Subspace

by Sierra Cartwright

  She swallowed and dropped her gaze. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Just act on it if I’m what you want, damn it.”

  “You’re not,” she told him firmly, told herself firmly.

  Again the flash of hurt in his amber-brown eyes before they narrowed. “I don’t believe that.”

  He was astute.

  “Is something up with Jeff?” she asked.

  “I was curious about his history.” Sloan leaned against the wall, watching her face intently. “He’s not your son so why is he living with you?”

  “You’re blunt.” She raised a palm when he would have said more. “My best friend Marilyn had Jeff as a single parent. When she died from cancer, I took him. End of story.”

  “I doubt that. Taking him in can’t have been easy. Most people wouldn’t want to become an instant parent.”

  “We’re working on it. Right now he spends most of his time locked in his room doing computer games. I was glad he wanted to work out here, though I have to tell you I’m not sure I want him entering any tournaments. Aren’t they rough?”

  “I’m careful what I encourage my students to take part in,” Sloan said. “And they can be very fulfilling in finding and centring yourself. Even if he doesn’t qualify, it would probably be a good experience for Jeff.”

  “Healthier than locking himself in his room.” She studied the smooth wooden floor for a moment before looking up and meeting Sloan’s gaze. “Will he get hurt?”

  “He might get bruised.”

  She let out a deep breath. “As long as it’s safe, then I’d say it’s Jeff’s decision.”

  Sloan only nodded, but she saw the gleam of respect in his eyes. It made her want to linger, to talk with him some more, but she knew she should leave as soon as Jeff returned. She didn’t want to get caught in Sloan’s seductive orbit again.

  “How have you been doing?” Sloan’s voice was gentle, quieter so that the other parents and students couldn’t overhear.

  “Fine!” She gave him a bright smile.

  “I’m not. I dream about you,” Sloan said bluntly.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Want you? Not possible.”

  She flushed, liking his words even as they embarrassed her. She couldn’t get over the fact that this young man with his warrior’s body wanted her, since she’d always seen herself as plump.

  “Have you thought about what happened that last time?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you Google it?”

  “I…the submissive. I Googled that,” she admitted.

  “You went into subspace,” Sloan said.

  “That floaty feeling?”

  He nodded, and as if he couldn’t help himself, touched her, putting a hand on her upper arm.

  “I felt distracted afterward.” She grimaced, remembering.

  “Distracted I understand. Some people who play can also get depressed when they come down, much like from any other high.”

  She didn’t want to talk about this. She was dying to talk about this. “I felt…so exposed.”

  “You left before I could finish the aftercare you needed, but more than that, we needed to talk. It would have helped us both.”

  She wasn’t sure about aftercare. Had that been his fussing with the blanket? “It would have helped you too?”

  “My need to take care of you,” he said. “I want a second chance.”

  “Uh…”

  She saw Jeff, freshly showered, re-enter the studio space. He was talking to a couple of the other students so she was reluctant to interrupt him now he was finally making friends.

  “Dinner,” Sloan said quickly, as if he knew that Diana was on the verge of leaving again. “Let me take you out for a date.”

  “A date… I don’t know.”

  “But you want to go. I can see it in your eyes. What about Raw, the new nightclub? We can get a table and try it out this weekend.”

  It wouldn’t require her to go very far since it was right here in the same strip mall. And she had been curious about what kind of fusion the artist and café owner planned to create.

  “All right.”

  Sloan blinked, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to give in, which amused her. He frowned, probably wondering if she were laughing at him, but then his eyes lit with triumph. Apparently, he’d decided that capitulation was what he wanted from her, and like the first time they’d met, he had it.

  * * * *

  “Weird, you dating one of my teachers,” Jeff said over dinner that night. “You’re older than him, you know.”

  “He’s not one of your regular teachers, and I do know, thanks.”

  Jeff flushed. “Sorry. I’ll clear away the dishes.”

  “Jeff, wait.” She reached out to touch his arm but dropped her hand when he wouldn’t look at her. “I made a promise to you and I meant it. You have a home here with me as long as you need it.”

  He shrugged. “Mom always said you never wanted kids.”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before you.”

  Jeff hustled out of the dining room with the dishes even more rapidly than usual, as if he didn’t want her to lose her emotional cool and embarrass him anymore, but for some reason, the exchange left Diana smiling, and when he went into the empty parking lot to practice his new kickboxing moves rather than lose himself in an imaginary world, she felt even better.

  Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, going out with Sloan.

  Her heart picked up when she thought of him.

  “It’s just a meal at the café,” she muttered. “You were curious about it. This is your opportunity to see for yourself.”

  Her body tingled.

  “Damn it, cut it out,” she told herself.

  * * * *

  Sloan ran a hand over the suit he was wearing. It still fitted, something he’d bought when he was competing internationally.

  “Silk, very sharp,” Nath said, coming out of the locker room after cleaning up.

  “You think?” Sloan flushed. Man, good thing he wasn’t competing today. He’d misplaced his game face.

  “Yep. And I bet our landlady will think so too.”

  “I never took you for a matchmaker, Nath,” Sloan said, turning away from his reflection. He thought he looked all right. More important would be how he made use of it. Christ, he didn’t want to scare Diana off again but he needed to touch her. How was he going to keep his hands off her?

  “I’ve been with the same man for twelve years,” Nath said. “No complaints so far.”

  “I hope some of that luck rubs off on me, brother,” Sloan said, straightening his tie and heading for the door. His heart was pounding, and he was excited and nervous and every bit the younger man Diana kept trying not to take seriously. He closed his eyes for a second and connected to his inner warrior and Dom, steadying himself. This time he would not fuck up.

  * * * *

  “You’re early!” Diana gasped as soon as she answered her apartment door.

  Her hair was dishevelled around her shoulders, wildly curly so that it looked as if he’d run his hands through it. He immediately liked it since it made him think of having sex with her. He ached to be inside her.

  “Sorry, um.” But then he looked at his watch. “By one minute.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “I’m late.”

  “Yeah, almost,” he said.

  He couldn’t help but reach out and run a finger over her bare shoulder. She was wearing a fuchsia strapless dress that fitted her full curves beautifully. The way she hunched her shoulders sometimes told him she was self-conscious about those curves, but he thought she was so sexy.

  She shivered under his touch, and her pupils expanded so he stayed frozen, looking into her eyes as his mouth went dry and his body hardened.

  “Come in. You can talk to Jeff while I finish getting ready.”

  “You look ready now,” he said, and his voi
ce sounded husky.

  She stepped back and he followed her inside, seeing Jeff sitting on a couch at the far side of the room. The boy looked up and a shy smile touched his lips.

  “Sloan,” he said.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Sloan asked, walking over to sit with Jeff.

  He’d come to really like the kid. Jeff was gearing up to begin serious training, and so far Sloan had been impressed with how hard he worked. He was not Sloan’s best student, but his persistence might make up for it. Sloan respected that.

  “Nothing much. I was thinking of rehearsing some more moves out in the parking lot while you and Diana…” Jeff grimaced. “That’s if Mrs. Davidson is cool with it; she stays with me when Diana’s out.”

  Diana had left them alone to return to her preparations, so Sloan gave Jeff a man-to-man look. “You okay with me and Di?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m sure it does to Diana,” Sloan said truthfully.

  “Maybe.”

  Sloan thought Jeff’s shoulders relaxed a little at his comment.

  “Diana usually puts on jeans and just hangs with me in the evenings.”

  Diana returned to the living room, her hair in ringlets down to her neck, her shoulders bare and gleaming, wearing large blue earrings that brushed her skin and were set off by her colouring.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  She dropped her gaze shyly but smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Shall we go?”

  He got up and offered her his arm, and she hesitantly took it. When she made contact with his bare skin, his eyes caught hers…held on…

  It felt good, her touching him.

  Chapter Seven

  Sian Thompson, the artist and proprietor of Raw, a café and artist’s studio located next to Sloan’s kickboxing storefront, was pacing the new space when Diana and Sloan arrived.

  Sian was in her mid-thirties like Diana, a tall woman with dark red hair and a body just as lush as Diana’s. She was wearing a red silk suit with a pink-washed jacket.

  “Anything wrong?” Sloan asked the woman as she seated them at one of the little tables.

  “Matt is late,” Sian said, chewing her bottom lip.

  “Matt?” Diana asked.

  “Matt Logan, my model. He’s supposed to be here for opening night. I have two food critics coming.”

  Diana frowned, not following, but Sian strode away after leaving menus for her and Sloan.

  The lighting was soft and suggestive, small Moroccan leather lamps dyed in jewel tones at each table. In a wash of garnet, Diana raised her eyebrows at Sloan.

  “It’s supposed to give café goers a chance to uncork their bottled-up Monet,” Sloan explained, nodding to the little station of a blank canvas on an easel and various acrylic paint tubes and brushes as well as a brand new painter’s smock set up next to their table. “If you’re inspired, you can get up and paint. The supplies you use are included with the food bill.”

  “So that’s how it works! Clever. But…” She looked around, taking in frescoes on the walls that went from something Minoan-looking to cave art replicas to Gustav Klimt. “It’s lovely in here, but where’s the inspiration?”

  Sloan’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll see.”

  Diana chose feta cheesecake with raspberry sauce and a refreshing glass of iced blackberry port. Sloan got the cheese platter, and they shared the long logs of toasted French bread dripping with butter.

  “I don’t know if I’d be daring enough to try painting something without a lot more alcohol in my system, but the food is wonderful,” Diana said, relaxing a little.

  There was a warm vibe between her and Sloan. She felt as if he’d toned down some of his intensity just for her.

  “It’s like the kickboxing,” Sloan said, chewing on an olive and bringing Diana’s attention to his lips.

  She wished she could kiss him.

  “If you gave it a try, you might find it rewarding.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not like Jeff, someone who goes after things. I’m a bit of a wallflower.”

  “You just need the right thing to spur you into action,” Sloan said. “So…are you seeing someone?”

  His voice was so casual, but Diana felt the vibe of feeling buried in it.

  She shook her head. “You?”

  “Long time ago. She was…an older woman, Jess. She taught me about BDSM but she didn’t want to commit to someone so much younger than she was.”

  Oh. Diana swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Especially now.”

  He smiled and she saw it really was okay. Then he stood, leaving without a word, to head to where their hostess was standing in a corner, her Blackberry clenched in her hand.

  Diana watched Sloan talk to Sian, wondering if he was offering some suggestions on saving her opening night. While a few scattered café goers were eating, no one had yet got up to make use of the art supplies.

  Sloan jogged back to their table. As she watched him, he removed his suit jacket and tie.

  “I decided to help out. Do you mind?”

  A thrill ran down her spine at his tone of voice—it was the special one he’d used during their encounters in his studio. She licked her lips, seeing his eyes follow the movement before meeting her gaze. Heat suddenly rippled between them.

  Sloan sat and untied his dress shoes.

  Diana opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but something stopped her. She had a feeling he wanted her to wait to see.

  But when he stepped out of his pants and then began to unbutton his shirt, he laughed. “You look a little startled.”

  Her lips quirked, and a potent cocktail of sexy playfulness seemed to enter her bloodstream. Oh, she had missed how he made her feel. “This is a first for me,” she said. “My date stripping at the meal.”

  He left his briefs on, which were black and cupped his backside like a loving hand and did nothing to hide his prominent erection.

  Other eyes were on him, people whispering and giggling and pointing, but Sloan looked very Zen. He put his hands on his hips and stared into Diana’s eyes, as if wanting her to know just who excited him.

  She wanted to reach out and touch his paler skin, trace the lines of muscles, get down on her knees and nuzzle him gently between his legs. She had a very strong desire to kneel for him, after reading about other submissives doing it. The idea excited her.

  He padded from the table, shaggy brown hair in his amber-brown eyes, low-cut briefs riding his hips, his tattoo moving sinuously with his movements.

  For the first time, Diana noticed a small platform off to one side of the café. She’d taken it as part of the décor because of the ferns and other assorted plants and a small fountain which trickled into a waterfall, but now she noticed the red velvet cloth pooled, stretched out long enough for someone to recline in the centre, and when Sloan sat down there, she realised it was landscaping—providing the stage for the main attraction.

  And Sloan was definitely tonight’s main attraction.

  As she watched him, he tugged off the briefs, revealing himself fully to her and all the guests—and then he winked at her.

  * * * *

  “Oh, my my…” Sian drawled, staring at Sloan like everyone else in the café. She cleared her throat and gave Diana a mischievous look. “Now you see why this place doesn’t allow kids in the evenings.”

  “Yes,” Diana said, barely able to take her gaze from Sloan. She felt an urge to do something, come out of her shell again and make some kind of bold gesture, though it wouldn’t be modelling for budding artists in Sian’s café. “Can I have another port, please?” she asked, getting up from the little table. She was the first person to do that since Sloan had walked to the podium and she saw his eyes light with interest as he watched her.

  She went to the easel, finding the medium-sized blank canvas a little intimidating. She’d definitely need the second glass that Sian gave her. “On the house, Di. You and Sloan have re
scued my night, although I was going to have Matt cover his parts with sheet to start off. But don’t tell Sloan since I don’t think anyone would have wanted to miss that beautiful body.”

  “He is beautiful.” She thought Sloan picked up her words because he smiled.

  He’d done it for her.

  Yes, he was helping Sian out, but Diana felt as if Sloan had done this for her. His posing somehow evened the scales a little between them. She’d been nude for him and now he was nude for her.

  Diana picked up a piece of charcoal, trying to remember what she’d learned from basic art classes in high school. She settled for outlining Sloan’s shape. “This will definitely be abstract,” she told Sian.

  After a while, she began to really enjoy her unusual first date with Sloan. Even though she was not an artist, by any stretch of the imagination, there was something playful and liberating about just choosing what to try out next from the selection of brushes and paints. And Sloan’s steady gaze never left her.

  As she tried to capture his pointed nipples, the bulge in his upper arm from taking his weight, she became even more aware of him as a man, of the rise and fall of his chest, of the dark hair between his legs and his heavy penis. She had to fight the urge to go over to him and stroke his skin, almost like she was touching a special pet. Was this what he’d felt with her? If so, she could understand now why he’d enjoyed it so much, though she wasn’t naturally dominant as he was.

  “Not bad,” Sian said as she walked by with a dessert tray. “You should come to my morning art classes.”

  “Are they as exciting as this?” Diana noticed that people from almost all of the tables were trying their hand at making art, even the two women Sian had told her were the food critics.

  “Nope, more about technique and less spontaneity,” Sian said. “But I think everyone is artistic if they allow themselves to be.”

  “And with the right inspiration.”

  “Oh yeah.” Sian looked at Sloan and then at Diana. “He’s yours if you want him. I think that’s what he’s been telling you all evening.”

  Diana swallowed and put down her acrylic paints. The piece was as good as it was going to be. She decided she liked it, just because creating it had been fun and the bold colours and strong lines were all Sloan.