Chapter Three
Abby finished chopping vegetables, wiped her hands on her towel, and headed for the front door. She’d jumped when she heard the knocking, feeling rather shaky from her visit to the neighbors’ house. It had only been a half an hour and she was still running through the ridiculous conversation she’d had with all four people and feeling a bit idiotic.
Giving Emily her number had been presumptuous. First of all, Zane was way out of her league. And second of all, she hadn’t demonstrated she even had a handle on the English language.
She found herself shocked into further disbelief when she opened the door to find the man dominating her thoughts standing on her porch. He was leaning casually against her doorframe, and the grin on his face almost made her moan. He was sexy in general, but even more so when he smiled.
“Hey,” he said, righting himself in front of her. “Emily gave me your number.” Nothing about his stance said he agreed with her thought that he was out of her league.
Abby licked her lips and straightened to her tallest. “And yet this is not my phone,” she teased.
Zane chuckled. “Can I come in?” The sound of his laughter sent a chill down her spine. How could he manage to be so buff and sexy with a laugh that awakened every fiber of her being?
Abby stepped back, her fingers releasing their tight grip on the door as she pushed it farther open. “Of course. I was just making a salad. Did you eat Kayla’s sandwich, or did she botch it up too badly?”
He chuckled again. “Nope. It was fine. I ate every bite. Of course I would have no matter what to avoid hurting her feelings.”
God. He’s sweet too…
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch.”
She shrugged. It would be hours before she could swallow a bite now that Zane was in her living room. “No worries. It’ll wait. Sit.” She pointed toward her couch, wincing at what he must be thinking about the strange floral pattern. In fact the entire room was decorated in the same mauve and maroon and pink gaudy spray of roses.
Zane didn’t comment, though his brows did knit together as he scanned the mauve chair across from the couch and then the group of pictures on the wall opposite that featured garden prints. “You like roses,” he finally stated. “A lot.”
“Nope.” She took a seat in the pink chair and tucked her feet under her. “Not particularly. And I’ll never want to see one again after living in this house.” She met his gaze. “I’m renting the place. The owners are on sabbatical for six months. It worked out perfectly since I just moved here and arrived with very little of my own belongings.”
“Ah.” He leaned back against the couch, looking far more comfortable than he had at Emily’s kitchen table. He crossed one leg over the other, setting his ankle on his knee. Giving him her number had apparently fortified him to consider her a sure thing. He wasn’t cocky precisely, but more confident than the man who’d spilled his coffee on his own hands when she’d entered Emily and Rider’s house. “That would explain the dozens of pots of roses on the front porch.”
“Yeah. I hope to hell I don’t kill them. Mrs. Lamphry wouldn’t be too pleased. She left specific instructions and seemed genuinely relieved to find a female renter. She told me several times how very glad she was that a woman’s touch would care for her plants. Obviously she doesn’t know me well. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I knew nothing about roses or any other living flower and the poor unsuspecting plants would surely recognize this and wither in my presence alone.”
Zane laughed again, his deep baritone making her squeeze her legs together at the onslaught of wetness gathering between her legs.
Yep. She was doomed. Every cell in her body came to life and took notice. Even the dormant nerve receptors in her pussy were on full alert.
Zane finally spoke again. “It can’t be that bad, right? A little water every once in a while should keep them alive. They looked good to me.”
“We’ll see. I’m not convinced.” She smiled. It was impossible not to.
The way his tight T-shirt stretched across his rock-hard chest made her mouth water. His deep blue eyes penetrated her as he stared at her. His biceps were so large they stretched his shirt. And the tattoos she could make out peeking from under his sleeves made her curiosity reach new heights.
“You must work out a lot.” Those words fell from her lips unbidden, and once again she felt a bit stupid.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. “I fight. Mixed martial arts. So yes. I work out most days pretty hard and the other days I spar with the other guys.”
“Oh. Well, that explains it. Does Rider fight also?”
“Yep.”
“Figured. You both have the same build. But you have a day job.” Apparently he didn’t fight fulltime.
“Yes. I’m not professional. It’s just for fun and to keep fit. I’m an amateur fighter. All the guys at my gym are.” He set his foot back on the floor and leaned his elbows on his knees, staring directly at her, assessing her it seemed.
She found herself leaning back, even though there were several feet between them. The intensity of his gaze made her feel self-conscious.
Finally he spoke again. “Listen, Abby. I need to be honest with you.”
She nodded. Honesty was a good policy, but she didn’t get the feeling she was going to like this particular version.
“You are smokin’ hot. I nearly bit my tongue the moment I saw your sweet ass sticking out from under your porch. I didn’t even need to see your face to know you would blow me away. And you did, dirt and messy hair and all. Did you ever find them?”
She blinked at his abrupt change of subject. “Find who?”
“The kitties. I never saw them.”
“Oh, well, they ran out from under the porch as soon as I wiggled toward them. Never saw them again.” She didn’t know how she managed to answer his question with her chest pounding so hard at his previous statement. He thinks I’m hot?
He smiled. “Anyway, the thing is I could ask you out on a proper date, and we could go see a movie and do dinner and I could bring you back home and kiss you sweetly on the lips with promises of more, but I’d be lying to you by omission if I did so.”
She could hardly keep up with his rambling. What was he talking about? She stiffened at the possibilities. Maybe he was married. Or had a girlfriend.
Zane narrowed his gaze, and his face grew serious. “I’m a Dom.”
Now she froze. Perfect. Just her luck. I finally meet a sexy man who makes my panties wet, and he turns out to be some sort of deviant.
“Do you know what that means?” he asked when she didn’t move an inch or comment.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Yes.” Visions of her one and only friend in Vegas so far filled her mind. Lauren was the first person she’d met. She was a cocktail waitress at the casino where they both worked. And she was in a very fucked-up relationship with a Dom.
Before Lauren, Abby hadn’t known much about BDSM. She’d gotten an earful in the last few weeks. The woman was sweet, but Abby feared she was in a horrible situation. Lauren denied it, but Abby thought the man she was seeing was beating her.
“Abby, look at me.” His voice was soft, but firm at the same time.
She found herself lifting her face and opening her eyes to meet his gaze.
“You’re petrified.”
She swallowed.
“I think you either have the wrong idea, or you’ve had a really bad experience in the past.” He leaned farther forward, not close, but infringing on her space nonetheless.
She remained still.
“I didn’t tell you that to scare the shit out of you. I only told you so you’d have all the cards in front of you face up. It wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask you out and later fill you in on my preferences.” He paused. “I’ve hit a nerve.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah.” She should have suspected. Right? Huge buff guy. Sexy as shit. Tattoos sticking out from under his T-sh
irt. Short spiked hair in messy disarray on his head. He screamed bad boy.
He furrowed his brow again. “I’ll leave if you want.” His voice was calm. Nothing about him spoke of danger.
And she needed to shake him out of her system now before anything started between them. There was no way she was going down a perverted path into the dark world Lauren spoke of. No fucking way. She worked too hard to get where she was today. She had a steady job that paid well, a rental home that met her needs, and she was finally making progress on her first novel when she wasn’t working at the casino.
She didn’t need a man. And she certainly didn’t need a Dom. Any ideas she’d entertained over the last few days since getting stuck under the porch needed to purge themselves from her system and go away. Thank God Zane had been man enough to lay all his cards face up, as he’d said. At least she wouldn’t spend countless nights investing herself in him only to find herself in a miserable situation that made her fear for her safety. She was a strong, independent woman, not someone who would allow herself to be pushed around by anyone, especially not a man. “I’m sorry, Zane. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.”
Suddenly, the ache in her ass where she’d been impaled three inches by a rusty nail throbbed. Probably from adrenaline. She leaned to one side, wincing, to alleviate the pressure.
“Does it still hurt?”
She jerked her gaze back to Zane. “Sometimes.”
“That nail was long. I’m not surprised. I was more surprised by how well you managed to compose yourself while my men freed you. When I saw it, I was shocked you hadn’t been either screaming or passed out.”
“I guess my endorphins kicked in, but I do believe I cried on your arm.”
He smiled. “Expected. No worries.” He glanced down at her lap. “You sure it’s not infected?”
She glared at him. If he thought she was going to show him her ass right here in her living room, he was sadly mistaken.
Zane leaned back and lifted both hands. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just wondering if you’d been back to the doctor.”
“It’s all good,” she managed. “They numbed the area as soon as I got to the hospital, and I hardly knew what was happening while they removed the nail, cleaned the wound, and stitched me up. The worst part was the tetanus shot. I got the stitches out yesterday.”
“Right. Okay. Well, I’m gonna go.” He stood, rubbed his palms on his jeans, and rounded the couch to put several more feet between them.
Why did a stabbing feeling fill her chest at the thought of him leaving? It was exactly what she wanted, or needed him to do. Damn the part of her that wanted him to remain right where he was, providing her with the most amazing eye candy and the deep sexy voice to accompany it.
Instead, she uncurled herself from the chair and stood, folding her hands across her chest and tucking them under as though she were cold. He was going to slip away, and she was going to let him.
Zane walked to the door, opened it, and then hesitated. He turned around to face her where she stood rooted to the floor. “I’m sorry, Abby. Sorry for bothering you and sorry for whatever happened to put that look on your face. I am a Dom. I can’t apologize for that, but I’m not an ass. If you’ve had an unpleasant experience with domination in your past, I’m truly sorry. I won’t bother you again.” With that, he left, shutting the door gently behind him.
The small snick of the door shutting finalized the brief interlude of excitement. Damn. Too bad she had to let that one go. But there was no way she would head down the path he suggested.
Chapter Four
Abby had just finished her salad when another knock sounded at the front door. Was he back? The idea made her nervous. She hoped he wasn’t the kind of guy who wouldn’t accept no as an answer.
She peeked out the window first, relieved to find Emily standing there, and then she opened the door.
Emily held up a bottle of wine. “Figure I owe you one.”
Abby smiled. “You don’t, but I never turn down wine.” She opened the door farther and let Emily in. “Come on in. I’ll grab glasses. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” It was midafternoon in actuality, but who cared. Abby didn’t have to work again until Monday. Sure, she should have been writing, but there was no way she could capture the muse after facing Zane.
“Zane told me what happened. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to push you into anything.” Emily spoke as she followed Abby to the kitchen.
“No worries. And I doubt Zane really knows what happened, so he couldn’t have accurately told you anything.” Abby reached for the wine glasses on the second shelf and then fumbled around in several drawers until she found a cork screw. “I’m still getting used to where things are around here.”
“I don’t know how you can even do it. Isn’t it strange moving into someone else’s house?” Emily asked as she propped up on one of the stools at the island.
“It’s a little weird, but it’s also cool, if you can stand the floral-patterned everything.” Abby turned up her nose as she popped the cork.
“Yeah, that is a little overkill. Mrs. Lamphry loves her roses.”
“I thought Zane’s eyes were gonna bug out when he first came in. He probably thought I was somewhat whacked.”
“And in the end the tables were turned.” Emily giggled.
“True. And you can set Zane straight about that. I’m sure he left here thinking I had personally been burned in a past relationship with a Dom. That isn’t the case.”
“Ah good. I was worried.” Emily’s shoulders lowered as she relaxed and took a sip of the Merlot.
“I’ll admit, I’m not an expert. In fact, if you had asked me a month ago what I thought about the lifestyle, I would have said I was intrigued. I’m familiar with Google.” Abby chuckled. “But then I started working at the casino, and I met Lauren. She’s in a seriously fucked-up relationship with some Russian guy, and I don’t want anything to do with that. I quickly realized there was no way I wanted anyone to boss me around, and I certainly wouldn’t want them to hit me.”
Emily gasped. “The guy hits her?” Her eyes were wide.
“Yeah. She hasn’t told me as much, but I can see the bruises, and her personality is changing. She was such a sweet girl when we met. I was excited to have found a friend, someone I could take lunch break with and go for drinks with. And then this guy comes along and sweeps her off her feet, and now she’s a different person.”
“Jesus. That’s awful. And not at all the way I would describe the D/s lifestyle. Does she belong to a particular club?”
Abby shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of. But this guy has taken over her life. He calls her incessantly to make sure she’s where she’s supposed to be. He comes into the casino just to check on her and then leaves. I’ve seen him. He’s a bear, always scowling and glancing around as though someone’s waiting to snatch his woman when he’s not looking. And the craziest part—he’s so much older than her. Like fifty. Gray hair even.” Abby shivered.
“That’s plain weird, Abby. Rider and Zane aren’t like that. Neither are any of their friends.”
“I was going to ask you if Rider was a Dom also. I just didn’t want to pry.”
“Yeah. And believe me, he doesn’t have some strange control over me like that. Real Doms would never hit a woman without her permission, and they certainly don’t hold the power. The submissive is the one who rules.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I have to give Rider permission to dominate me. Without it, he has no control. It’s a daily give and take.” Emily set her elbows on the island and leaned forward. She smiled huge. “Believe me, that man makes it worth my while. Every time I submit to him, he takes me to new heights.”
Abby crinkled up her nose and held up a hand, laughter spilling from her lips. “TMI.”
Emily giggled too. “Hey, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I never would have pegged myself as submissive, but the first time I w
alked into Extreme, the club we belong to, I was titillated.”
“Huh.”
“The club has rules. If anyone breaks them, they have to leave.”
“What kind of rules?”
“The premise of D/s is for play to be safe, sane, and consensual. No skin can be broken. No marks that last more than a few hours, and by that I mean raised welts from floggers or spanking. Everyone has a safe word. If they use it, play stops. The object is to let yourself feel free from the release, not to get hurt.
“It sounds like Lauren’s in a totally different sort of relationship. There are some Russian mafia in this area. They can be intense. They don’t always play by the rules. The local cartel is not a nice group of guys. The Russians tend to stick together, and they’re known for behaving outside of the law.”
“Geez. I figured she was in trouble. It could be worse than I thought.”
“Possible. Rider and Zane know a few Russian fighters. They might be able to give you some insight. Or perhaps Gage.”
“Who’s Gage?”
“Another member of The Fight Club. He’s Kayla’s boyfriend. He works for the K-9 unit at the police academy. Zane told you he’s an MMA fighter, right?”
“Yes. But what’s The Fight Club?” Abby took another long drink of the wine and then grabbed the bottle to refill both glasses as she sat in the stool next to Emily. They were going to need more wine.
“There are six guys who happen to belong to the same gym where they work out and fight together. They also belong to the same BDSM club. The one I mentioned. Extreme.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing, but they’re great guys. I’ve gotten to know most of them pretty well by now. All upstanding citizens. None of them would ever lay a hand on a woman in anger. Trust me.”
“Huh. Maybe I judged too quickly.” She thought about Zane sitting on her couch, his frame sucking the oxygen out of the room. His smile lit up his face. His deep blue eyes held a world of mirth until she’d turned him down.
“It’s understandable. And I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted to check on you. Zane asked me to, actually.”
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