A Touch of Winter

by Evie Hunter

  'I’m better at Shibari than her Dom, so I said I’d help her practice.'

  Abbie waited for him to continue, but he firmed his lips and didn’t say any more. 'Go on,' she said.

  But he wouldn’t. 'More to the point, what were you doing?'

  'I thought I’d surprise you. I caught an earlier flight and then I …' Her voice cracked at the memory of the scene she had seen, but she refused to give in to it. Why am I making excuses? I’m not the one who was with someone else. 'Get out, Jack. I can’t do this any more.'

  She could see the tension in his shoulders, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Jack rubbed his fist against the palm of his other hand as if he wanted to hit something. Then he turned away and took several deep breaths of salty night air. When he spoke again, it was in that deadly calm tone he used just before he annihilated his arch-nemesis on screen. 'Let’s discuss this like adults, Abbie. Why don’t you articulate your issues and —'

  'My issues? My issues?' Abbie leaned forward to jab a finger at him. She was close enough to catch a hint of sweat. He must have climbed to the second floor to reach the balcony, but she wasn’t in the mood to be impressed. 'I caught you playing with another woman. Is that articulate enough for you?'

  His head jerked back as if he’d been struck.

  Ignoring the danger signs, she pressed on. 'You’ve been away for weeks. You’ve barely messaged me since you got back from location. You haven’t returned any of my calls and—'

  'I’ve been busy, Abbie. Paloma has—'

  'Don’t. I don’t want to hear you talking about her.'

  'Fine. If you’d rather do this the hard way…' Before she could guess his intention, his hands close around her upper arms and he propelled her backwards until her legs hit the couch. Abbie struggled, trying to jerk out of his grasp, but he was too strong and far too angry. Instead, she raised her foot and brought it down sharply on his instep. Jack barely blinked. It was like kicking a tire iron.

  'You really shouldn’t have done that.' A quick jerk of his arms and she tumbled onto the couch and he followed her down Despite her struggles, he grasped both wrists and pinned them above her head. She thrashed against him, wriggling like an eel, but she couldn’t dislodge him. Abbie could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his shirt and the hardness against her thighs told her that her struggles were inflaming more than his temper. She stopped moving. They lay there, staring at each other, huffing breaths like two boxers sizing each other up for the next round.

  'Okay. Why don’t I go first? You ran out on me tonight and I didn’t like it.'

  Abbie jerked against him, wishing that her hand was free so that she could punch his handsome face. 'What did you expect me to do? Join in? Oh, I bet you’d love that.'

  Icy blue eyes glared at her. 'Actually, I’m a one-woman kind of guy. And you should know that by now.'

  It sounded so good, but how could she believe it? Her rage evaporated, leaving despair. Abbie turned her face away, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let him know how much he had hurt her.

  'Hey…' With his free hand, Jack stroked her face and she bit down hard on her lip. I will not cry.

  His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, collecting the single tear that had managed to escape. 'Oh, Abbie, Abbie, don’t.' Holding her jaw firmly, he turned her head. Abbie scrunched her eyes shut determined not to look at him. 'Why do you do this to yourself?'

  Her eyes flew open. 'What do you mean?'

  'You could have walked into the playroom. You could have let me know that you were there. Instead you ran away. You always run away.'

  She shook her head. There is nothing she could say.

  'Why are you always ready to believe the worst? I haven’t looked at another woman since I met you, but the bottom line is that you don’t trust me.'

  * * *

  Jack stared down at her in frustration. He was torn between wanting to spank her, smother her with kisses, and howl. Fuck, this time she hadn’t even waited for them to have an argument to run away.

  No more. He had plans for the two of them, and they didn’t include chasing after Abbie every time she was unhappy about something. It was difficult enough trying to sustain a relationship while they lived in different states. If their relationship was to survive, she had to learn to open up to him.

  And he knew just how to make her talk.

  'Jack, what are you up to? That’s an evil smile.' Abbie sounded worried. Good, she was right to be.

  He allowed his smile to widen. 'It occurs to me that our problem is you don’t talk to me. So you are going to talk, and I’m going to listen.'

  She tightened her lips and made a 'humph' sound as she glared at him in silent dignity. It would have been more effective if she hadn’t been stretched out on the couch, dressed in one of Kit’s t-shirts which was stretched to the limit over her beautifully curved breasts.

  He looked around the room quickly, seeing if he could find anything useful. Those curtain ties might work. He pulled one loose, and before Abbie could get up, and used it to tie her wrists together. She wiggled like a silverfish, and contorted herself into interesting shapes trying to pull loose, but he wasn’t letting her get away. When he had finished, her arms were stretched above her head, she was panting and sweating and cursing him in language she had never learned at her country club. And her Tee had ridden up, allowing him a glimpse of soft pale skin.

  ‘You are a goddamn asshole,' she said. The venom in her voice was real. 'You mess around with other women, and then think you can break in here and tie me up. Well, I’m finished with you and your stupid kinky games.'

  'And yet you didn’t use your safe word,' he said mildly.

  Her eyes flared. 'Red! Red! Fucking red! Now let me up.'

  He made a point of standing back, so that he wasn’t touching her at any point. 'In one minute. We’re playing a new game tonight. Your safe word is "Stop". Think you can remember that?' Her glare was his answer, and he continued before she could interrupt. 'But if you use it, not only does everything stop, but I’m gone. We’re finished, and you’ll never see me again.'

  She recoiled. He had been gambling, but it had paid off. She didn’t want him to walk.

  'So what are you going to do, asshole?' she sneered. 'Beat me? You don’t have your tool kit with you.'

  Jack’s tool kit, the bag containing his crops, canes, paddles and flails, was a joke between them. And it was in his house in Hollywood. 'Don’t worry, I’ll improvise.'

  He could tell she was determined to wiggle free as soon as he turned his back, and the slippery cord of the tiebacks would come loose with a bit of determined effort, so he twisted her panties around her ankles and looped the other cord around them, and tied it to the foot of the couch. 'Stay there until I come back,' he said, enjoying her glare and swear words. So much better than the tears and defeat he had seen in her face earlier.

  He spent a few minutes searching the cupboards in Kit’s kitchen, which were filled with weird vegetarian pseudo-foods and lentils, looking for suitable equipment. Just in case, he checked the freezer and laughed when he saw it was stuffed with large rib-eye steaks. Kit hadn’t turned Kev vegetarian yet, and he was betting on his friend remaining a meat-and-two-veg man until his dying day.

  Jack found other useful toys in the rest of the house and returned with his haul. Her eyes widened as she looked at the items in his arms. 'What are you doing to do with those?'

  'You’ll see.' He touched the foot she had managed to wiggle free, and she flinched, although it had been a mere brush of his fingers. No matter how mad she was, Abbie wasn’t immune to him. 'Or maybe you shouldn’t.'

  He remembered Abbie talking about how her inner editor was always taking note of what was happening around her, in case she needed to run or so she could write about it later. It was time to silence that editor.

  Jack pulled her tee up over her head, leaving her mouth and nose free, but keeping her eyes covered. It had the adde
d bonus of trapping her arms close to her head. She spluttered. 'You bastard.' But she hadn’t said 'stop'.

  'Language,' he reprimanded her, but he couldn’t get upset, not when he had that delectable view spread out in front of him. He sat on the couch and traced a finger down her collarbone, between her breasts, over her trembling stomach, and along her mound. Still bare, he was pleased to see.

  'Very nice. But you didn’t file a lingerie report this morning. What colour do you call those panties?'

  'You can see them.' She sounded surly and he laughed.

  'I know, but it’s your job to tell me.'

  She couldn’t see and had to think for a moment to remember what she had put on that morning. 'Ashes of roses.'

  Jack laughed. 'Writers! Can’t you just say pink?'

  He drew his finger down one thigh, so rounded and enticing he wanted to bite it. Maybe later. She quivered in response.

  'Now the rules of this game are simple. You say "stop" and it’s all over. Otherwise, you tell me how I make you feel. That’s all. Talk and tell me what you feel, and I’ll react appropriately. Don’t talk, and you won’t enjoy it. Understand?'

  She nodded. 'What’s the catch?'

  'No catch.'

  Jack moved off the couch and picked up the first of his finds, a long white feather he had liberated from a vase in Kit and Kevin’s bedroom. He had a much better use for it. He swept it over Abbie’s stomach. She sucked in a breath and moaned. He liked that reaction, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

  'Naughty,' he said gently. 'You’re supposed tell me what it feels like. So I won’t do that again.'

  He ignored her cry of disappointment, and picked up an ice-cube. He glided it between her breasts, fascinated by the way the film of melted ice gleamed on her skin.

  'Cold,' she cried. 'Cold. Wet.' She shook slightly.

  'Good, that’s what I want to hear. What else?' He glided the cube up the slope of one breast.

  She shivered. 'So cold, it’s almost burning. I can feel water sliding down under my arm. Wet.' He puffed on the damp skin and she shook.

  'Good girl. Now you’re getting the idea.' This time he took a rose and brushed it up and down her body.

  'What is that? It feels soft. Damp? It’s gentle.' He circled her belly button with the rose, then held it close to her nose so she could smell it. 'A rose? Oh, that’s nice.' The rose left a torn petal in her hair when he moved it around her face. As she relaxed, he allowed on thorn to scratch her lightly and she cried out. 'That hurts.'

  'Even roses have thorns.' But he whisked the head of the rose over her again until she relaxed.

  'Now,' he said. 'I notice that you’ve gotten thinner, and I distinctly remember that we had a discussion about what would happen if you stopped eating.' And then traced a line down her stomach with his prize find from the spice cupboard.

  She twitched, ready to react in case it was something painful, but stopped. 'It’s cold. Wet. Not dripping or anything. Just feels odd.' He moved it closer to her face to where she could smell it. 'Is that peppermint?'

  'Mint oil. I had promised you ginger but this is better.' Yes, she remembered where he had promised to put the ginger root if she didn’t keep enough food on her fridge.

  Abbie twisted away from him, but he put his hand on her belly to hold her still. 'How does it feel?'

  She stilled, concentrating on sensation. 'Cold. Not bad.' After a few moments when he rubbed it on her thighs, she added, 'Maybe a bit boring.'

  He pushed her free foot up, so that he had access to her pussy. 'So pretty,' he said, and rubbed a couple of drops over it. She jerked. 'Oh, that feels hot.'

  'Good, what else?' He rubbed it gently on her clitoris.

  'Burning. Itchy.' She was panting, her hips moving, trying to twist away. 'Hot and cold together. It makes me—'

  'Yes?' He kept stroking.

  'It makes me wet.'

  He couldn’t resist bending down to kiss her. 'Good girl. You’re learning.'

  As a reward, he stroked the white feather up and down her body until she was moaning and muttering, 'So soft. Tickles. Oh, please, do that again.'

  He allowed her to wallow in the feather’s touch for a few minutes longer, then took it away.

  He flipped her over. 'And now a bit of punishment.' He shoved a cushion under her hips, raising her rounded bottom to the perfect height. 'You’re going to get six. Talk to me, tell me what it feels and what is on your mind.'

  'You bastard.' He tapped gently for a few minutes until she relaxed, then he struck smartly.

  She jerked. 'Ow! What was that?'

  'A shoe horn. Like it?'

  'No. It hurts.' She turned her face into the couch, preparing to take the other five. He struck again. 'Fuck! That hurts. It stings.'

  'Too much? You know that you have your safe word.'

  She put her head down again. 'I can take another one or two. I’m not giving up yet.'

  He tapped a few times, waiting for the perfect moment, then smacked down sharply. She reared up, flinching against the shoehorn.

  'Talk to me. Tell me how it feels or I’ll keep going.'

  'Bastard. It hurts. Burns.'

  He rubbed the board red line soothingly. She arched against his hand. 'Keep talking.'

  'I like that. Your hand is cool. Gentle.'

  'Keep talking.' He stuck again, admiring the way the shoe horn bounced against her rosy buttocks. His cock, already stiff, hardened even more. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. But this was too important to cut short.

  'AHH!' She gasped a few times, trying to get her breath back. 'So hard. Stings. Too much.'

  'Do you want to stop? Say the word.

  She considered, then shook her head. 'Do it quickly. Waiting is the hardest part.'

  Five. 'OW!' She jerked, yanking back against the makeshift bonds. 'Like fire. Finish it, please.'

  He struck one last time. She buried her face in the couch and went limp.

  'Good girl.' He stroked her back. 'Now tell me why you ran.'

  'I couldn’t bear to watch you with Paloma.' Her voice was muffled. 'I know that I’m going to lose you. But I can’t share you with someone else.'

  He spun her around so that he could see her face. Her eyes were damp, but her expression was clear and unflinching.

  'Idiot. You’re never going to lose me.'

  She shook her head. 'That’s what you say now, but what if you change your mind? I can’t do casual. I can’t be the woman who scratches your itch when you’re in New York and doesn’t see you again for weeks. I want …'

  'What do you want, Abbie?' Jack held his breath, waiting for her answer.

  'You. I want you, Jack. I love you.'

  * * *

  There, she had said it and she had never felt so exposed. She loved Jack, wanted him in a way that she would never want anyone else. But a year of trying to keep a relationship afloat when he lived in LA and she lived in New York had taken its toll.

  Abbie hated that she felt so needy. Hated that she checked her messages a dozen times a day hoping to hear from him. Hated seeing her best friends Kit and Kevin together, the way Kevin looked at her friend when he stroked her rounded abdomen while knowing she and Jack would never have that.

  She was a reporter who travelled the world from one political hot spot to another, but settling down with a Hollywood superstar had never been on her bucket list. Now she seldom thought of anything else. But how could she say that to Jack? How could she confess to him that he was the one, and how could she survive if he didn’t feel the same?

  The iPod had switched to Adele and the music sounded loud in the silence. Abbie bit her lip. Jack hadn’t responded. He was obviously embarrassed by her confession. She had guessed wrong, risked everything and failed. There was no going back to casual after this. She stood up and steeled her face into a smile. Her mask. 'Well, I guess that’s it.'

  Abbie was amazed that she sounded so controlled. She stood up and moved towards the door. Her sis
ter would be so proud of her. Never let them know they hurt you. Hold your head up and walk away.

  'Where do you think you’re going?' Jack asked.

  Abbie shrugged. 'Out,' she said. 'I need some fresh air.'

  'Running away again?'

  She ignored the question. Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see —

  'Abbie.' The sharp edge of command in his voice stopped her in her tracks. 'You’ve told me how you feel. Don’t you want to know if I feel the same?'

  She heard the thump of a cushion falling to the floor as he rose from the couch. Abbie held perfectly still as fear fought with hope. Jack’s warm hands caressed her shoulders and he pulled her against him.

  'My brave girl.' His tone was soothing. The movie star accent was gone and the lilt was back. Her Jack.

  'Those are the three most terrifying words in the world – I need you.'

  Her resolve melted into an unladylike snort as Jack wrapped his arms around her. 'I love you too, Abbie. Every day without you is torture and if you run away from me again you won’t be able to sit for a week.'

  Abbie turned in his arms, burrowing her way into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. He loved her. Jack loved her.

  His hand fisted in her hair and he pulled her head back. Abbie braced herself for his rough kiss. Instead, he was gentle. Licking and kissing each tear from her cheeks. Then he stared at her, his eyes dark with intent. 'I want you.'

  'Mmmm?' she felt giddy now. He loved her. Loved her.

  Jack tugged his shirt from his pants. 'There’s a king sized bed downstairs and it seems a shame to waste it. Come on.' He held her hand as he went down the stairs. As soon as he reached the bedroom, he stripped. Abbie stared. Jack’s naked body was a work of art.

  'Strip.' He didn’t bother turning around. He was back in Dom mode. He fingers reached involuntarily for the edge of her skimpy tee. She hesitated for a moment before pulling it over her head and tossing it on the floor.

  'Panties.' His voice came in a low rasp.

  She shimmied them down her legs and stepped out of them. Leaving them on the floor.

  'Come here.'