by Deana Birch
She blinked several times but lifted her gaze.
Still quiet, he said, “Don’t shut me out, Claire.”
She sniffled and new tears filled the corners of her eyes.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
A lone drop made its way to the pillow beneath her cheek and the urge to wipe it away tore through him. But she’d said she didn’t want to be touched and that needed to be respected.
“You can trust me. Remember, I serve you.” He gave the smallest of smiles.
She closed her eyes, and the space the lids created between them was unbearable.
“I’m not leaving you.” There was no need for an ‘until’ or an ‘if you don’t’. His words were his bond and they came free of ultimatum. He repeated them, just above a whisper.
“It’s taking everything I have not to turn away from you right now,” she said slowly.
“I know.” Reaching out and touching her rang selfish. What she needed was his steady voice. “And I’m so proud of you for facing me, for facing this. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving you, Claire.”
She gripped the pillow tighter and opened her eyes before closing them again.
“I don’t want to go home. I’m not ready to face the memories.”
He smiled. There was absolutely zero chance of him driving her home in her current state. At least that battle wouldn’t need to be fought.
“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”
She shook her head no. Why did that pester him? It was her desire. Respecting it was mandatory.
Her eyes opened and their anguish broke his throbbing heart.
With the first sign of clarity on her face, she said, “I need to get out of this room.”
She also needed to sleep, most likely eat and stay close to him.
Luca trailed his arms to the edge of the bed as he leaned back. Relieved to have her regard, he said, “I’m not leaving you.”
He stood and fetched the robe from next to the shower in the bathroom. Back by her side, he laid it on the bed.
“Do you want some help with that?” He nodded to the robe.
Claire stared at the white terry fabric, signaled no and gingerly put it on. Still no touching.
“No sudden movements, cara. Your head must be spinning.”
Her hands shook as she tied the belt at her waist.
“Follow me.” It came as no surprise to Luca that the one thing she responded to was commands.
She shuffled behind him, out of the room and up the elevator to his condo. The first light of the day hinted from the wall of windows.
“Couch,” he said with a tilt of his head.
Her zombie-like walk continued to her destination. As she curled up in the corner of the plush L, he reached for the fur throw blanket. Without contact, he covered her and sat at one of the ends.
She blinked with heavy eyelids.
“Sleep, cara. I’m not leaving you.”
Order given, his precious sotto obeyed. Her head dropped on the back of the sofa and this time he welcomed the closing of her eyes. Luca swiveled his legs onto the leather and crossed them at the ankles.
Over the years, he’d seen subs with all kinds of issues and subs with just a healthy curiosity about sex, but a widow was a first. He’d assumed that grief, in all its forms, was universal. Losing his mother had created a hollow space in his heart that even his nonna couldn’t fill, but he’d never really thought about how his mother’s death had impacted his father.
Sure, Piero had been sad. But had he been as devastated as Claire? Would his father have cried after sleeping with one of the many women who had served Luca breakfast on the mornings after their loud romp in the bedroom across the hall?
Luca liked to think he’d been conceived out of love, but if loss was a measure of greatness, what Claire’d had with her husband must have been more profound than his parents’ relationship.
Claire, whose breathing had calmed, who might wake up and no longer wish to be his.
He retraced the previous week and analyzed his every move. He must have done something wrong. Their first sexual encounter had ended with her no longer wanting to be touched by him.
His head bobbed a few times until he surrendered to his own sleep. He would not leave Claire.
* * * *
A warm hand met his cool chest and woke him with a start. The light from the windows stung his eyes and Claire snuggled into him, complete with the blanket under her chin. Destabilized from his inability to touch her, he willed his hands to stay down.
Her shoulder pushed into his stomach and she laid her head on his chest. It was rare for Luca Bernardi to not know his next move. So—as was the case with his cara—he waited.
In a whisper, she said, “I’m so sorry, Luca. I never anticipated something like that happening.”
Lord, how he wanted to gently kiss the top of her head. Even without the faint scent of her perfume, she was intoxicating.
He cleared his dry throat. “I told you. You don’t need to be sorry. How are you feeling?”
“Better. C-confused, maybe.”
The indecisiveness was noted but the correction would have to be put on hold—or perhaps never mentioned. It wasn’t clear if he would ever see his sotto on her knees in all her beauty again. While the healing aspects of the Dom/sub relationship were many, readiness and timing were essential elements of its foundation.
And while he’d thought Claire was ready, the pain of her loss had been greater than he’d anticipated—an unfortunate error on his part and one he was sure would rob him of future moments he had been looking forward to and planning and randomly smiling about just walking down the streets of Zurich.
“What has you confused, cara?”
She brushed her cheek a little harder into his skin.
“This tugging of past and present. My heart and my body. It’s left my mind…blurry.”
“Well, if it helps your mind, you should know that there’s nothing blurry here. I very clearly see an intelligent, successful woman seeking guidance for something that suits her perfectly. And it’s an honor that she’s allowed me the week behind us.” Again, Luca craved initiating contact to reinforce his words, but he remained true to her desires.
He continued, “And look at the progress you’ve made in one week. You’re respecting time for others and yourself. And you’re taking better care of your body. Not all subs succeed to these levels. There are many who find it to be a game and lack the commitment you’ve shown. I know I’m proud of you, Claire. But you should be proud of yourself as well.”
She shifted her head and focused on the bright sky from the window.
After a few minutes she said, “I thought it would be just sex. And I thought I was ready for that. But when you lay it out like that, I see how wrong I was. It’s not just sex. And I wasn’t ready for it to be so profound.”
Luca closed his eyes. She’d said it. She wasn’t ready. And even though she was lying on his stomach, she was slipping away.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I made a mistake. But I was afraid if I didn’t agree, you would find someone else who would. I understand if you’d like to stop.”
Her silence brought more torment. But he would not leave her or ask her to move—no matter which path she chose.
Finally, she asked, “Is that why you aren’t touching me? Kissing me? Because we’re done?”
“Cara,” he said and was pleased that one word had brought back her lovely smile, “you told me not to touch you. I’m respecting your wishes. You hold the power, little one. Not me.”
She popped up and stared him in the eyes. Her face bore the first signs of normalcy in hours. “I never said that! You touching me is what gets me to work on time.” She smiled.
The stress fell from Luca’s shoulders and he rounded his stiff neck.
“You did. And you hit me twice last night. Three times I would have forgiven, but twice…” He th
ought about teasing punishment but wasn’t sure if it would be an option.
“Ah, your love of the number three.” Claire playfully tapped his bare shoulder. “Better?”
“So much.” He grinned. The glimmer in her eyes had returned. Whether or not she was going to continue remained unknown, but at least she was stable and had survived her mighty drop. That was everything.
She squinted and tilted her head. “How long does aftercare last?”
“As long as it takes.”
“In that case, I need more. I need your arms around me.” Claire returned to her previous position, her cheek just above his heart.
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed just a little. After a kiss on the top of her head, he rubbed his beard on her temple.
“Then I’m going to need breakfast.”
His scoff shifted to an airy chuckle.
“My, my, we are a demanding little sub in the morning. Lucky for you, feeding you gives me great pleasure.”
“Lucky for you it’s not the other way around or you’d be eating burnt toast and raw eggs.”
Chapter Sixteen
Claire
Luca’s words played in her head for the hundredth time since he’d dropped her off at home two days before. What had been the thing Nanny Helen had compared her to when she’d repeated the same pleas for an extra cookie after dinner? Oh yes, a broken record. Luca was a broken record in her brain. A deep, deliciously seductive one.
His eyes had burned with sincerity and he’d held her hands firmly between his. “I cannot guarantee this won’t happen again, cara. In fact, I am confident it will. Although next time we will both be far better prepared.” He reached up to cup her cheek. “But with this new information in mind, you need to once again decide.”
She opened her mouth to object. Claire Favre wasn’t some indecisive little debutante. She knew what she wanted, what she needed, for this stage in her life. But his fingers slid to cover her lips before she could utter a word of protest.
“Consider each step carefully, cara. If we continue, our physical interactions will only increase.” The corners of his mouth twitched, and the familiar butterfly symphony played in her stomach, the cadence of their wings causing a small shiver to race through her body. “With the amount of times I’ve caught those stunning eyes rolling, I’m certain a little physical punishment will be on our training schedule soon. Our next steps will be even more intense than those we’ve taken. I want—I need—you to be certain this is what you want. I need you to choose me again, cara.”
He pressed his lips against her forehead then he walked away. A smile curved her mouth. She didn’t miss the fact that he’d waited in his idling Maserati until she’d entered her house and closed the door behind her.
She sighed, tucked the knitted purple blanket under her chin and snuggled deeper into the couch. Every part of her was still locked in a battle two days later. Loyalty versus discovery.
The slamming of her front door made her jump and dragged her back into the present. Julien stood in the doorway between the living room and the front entry with his hands on his hips, breathing heavier than if he’d just competed in the Ironman. “Since you seem to still be alive, would you care to explain exactly why you didn’t come into the office today or answer your fucking phone? Dammit, Claire, I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Julien’s admonitions restarted the flood of tears she’d barely been able to contain. Before the first drop landed on her blanket, Julien’s mask of anger melted and he knelt on the floor in front of her. He gripped her hands tightly. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I was just so scared when you didn’t show up at the office and didn’t answer your phone and—”
Claire shook her head vigorously, a blonde lock escaping the messy bun she had piled on top of her head. “It’s not that. It’s not you. It’s… It’s…” A sob choked off her words. She pulled her hands free from his and threw her arms around his neck. She needed to talk. She needed advice… and if not Julien, then who? “I had sex with him, Julien.” She whispered the words into his neck like a dark confession.
He squeezed her waist before moving his hands to push her away slightly and squinted. “Was it that bad? Did he hurt you?” His jaw tightened. “Did he force you?”
Claire’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “No!” The need to defend Luca both shocked and confused her. “No, he would never. He was…”
Luca’s unwavering respect and persistent concern flashed through her mind again.
“He was perfect.”
A deep V formed between Julien’s eyebrows. “But?”
She disentangled herself and settled against the back of the couch as Julien took a seat on the coffee table right in front of her. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I lost it, Julien. One minute he was this sexy Italian god who’d brought me pleasure I’d never dreamed possible and the next…” She lifted her hands helplessly. “I lost it. I sobbed. I screamed. I… I pushed him away in every possible way.”
Julien held up his index finger. “First, we will be revisiting that whole pleasure thing.” Claire twisted her lips to side in an irritated half smile. “Second, talk to me, sweetie.” He reclaimed both of the hands she’d been wringing in her lap.
A stray tear rolled down her cheek unchecked. “It was Liam. I was lying there and Luca was being…Luca, holding me and telling me everything I didn’t know I needed to hear. The next thing I knew, I couldn’t think of anything but Liam.” Claire stuck out her lower lip and furrowed her brow. “I started wondering if he’d be disappointed in me, if he’d be hurt that I’d had sex with someone else. But the worst part of all was that until that moment, I hadn’t thought about him in hours. I was so completely consumed by Luca that I forgot about my fucking husband.”
Julien moved to sit on the couch, pulling her back against his side and sliding an arm around her waist. “Liam was the best thing that could’ve happened to you when you were at University. He gave you everything your parents had withheld—unconditional love, open affection and the kind of appreciation you deserve.”
Claire’s cheeks flamed at the compliments and the mantle of guilt on her shoulders grew even heavier. He was right. Liam was the most wonderful thing to have happened to her. How could she betray him in this way?
Julien stroked her forearm, moving his thumb in soothing circles, oblivious to her building inner turmoil. “But there is nothing more in this world Liam wanted than to see you happy. And, sweetie, Luca makes you happy. He brings a light to your eyes that has been missing since Liam was first diagnosed.” He pressed his lips against the crown of her head. “Enjoy this, enjoy him, for as long as he’s in your life. Don’t block him out and don’t limit…whatever this is.”
Claire swallowed and digested everything Julien had said. The near-constant anxiety and shame she’d battled for two days slowly began to disappear. She squeezed the arm that still held her. “Could you just pretend to not know me better than I know myself?”
He chuckled. “I’ll fake almost anything for you, darling.” He straightened behind her. “And speaking of faking it—which I’m sure you didn’t have to do—I think I’ve earned all the tasty details… Wait!”
Julien scrambled off the couch, causing Claire’s head to collide with the arm. “What the hell, Julien?”
“We need wine for this,” he called from the kitchen right before a loud cork pop echoed into the living room.
* * * *
The nondescript simplicity of the main floor of Luca’s club never ceased to amuse Claire, now that she knew what the subsequent floors contained. Her heart sped up as she approached the glossy bar, gratitude washing over her at seeing a familiar face on the opposite side. “Guten abend, Max.”
His warm brown eyes crinkled. “Guten abend, Ms. Favre. Can I get you something to drink?”
Claire shook her head, tapping her fingers against the smooth wooden surface and shifting her balance from one spindly go
ld heel to the other. “I’m looking for Luca, er…Mr. Bernardi.”
Amusement danced across the man’s face and he nodded toward the staircase. “He just went upstairs to make his rounds. I’ll call him down to—”
“That’s not necessary. I can find him.” She smiled and the familiar excitement bubbled as her mind raced with the possibilities of what she’d see upstairs tonight.
Max’s mouth turned down. “At least allow one of the security team walk you up and help you find him. It’s…pretty busy tonight.”
Claire waved him off with one hand, smoothing the other down the front of her cherry red dress. “I know my way around. Thanks.” Before the overzealous bartender could offer any additional arguments, she slowly ascended the stairs.
As soon as her foot reached the top step, a curvy brunette—clad in a black leather bustier and fishnet stockings—crossed in front of her, pulling an ebony leash studded with silver rivets, attached to a young blond man wearing nothing more than a burgundy thong. Claire swallowed, the sudden desire for more than what she’d experienced overwhelming her. Maybe she would have to beg Luca for that kind of training.
Claire scanned the crowd before turning to the left and beginning her search in earnest, much less confident than she had been. Perhaps she should have let Max call Luca for her. But she wanted to surprise him and…
“Well, well, lovely to see you again.”
The voice from behind her right shoulder was familiar. When she spun on her heel, she frowned. The man from the bar the other day, the one Luca clearly didn’t like, was standing with a hand in one of his pants pockets and a charming grin on his face. Nathan? Nick? As soon as Luca had returned she’d forgotten his name.
Years of breeding and business helped her affect a mostly genuine smile. “Yes, hello. I’m just looking for Luca.”
A look of horror passed across his face. “Looking for him? He didn’t accompany you? That isn’t very good Dom behavior.” He shook his head and casually walked toward her.
Claire took an involuntary step back and cursed the wall her ass collided with. He continued moving closer, boxing her in. “He is an excellent Dom. And he didn’t know I was coming tonight.”
