Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  “I didn’t want you. I hated you for waking me up in the middle of the night, but want … no way.”

  He snapped her menu out of her hands. “I saw the way you looked at me, Sam.”

  “I was looking at your abs.” She grabbed for her menu but missed. “I couldn’t believe you were so … built.”

  He set her menu on top of his. “I believe in keeping my body disciplined, just like my subs.”

  She pointed at her menu. “I wasn’t done with that.”

  “I will order for you. As your Dom, I am to order for you at restaurants, and when we get further along in your lessons, we’ll have to go through your wardrobe.” He gestured to her clingy, V-neck top. “I prefer clothes that are less revealing.”

  Sam self-consciously crossed her arms over her bosom and pouted her lips together.

  “And above all, no pouting. I can’t stand that.” He pointed at her face. “Subs who use the silent treatment, or pout, to let me know they aren’t happy are very frustrating to work with.”

  “Maybe I should be writing this down.”

  Their waitress returned, carrying a tray of drinks. “Y’all ready to order?” She set two glasses of soda water on the table.

  Sam listened attentively as Doug ordered dinner. She didn’t know how he did it, but he picked out exactly what she wanted—he even got the salad dressing right. After the waitress wrote down their selections, she sashayed back toward the bar door.

  “Do you think she’s pretty?” Sam asked, watching the woman’s long blonde ponytail sway behind her.

  Doug picked up his drink. “The waitress? No.”

  “Seriously?” Sam raised her eyebrows. “I thought she would be the kind any man would want. You know … a sexy, slender blonde with long legs and stunning features.”

  “What attracts a man like me to a woman isn’t just her looks, it’s her essence: all she is, all that she conveys to the world. I prefer to work hard to get a woman, because once I get them, I never want to let them go.”

  Sam lifted her soda water. “You didn’t have to work hard to get me.”

  His exuberant laughter was unexpected. “Sam, you have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get your attention.”

  Sipping from her drink, she ignored his comment. As far as Sam was concerned, a man like Doug Morgan didn’t have to work hard to get any woman’s attention. He was impossible to ignore. Sam just hoped when their time together came to an end, Doug didn’t end up becoming impossible to forget.

  * * *

  After dinner, they strolled along the quiet streets in the Warehouse District, heading back to The Shallows. Right before they reached the entrance, Sam swore she saw the shadow of a man outside the decorative doors to their building.

  “I’m still here.” She heard Nathan Cole’s voice right next to her. “Are you having fun with … Doug?”

  “Are you okay?” Doug asked when she hesitated at the doors.

  Glancing up, she saw his face lit by the arched cast iron street lamps lining the sidewalk. Was it the right time to tell him about her? Swerving her eyes to the refurbished warehouse with its unassuming façade of large windows, she muttered, “I always get creeped out by this building.”

  “Why is that?”

  Sam avoided looking at him. “Don’t you know about the history of this place?”

  Doug took a step in front of her, making her eyes focus on him. “What history?”

  “This warehouse sits on the site of a slave auction house from the early 1800s. Rumor is that graves, collars, and shackles were found under the foundation after Nathan Cole purchased it. Don’t you think that’s spooky?”

  He pulled the doors open for her. “It’s New Orleans, Sam. Every building here has a sad history.”

  “What about ghosts?” she quickly added. “Do you think all the buildings here are as haunted as people claim?”

  “New Orleans is America’s Most Haunted City. I’m sure the ghosts are around here … somewhere.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Doug?”

  The pained smile he gave her was confounding. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? “I guess you could say I’m still waiting for proof.”

  Her heart fell. A skeptic. Not what she needed to hear.

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Sam?”

  Here was her moment of truth. Could she find the courage to tell him? “I—I believe in them. I think we go somewhere when we die. Why not back to the places we loved in life?”

  He motioned her inside. “Intriguing concept … especially from a minister’s daughter.”

  Stepping inside the building, she heard a man’s chuckle. Thankfully, on the elevator ride up to the fourth floor, there was only the two of them.

  At her door, she wrestled with the lock, and then Doug pushed the heavy door open. Safely in her apartment, Sam thought he would remove his jacket and get comfortable on the sofa, but instead, he stopped right inside her doorway and took her in his arms.

  “Tomorrow night, you can cook for me. I’ll bring the wine. What are we having?”

  “The chicken I left marinating in the refrigerator.”

  “Good. After dinner, we’ll return to our lessons.” He inched forward and kissed her.

  Sam was expecting the kiss to be nothing close to passionate, but she was happily surprised. His mouth teased her, his tongue ran across her lips, begging to enter, and when she let him in, she almost crumbled against him. She had never been with many good kissers, except for Tom Fogerty in her sophomore year of high school. Tom had been a good kisser, but Doug was even better. He made her want more, and as his tongue lightly caressed hers, her resistance evaporated. He wasn’t Master Morgan anymore; he was just Doug. A man who wanted her, and made her want him, too.

  “You’re getting better at this,” he softly said, pulling away.

  “Me?” She lowered her head. “You make me feel so … inexperienced.”

  He turned to her door. “I’m hoping tomorrow night I’ll get you to tell me about those experiences of yours. I need to know before we can move on.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does. When you finally tell me your secrets, you’ll trust me. That’s what I want, Sam. Not your secrets, but your trust.” He eased into the hallway. “Lock the door behind me.”

  After he shut the door, she drove the dead bolt home and watched his shadow move away.

  Facing her apartment, she thought ahead to their next night of lessons. She pictured telling him the truth about what had happened to her in college, and then explaining her ability. She feared he would do what her father had done all her life, whenever she mentioned her gift. Yell at her and claim she was cursed.

  But he isn’t Dad, her inner voice insisted.

  “Perhaps not,” she murmured. “But when he finds out the truth, he won’t walk away … he’ll run.”

  * * *

  Work dragged the next day. The ICU was half full, and Sam’s patients were not highly critical, leaving her a lot of time to sit around worrying about what to tell Doug.

  “How is it going with the hot neighbor?” Piper asked, standing next to her table. “Is that who you’re daydreaming about?”

  “I’m not daydreaming,” Sam protested.

  Piper came around in front of her table. “You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, staring off into space. I’ve been watching you. I figured our Dom next door finally took away your virginity troubles.”

  Sam tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, no. We haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Nothing? Not even gotten naked together?”

  Sam played with her black pen in her hand. “Well, I’ve gotten naked in front of him, but I’ve never seen him naked.”

  Piper reached for a nearby chair and rolled it in front of Sam’s table. “Oh, I’ve got to hear about this. Why were you naked and not him?”

  Sam dropped her pen on the table. “He has this thing … about lessons. He says he’s try
ing to teach me about being a good sub before we do anything.” She glanced up at Piper. “Did Randy do that to you?”

  Piper thought about the question for a moment. “No, actually he just took me out to dinner, told me he was a Dom, and then took me back to his place and tied me up. That first night we fucked like rabbits on speed.”

  “I did not need to hear that, Piper.”

  Piper’s brown eyes sized up Sam. “So no sex, huh? Does he know about what happened to you in college?”

  “No, and he keeps asking about my sexual experience. Actually, he’s been pestering me about it. I can’t tell him.”

  “Yes, you can. He’ll probably like that you’re inexperienced.” Piper leaned in to her. “What about your other secret? Have you told him about that, or are you just waiting until you start channeling his dead grandmother or something?”

  “I don’t channel … and no, he doesn’t know about that. I can’t tell him. What if he thinks I’m a lunatic, or worse?”

  “Hey, none of that. You make it sound like it’s a bad thing and not the miracle it is. Tell Doug about it. He needs to know.”

  “I had a hard time admitting it to you, but Doug?” Sam picked up her pen. “I’m not sure I will ever be able to tell him.”

  “Piper,” Angie, another ICU nurse, called from across the unit. “Can you check this ventilator for me?”

  “Sure thing.” Piper stood from her chair. “Tell him, Sam. Both your secrets. Being intimate with a man isn’t about the sex … it’s about the sharing. Sharing your body, your mind, and all the things that have made you special.”

  Piper hurried around the circular desk to the other side of the unit.

  Turning back to her patient, Sam thought of ways to share her news with Doug. No matter how hard she tried, every scenario ended with her clamming up.

  “Face facts, Sam. The only way the man is going to get you to talk is to beat it out of you.”

  It was well after seven when Sam rushed in her front door. She was running through the list of things she had to do before Doug arrived, when she entered her living room and froze.

  “Doug?” She dropped her backpack and keys on her coffee table. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

  He turned to her, grinning. “I let myself in.”

  She glanced at her keys. “How … I mean where did you get—?”

  “I had an extra pair made when I took your keys the other night.”

  She darted toward the kitchen. “You never asked me to do that, and you certainly should have told me that—”

  His eyebrows went up, cutting off her words. He came around the breakfast counter. “First of all, if you’re to be my submissive, there is no questioning my motives for anything. Secondly, you’re so damned clumsy, I figured it might be safer if I had access to your apartment.”

  With a perturbed grimace, Sam kept her eyes on his steely orbs. “I appreciate the concern, Sir, but I would prefer you speak to me about something like that before you invade my privacy.”

  “Your privacy?” He folded his arms over his chest. “Sam, if you’re to be my submissive, you will have no privacy. You’re to be mine at all hours of the day and night, and you will keep nothing from me. And that includes those intriguing tidbits about your past.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Here we go again.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” He pulled her into his arms. “I don’t like begging a woman to tell me things about herself, and I usually don’t encounter much resistance when getting what I want.” His lips moved closer. “Why won’t you tell me? What are you so afraid of?”

  She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re very afraid of telling me about what you’ve done before with men.” His eyes changed, and the anger in them abated as a more curious light took over. “Or has what you’ve done only concerned women?”

  The notion made Sam laugh out loud.

  Shocked by her reaction, Doug let her go. He motioned to her scrubs. “Go and change. I bought you a new robe and left it on your bed. Put it on with nothing underneath and come back out here.” He spun around and returned to the kitchen.

  “Do you do this with all your subs? Take over their lives like this?”

  He went to her built-in oven and checked the contents. “I don’t take over anyone’s life. I become their life.” He turned to her. “And they become mine.”

  The commanding look in his eyes made Sam weak in the knees.

  He nodded to the hallway that led to her bedroom. “Hurry up. Dinner is almost ready.”

  In her bedroom, Sam sat down on her bed, needing a moment to think. This was so not what she had expected with him. Piper had made it sound easy being with a Dom; you let him do what he wanted, and you had a lot of fun in the process. But this wasn’t fun; it was mind games. Similar to the mind games her father had played.

  Since putting her family behind her, Sam had fought to build up her fragile self-esteem. She had traveled, become a good nurse, fought to quiet the ghosts around her, and thought she was in a good place … that was until she’d met Doug. From the moment she had laid eyes on his rock-solid abs, she had been second-guessing herself.

  Glimpsing the short, pink silk robe next to her, she clenched her jaw. Sam had always stayed away from sexy clothes, probably the result of her strict upbringing. When other girls were experimenting with makeup and hanging out with boys, she had been sentenced to Bible study classes, wearing only her clean-faced smile and a dress that could have accommodated a small circus.

  Fingering the silk, she questioned what other new things Doug could teach her. Could he change her life? Could he change her?

  “What are you doing?”

  She saw him standing in the bedroom doorway. Yanking her hand away from the robe, she uttered, “It’s pretty. Too pretty for me.”

  His brow furrowed, he moved closer to the bed. “What makes you say that?”

  “I was raised to avoid pretty clothes. My father professed they would make me vain and foolish.”

  He took her hand, lifting her from the bed. “It’s just a robe, Sam. It won’t change who you are.”

  “Maybe I don’t know who I am.”

  His fingers grazed her cheek. “Then we’ll find out, together.”

  Doug kneeled down and helped her out of her tennis shoes. Then he removed her scrub top and eased the pants down her legs. After he had removed her bra and underwear, he took the robe from the bed and slid it around her shoulders. As he tied off the belt, Sam was overcome with tenderness for the man. For the first time in her life, someone gave a damn about her.

  Before he stepped back from her, Sam kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Gazing into her eyes, he cupped her face. “I want to take care of you, Sam. Please, allow me to do that.”

  The touch of his lips started out as something tender and sweet, but with every passing second, the intensity of his kiss changed. As his tongue dashed in and out, his arms went around her, hugging her close. Pressing her breasts into his firm chest, Sam slipped her arms around his neck. She was kissing him back, combing her hand through his hair, when he squeezed her butt cheeks. Lifting her in the air, Doug wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her from the room, kissing her as he went.

  When he deposited her on a stool at her breakfast bar, Sam was disappointed he had taken her to the living room and not carried her into bed. She would have given herself to him at that moment. She wanted him, more than she had ever wanted any man.

  When he went around the breakfast bar, Sam got comfortable on her stool, taking in the single white china plate and utensils set before her.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “Yes, I am. But I don’t need a plate.”

  She cocked her head. “Why not?”

  He picked up a bowl from the counter. Carrying it to the bar, he grinned.

  Sam was a little confused when he put a bowl of mashed pota
toes down in front of her. “What are you going to do?”

  He spooned a portion of the mashed potatoes on to her plate. He dipped the spoon back into the potatoes, collecting another serving. “You ever had a man eat off you?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “Then take off that robe. Dinner is getting cold.”

  Shaking her head, Sam untied the knot on her belt and dropped the robe to the floor.

  Doug came toward her, still carrying the spoonful of potatoes. He pointed to the bar. “Lean back.”

  Swinging around on her stool, Sam rested her elbows behind her on the bar. He plopped the warm mound of mashed potatoes between her breasts, and Sam started giggling. However, when his hand smoothed the mashed potatoes over her breasts, coating them in the warm, gooey mess, she stopped laughing.

  Placing his hand on her right shoulder, his tongue began to lap up the mashed potatoes. He made sure to suck on her nipples. Sam almost fell from her stool when his teeth began tugging on her nipples.

  She ached to kiss him, but since his mouth was already busy, she took his hand from her shoulder, still covered with a sticky layer of mashed potatoes, and began sucking on his fingers. Doug glanced up at her; his smile was earth-shattering.

  When every trace of mashed potatoes was gone from her breasts, Doug stood back and picked her up in his arms. Setting her on the breakfast bar, he instructed, “Roll over on your stomach.”

  She frowned up at him. “Why?”

  “Do as you’re told, Sam.”

  Doug returned to the kitchen and opened the oven door. He removed a pan filled with the marinated chicken she had expected to prepare for dinner. The essence of basil, thyme, and oregano swirled in the air, making her stomach growl. Lifting a breast from the pan, he came over to her.

  She knitted her brow. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “On your stomach,” was all he offered.

  Resting her chin on her arm, she waited to see what he was going to do. After a few seconds, she felt something warm dropping on her ass. Careening her head around, she caught a glimpse of Doug tearing the chicken away from the bone and setting the pieces on her butt.