by Tara Sue Me
***
“Damn it all to fucking hell and back.” Cole knew he should have stopped by Mary Catherine’s house after her interaction with the women. But he’d put it off because he didn’t want to see her and he knew if he went by her house, she’d get the wrong idea.
All that would have been preferable to the look on Sasha’s face when she saw Mary Catherine standing at her collaring ceremony.
“Get her out of here,” Sasha said. “I won’t have her spoiling my perfect day.”
But he was already walking that way. He’d pick the woman up and physically throw her out if he had to.
“I’ve been about as patient as I’m going to be,” he said. “But this is a private event on private property and you need to—”
She held up her hand, but that wasn’t what stopped him. It was the look on her face. She looked like her world had just fallen apart.
“Let me,” she said. “Just one quick word and I’ll leave you alone forever.”
He shook his head. “No, you’ve been nothing but rude to—”
“Let her have her say.” Sasha came up behind her and slipped her hand in his. “Go on, Mary Catherine.”
For once she looked uncertain of herself. Her eyes darted from him to Sasha to their friends behind them. “I don’t . . . I mean . . .” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly what I just witnessed. That is, I think I know, but I’m not sure. But whatever. I know enough to know that my husband never looked at me the way you look at her. And it hit me, I can’t have that with you, but I can have it with someone. I want someone to look at me that way.” She wiped away a tear. “That’s all. And I’m sorry I was mean to you, Sasha. You’re obviously a very special woman.”
Cole could count on one hand the number of times he’d been surprised. Interestingly enough, they all involved Sasha. But nothing surprised him more than when she dropped his hand, walked to Mary Catherine, and hugged her.
“It’s okay,” he heard Sasha say. “Come have some refreshments.”
And though she tried to refuse, his little one was very persuasive. Within minutes, she had Mary Catherine drinking champagne and had introduced her to everyone.
By the time Sasha made it back to his side, the night had grown chilly. He took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “You leave me speechless,” he told her.
She smiled and looked across the lawn to where Julie was talking with Mary Catherine. “I felt bad for her. She lost out on you.”
He chuckled, his heart bursting with love and pride for the woman at his side. “It’s true what Fritz said earlier.”
“That you’re going to punch him?”
“No.” He took her hand and kissed it. Then he slowly entwined their fingers. “What he said about me being unsettled. He was right and I never realized it. I was always looking for something. Do you know that I haven’t once looked into a job overseas since we’ve been together?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t?”
He shook his head. “No.”
It was amazing he’d never noticed it. But he no longer felt the need to travel the world. He was content—settled, to use Fritz’s word—with his life in Delaware. Writing what he felt like, when he felt like it.
Sasha frowned. “I don’t want to keep you from working.”
“It’s not that, little one. It’s that there is no need for me to look anymore. I found what I was searching for.” He traced her collar. The collar that represented who he was and where he came from. The one that had been handed down for hundreds of years. Perhaps because the universe knew this was the woman it was truly meant for. “You may wear my collar, but make no mistake about it. You’re the one who’s claimed me.”
Epilogue
The collaring ceremony was long over. Mary Catherine had left for her house hours ago, waving and telling everyone to keep in touch and come back soon. Fritz left shortly after, saying he’d see everyone in Delaware in a few months. Abby and Nathaniel were flying to Switzerland in the morning to spend a few days at their chalet and had turned in early. Julie and Daniel had stayed up with them the longest, but even they eventually turned in, knowing Cole and Sasha wanted some alone time.
It was early in the morning and though they were flying home in a few hours, neither Cole nor Sasha could pull themselves away from the other long enough to sleep.
“I don’t even know if it’s worth it to try and get any sleep now.” Sasha was as content as she could be, laying on Cole’s chest, his heart beating in her ear.
“I don’t, either. Though I must say I’m envious of Nathaniel and Abby’s private jet.”
“You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep on the flight home?” Sasha asked.
“It’s not that. I won’t be able to strip you down and do wicked things to your body.”
She laughed. “It may do us good to take a breather.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“I mean a longer breather.”
His arms tightened around her. “I’m never going to get enough of you.”
“I certainly hope not.”
“It was a perfect day, wasn’t it?” His fingers lightly brushed her collar.
“Yes.” She propped up on one elbow and looked down on him. “Know what surprised me, though?”
“Mary Catherine?”
Mary Catherine showing up had definitely been a surprise. Not to mention the way she’d looked when she was confessing how her ex-husband never looked at her and how lonely she was. The pain in her eyes was obvious, but even more so because Sasha knew exactly how she felt. Before she’d gotten together with Cole, how many times had she seen the way Daniel looked at Julie and wanted to be on the receiving end of a look like that?
The pain of those memories had been what moved her forward and caused her to wrap her arms around the hurting woman. But as surprising as that entire scene had been, that wasn’t what had surprised her the most.
“No, not her,” Sasha said. “I was thinking about Fritz.”
“I still owe him a punch in the gut.” Cole appeared to be in deep thought. “But I might let him get away with it since everything he said was true. What was surprising about him?”
“I didn’t expect for him to be so poetic.”
“Fritz? Poetic? I’m not sure he’d think that was a compliment.”
“That’s why what he said was so surprising. It didn’t fit the image I had of him. It came as a shock to hear him talk about love the way he did. Is he with someone?”
Coles’ expression clouded over briefly. “No, he’s never been serious about anyone, as far as I know.”
Which seemed odd to her. “The way he talked it would seem otherwise.”
“Let me rephrase,” Cole said. “He hasn’t been serious about anyone he’s been with. I do think he has feelings for someone.”
“Unrequited love sucks.” She kissed him just because she could. “I feel bad for him.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s unrequited. As far as I know, he’s never told her.”
Something lurked behind his eyes, she was sure of it now. “You know her, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I’ve known for years how he feels. I thought he would have done something by now; Kate and I split up ages ago.”
Two hundred questions ran through her brain, but she only asked one. “Your ex, Kate?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
“Ball’s in his court, so to speak. If he wants her, he can man up and do something about it.” He shifted, so he was on his side, facing her. “No more talk of Kate, or Fritz, or Mary Catherine. We have a few more hours before we have to get out of bed . . .” He trailed off and ran a hand down her side, cupping a breast.
Sasha arched her back in pleasure as he drew her nipple in his mouth. “I tak
e it our breather is over?”
But Cole’s mouth was too busy to reply and by the time he could speak, taking a breather was the furthest thing from her mind.
New York Times bestselling author Tara Sue Me’s Submissive series is back with a scorching new romance that proves the difference between excitement and pain is just point of view . . .
Keep reading for a special preview of THE EXPOSURE, available from Berkley October 2016.
Meagan Bishop should have taken the paper cut as a sign. A sign with flashing red lights that read OPEN LATER. But instead, she shook her finger and tried to open the invitation without getting blood on the fine linen paper. And since she insisted on opening the envelope, she really had only herself to blame when the contents punched her in the gut.
Guy Ferguson had been nominated for an Emmy and he’d invited her to his celebratory dinner. Because, as he’d made a note in his flawless script, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She hated the Emmys.
No, that wasn’t it. She hated that Guy Ferguson had been nominated for one. Guy Ferguson, the man she’d groomed years ago for a correspondent position doing human interest stories. She already worked for the news organization and even though she secretly wanted the job, she instead helped Guy, an acquaintance she knew from college, in his quest. She remembered his smile and hug when he’d received the offer. And in the years that followed, he’d always drop her a note when he climbed another rung on the corporate ladder.
She told herself she was settled in her executive position for the same media corporation, but the truth was, she still yearned to be in front of the camera.
Her phone rang, and she shoved the invitation into her desk drawer and answered without looking to see who it was.
“Meagan Bishop.”
“Ms. Bishop, this is Officer Smyth at the front desk. There’s a Mr. DeVaan here to see you.”
DeVaan . . . Luke was here? To see her?
She almost told the security guard that she was too busy and to send him away. But she was insanely curious as to why Luke would be stopping by.
“Send him up,” she said. She pulled a compact out of her purse and checked her hair, smoothed the platinum blond strands and made sure there was nothing between her teeth. She reapplied lipstick and chided herself the entire time.
She’d just popped a breath mint in her mouth when he knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she said.
He opened the door and stepped inside. As always, the sight of him made her heart beat a bit faster and her stomach flip. He, of course, didn’t look affected at all. Damn the man. He simply stood there smiling at her with his cocky grin and his gray eyes dancing with amusement.
“Luke.” She waved toward an empty chair. “What brings you by today?”
“Thanks for seeing me, Meagan.” He sat down. “I know you’re busy and we’re past mindless small talk. I won’t take up too much of your time.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’ve been asked to collaborate in a book of erotic artistic photographs. A coffee table book. It’s a promising project, but I’ve been rather busy with the clubs lately and I don’t have the contacts I used to.”
Meagan knew Luke had a side business taking erotic pictures. It wasn’t shocking he’d be asked to do a book. The question was, why did he think she needed to know?
“Sounds like an amazing opportunity,” she said.
“I’m glad you think so. I’d like for you to be my model.”
He spoke it so matter-of-factly, so by-your-leave, she wasn’t sure she heard correctly. “What?”
“I’d like to showcase you. I want you to be the model in the pictures.”
It didn’t make any more sense when he said it the second time.
“Are you out of your mind?” she asked.
“Not the last time I checked.”
She leaned back in her chair and glared at him. “I think you have some nerve traipsing into my office and asking me to model for you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we tried that once before and it was you who said we shouldn’t do it again.”
“That was over fifteen years ago, Meagan.”
“Some things a girl doesn’t forget.”
Like having his body hot and hard against hers. His smooth voice whispering sexy little nothings in her ear.
And, days later, his insistence that not only could they not see each other anymore, but that it would be for the best if she found a new photographer.
“I had no idea you could hold on so tightly to something that happened so long ago,” he said.
“Forgive me if I’m trying to abide by the boundaries you set up.”
“Fifteen years ago.”
She stood up. Luke had consumed enough of her time today. “If you don’t have anything else, can I walk you out?”
He stood, ready to leave, she was certain, but then he looked down and his lips curled into a smug smile. “Boundaries, huh? I haven’t seen that cover in years.”
Those damn magazines Abby brought. She’d forgotten they were on the corner of her desk. Of course he would see them. Of course he would. If she’d only spent her time cleaning her desk instead of touching up her lipstick.
“Abby brought those by. Someone she knows found them and recognized me.”
His finger traced the image of her face. “Is that right?”
“Yes, your name wasn’t even mentioned.” She added that just to show him how little she thought of him and his visit and his photography skills.
He lifted his head and the grin that had started out in the corner of his mouth spread to his entire face. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shakespeare.”
Still smiling, he moved to her side of the desk and stood much too close. “You see, sweetheart, when you have to constantly say something, it comes across as if you’re trying to convince yourself of the fact.”
She rolled her eyes. “I forgot. Not only are you a photographer, you’re also a freaking mind reader. Tell me, is it your experience behind the camera or as a Dom that makes you think you know everything?”
He chuckled and the sound was warm and inviting and seductive. “Now, you know I don’t claim to know everything. But I know this.” He stroked her cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I still make your blood race and your heart pound. You and I have unfinished business and one of these days, we’re going to see it to completion.”
Damn him for knowing her so well. She jerked away. “In one of your better dreams, maybe.”
He ignored her barb. “I know because you make my blood race and my heart pound and I’m not going to ignore it forever.”
She breezed past him and opened the door. “I don’t expect you to ignore it forever. Ignoring it for the next fifty years will suit me just fine.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. No need to walk me out. I know the way.” He hesitated at the door and turned back. “We were great together once, Meagan, and frankly, I think we’d be even better now. If you change your mind . . .”
“If I change my mind, I’ll have myself committed.”
He tipped an imaginary hat and left.
***
She thought that would be the last she heard or even thought about Luke for a long time. Since she’d already made up her mind not to go to his club anymore, she wouldn’t see him there and the truth was, they really didn’t travel in the same social circles.
But even though she didn’t see him, she wasn’t able to banish him from her thoughts quite as easily as she thought she should. After the day he stopped by, he popped into her mind at the most inopportune times. Like when one of the Doms she casually played with happened to call. She told herself she turned down his offer of playing because she was really busy with
work, but deep inside she knew better. It was because of Luke.
Since he’d mentioned taking erotic pictures of her, whenever she thought about playing with anyone, an image of him came to mind.
A week after his visit, she finally got around to putting the magazines away.
That, she decided, was that.
But two days later, she sat at her desk, trembling, as she reread the e-mail on her screen for the fifth time.
It’s reckoning day, bitch. I bet after all these years, you thought no one knew what you did seventeen years ago. That’s exactly what I wanted you to think. But now it’s time to pay up or be exposed for the lying whore you are.
Luke DeVaan has some things I want and you’re going to get them for me. I don’t care how you do it. I’m sure a slut like you can think of something.
We’ll start easy with a little test. Find out the location of his next building site and reply to this e-mail. You have three days. If you fail, you will be punished.
Don’t fuck up,
The Taskmaster
Seventeen years ago? She swallowed. She had been so certain only her brother knew what happened that summer. If the person who sent the e-mail had any idea, it could not only damage her life and her brother’s, but also ruin the reputation her father had worked so hard for.
The e-mail address was generic. She drummed her fingers on her desk and tried to think of someone she knew that could discreetly look into who it belonged to. The problem was she’d have to let them read the e-mail and she did not want to go into what happened that summer seventeen years ago.
Damn it.
She wasn’t going to the police, obviously. Not without thinking this through more. And she wasn’t about to give into the demands. Which left her doing nothing.
It was probably no more than a game of chicken and she wasn’t interested in playing. With a nod of her head and few quick keystrokes, she deleted the e-mail.
She tried not to think of it in the days that followed, but it was difficult. She kept wondering who it could be, what exactly they knew, and what they were going to do at the end of three days. Hadn’t she always heard that you weren’t supposed to give in to blackmail demands? That things would only escalate?
