I blink. My parents are a love story. Not a tragedy. I cover her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiles. “My motherly instincts thought you needed to hear it.”
“I did.” I ask the other question, but with a different understanding now. “You like taking care of him, don’t you?”
She beams, and her whole face lights up, knocking ten years off her in an instant. “I know it’s old-fashioned but I do. Over the years I’ve learned I’m a nurturer at heart.”
I squeeze her fingers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good.” She gets up and kisses me on the cheek. “Go to bed and sleep tight, baby girl.”
I nod and my throat goes tight. I meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to go home.”
“I know.” She hugs me. “You bring him home to us soon, okay?”
“I will.” Chad might not be whom I envisioned, but he’s mine and he makes me a better person, makes me happier, more complete.
I want my love story.
Chad
I am fucking miserable.
I have no idea why I decided to come to Jillian’s art show at the Lair, for the up-and-coming artist, Gaston Lamar, but all I want to do is go home. Of course, because Brandon and Jillian are evil geniuses this is a private party and everyone who was anyone wanted in.
I take a gulp of my scotch, swallow with a hiss, and glance around the room. I don’t know much about art but even I have to admit the guy has talent. There is something haunting and beautiful about his art that makes you want to stare into it for hours and watch how it transforms.
Not that I give a shit about that right now.
I swallow the rest of my drink and then I grit my teeth. Ruby’s not going to come back.
I can feel it in my bones.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I have to be okay with that, because eventually I would have grown unhappy. Right or wrong, I need something from Ruby she doesn’t want to give me and I can no longer take it on the sly. So even though I’m miserable and suffering, I suppose I can take some stupid fucking solace in doing the right thing.
And I’d kept myself busy. Since I went out with Michael and Leo I realized drunk is better. Tonight I’m well on my way.
Leo walks over to me, eyeing my drink, then me.
I nod. “Hey.”
He points to my empty glass. “I got you another.”
“Good.”
He cracks a grin. “When I stupidly left Jillian, drunk seemed the easiest.”
I tilt the glass to capture the last drop before rolling the ice in the glass and wondering when the waitress would come.
“Wanna tell me why you left Ruby when it’s clearly not making you happy?” Leo rubs a palm over his jaw.
“I don’t need a therapy session, thanks.” Where’s that fucking drink?
“Fair enough.” Leo doesn’t seem inclined to press.
With my empty glass I point to where Brandon and Jillian and the artist are talking to a couple in their early forties. “Why aren’t you over with your girl?”
He shrugs. “They have it covered and that’s not really my thing. Between Brandon and Jillian every piece will get sold and they don’t need me as Jillian says—hovering and being scary. So I let them do their thing and stay out of the way.”
I laugh, but there’s no real humor in the sound. “Does it bother you? That they are so close?” I don’t really know where the question comes from but I’m curious. Leo seems completely at ease with his fiancée’s relationship with one of his best friends.
Leo shrugs. “At first, but you can’t stop fate.”
I frown. “They’re fate?”
Leo waves in their direction. Brandon and Jillian are standing there, tall and beautiful, one blond, one dark, both in black, clearly captivating the hell out of the couple they are talking to. “Look at them. They are charming and effortless and have perfect rhythm. Together they could sell air. Brandon’s also teaching Jillian everything she ever wanted to know about business. Why would I put a stop to something that is so clearly good for her?” He grins at me. “Besides, I’m a cop on a city salary, and Jillian’s going to make us rich. It’s kind of hard to be upset about it.”
I nod and stare down at the melting ice in my glass.
“Brandon and Jillian were destined to be great friends and business partners. I’m destined to be her husband and share every aspect of her life. So I let him see her come sometimes as a consultation prize.” Leo chuckles. Jillian has an exhibitionist streak that Leo continuously likes to mess with.
The waitress finally brings us another round. “Brandon said to make them doubles.”
Grateful, I take the glass and down a third of it in one gulp, waiting for that moment my head will go numb. When she leaves, I frown and sigh. “You guys are lucky. I hope you appreciate it.”
“I do. Every day.” He’s silent for a bit and we nurse our drinks for a couple minutes before he says, “You don’t think it will work out?”
“Nope.” I think I’m starting to feel fuzzy, blurry around the edges and I drink more to hurry it along.
“Why’s that? You guys are clearly perfect for each other.”
I scoff, “In some ways yes.” I think of talking to her. Watching movies nobody but us wants to see. Sliding inside her, her tight wet heat enveloping me. I clear my throat and find the alcohol has made my tongue loose. “She doesn’t want to be submissive.”
Leo shrugs one shoulder. “What she wants and what she is are entirely different things.”
I shake my head. “She’s got a mental block. I’ve tried my best to work through it, but I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.”
Leo takes a sip of his drink, catches Jillian’s gaze and grins at her. Her whole face lights up and she beams back. Leo turns his attention back to me. “She’s submissive, that much is clear. And in the times I’ve seen you two interact it’s obvious. Her mind might reject it but her body knows. Maybe you need to give her more time.”
I blow out a breath. My buzz turning into depression. Maybe I made a mistake. “I want what you guys have. And maybe it’s crazy but I can’t keep living like it’s not important to me.”
“Maybe you won’t have to.”
At his words I furrow my brow and say an astute, “Huh?”
He points at the entrance.
I glance over and the wind gets knocked right out of me.
Leo whistles. “She is not messing around, is she?”
Ruby is standing at the front of the bar, scanning the crowd. She looks…stunning. Gorgeous in a black dress that’s cut practically to the navel and is short on her thighs. Her black hair is sleek, curving just a hint at the bottom in a gentle wave, her lips are crimson, and even from across the room her eyes are electric. My grip tightens on my glass as about a hundred male eyes turn to watch her.
Her gaze finds mine and her focus locks in on me.
My tongue is thick and I can’t speak.
She starts walking in my direction.
“Good luck with that dress.” Leo’s voice is amused as he kicks back against the wall, grinning.
Over by the bar, I see Layla and Michael, and they stop what they are doing to watch Ruby’s walk across the room.
Everything drains away and all I see is her while the blood rushes in my ears. The time it takes to make her way through the place seems like the movies, when the distance grows instead of shortens, but finally she’s standing in front of me.
She gives me a tentative little smile. “Hi.”
I still can’t seem to make my tongue work.
“You’re looking quite fuckable, girl,” Leo supplies, oh so helpfully.
I turn to glare at him but before I can even try and find my voice, Ruby grins at him. “Thanks.”
She shifts her attention to me and smooths a hand down the dress. “Do you like it? It’s new.”
I wave my finger at her cleavage.
Ruby is stacked, but unlike a lot of girls built with her body, she doesn’t normally put her breasts on display. “It’s missing a front.”
Yep, these are the first words I manage to say to her.
Leo chuckles. “And it’s very appreciated.”
“Would you leave?” My voice is slightly slurred and I realize I’m drunker than I thought.
“I don’t think so.” Leo winks at her. “I’m curious what the lovely Ruby has to say for herself.”
Ruby puffs out her bottom lip and actually pouts at me. Pouts.
I blink, trying desperately to focus and failing miserably.
She puts her hands on her hips. “I thought you guys liked putting your property on display. I thought that was like—” she waves a hand, “—a thing.”
I can only gape at her and when I fail to form a coherent sentence Leo steps in. “It is absolutely a ‘thing’.”
She raises a brow at me. “So I’m not wrong?”
“Um…no?” I end the word on a question. I’m so confused, so taken aback I’m at a complete loss.
Leo laughs.
She takes a breath that threatens the confines of her dress before she slowly exhales. She glances at Leo then back at me. “You were right.”
“About what?” There, I’ve said two words.
“My mom is happy.” She grins and cocks a hip. “And a bit of a slut.”
“Huh?” What is she talking about? I have no earthly idea.
“Really, now?” Leo’s beyond cool and collected and seems able to follow her train of thought. “Do tell.”
She turns to Leo. “So you probably don’t know this but my dad’s a minister and my parents are very religious and traditional and I’ve never really liked it.” She winks at him. “It’s why I’ve never been too keen on male patriarchy.”
Leo roars with laughter. “Quite a predicament you got yourself into there, girl.”
“I know, right?”
Is her voice flirty? Because it sounds flirty. My brain is only capable of base emotion at the moment.
She continues. “Anyway. It turns out I had it all wrong. My parents…” She waves and lowers her voice. “You know.”
“Fucked?” Leo chuckles, expression amused.
“Yuck!” She wrinkles her nose. “But yes, about thirty minutes after they laid eyes on each other, and he was willing to give everything up for her. So I was wrong.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “I guess male patriarchy isn’t all bad, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
They both turn to look at me, and I’m still trying to catch up to wherever she’s at. When I don’t say anything, Leo asks the question for me. “And are you into that kind of thing?”
She gives a little shrug. “Maybe a little.”
Leo shakes his head, turns and punches me in the shoulder. “Are you going to pick up any of these things she’s throwing your way?”
It finally shakes me from my stupor and the world jerks violently into crystal-clear focus. I straighten, put down my drink and grab her upper arm. “Let’s go.”
Ruby
Now this is more like it. I was starting to worry.
Chad is dragging me toward the back of the bar, not saying a word, the set of his jaw making me shiver. I wave to Layla, who gives me a thumbs-up sign before I’m yanked down a corridor.
The second I saw him I knew I couldn’t live without him. I mean, I knew it for the last couple of days, but this made it sink in. Feel it deep down. Understand how integral he was to me, to my life. How much I need and want him.
Can I live without him? Sure. Do I want to? No, I do not.
Why on earth would I?
Like my mom, if I let him go, I’ll spend the rest of my life lonely, looking for my other half. It doesn’t matter that he’s nothing like I envisioned, because he’s better. So. Much. Better.
He pushes me into Brandon’s office before he shuts the door with a slam.
I give him a wide-eyed innocent look. “Are you mad?”
The man could barely speak—which isn’t too bad on the old ego—so I’m pretty sure he’s not mad. But I’m finding this innocent damsel thing kind of fun.
He drags a hand through his hair. “I am trying to figure out what to do with you first.”
I nod. “What are your options? Maybe I can help you out.”
He stares at me. Unblinking. His expression endearing and confused. Finally he says, “You left.”
“I did.” I straighten my shoulders. “And it was the right thing to do. I needed to think, and I can’t do that with you driving me crazy all the time. I needed to figure out what I wanted. Without your magic fogging my brain. But I’m sorry it hurt you.”
He frowns. “You didn’t think I could help you?”
“Of course you could help me.” I take a step toward him. “But some things you need to figure out for yourself.”
His gaze dips, cruising the length of my body.
The first thing I’d done when I got home was go shopping and when I saw this dress I knew it was perfect. It was exactly who I wanted to be. Who I really was. I look like a grown up—as I should, because I’m thirty, it’s time to stop living like I’m a college kid. Time to get a life with a bed on a frame and something besides ramen noodles in my cupboard. I’m ready. But the dress still has a bit of an edge to it—which I like, because I still don’t want a traditional life.
It’s only what I define as traditional that has changed and expanded.
And let’s face it, there’s nothing traditional about kinky, dominant sex. Assuming that’s what Chad’s been secretly giving me all along.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “And what did you figure out?”
“Gene called me while I was away. He said everyone loved the cover work and he wanted me to do some new stuff. I told him I’d love to, but that I would have to send over a price list for the services.”
His expression goes wide with surprise and what I think is delight. “Good for you.”
“I was nervous.” I’d actually shaken a little, proving to myself how much I undervalued my work. How much I didn’t want to make it a thing, even though it’s important to me. “But he didn’t even bat an eye.”
“That’s because you’re worth it.”
“So I have to come up with a price list and…stuff.” I’m not sure where I’m going to go with this, but somewhere. I can almost touch it—this hazy vision floating through my head—of me, on my own, working for artists in the industry I love, completely independent and on my own terms. I can do it. I have contacts. I know lots of people. I have always believed I had no drive, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s been burning a hole in my chest since I talked to Gene.
“I’m proud of you.”
Pleasure fills my chest. “There’s more.”
“Tell me.”
“I love you, I know I said it before I left, but I do, in an ‘I need this person to be complete’ way. I’m never happier than when I’m with you. You make me a better person.” I swallow. I believe it, but I still have trouble speaking the words out loud. “I want to be yours. I like that you’re all bossy and dominating. I’ve missed your guiding hand when I was gone. I told my family about you. I was happy to admit to my sister that you had a job, are musically challenged, and wear khakis. My mom is anxious to meet you.”
His gaze is intent, his eyes dark.
When he doesn’t speak, I continue. “I think I needed to step away to realize there’s nothing dismissive or repressive about the way you treat me. That, if anything, being with you empowers me in a way I’ve never felt before. That I like the feeling.” I swallow hard and bite my lip. “I’m assuming none of that will change if we make it official, right?”
“Correct.” He clears his throat. “And it goes both ways. You do the same for me.”
I smile. “Good. That’s what I want.”
“We want the same thing.”
I step a bit closer and let my gaze dip to his mouth. That mouth
I’ve missed and I want to claim me in the way only he can. “What would you like to see change?”
His gaze heats. “Nothing really. Except for you to acknowledge that when it comes to sex, I’m calling the shots and that you do what I say. We can change and revise as we go. As a couple.”
My thighs clench. “And what about orgasms?”
A smile twitches at his lips. “What about them?”
A flush crawls up my neck. I’m learning to embrace and accept, but years of conditioning don’t disappear overnight. “Layla mentioned that she can’t have them without permission.”
He puts his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers. “Is that what you’d like?”
I meet his gaze and answer completely honestly. “I want to know what you want. And then I want to do it.”
“What I want?”
“Yes.” I suck in a breath. “I want to give you something. To show my…” I falter on the word but keep going. “My submission. But I don’t know what you want.”
He crooks a finger. “Come here.”
Debauched (Undone Book 3) Page 22
