by Roni Loren
Maggie had showed him that he was capable of more. She was a masterful domme—one who had sensed what he needed and somehow had known just how to get around his walls—but she was also just an amazing woman with a big heart. She’d seen his need and had helped him. He didn’t know what he could be to her or what she wanted from him. Maybe just to be play partners without so many boundaries. Maybe to be friends. He wasn’t going to assume more than that. But for the first time, he was willing to open his mind to having someone else in his life.
He swiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt as the rising sun started to lighten the rain clouds, and he strolled around her studio, taking in her artwork. He could spend all day in there, noticing all the little details she included in her paintings. She was a gifted painter who captured emotion on the canvas with a masterful hand. He’d already decided he needed at least three of them for his own place.
He went over to a stack that was leaning against the wall and flipped through another few animal portraits, looking for the rest in that series of nudes she’d talked about last night. But when he got to the last one, he stilled. It was a nude but definitely not female. And, holy shit …
He pulled out the canvas, setting it down in front of the others, his heart picking up speed as he looked at it again. It was of a man in submission on his knees, his back to the observer. His head was bowed, his face hidden, but his muscles were tensed and strong, his hands fisted at his sides. Chains were locked around his forearms and wrapped all the way to the biceps, but the metal was straining. It was a painting of powerful submission—a man about to break free of his bonds. But that’s not what caught his attention. No, what drew his eye and had his breath catching in his throat was the long jagged scar on the man’s back—right from the left shoulder to the ribs.
Theo sank to his knees and touched the corner of the painting where Maggie had signed it with her flourishing signature. Above the signature was a simple title for the work: Mine.
Theo braced his hands on his thighs, this sense of peace coming over him. Maggie had said she wanted to paint him, but she already had. And she’d captured his image in a way that said she had spent a long time memorizing every angle of his body, every intricate nuance of his posture, but also in a way that said she knew him. His heart. His struggles. And despite all that, she wanted him anyway. Mine. The word echoed through his mind, settled in the center of his chest.
Hers.
That thought didn’t scare him like he thought it would.
“You are in so much trouble for digging through my paintings,” said a firm voice from the doorway.
He looked over to find Maggie standing at the entrance to the room—silky robe wrapped around her body, hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and a threatening look in her eye. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“You painted me.”
She rubbed her lips together, her eyes going to the painting, then she shrugged. “So, news flash: I may have had a wee crush on you once upon a time.”
He rocked to his feet and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Yeah? You’re all done with that now?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, looking bored. “Totally.”
“So that’s how it is, huh? Use me for my impressive skills in bed and then move on?” His lips lifted at the corners.
“Well, they were quite impressive. I may need you to do another audition if I’m going to reinstate this aforementioned crush, though.”
He walked over to her and grabbed the belt of her robe, pulling her close. “I may consider this audition. May take me a few times to get it right, though.”
She blew out a breath and put her hands to his chest. “I woke up and I thought you’d left.”
He frowned. “I thought about it. I woke up and freaked out for a few minutes. But then I saw you lying there, and you were snoring so loud I figured you might have sleep apnea and needed a doctor to stay nearby.”
She gasped and then shoved his chest. “I do not snore.”
He chuckled. “And how would you know that?”
Her nose scrunched up into this adorable scowl and she shoved him again. “Because I know.”
He dragged her close again and kissed her wrinkled nose. “You’re right. You don’t. What I really thought when I saw you lying there was that the world wasn’t fair. That a bastard like me should’ve never been given a shot with one amazing woman much less a chance with a second one.”
Sympathy crossed her face. “Theo …”
He brushed a hand over her hair. “Shh. No sadness, okay? It’s a new day and a new year. I want to start this off right.”
A saucy smile touched her lips. “I can think of a few ways.”
“So can I. And I know just where to start.”
“Oh yeah, how’s that?”
He took a step back then lowered himself down to one knee, grabbed her hand, and met her eyes. “Mistress Margaret, would you do me the great honor of having pie with me? And by pie, I mean pie.”
Her eyebrows arched.
He kissed the top of her hand and then squeezed it between his. “I can’t promise that I’m not going to be difficult sometimes. I can’t promise that my past won’t still bite me on the butt on occasion. I work a lot and I’m a know-it-all. Feel free to kick my ass about those things.”
She laughed at that.
“But what I can promise you is that when I’m with you, I’m one hundred percent with you. You are not competing with a memory. And I will never be so stupid as to turn down a date with you again. I want to know you, Maggie. And I … want you to know me.”
Her gaze went soft, shiny.
He stood and took her face in his hands. “So Mistress Maggie, artist extraordinaire, will you have pie with me?”
She put her forehead against his and wrapped her arms around him. “Nothing would make me happier, Dr. Theodore Montgomery.”
“Don’t call me doctor.”
She gave his hip a hard pinch. “I’ll call you whatever I want, mister.”
He laughed. “Yes, mistress.”
“And if you’re good, after pie, maybe I can find that Weird Science outfit for you.”
He groaned. “Are you trying to get me to propose? Because now I’m thinking about it.”
She grinned. “One thing at a time, Doc.”
Yeah. One thing at a time. One sweet, beautiful thing at a time.
He kissed her then as the rain pounded the windows and all the farm animal paintings looked on, and knew without a doubt that the sun would come out for him today and was going to stick around.
It’d been a very long time since he’d seen it.
Look out for the next book from Roni Loren
Out October 2015
Click here to pre-order now or turn the page to read an extract
BREAK ME DOWN 9780008108274
“Are you trying to torture me? I thought your husband was the sadist.” Sam dropped the tray of clean glasses onto the rack behind the bar and gave her best friend the stink eye.
Tessa frowned. “Kade didn’t tell me Gibson was coming along. I would’ve suggested another bar if I’d known, but I wanted to see you before we left for Bermuda in the morning.”
Sam sighed and snuck a glance over at the table where Tessa’s husband, Kade, was chatting with his brother. Gibson didn’t look her way, but she got the distinct impression he knew she was watching him and was purposely not looking her way. Good, she didn’t need to see those gorgeous blue eyes, didn’t need to remember how he’d looked at her when she put him on his knees. “Does he have to look so goddamned good in a suit? It’s ridiculous. Who gets to look that good after a whole day of work? By the time I’m out of here, I look like I’ve been rolled around in a pile of sweaty bodies and beer. He looks like he’s ready to pose for an Armani ad.”
Tessa smirked. “You know, pining isn’t good for your health.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m not pining. I just went on a da
te two weeks ago, and last weekend I scened with Julian at The Ranch. This girl”—she swept her hand over her black T-shirt and jeans—“is moving on.”
Tessa lifted a brow, clearly not buying it. “If the date was two weeks ago, that means it wasn’t worth a second date. And you and Julian are friends. I bet you didn’t even bed him.”
Okay, so she hadn’t. Julian was a fun submissive to scene with and more than a little hot, but Sam had never taken it very far with him. In fact, none of the submissives she played with at The Ranch ever inspired her to take it to that level. She rarely let them touch her. She enjoyed the dynamic, the power, but she always took care of her own needs afterward. The only one she’d ever allowed to truly touch her was sitting at the table a few yards away. And the minute she’d crossed that boundary with him, things had gotten complicated, and he’d bailed like she had some plague.
Shit, maybe she was pining.
“All right, the date was a bust. But I really am moving on. If Gibson wants to pretend that what happened between us was a fluke, that’s his business. I deserve a guy who’s not ashamed or afraid to be with me. I don’t have time for games.”
Tessa leaned against the bar. “If it makes you feel better, I think he’s pretty miserable over it, too. You should’ve seen his face when he found out we were coming here.”
“Good.” She gave a terse nod. “In fact, since he’s here anyway, I may as well enjoy his suffering. What are y’all ordering?”
“A Blue Moon, a Crown and water, and a dirty martini.”
Sam grabbed a glass and started pouring the drinks. “Give me a minute and I’ll bring them over. How’s my hair?”
Tessa laughed. “Uh-oh, it looks great, but what are you up to?”
Sam adjusted her shirt, letting the V-neck show off a little more cleavage than she usually revealed at work. “Torture.”
“Sadist.”
“Yep.”
Tessa smiled and headed back to the table, and Sam finished up with the drinks. She carried them over on a tray, making sure to put a touch more sway in her walk. She’d learned how to do it early on to get tips before she’d become the manager of the place, but she hadn’t lost the skill. And she wasn’t afraid to use it to torment the man who’d walked away from her.
When she stopped at the table, Kade looked up and grinned, all blond hair and broad smiles. “Hey, Sam, long time no see.”
She smirked. She’d just seen the couple a few days ago when they’d all gone to a music festival together. She and Tessa rarely went long between visits, but Kade didn’t seem to mind. “Hey, stalker boy, I presume the dirty martini is yours.”
He took the drink from her, not blinking at the nickname she’d given him last year when he’d been doggedly pursuing her best friend like a knight on a quest. She set the beer in front of Tessa and then finally turned to Gibson. She kept her smile poised, but it took everything she had to keep her composure when Gib looked up. He’d let his jaw go a little scruffy and the dark shadow of a beard only made him look more edible. But the look in his eyes sucked the air right out of her. Hunger flared in that deep blue gaze, open and naked, but he shuttered it quickly. “Hey, Sam.”
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat, completely forgetting her plan to look seductive and so over him. “Crown and water.”
She plunked the glass on the table without grace, causing some of the drink to slosh over the top.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly.
Silence ensued and Tessa cleared her throat. “Do y’all still have those potato skin things? I’m starving.”
Sam snapped out of her daze and turned to Tessa. “You bet. I’ll tell Angie to put in an order. She’ll be handling your table. I just wanted to come over and say hi.”
Gibson took a long gulp from his glass and then brushed a hand over his dark wavy hair, trying to smooth the unsmoothable. A move she’d learned was his sign of discomfort. God, this was so ridiculous.
And she was done with it. So things had gotten a little out of hand during that last training session. He’d been helping her out, bottoming for her so she could learn how to use a whip. They’d been through a few weeks of lessons and everything had gone well. All had been done under the assumption that he was a fellow dominant who would be guiding her from the bottom—a friendly exchange. He wasn’t supposed to get hard when she whipped him. And she wasn’t supposed to get so turned on at the sight. And they weren’t supposed to kiss. And she definitely wasn’t supposed to let him push her against a wall and put his hand beneath her skirt to get her off.
But all that had happened, and when she’d tried to take control back and take him to bed as her submissive, everything had exploded in her face. He’d snapped out of whatever spell he’d been in from the flogging and had told her that nothing could happen between them because they were both dominants. The training had ended right there—even when both of them knew that he’d gotten hard as a rock in the submissive role, that the more pain she’d given him, the more turned on he’d gotten. For whatever reason, he wasn’t going to take that role. Period. End of sentence.
She wasn’t worth the risk to him.
Fine.
“Is there anything else I can get y’all for now?” she asked, her voice coming out a little too bright.
“No, I think we’re good,” Kade said, cutting an annoyed look his brother’s way.
Sam headed back to the safety of the bar. The crowd was picking up, and she didn’t have time to waste trying to figure out an indecipherable man. She had a job to do. So for the next hour, she managed her bartenders, poured drinks to help them keep up, and made rounds of the floor to greet customers. By the time she made her second walk around the place, every table was taken and the noise of all those different conversations reverberated off the walls.
This was her favorite part of her shift. Managing the bar wasn’t always the most glamorous of jobs, but when the crowd was buzzing and the energy pulsing around her, she couldn’t help but feed off it. She cruised by the back corner, and a sharp whistle caught her attention.
She fought the instinct to ignore it. Nothing ticked her off more than being summoned like she was a dog that needed to come to heel, but a customer was a customer. She turned around and forced a tolerant smile at the two guys swigging cheap whiskey at a back table. “Can I help y’all with something?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” one said, tipping his ball cap up and revealing narrow green eyes. “I dropped my keys. Mind getting them for me?”
She looked down at the floor and the keys at her feet. She bent over, swiped them from the ground, and tossed them on their table. “Here ya go.”
His friend grinned her way and pushed the keys onto the floor again. “Maybe bend down a little slower this time, baby. I didn’t get a good view the first go-round.”
She straightened, irritation surging. “I’m not here to give you a show. Do you need a drink or what?”
Idiot Number One smirked and leered at her chest. “Yeah, how about two buttery nipples? Are they pierced like your eyebrow? I bet they are. You look like that kind of girl.”
She wanted to reach over and bang their two skulls together. It’d probably make a hollow sound. Usually guys got over the buttery nipple joke by the time they were out of high school, but clearly these two hadn’t moved beyond that maturity-wise. Next they’d be ordering a Sex on the Beach. “Two drinks coming right up.”
She strode off and told one of her male bartenders to bring the drinks over to the guys. She’d be damned if she let any of her staff get harassed. Flirting from customers was part of the deal. People got tipsy, and their tongues got loose. But Sam didn’t put up with idiots who took it too far.
Sam slipped back behind the bar and started clearing empty glasses. But only a few minutes passed before Idiot Number One made a reappearance. He leaned against the bar, snapping his fingers at her. “Hey. I need to talk to you.”
She clenched her jaw and turned. “Is there somethin
g wrong with your drink?”
He slid the drink across the bar. “Yeah, you didn’t serve it to me. What? You’re too good to talk to your customers?”
“I’m managing the place. My staff serves the drinks.”
“You’re a stuck-up bitch is what you are.”
“Hey,” a booming voice came from behind him. “You watch your goddamned mouth.”
Sam’s attention snapped to the spot behind the guy. Gibson’s face appeared out of the crowd as he shoved his way closer to the bar.
The guy turned toward Gibson, his features twisting into a scowl. “And who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”
Gibson was the picture of cool rage, completely unruffled and terrifying in his calmness. “You. Disrespect the lady again, and we’re going to have a major problem.”
“Fuck you, man,” the guy said, words slurring. “This cunt’s job is to serve me my goddamn drinks and she’s not doing it.”
With lightning-fast movement, Gibson grabbed the guy by the shirt collar and jammed him against the bar. “Wrong answer, asshole.”
“Shit.” Sam hurried around the counter and yelled for Angie to get their bouncer, Herb. “Gib, stop. Let us handle this guy.”
But it was too late, the drunk idiot was already taking a swing at Gibson, and his equally idiotic friend was heading their way. The punch missed wide when Gibson ducked out of the way. A glass broke. Gib looked smug at the guy’s failed attempt and knocked him hard against the bar again. But before it could turn into a full brawl, Herb got in between to break it up. He dragged the guy away and told him and his friend to get out.
The two men continued cursing and throwing insults her and Gib’s way, but they weren’t dumb enough to try to fight Herb. If they did, she’d have the cops on the phone before they could blink, and they’d be sleeping it off in the drunk tank down at county lockup.
