by Sara Brookes
“So let's get to the nitty gritty of all this. Did Patrick do something you didn't like? Hit you? Beat you?”
Allison's eyes widened in surprise as she bobbled the glass and nearly spilled the contents everywhere. Maybe she was better off without alcohol right now and twiddled her thumbs in order to give herself something to do with her hands. “No, no of course not. Surprisingly enough, he's more of a gentleman than most other men I know or have dated.”
Elena quietly studied her for a few moments. “You know, I'm still waiting to hear the bad part about this. The part that has you spooked, I mean.”
Allison felt as if she could trust Elena implicitly and decided to confide in her. “It's this whole dominant and submissive thing. It's entirely not what I expected. As I told Patrick, it's far more comforting that I would have ever imagined.”
Elena's laughter filled the space around them. “You're not telling me anything I don't already know.” Allison rolled her eyes and Elena held up an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Go on.”
“He seemed to take it one step too far when he starting telling me about my friends being disrespectful. I willingly went along with the dominance in regards to sex, but we always kept it exclusive to the bedroom or at least the sexual aspects of our relationship. He tried to assert it in my home, with my friends and it hurt. Bad.”
“Of course it did. Patrick is a very passionate man, sometimes that's to be expected. It sounds like he made a mistake, let his mouth get ahead of his brain. He's a very good guy most women would jump at the chance for this kind of opportunity.”
Allison wet her lips. “Sometimes that's a bad thing.”
“Not in this instance. I think he was just being protective.” Elena gave Allison's hand a reassuring pat before she crossed to the small bar in order to fix another drink. She returned a minute later and sunk back into the overstuffed couch.
“Maybe, but I can handle myself. I can speak up when someone says something I'm offended by.”
Elena's eyebrows winged up in surprise. “Seems as if he was offended for you.”
While Allison agreed, Patrick had taken it one step too far. “It's not his place to be. I surrender control to him in the bedroom but that's it.”
Elena blinked, then burst out laughing. The tone of the laughter caused Allison's cheeks to flush bright red and she buried her face in her glass to hide it.
Once Elena had controlled herself again, she patted Allison's free hand. “Honey, the sub is the one in control. Once they learn they have all the power, only then can they truly submit. Does it bother you to know that? To find out Patrick really isn't the one in control?”
Stunned, Allison placed the glass on the table again and stared at the intricate scrollwork. “No, it doesn't. He's never said anything like that, but I figured it out just recently. I didn't tell him I had though.”
“Have you asked him or talked about any of this?”
The words sunk in and something clicked into place, just like the lock on the collar she'd worn for Patrick. Elena was spot on.
“No.” Filled with nervous energy, she did her best not to seem agitated. What Elena said made sense—to her heart. Unfortunately, she'd never let her heart be the driving force that guided her because she'd had so little opportunity to use it.
“Don't you think maybe you should?”
“I'm not sure it's going to do any good.”
Fabric shifted as Elena rose and settled next to Allison. She softened the expression on her face as she reached over and gathered Allison's hand in her own. “I'm going to let you in on a secret. It's not mine to share, but I'll tell you enough so maybe you'll understand the situation a little better. The Conners family wasn't the traditional model, unless having an abusive father is typical for most families. As a Top, Patrick needs the level of control that it brings for him. It makes him feel as if he's in charge of his life because of what happened when he was younger. Being that dominant allows him the control he believes is needed to keep him from turning into his father. From what it sounds like, that sterling silver control of his slipped. The best of Tops make mistakes or they wouldn't be human otherwise. Let me ask you this. He left, didn't he?” The ice in Elena's glass hit the side of the glass with a loud clink.
“Yes.” Allison quietly replied.
“My guess would be he recognized it and removed himself from the situation. Think about why he's a perfect gentleman. He feels a woman should be treated a certain way because he spent his childhood watching his father treat his mother as if she were no better than common dirt. Patrick cherishes women and everything they stand for. For him, the domination isn't about humiliation or degradation, but eliminating it entirely. I'd hedge my bet that he needs you just as much as you've found you need him. While you give him what he needs sexually, you also give him love and that is something he needs but may not know. Though he might. I just don't know, I haven't seen him in order to talk with him.”
Allison grinned slyly at Elena. “We've been a little busy.”
A warm smile spread on perfectly painted lips in response. “As should be the case.”
“I've never met anyone like him. Or had a lover like him.”
Ice cracked as Elena popped a cube in her mouth and chewed. “Do you mean the whole domination aspect?”
Allison's chest constricted and her heart slammed against her rib cage. She struggled to find her voice. “Well, no, but that too. I meant someone who made me feel cherished and alive. Safe and secure at the same time they've bound me to a wall and forced orgasms, or used things to delay them, or...any of it. He cares what I think outside of Sanctuary too. It's not at all what I imagined the whole dominance and submission relationship dynamic to be.”
Elena shrugged her shoulders and set the now empty glass on the table between them. “Some live it twenty-four-seven. It's not just their lifestyle, it's their life. Most choose it because it's something they need. It makes them safe and secure—just as you said.”
Allison wasn't sure if it was a lifestyle she could live outside of the bedroom. She liked the camaraderie between her and Patrick even while they did the most mundane things. “But why did I never know I needed it before now?”
Red hair flipped over her shoulder again and Elena propped her hand on her hip as she stood. “The time wasn't right or the right person hadn't come along. So, it wasn't something you knew you needed. You could easily find part of what you and Patrick have with another person who favors dominance. However, you two have the added benefit of love. I don't need to ask Patrick because I can tell by what you've said that you both love each other. It's a rare thing and you've found a way to make everything work. You just need to hear it from him.”
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Chapter Twenty
A painful headache continued to stack up behind Patrick's eyes as he worked behind the coffee bar. He literally counted the minutes before his shift ended. He'd called in one of the other staff members to take the evening shift because Nick decided to stay with their mother for a little while. Patrick suspected he wanted more time to try to sort through the ruins of his life and didn't blame him. The plan had been for him to arrive in town sometime in the afternoon, but he'd grown antsy and had arrived early enough to fire off a quick text message to Elena and open Perfect Shot before the rush.
Work hadn't eased his headache or made him feel better about the crappiness he'd made of his life. The last thing he wanted to do was be pleasant to customers, but he couldn't justify pawning it off onto someone else for longer than necessary.
He was exhausted, emotionally drained and just plain spent.
Despite how he felt, he was still responsible for the business. He made a few ticks on the inventory sheet Nick kept by the register to allot for the sleeve of cups he'd pulled out of the back and heard a customer approach the counter.
“Welcome to Perfect Shot, can I help you?” he asked. He was already prepared to fix whatever ornate co
ncoction they wanted. That was his job and he had to do it despite the fact his world had fallen apart.
“Perhaps.”
Everything inside him went cold when he heard Allison's voice and realized she was the customer who stood on the other side of the counter. His breath caught in his throat as panic seized him. Nervous energy made his hands shake and dropped the pencil as if it was a hot poker in order to stuff his hands into his pockets to still the sudden twitches.
He was afraid to look up when he considered their last encounter and how badly he'd handled things. He'd lived under the premise they'd never see each other again, contrary to the fact they lived in such a small town. Despite that, he'd held onto a small thread of hope that she would drop by the store occasionally. After all, she lived nearby and stated time and again that she loved the coffee here.
Now, here she was in living, breathing color.
“Allison, I—”
She tapped her finger on the counter between them. “I heard you were back and I needed to see for myself you were okay. You're back, but I don't think you're okay.”
He shook his head. “No, I'm not. I was an ass.”
“You were,” she said casually. “We need to talk and I don't think this is necessarily the time or the place. Can I just get a coffee and we'll talk later tonight? I've got to get to work.”
He swallowed, poured a tall cup of coffee and handed it to her. “The Copper Nickel at six?”
She nodded in agreement and he stared at her back as she walked away.
Six couldn't come soon enough, but when it did, he was surprised to find himself still nervous. In was uncharacteristic and he wasn't accustomed to it. However, Allison had made some jerky movements of her own when he'd seen her earlier, so he guessed she was as nervous as he was.
A waiter appeared as soon as they sat and took their drink orders. In spite of Patrick's sour mood, he noted—with some amusement—that they both ordered water. He could tell from the way she sat forward in her seat, and her elbows propped on the table, she had something to get off her chest. It was best to allow her the opportunity to speak first and probably better in the long run so he didn't put his foot in his mouth again.
“I know how much you despise small talk, so I don't think you'll mind me getting to the point.”
He preferred it. “By all means, please.”
They waited while the server set their drinks in front of them and he watched as Allison took a few sips of the ice water. In a few seconds, he noted the dark smudges under her eyes and wondered if the past week had been just as hard on her. He hated that he'd done that. That he was the one responsible for any pain in her life.
“You once told me you'd never hurt me.” She paused when he nodded. “Sometimes pain is more than just physical.”
“Oh, believe me, I know all about pain—both mental and physical,” he murmured.
She stared at him for a few long moments and he watched her slowly work through something in her mind. “That's what you meant when you said you weren't into humiliation or pain for pleasure. It's one of your hard limits, isn't it?”
“Yes. It is.” They'd never talked more about that limit once he'd made it clear he was unwilling to compromise. Maybe now was the right time to explain it a little more.
Seconds before he tried to make light of the dirty little secret he spent most of his life trying to forget, he changed his mind. A little wasn't going to cut it. He owed her that much after what he'd done.
“I would've never blown out my shoulder senior year if my father hadn't been an abusive prick. He was quite fond of using his fists on whoever was the closest at the time to make sure he got his point across. It was usually my mother, but Nick and I weren't exempt, depending on his mood. One night, I watched him trying to pick a fight with Mom and something in me snapped. I stepped between them and when he went for me, I fought back. He made sure I paid for it by beating the hell out of me on the front lawn right in full view of everyone. The cops threw him in jail and that was the last any of us saw of him, thankfully. The doctors told me I would never play baseball again because nearly every ligament in my shoulder had been torn in some fashion. Being the arrogant son of a bitch I was, I played the state tournament anyway. You know the rest. It's because of him that I will never, ever lay a hand on someone for any reason.”
It pained him to remember, yet also reminded him of the blatant choice he'd made to not be like that. He'd slipped and was ashamed because of it.
“I'm very sorry.”
He heard the hint of sympathy in her voice. One thing he would not have was for her to feel any sort of pity for that monster. “Don't be. He's dead now and he doesn't deserve to have anyone think about him for even a second.” He skimmed his fingers against the glass in front of him and used the chill of the condensed water on the side to cool the irritation that rose in reference to his tumultuous childhood. “I let my anger get the best of me and it scared me because I realized I was very capable of being just like him. I'm sorry. I've regretted it every second since I spoke those words. I never intended to say any of those things to you. They are foremost your friends and I respect that. I should have let you know it right then.”
“Yes, you really should have.”
It pained him to know he'd hurt her and it was too late to take it back now. “I wanted to apologize about what an ass I'd made of myself, I did. I wanted to fix what I'd done. I was going to and then I got the phone call about Mom getting hurt. Then there just wasn't time.” He suddenly felt a little claustrophobic surrounded by the light dinner crowd. He needed air and space. Somewhere he could breathe deep and not feel crowded by the memories that now hovered over the table. “Listen, can we get out of here? I need some air.”
She nodded and before long, they walked down the sidewalk side by side. Dusk blanketed the street and soon the antique streetlamps would switch on and puddles of light would illuminate the concrete.
He fiddled with the change in his pocket. “I would have called you later tonight if you hadn't showed up at Perfect Shot. I probably should have called while I was away, but I didn't. Any reason I could give would probably sound like an excuse.”
“Try me.”
He snorted and shook his head. “It was a mix of embarrassment and pride. My stupid fucking pride got in the way, not to mention the fact I saw shades of my father in myself.” He stopped and caught her arm mid-stride to spin her around. Her face held no hint of surprise and he got the impression she'd waited for him to put his hands on her. He placed firm fingers on her chin and lifted her face.
“Regardless, the bottom line is this, Allison, I want the world to see and appreciate you the way I do. You're not someone who should be lumped into some off-hand category of ‘just one of the guys’ because you are in a class all your own. I want people to see you just as I do and damn me for getting angry when that doesn't happen. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I will try to mitigate the damage if it does. One thing I refuse to be is just like him.”
“Don't you see? Everything you've done, until that moment in the kitchen, made me feel special and like a woman. I was cherished and loved and so very much not like one of the guys. I don't know your father, Patrick, I only know you. But I imagine you're nothing like him. In fact, from what Elena has told me, you've done everything in your power to be very far removed from your father.”
It didn't surprise him to find out that she'd talked to Elena. She had always been like the sister he'd never had and was one of the few females he'd let in completely. At least, until now.
Until Allison.
Needing her closer, he gathered her into his arms, pleased when there was no resistance. His lips pressed against the top of her head and he inhaled the coconut scent of her shampoo. He needed to look at her and cradled her face in his palms. It was time he put that advice from his mother to use. “I want you to know I think you are an extraordinary and amazing woman that I don't think I could live without. I have found
myself because of you and by God I love the hell out of you for it.”
He watched relief wash over her face. “I kept telling myself I was silly for feeling this way. That it's just some adolescent crush even though I'm a grown woman. I thought I only felt this way about you because I just didn't know any better and I was too much of a newbie to know what the hell was going on. You know, confusing how wonderful you make me feel with the Dominant/submissive and mistaking it for genuine love. That I wasn't too wired to tell the difference.”
She babbled, but he didn't want to point it out to her. It would darken her pretty features. That babbling was one of the many things he loved about her and they soared too high right now to be brought down by the reminder.
“No, you haven't been confusing it at all. I know the difference and it's knocked me completely off kilter too. We'll figure this out and it will be right for us. I promise.”
He touched his lips lightly to hers to seal that promise.
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Chapter Twenty-One
A month later, Allison watched as Patrick entered The Copper Nickel. The conversation with Elena came to a screeching halt when she noticed the look he gave her. Would they even make it through dinner? Her eyes never left his as he made his way to the back where the wait staff had set up a table for their large party.
She felt a soft tap on her shoulder and broke her gaze from Patrick's. Elena stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. Embarrassment heated her cheeks and stammered out an apology. “Sorry.”
