arms squeezed around her from behind, dragging her to a halt before she even got across the room. If the strength of his hold meant anything, he was pretty pissed.
That's fine by me. I'm not too happy myself, asshole.
She put up a nominal struggle to be free, giving up quickly. Beating almost anyone in a physical altercation was a long shot for the slip of a woman. Besting a man like Ryder Helms physically was impossible. A thread of danger sparked as she realized she was at his mercy, alone in a remote cabin, her closest possible help might be his own aunt, miles away.
Memories of the real danger she was in returned with a rush. The constant panic she'd pushed down returned, making her gasp for breath, coming close to hyperventilating within a minute. She was alone with an aggressive near stranger. The recklessness of it closed in.
"Goddammit, breathe for me, baby." Recognizing her distress, he'd loosened his grip on her in an attempt to help her take deeper breaths. When it was clear it wasn't working, she felt his lips on the shell of her ear, talking softly, but demanding. "You're safe. No one's gonna hurt you." He paused and then demanded, "Breathe! Now!"
Her body obeyed, sucking in precious air, even as her brain resisted. They stood in the middle of the cabin for several minutes, Ryder whispering calming assurances into her ear until her panic receded and her breathing returned to normal.
By the time he released her to scoop her up into his arms, she was exhausted. The fatigue of constant stress blanketed her again, like an old friend. She didn't put up a fight when he walked them back to the kitchen, this time sitting in the stool she'd vacated, holding her in his lap with his left arm while pulling the platter of food she'd shoved away back towards them.
His tone of voice was eerily calm when he spoke next. "I'm sorry I scared you. It wasn't my intention."
Had Ryder Helms just apologized to her? The absurdity of it cut through the fog of her stress, forcing her to look into his eyes to see if he was serious. Real regret shown in his eyes.
"I know you're afraid. It's why I'm here. I meant it when I said no one would hurt you."
His words from the night before came back to her. "Except you. You said you were the only one who got to hurt me."
Frustration was evident on his handsome face. His day-old growth of facial hair only made him look more sexy... and dangerous. "I shouldn't have said that. It was..."
"Barbaric? Presumptuous?" she filled in the blank.
He finished for her in an unexpected way, "It was wishful thinking."
Those were some of the few words he could utter to make her feel even a bit better. They worked.
"Wishful in what way?" she questioned quietly.
His free hand that wasn't holding her on his lap moved to cup her cheek, unusually gentle considering their physical history.
This time he used words instead of strength to hurt he
r. "It was a mistake sleeping together last night."
Instant tears made him swim before her. Her fluctuating emotions felt like she was on a rollercoaster ride. Up... down... She hated that they were so close. There would be no hiding them from him. She felt so foolish. He was already ready to ditch her all over again.
Khloe slapped his hand away from her face, doing her best to swish the tears from her eyes before they hit her cheeks. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he could still hurt her. She wiggled to escape his clutches, but he only hugged her tighter.
"Fuck, woman. Will you sit still and let me finish?"
"Oh, I think I've heard enough. I want to go home. Now."
"You aren't going anywhere. Not until you listen to me." He paused and then added, "And not until you've eaten at least half this food."
The man was seriously brain damaged. "Screw you."
"We've already tried screwing. It only complicated things."
That was an understatement. "Well, welcome to my world. It's complicated."
The asshole had the nerve to smile. "Yeah, I've noticed. I can't say my world has been a cakewalk lately, either."
She didn't know what he meant by that, but she saw the truth in his eyes. "So why are you here? Really. Or is it like you said, all a big mistake?"
The normally controlled dominant in front of her was left speechless for a long minute. He swished his free hand through his hair, fidgeting in his seat as if he were uncomfortable. Several arguments were on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back, more anxious to hear what he had to say.
When he finally spoke, his words gutted her. "I never wanted to leave you. Not then. And not now."
"Then why?"
"I had to, for my job."
"Even if that's true, why are you here then? Did you quit?"
"Not exactly. Let's say I took a leave of absence."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I know I'm supposed to be protecting you now, instead of..." His voice trailed off as if he were afraid he'd said too much.
He may be telling her the truth, but there was a lot he wasn't saying too. She was still hurt. "Except now you regret it. You said it yourself."
He held her chin still, forcing her to look at him again. "I meant what I said. It would be easier to protect you if things weren't so... personal... between us." When she didn't reply, he continued. "I'm distracted around you. I'm worried that I'm going to spend too much time thinking about all of the delicious things I want to do to your body instead of focusing on any danger in your environment." His voice cracked as he added, "I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you on my watch."
She was stunned into silence. He sounded sincere. God, she wanted him to be telling the truth.
Their visual standoff was interrupted by the ringing of a nearby phone. Ryder released her chin to dig a phone out of the pocket of his pants. He didn't even look at it before answering it with a simple, "Helms."
He listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the phone as he stared at her with that unreadable glare he had perfected. Several minutes ticked by while he listened before finally answering with two simple words. "Hold on."
He looked down long enough to mute the call before looking back at her. "It's Davidson. Seems your asshat of a bodyguard is threatening to call the police if he doesn't get to speak to you within the hour."
Guilt closed in. She hadn't even thought about calling Trevor to check in. He must be frantic, not having a clue who Ryder was.
"Is that him?" she asked.
"He's there, yes."
She reached for his phone, taking it off mute. "Trevor?"
"No, Jax. But he's here. I tried to tell him you were safe, but it seems he'll only listen to you."
"He's only doing his job."
Jaxson hesitated, "Are you sure about that? It seems to be more than that." It took her a second to understood what he was hinting at. She blushed, remembering Trevor's declaration of love less than a week earlier.
"I'm sure. Put him on, please." She felt heat rising under Ryder's glare.
"Khloe? Where the hell are you?" Trevor was seriously pissed.
"I'm safe. You don't need to worry."
"The hell I don't. I don't know what's going on around here, but since when do you take off with some stranger without even a word of who he is or where he's taking you. Fuck, you didn't even take your phone with you."
"I'm sorry. I really am." Her gaze locked with the man who's lap she was wiggling in. "Ryder is an old friend. I didn't know he was in town or that he'd be coming to see me."
"That's bullshit. I know all of your friends. Your enemies. Your business partners. This guy is a complete unknown. Now of all times, I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to take off without my protection."
He was right, of course. It had been foolish of her. "I said I'm sorry."
Trevor sighed. "We'll talk about this when you get home. Apollo called. He needs you on set in two hours. They're doing the retakes on the courtroom scenes today before he releases the extras."
"Dammit, we're supposed to be off until next week."
"That's not how this works, and you know it." She detected the simmering anger he was barely containing. Even if he was right, he'd never talked to her like this before.
"I'm not sure if..."
"Listen, I'm trying to be a sport here, but don't you dare stick me with having to tell the director you can't come in today because you're off gallivanting with some old boyfriend."
She was pretty sure he was fishing for information, but she didn't like it. "I'm not gallivanting," she defended lamely. She stopped short of explaining Ryder's relationship to her, in part because it wasn't any of Trevor's business, but more importantly, because she didn't have a clue what he was to her either. "Hold on."
It was her turn to put the call on mute. "The director needs to do some retakes on some scenes we did last week. We're about to lose the extras from the scene and that would force an entire re-shoot and cost a lot of money. Can you have me at the studio in two hours?"
Instead of answering her question, he asked his own. "What's going on with you and your bodyguard?"
"For crying out loud. There's nothing going on with Trevor. He's my personal guard. That's all."
"Personal, eh?"
There was a sliver of her that was thrilled at the idea of Ryder Helms being even a tiny bit jealous of another man. The dominant was so confident. So self-assured. Jealousy didn't fit his profile. Still, she wasn't crazy about being the prize in the two men's present tug-of-war match.
"Knock it off. Can you have me there or not?"
He hesitated, but finally agreed. "Yeah, I can have you there." She was reaching to unmute the phone when he added, "But before we leave, I'm gonna lay down the ground rules, and you're gonna agree to them."
She held off returning to her call with Trevor. "Excuse me? What rules?"
"Just one rule, really." His eyes had frosted over with that icy-blue that made her quiver with a cocktail of emotions. She held her breath waiting for him to finish.
"I'm in charge. Period."
"In charge of what? My protection detail?"
"Yes. And where you go, who you see, what you do..." His eyes shaded darker, as he added, "How and when we fuck." Her core clinched with sexual excitement, just before he added, "And yes, even what you eat and drink."
Not that again. Who did he think he was, anyway?
The phone shook in her hands, almost toppling to the floor as she internalized his words. Sensing she was on overload, Ryder grabbed his phone back and took it off mute.
"Helms here. I got the message. I'll have her there in two hours. Not a minute before."
She could hear Trevor shouting as Ryder pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call, hanging up on a still yelling Trevor.
"You didn't have to be so rude to him," she complained.
"He's a big boy. If he's jus
t your employee, he'll get over it."
"What do you mean, if he's just my employee?" she countered, already knowing exactly what he meant. She was relieved when he let the argument die, unwilling to dig too deeply into Trevor's motives herself.
Not wanting to continue with the current line of questioning, Khloe tried to squirm out of his clutches in hopes of heading to the shower. He only hugged her tighter, reaching out for her fork and using it to cut off a big bite of pancakes.
She clamped her mouth shut as he rubbed the food against her lips. "Open up."
Even as she shook her head no, she felt childish. But whether she liked it or not, they'd entered into a battle of wills. Holding her ground was now a matter of pride, or at least principle. Letting Ryder control their time between the sheets was one thing. Controlling her everyday life was something completely different.
"I know you think you're gonna win in our little war, but you're a rookie, baby. You will eat half this food." He paused, before making it clear he knew at least some of her tricks. "And you'll keep it down, too. The only question left to answer is how sore your ass is going to be by the time you're chewing the last bite."
Her mouth popped open from the sheer shock of his words. Ryder was ready, shoveling the forkful of food inside, depositing the sweet syrupy goodness on her tastebuds. She froze, tempted to spit it back out at him, but unwilling to see what that stunt might earn her.
"Chew," he demanded, their eyes locked in a battle of wills.
It galled her that it tasted fantastic. Pancakes and syrup was one of her favorite breakfast foods.
Don't panic. One bite won't kill you.
Slowly, her mouth moved. She expected him to gloat, but instead, the icy blue of his eyes melted a bit. He looked pleased.
"Swallow."
Testing a theory, she did as she was told and this time was rewarded with an actual smile.
Interesting.
Still, she wasn't going to let him treat her like a child. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the bastard scooped another big bite in instead. She finished that bite without prodding, but then clamped her hand over her mouth to protect it from incoming projectiles while she tried to set him straight.
