The place was amazing. Rayne loved it. It was located on the outskirts of Denver and had enough land for the patients to roam around outside without getting lost. There was a small pond they could use for canoeing, and soon there would be horses and other animals in the barn.
Rayne was as anxious for the barn to be finished as Edward. “Have you had lunch yet?” she asked. Rayne had come here with her father for several years before she moved to Miami, and after she returned to Denver, she continued in her father’s footsteps. Most of the patients probably didn’t remember her from one week to the next, but if she made anyone feel good for a few hours, it was worth it.
“Yep. Burger. Fries. The food here sucks, though. I’d rather get a hotdog from a vendor on a street corner.”
“Where are you from again, Edward?”
He stood taller, losing the frown and grinning. “New York City, of course. Can’t you tell by my accent?”
She wondered if Edward had ever even been to New York City. Unlikely. Nor did he have an accent. “Of course,” she responded. “I get confused between the different accents in the New York area.”
He seemed satisfied with that answer. “You staying a while? We could play checkers.”
“Sounds like fun.” Just as she’d anticipated. If she remembered correctly, the last time she’d seen Edward, they had played checkers for hours. And he’d beat her numerous times.
It was going to be a good day.
Chapter 8
One week later…
* * *
Rayne had been so busy every day for the past week that she hadn’t had much time to ponder her night with Colin. No, that was a lie. She’d intentionally not permitted herself to think about that night. If she did, she would stress out.
Instead, she’d buried herself in work, spending Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in the office with her regular paying clients and Tuesday and Thursday at two of the local women’s shelters. She’d worked long hours every day, spent Wednesday evening at St. Joseph’s and then half the day on Saturday too.
Now, it was Sunday. She was exhausted, and she intended to spend the day curled up on her couch with a book.
Tea in hand, she lowered herself onto the soft leather in her father’s library, pulled a throw blanket her mother had knitted years ago over her legs, and picked up the book she’d been intending to read for months.
No sooner had she gotten started than her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
She sighed and grabbed the cell from the coffee table. When she saw the text, she bit her lip.
Hey, Rayne. You haven’t called. I assume you’re off today and home? Your self-defense classes are officially commencing whether you want to admit the need or not. Sundays are perfect. What time should I be there?
She stared at the phone, forcing oxygen into her lungs. Not only had she not spoken to Colin all week, but she hadn’t heard from his sister either. She wasn’t in the habit of pestering clients in general anyway, but in this particular case, she knew Colin was on top of London. There was no need to pressure the woman to file for divorce if she wasn’t ready.
Still staring at his message, she pondered her response.
“Bossy,” she muttered, knowing his bossiness was one of his most attractive qualities even if she was loathe to admit it.
Sitting here on the sofa in leggings and a soft worn T-shirt, she looked like someone who might be inclined to work out at some point, but alas, she was not.
She smiled as she texted him back.
Sundays are perfect. You’re right about that. For reading. Not for sweating.
Immediately the three dots popped up, indicating he was typing a response. Why did this make her heart beat faster? She had effectively ignored her attraction to him for seven days. Now he was right back under her skin.
Reading is good for the mind. Sweating is good for the body. You can do both. Trust me. Eleven o’clock.
He didn’t even add a question mark. Cocky.
Also, it was already ten thirty, so he was heading toward her soon.
Her first thought was that she hadn’t showered. Her second thought was that she had on no makeup and her hair was in a knot on top of her head. Her third thought was who the fuck cared because she hadn’t invited him over. Her fourth thought was that her panties were now wet and her nipples were tight.
She groaned, dropping the phone back on the coffee table and setting the book next to it. There was no sense starting the volume now, besides, how would she be able to concentrate on the words?
She stared out the row of long windows at the front yard, noting the wind was blowing the branches of the old oak tree. The leaves had begun to turn colors. Her favorite time of year. It was apparently windy outside, and probably chilly as well.
She hadn’t intended to find out. She’d intended to stay inside all day. That idea hadn’t necessarily changed, but the prospect of keeping her ass parked on the sofa seemed to be in question now.
A knock at the door made her jump in her seat. Had it already been a half an hour? Certainly possible.
She shoved the blanket aside and padded on bare feet to the front door. Already, her nerves had the best of her. This was ridiculous. It was just Colin. A man she knew. A man who thought she needed to learn self-defense.
A man she’d had inside her giving her more orgasms than she could count last week.
When she pulled the door open, she found him standing on the front stoop holding a large bag. He was dressed in fancy gray sweats that hugged his legs, a matching jacket, and tennis shoes. Under the jacket, he wore a navy T-shirt. He was grinning. “See, you’re already dressed for a workout.”
She stepped back, letting him in. “About that…”
He shook his head as he shut the door behind him. “Non-negotiable.”
“Colin, I’m not particularly athletic.” She pointed toward the music room behind him. “Piano lessons were more my speed.”
“I don’t need you to be athletic, Rayne. I need you to be safe and fit in case someone attacks you.”
He was incredibly hung up on self-defense, and maybe she was being naïve. After all, he was right about one thing—her job could eventually prove dangerous, especially when women’s shelters were involved.
She sighed, her shoulders dropping. He was not going to give this up. What was his aim? It would seem from his raised eyebrows and the bag he was carrying that his goal was truly to help her be safer. He’d earned the right to be concerned about the women in his life after what London had been through. His overprotectiveness shouldn’t surprise her. She’d be a fool to turn him down.
On the other hand, how the hell was she going to work with a man she’d rather have inside her? One she’d rather be submitting to. One who made her nipples pebble and her pussy wet.
This had disaster written all over it.
He was waiting. In the manner of a Dom. As if he’d told her to do something and now she was hedging.
A chill went down her spine. Was he dominating her? Even now? He hadn’t said as much, but perhaps he didn’t have the ability not to be dominating her. Or anyone for that matter. It was in his nature.
Yeah, disaster. Stamped and sealed.
“Okay,” she stated reluctantly. If he wanted her to add Sir, she would be in trouble.
“Good. Now, I realize you don’t have proper gym equipment, but we’ll start today with regular household items you can use to strengthen your muscles.” He lifted the bag. “I brought a few things also.”
She blew out a long breath and with even greater reluctance added, “I have a gym.”
He flinched. “You have a gym. Here. In the house.” Not questions. Statements. Shocked statements.
“Yeah.” She turned around and led him from the room, certain this day was going to end very far from her favor. She padded down the hall toward the kitchen. He’d seen all of the obvious parts of the house last weekend. Today he was going to see more. It was unavoidable.
On the other side of the kitchen was a sunroom he hadn’t been in and next to that room was a workout room. She turned toward him before opening the door. “I’m doing this for you because you’re probably right, though I’m reluctant to admit it. I appreciate you taking the time to give me some pointers. But I need you to respect my privacy at the same time. If you start firing questions at me about my childhood, I will withdraw, and this relationship, such as it is, will be over.”
He nodded, his expression sober. “Understood.”
She opened the door with a deep inhale and led him inside. She hadn’t been in this room in a long time. It wouldn’t be dusty because she did have a service that came once a month to clean, but it would be unused.
Colin gave a low whistle as she turned to face him. His gaze was wide, and he started roaming around the space. “Your family doesn’t fuck around when it comes to workout equipment.” His fingers grazed over a weight bench and then moved on to some sort of leg machine.
She assumed it was all top-of-the-line. Most of her father’s purchases were, though she doubted her father had ever been in the room. She’d never seen him in there.
“Do you have some tennis shoes?” Colin asked.
“Yeah. Be right back.” She left him there and rushed from the room. She took the stairs two at a time, hurrying for some irrational reason, as if Colin would find the secrets to the universe if she were gone too long.
Two minutes later, she was back, tennis shoes on.
Colin had dropped his bag on the floor in the middle of the room. It was open, and a few items were scattered on the matted floor next to it.
“What apparatus do you want me to torture myself with first?” she asked sarcastically.
“None, actually. This is such a nice large space. I think we’ll work on boxing first.”
She lurched back a step. “Boxing? Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope. It’s excellent exercise, and it will help you learn to get your hands up in a position that might one day save your life.”
“Great,” she murmured. Boxing. “I hope you aren’t planning on punching or kicking me because I do have my limits. Even in the BDSM world.” She tried to sound light and teasing. The truth was, she was nervous.
He chuckled and then took her hand and dragged her into the center of the mat. Little did he know, this room had been used for boxing. She’d seen it before.
She wasn’t ignorant on the subject. She knew women did kickboxing and stuff to stay fit, but she hadn’t ever been one of them. Hell, she’d never even been a jogger or done aerobics.
When he had her situated where he wanted her, he glanced up and down her frame, his brow furrowed, scrutinizing her. He plucked the corner of her T-shirt. “Do you have a sports bra on under that?”
“Yes.” They were comfortable. She wore them on the weekends.
“Good. Take off the T-shirt for me. It will be hard for me to help you with your form if you’re wearing something baggy.”
She took another deep breath and then lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her in a black sports bra and tight black stretch pants. Her belly was exposed. It shouldn’t matter. Women wore less than that to get the mail. The only skin she was showing was her stomach and her lower back.
But it did matter because she knew he could perfectly see the shape of her breasts and the press of her nipples against the tight spandex. It made her self-conscious.
Colin circled her and then stopped in front of her again. “Humor me.”
“Okaaay.”
“I think you’ll do better if you submit to me.”
She flinched.
He held out both hands. “I don’t mean sexually. I just mean, trust me to control your workouts. Do as I say. Be respectful. Address me appropriately when we’re working. You’ll get better results than if you go about it as if it were a joke. Submitting to me will force you to take things seriously.”
She stared at him, breathing shallowly, wondering if he had a point. Wondering if there was such a thing as submitting to him in a manner that was not sexual. Wondering if she would survive this intact.
“Do all your clients submit to you?”
He smirked. “Fuck no. Just you.”
She pondered that for a moment. “Okay…Sir.”
“Great. Now. I want you to hold your arms up like this.” He demonstrated the position he wanted her to be in with raised arms, elbows bent, fists loose, forearms in front of her.
She tried to imitate his stance, but apparently came up lacking because he adjusted nearly every single muscle in her body. When he dipped to separate her feet and then her legs, she held her breath.
He circled behind her next and set his hands on her waist, pulling her body up straighter. Lastly, he took her chin in his fingers and angled her face. “Good. Now loosen up. Bounce a little. Get a feel for this position.”
“Seriously?” she joked, thinking that if she moved even an inch in any direction, she would never be able to hold this position.
He grabbed her chin again and met her gaze, brows lifted.
“Sorry, Sir.”
“I thought so. Let’s get started.”
Chapter 9
If Rayne thought she was out of her element, which was obvious from her every move, she had nothing on Colin. He was way out of his comfort zone. Not from the standpoint of training her to box or even getting her in shape, but because he hadn’t intended to dominate her.
That part had just happened organically. He wasn’t sorry, but he was concerned about his reaction to seeing her and being in the room with her. She was going to be the cause of dozens of cold showers in the near future.
Because, even though he’d made the rash decision to dominate her, he had no intention of taking this any further. The ball was in her court where sex was concerned. For one thing, she needed to be the one to address the issue of the next time they had sex. Or even scened.
For another thing, she needed to give him far more about herself than she had in order for him to trust her. He knew very little, and she’d made it very clear he was not permitted to ask.
He would not risk alienating her by pushing her on the subject, but he also wouldn’t be having sex with her again or taking her out on a date or doing a scene with her.
Unless he counted this current situation a scene, which it arguably was, especially if she was as aroused as he suspected. The woman could not submit to him without getting aroused.
Perhaps, if he wanted to put himself out there, his best angle would be to give her a bit more information about himself. Maybe if he opened up, shared his experiences where Sarah was concerned, she would understand him better, or even give him a piece of herself. It might not be a bad idea. He let it stew in his mind while he put her through the workout.
For the next thirty minutes, he ran her through several positions and even taught her how to jab while bouncing on her feet. She wasn’t particularly coordinated, but she would get there. It was new to her. He’d worked with plenty of people for whom boxing was new. She wasn’t the worst.
Perhaps it was unfair of him to take advantage of this situation to attempt to make her hum for him, but he did it anyway, never missing an opportunity to adjust her arms, her hips, her thighs. Far more than necessary.
He loved touching her. Anywhere. Everywhere. And she enjoyed being touched too. Her breath hitched every time. Occasionally she purred.
Thirty minutes was enough cardio. Any more would leave her too sore to agree to work out with him again.
She was clearly tired. A sheen of sweat coated her shoulders and her belly. He would give anything to lick it off, but alas, not in the cards.
He’d brought several items he normally used for strength training in the event the client didn’t have their own equipment. It was always possible to improvise. He decided to demonstrate a few things for her and leave her at least some resistance bands. They were less intimidating than weights.
While she took a long drin
k of water, he grabbed a purple band. “I want you to start working your arms during the week. One day a week isn’t enough to get you to the point where you’re stronger. I’ll come on Sunday mornings, but three other days this first week you need to do some exercises.”
She lifted a brow. “When did I commit to more than this one class?”
He handed her the purple band and then grabbed the red one for himself. “I committed you. Stop arguing. This is about your safety. Rayne, a jilted husband approached you in the parking lot. Sure, you got away, but that could have gone a totally different direction, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He knew he could get her on that subject. Perhaps he wasn’t playing fair, but too bad. “First, grab the handles on both ends, drop the center, and set your foot on the loop to hold it steady.”
She imitated him.
“Perfect.” He continued to show her how to pull on the band in several different directions to get a good arm workout.
“I’m going to die by Tuesday, Sir.”
“Don’t get sassy. You’re not going to die.” He set the bands aside, knowing he needed to leave soon. He could see her once a week under the guise of training her, but he needed her to make the next move. If she wanted more, she was going to have to ask for it. “You did good. Keep up the exercises I showed you every other day, and try to get some cardio in. We’ll do this again next week.” He headed for the door.
She hesitated before he heard her following him. “You’re leaving?”
He smiled, glad she couldn’t see his face. “Yep.”
“Right. Okay.” She hurried to catch up with him. “Uh, how is your sister? I haven’t heard from her.”
Colin turned around when he reached the door. “She’s withdrawn. Scared. I’m trying to convince her to see a counselor. She was with Louis five years. She’s a mess. The man did a lot of damage to her. It will take some time to undo it.”
Mastering Rayne: Club Zodiac, Book Four Page 8
