Rowen meandered around in her living room. When he came to her built-in shelves, she held her breath. Of course he would hone in on her photos. He didn’t touch any of them, but he did lean forward to examine each one. At the last one, he paused.
She lowered her gaze, hoping he would keep his promise. He would have to guess she had been married, but she didn’t have the energy to talk about it tonight. After performing as a Domme earlier and then submitting to him so thoroughly, she was wiped out. She needed sleep. Explaining her relationship with Victor would bring her to tears.
He said nothing, and she blew out a breath in relief.
“Sasha knows some of your story,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“I won’t ask her anything. You’ll tell me in your own time.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
She followed his gaze around her space, taking in what he saw. Her built-in and the cabinets in her attached kitchen were white. Her appliances stainless steel. Her kitchen table and chairs were also white. Her sofa, white leather. She had a glass coffee table and two glass end tables. The two armchairs were the blue-green color of the sea, and a variety of throw pillows were in shades of blue and green. The rug under her coffee table was a swirl of blues and greens. The rest of the floor was hardwood.
Would he realize her furniture was top of the line and expensive? Her apartment looked like a model home, not a place where someone actually lived. Even the pictures on the wall were of abstract art that had little actual sentimental meaning to her.
Her mother had joined forces with her sister to get her into this new apartment and decorate it for her. Faith had contributed nothing.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she finally asked, shaking herself into hostess mode.
“No, sweet girl. I’m fine. Come here.” He stood in the middle of the room, not moving.
She shuffled toward him, stopping when she got within a foot of him, dipping her head and clasping her hands behind her back. It had been a long time since she’d assumed positions of submission for anyone, but it came naturally like riding a bike. Probably because he had such a strong air of authority.
He cupped the back of her neck and squeezed. His voice was calm and level when he spoke. “I want you to go to your room and get ready for bed like you would any other night, except remain naked. Come back to me when you’re done.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t hesitate to leave the room. She could take a breath and pause in her bathroom, not in front of him. And she did exactly that, leaning against the white vanity and staring at her reflection in the mirror. Who was the woman looking back at her?
She stared for several minutes, wondering if the woman in the mirror was the authentic version of Faith making a comeback or an imposter forcing her way in to take away some of the pain. Did it matter?
She pondered those two possibilities as she stripped off her clothes and dropped them in the hamper. The pain she felt no longer could be placed solely on the loss of her husband. It was more than that. It was the loss of a way of life.
And Rowen Easton was standing in her living room offering her at least a week of what she craved. Could she give herself to him so completely?
Could she not?
She removed her makeup, baring herself to him completely. If he didn’t like what he saw without mascara and blush and eyeliner and lip gloss, she might as well know it now.
She brushed her teeth, leaving her hair in the braid.
With a deep fortifying breath, she returned to find him standing in the exact spot where she’d left him. She had her hands clasped at the small of her back, her shoulders straighter, and her face tipped toward the floor. When she stepped in front of him this time, she spread her feet slightly.
There was no denying the way her body reacted to him. She was wet. Her nipples were stiff. Perhaps partly a reaction to the cool air conditioning, but mostly from standing naked in front of this huge Dom who had not removed a stitch of clothing for her at any point yet.
He closed the distance between them, tilted her head back with a finger under her chin—as seemed to be his custom—and searched her face. A slow smile spread. “You’re so beautiful. I like to see a woman without all that makeup on.”
She didn’t speak. As a general rule, there were a lot of things she would do to submit behind closed doors, but she would draw the line at any man who asked her to leave her home without makeup. A flush rushed up her cheeks.
He brushed his thumb over the warmth. “I especially love the way you blush for mysterious reasons.”
He reached with his other hand to circle a nipple, his gaze remaining on her face, amazing her with his super peripheral vision skills. “I want you to sleep in the nude this week. Every night.”
It was hard to concentrate with him touching her like he was, but she nodded.
“I want you to shave your pussy bare tomorrow morning and every morning from now on.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re permitted to touch yourself, but do not come without permission.”
“Yes, Sir.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
He smiled. “I expect you to text me first thing every morning before you get out of bed and last thing every night before you slide between the sheets. During the day, I’ll touch base with you between clients.”
She realized she knew very little about what he did. He was an accountant. That was it. Did he work for a firm? She didn’t ask since she wasn’t willing to tell him what she did either. It wasn’t that her job was such a secret. Who cared that she was the events coordinator for the city. That part wasn’t a big deal. The amount of money she made doing the job and what she did with it was the part she’d rather he didn’t know.
“If you have questions, email me or text. I’ll answer as soon as I can. If you need to come, call me and I’ll consider your request.” He lifted a brow.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m a fair Dom. You won’t need to worry about being disciplined as long as you obey my instructions. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Seemed simple enough. He hadn’t given her more than she could handle. So far.
“Turn around and bend over so I can see your bottom.”
Her breath hitched at the unexpected request before she remembered he had spanked her and probably wanted to inspect it. Not surprising. Comforting even. She did as he requested, grabbing her ankles and parting her legs farther.
He stroked her cheeks, leaning down to examine them. “Pink but not too bad. I don’t see my handprints. I don’t ever want to bruise you. That’s never going to be my intention. In the past, how much have you been able to tolerate?”
“I, uh…”
He helped her stand and turned her to face him. “Never mind. I won’t be spanking you this week anyway.”
Thank God. Not that it was a difficult question, but discussing how she’d been spanked in the past and the results was slightly mortifying.
“It’s late. I’m going to leave. You should go to bed. Text me when you wake up.”
“Okay, Sir.” She followed him to the door and locked it behind him. The moment he was gone, she leaned against it and sucked in deep breaths as if she hadn’t gotten enough oxygen in several hours. She was x light-headed.
When she was certain she could make it to her bedroom, she grabbed her cell phone from her purse, padded that way, slid under the sheets, and turned off the light next to her bed.
Sleep alluded her while she stared at the ceiling, piecing together the events of the last several hours.
Holy shit.
Had she really submitted to Rowen Easton?
She slapped a hand over her forehead. She was certifiable. Closing her eyes, she considered the implications. It wasn’t the submission that bothered her. She was relieved actually to have finally taken the steps to get back in the saddle. And she was glad it had gone well. She hadn’t flubbed it up or broken down in tears or made a fool
of herself.
The problem was she’d liked it too much. She’d liked Rowen too much. He was the perfect Dom. So far. He needed flaws. If he didn’t come up with any soon, she was doomed. Her objective was to remain aloof, enjoy the ride with a capable Dom, and get out before feelings got involved.
Feelings for Rowen had existed even before she met him. Submitting to him had been a bad idea. She needed to keep her wits and not let herself get invested.
Never again would she let herself love another human being as fiercely as she’d loved Victor. For one thing, she was unwilling to fully let go of his memory. Not for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for even considering letting another man dominate her. The fact that she had so easily submitted to Rowen tonight was unsettling. For another thing, she wouldn’t live through the pain of another loss like Victor. Life was too fragile. People died every day. They got into accidents. They had cancer. They were killed in battle. They left…
Victor wasn’t the first man to leave her. He was the first man to leave her against his will. But he was not the first. She shuddered, shaking thoughts of her college boyfriend out of her head.
She understood the adage that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. And theoretically she agreed. She couldn’t imagine not having known Victor’s love and devotion. Every moment she had with him had been a blessing. But losing him had hardened her. She wouldn’t go through something like that again.
Her phone vibrated on the end table, and she reached for it, wondering who would text this late and already smiling before she looked. It would be Rowen.
Thank you for the honor of submitting to me tonight, sweet girl. Sleep well.
She held the phone to her chest for a long time, smiling, heart pounding.
Ignoring the fortifying pep talk she’d just had with herself.
Chapter 8
Rowen was exhausted when he got to his apartment about ten minutes from Faith’s. He dropped his keys on the kitchen table, kicked off his shoes, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. As he sank onto his sofa and set his feet on the coffee table, he glanced around the room.
Faith would lose her shit the first time she saw his place—if there ever was a first time. There were no guarantees.
Where her place was all white and feminine, his was all dark and masculine. His cabinets and furniture were black. His leather couch was black. Even the armchair was black. His feet rested on a black coffee table, and he would eventually set his empty beer bottle on the black end table. Except for the beige paint on the walls and the beige area rug on his black hardwood floors, he was as gloomy as a person could get. How had he never noticed?
Faith had not responded to his text, but that was okay. He hadn’t required her to. In fact, she might have already been asleep when he sent it.
He stared at the ceiling and thought back on his time with her. She made his blood pump with a force no woman, submissive or otherwise, had ever accomplished. More important was the fact that she was indeed submissive in every possible way.
She had secrets. A pile of them apparently. She’d been married. He had nearly gasped when he saw the wedding photo. Her husband had worn his navy white uniform. Was she divorced? He doubted that. If she’d been divorced, she wouldn’t have his picture displayed on her shelf.
Which meant he had undoubtedly died. Rowen blew out a long breath, aching for the woman he’d dominated all evening. How long ago had he passed away? Was it in combat? Was he a Dom? Was Faith over him?
Other observations filtered into his mind. She was a perfectionist. Over the top. So anal her books were lined up and the pillows on her couch were perfectly placed. He’d been afraid to mess up the lines on the carpet from her vacuum cleaner.
He had no idea what she did for a living, but whatever it was, it paid well. Her apartment was upscale. She had nice things. Very nice things. If he wasn’t mistaken, some of the artwork in her living room was original. Her clothing was expensive. She carried a Kate Spade bag and a Michael Kors purse. Maybe most men wouldn’t notice such things or even know about them, but Rayne was a fashionista. He’d learned more than he ever wanted to know about top-of-the-line clothing and accessories in their time together.
What if Faith made a lot of money? He inhaled long and slow. He hated to lump her in the same basket with other rich women who had visited Zodiac in the past. At least she hadn’t shown any signs of acting like an entitled bitch, so he owed her the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t as though he was going to marry her. This was a temporary arrangement. Finite.
Half of Rowen was curious enough to google Faith Robbins and dig around in her social media until he knew her better, but that would be cheating.
He’d promised she could tell him about herself on her terms, and he would give her that. Delving into her private life behind her back seemed unfair. Besides, he’d said he would dominate her this week from afar. If he prematurely discovered things about her that didn’t suit him, it would be difficult to keep up the charade.
He was enjoying himself. She was an amazing submissive. He would take that on face value and guide her back into the life. She needed it as badly as she needed her next breath.
Working with Faith was not going to be a hardship.
It was nine in the morning when Rowen got the first text from Faith. He smiled as he glanced at the screen. So, not an early riser…
Faith: Good morning, Sir.
Rowen: Good morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?
Faith: Yes. Thank you, Sir.
Rowen: What are you plans for the day?
He didn’t want to pressure her, but he did intend to slowly ask her questions until he knew her better. It was a Sunday. What did Faith do on Sundays?
Faith: I’m going to go for a run and then catch up on things around the house.
A run? Nice. A woman who liked to exercise. But taking care of things around her apartment made him chuckle.
Rowen: Laundry been piling up on you?
He was teasing and hoped she could figure that out.
Faith: Are you making fun of me, Sir?
Rowen: Yes. You stepped right into it.
Faith: I probably deserve it.
He laughed again.
Rowen: Listen, I sent you an email. Check it now before you do anything else.
Faith: Okay, Sir.
His computer was open on his lap where he sat on his sofa scrolling through his own emails and his appointment calendar. He opened the email he sent her to read it again.
Faith,
I’m sending you two lists. The first one is instructions I want you to follow. If there is anything on the list you can’t comply with or would prefer to discuss, let me know. We’ll negotiate.
The second part is a list of questions. I want you to answer my questions in any order, but I want two answers a day. That’s fourteen answers before I see you next Saturday night. I’ve come up with more than fourteen questions. You can pick the ones you’re most comfortable with.
This week is a trial of sorts. A chance for us to get to know each other and feel each other out. It’s not threatening because we won’t be seeing each other face to face. We can dabble in our arrangement this week, and then on Saturday we can evaluate where we both stand and how we feel and decide if we would like to continue our agreement or terminate it. If I’m going to work with you, I need to know you better.
Likewise, I encourage you to send me a list of questions, and I’ll extend the same courtesy. Whatever you’d like to know about me, ask.
Sincerely,
Rowen
Rowen realized one leg was shaking as he stared at the computer. Would she balk at his demands and his personal questions?
His phone buzzed a few minutes later. His hand was shaking when he picked it up. It unnerved him that this woman was under his skin.
Faith: Got your email, Sir.
That’s it. Damn. He set the phone back down without responding. He needed to come u
p with a pile of patience to work with this submissive. She was skittish, and he had no doubt her reasons were legitimate.
When his phone rang a few minutes later, he grabbed it off the couch so fast he nearly dropped it, and then he sighed when he saw the caller. “Hey, Sasha.”
“Wow, sounds like you’re having a bad day. How many things could possibly go wrong in the life of Rowen before ten a.m.?”
He rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Nothing. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to say hi.”
Uh-huh. “Sure you did. I’m thinking you were feeling nosy.”
“Me?” She gave a fake gasp.
“Does Lincoln know you called me?”
“No,” she snapped. “Lincoln doesn’t keep tabs on my phone calls, Rowen. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Rowen laughed. “Sure.”
“Fine. How did it go with Faith? You left the office with her. Did you two talk?”
“I’m not going to talk to you about Faith. But I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure.” She sounded hopeful.
He realized he’d given her the wrong idea. “I’d like you not to mention her to me for the next week. Not a word. And if you talk to her or see her, don’t speak of me.”
“What? Why?”
“Sasha, just do it.” Rowen didn’t have the kind of rein over his sister to command her like Lincoln did. She was his sister. In all her twenty-two years she’d rarely acquiesced to anything he suggested without an argument.
She sighed.
He decided to throw her a bone to keep her from spending the next week mulling over his intentions. “Listen, I spoke to her. We’re…talking. This week, I mean. But she holds her privacy close. And I want to respect that. So, I don’t want you to stick your nose in it. She’ll tell me what she wants me to know when she’s ready.”
Obeying Rowen Page 8
