His intentions had been twofold. On the one hand, he recognized that it would help greatly if he wore her down to the point that it became her idea to go out with him instead of the other way around. He knew he frustrated her with his presence because he could see it in her eyes.
On the other hand, he was still in the same damn position at work as a detective who could easily be sent out on an undercover assignment without notice. The thought of luring her in and then possibly ruining any headway with an impromptu disappearance made his stomach roil.
He wasn’t undercover on his current case, but it was only a matter of time before it happened again. The perp he was after this month was oblivious to the fact that Pierce was following him. Pierce didn’t need to go deep undercover on this one. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Pierce wasn’t a teenager. The fucker only sold to kids.
Pierce shook his head and groaned. He’d vowed to never treat a woman the same way he’d treated his ex-wife. It wasn’t fair to lure someone into a relationship and then leave them hanging, often for months at a time.
He would never do that to another woman, but the clock was ticking. He knew his actions were starting to push London toward angry instead of interested. He needed to face her. Perhaps he could suggest a scene and then see where it led. It wouldn’t matter a bit if he managed to get a promotion at work if in the end she turned him down because he took too long to make a move.
Tomorrow, he would show up at her apartment and get her to soften up to him. He had to. If he failed… He shuddered. It wasn’t an option.
London was in the middle of doing laundry the next morning when she heard a knock at the door. She quickly turned on the washer and then headed through the kitchen toward the door.
A peek in the peephole surprised her.
Pierce stood on the other side.
She glanced down at herself. She was a hot mess. It was a Sunday morning. Barely eleven. She’d been cleaning the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen for two hours. Probably out of frustration. Cleaning wasn’t usually her thing. She had on yoga pants and a long T-shirt. Feet bare. Hair in a messy bun.
She shook her concern from her mind. It shouldn’t matter a bit how she looked. She was not interested in impressing Pierce Titus.
Right. Nice pep talk, London.
Finally, she opened the door.
Pierce smiled and held out box.
She took it from him, realizing it contained her favorite doughnuts. “Thanks. What are you doing here?” She stepped back to let him enter.
He followed her inside and glanced around. “I was in the area and thought maybe you’d be hungry.”
“So you brought me doughnuts?”
He shrugged, tucking the tips of his fingers in his jeans. “Seemed like a nice gesture. I remembered you like them.”
She opened the box to find six doughnuts, all different. He had remembered correctly. She turned around to set them on kitchen counter before aiming for the coffee pot and starting a new pot. If they were going to ruin lunch, they at least needed coffee to go with the doughnuts.
While the coffee started brewing, she turned around to find Pierce leaning against her kitchen counter just a few feet away. His arms were crossed, and he was watching her closely.
She decided now was a good time to confront him. “Did you tell my friends at Zodiac to stop playing with me?”
He shook his head. “Nope. What do you mean? You do scenes with various Doms every time you’re there. I’ve seen you.”
“Of course you have. You’ve done more than that. You stand close enough to hear me gasp, but you know that’s not what I’m talking about. I never do gasp because somehow you managed to get every member of the club to keep their hands off me.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone not to play with you.”
She narrowed her gaze. He was infuriating. “You didn’t have to. Instead, you pissed a circle around me so that no one else would dare try to get me off.”
He gave her a half grin. “Pissed a circle?”
She stepped closer and poked him several times in the chest. “That’s what it feels like. I’m not a dog, Pierce. You can’t just claim me and then growl at everyone when they get near.” She could tell by his lack of reaction that he’d done exactly that, and he knew it.
He grabbed her finger and held it in his fist, pressing her hand against his pecs.
Every part of her body lit up at the first real contact she’d had with him in a long time. She tugged on her hand to break the connection, but instead, he pulled her closer so quick that she fell into him.
His free hand went to her lower back as all her body weight leaned into his torso. When she tipped her head back, he wasted no time lowering his lips to hers.
His actions were so unexpected that she didn’t have a second to disagree with this decision. Her lips argued that the attention was beyond desired, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the first real kiss she’d had in months. Almost seven of them. Even when she’d had sex, she’d never gotten so intimately involved with anyone at the club that they exchanged heated kisses.
Nothing like this one. Nothing like the one she remembered from the last time he’d been inside her apartment. She melted against him, flattening her palm on his chest and then smoothing it around to his back while her other hand joined on his other side.
His hands came to her shoulders and held her close at the same time. Damn. His lips. God she’d missed this kind of contact. He tipped his head to one side and licked the seam of her lips until she opened for him. And then he was inside, tasting, teasing, tempting.
She moaned into his mouth, her fingers gripping his back. Yes. This was how she remembered kissing him every time she allowed herself to relive that night. In moments, she wanted more. Anything. Everything. She explored the contours of his back with her palms as her body came alive in a way she also hadn’t experienced with anyone since she’d last been with Pierce.
Sex was nothing but sex with other men. Even with Doms. She had an itch. She found someone to scratch it. Or she did until Pierce came back to town and scared every other man away from her.
She broke free on that thought and jerked her head back a few inches. “You don’t play fair.”
He licked his lips. “I’m not playing.”
Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her nipples hard pebbles. What if she stripped her clothes off right here? Would he turn her down or fuck her until she was satisfied in a way she sensed only he could accomplish?
“I think the coffee’s ready,” he said as he gently righted her and then waited for her to steady before releasing her to leave her standing in that spot.
She turned around to watch him pour the coffee in two cups. He added a scoop of sugar and a splash of cream to hers and stirred. Something about the fact that he remembered how she took her coffee made her shiver.
He carried the two mugs to her small table and grabbed the doughnuts before finally nodding toward the snack as he took a seat. “Come on. They’re best while they’re fresh.”
She shuffled to the chair across from him and sat, trying hard to glare at him. “Seriously? You’re just going to waltz in here with my favorite vice, kiss me until my knees are weak, and then pretend it’s no big deal?”
He took a sip of coffee and then smiled. “Did I make your knees weak?”
She sighed heavily. “You know you did. Just like you know you scared everyone else into keeping their hands to themselves.” She should be angry. Part of her was, but the rest of her was simply too aroused to react appropriately.
He ignored her and glanced around her apartment. His gaze hesitated at the open laundry room door where the hum of the dryer and the slight rumbling of the washer made their presence known. “I’m curious, which woman are you normally? The tidy one who has everything in its place like today or the messy one who hadn’t noticed or cared that her room was a war zone the last time I was here?”
She shot him a narrow-eyed l
ook. “Does it matter?”
“Nope. Just curious.” He opened the box and picked up a doughnut, grinning around the first bite.
“I was bored this morning,” she stated as an answer.
He smiled in a way that told her he was fighting laughter. “Got it.”
For the love of all that was holy, she had no idea why she felt the need to expand on her comment, but it seemed imperative that he understand her better. “I don’t clean. Not usually. Louis demanded I keep everything perfect and in its place. If I didn’t, he lost his shit with me. And by perfect, you can’t possibly imagine what I’m talking about. Shoes lined up. Clothes ironed. Hangers straight.” She grabbed a doughnut from the box, unable to resist.
He cringed.
“So, out of defiance, I don’t clean often. Not until the apartment starts to make me crazy.”
“Were you inherently tidy before you met him?”
She thought about that and then shrugged. “I guess. I was at least normal, I suppose. Now I’m a little obsessively broken in the sense that I find myself intentionally refusing to put anything away as if to spite a dead man.”
“Makes sense.” He finished off his doughnut and reached for another. “Let’s go for a walk in the park.”
“What makes you think I’m even available?”
“Are you?” He lifted a brow.
She finished her damn doughnut and took another sip of her perfectly sweetened coffee. “Maybe.”
“It’s not a date. Just two friends hanging out on a Sunday afternoon.”
She eyed him skeptically, knowing he was full of shit. However, he’d lit a fire in her, and now she wanted more. Maybe if she played her cards right, he would bring her back to her apartment later and have sex with her.
Nevertheless, she wanted to be sure he wasn’t counting on more from her than she’d been super clear she was willing to give. “I could do with a little exercise, but later I need to study, and tonight I have to work.”
“At the bar.”
“Yes.”
“How’s that going?”
“Eh. It keeps me busy. I only work there two nights a week.”
“You can’t possibly make much money on a Sunday night.”
She shook her head. “I don’t, but it’s entertaining.”
He slowly smiled, making her suspicious. “Maybe I should check out this bar you’re working at. What’s it called?”
She shook her head. “You definitely should not come to my place of work and scare off my customers with your glares and brooding.”
He chuckled as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “I promise not to heckle anyone.”
She loved the sound of his laughter, partly because Louis never laughed a single day in their last few years together, and partly because Pierce could be so easygoing and relaxed. It was an attractive trait. She returned his smile. “And I promise not to tell you where I work, so it won’t be a problem.”
Chapter 8
London ate those words. She ate a lot of words that day. Luckily most of them were in her head.
After bundling up against the winter chill, they went for that promised walk in a nearby park. She even let Pierce hold her hand when he casually reached for hers and didn’t let go.
They wandered in the cold for over an hour, and then they stopped for a light lunch at a local sandwich shop she had never been to. The food was good. The company was better. He didn’t pressure her or mention a word about dating or the club or anything that might make her hackles rise.
When they returned to her apartment, she expected him to go home, but instead, he took up residence on her sofa while she grabbed her computer and spread out to get some homework done at her kitchen table. This was her second semester, but she was easing into the workload gradually. She’d only taken two classes in the fall and then again this spring.
Poetry. She was beginning to question her choices. Why the hell was she getting a masters in poetry again? Years ago, it had been a dream. Today, she was less certain it still appealed to her. Especially while she tried to concentrate on iambic pentameter with Pierce sitting yards away reading a book on his phone.
She should have gotten a crimp in her neck for as often as she turned to stare at his profile. He left her alone to study, just as he’d said he would, but she spent the time restlessly wishing he would pounce on her instead of exercising such chivalry.
Eventually, when words wouldn’t come to her, she picked up her favorite book of poems and joined Pierce on the couch. She preferred reading poetry over writing it any day. It was soothing.
It had grown dark before she needed to get to work, and Pierce had nagged her about where she worked until she gave him the name of the bar—Joe’s. And then he insisted on walking her to work, which was only a few blocks away. He flipped out slightly when he realized she walked there two nights a week in the dark and then later after the bar closed, insisting it wasn’t safe and she should take an Uber.
Now, London found herself in the exact situation she’d meant to avoid—a brooding Pierce who’d made himself at home on a corner stool at her bar and growled every time someone was nice to her. He didn’t make a sound, nor did he overtly glare at anyone, but it only took her about fifteen minutes to lose her patience.
After an hour, London got the waitress to watch the bar for her for a few minutes, so she could round to the other side, grab Pierce by the sleeve, and drag him to the back hallway. She set her hands on her hips and glared up at him.
“What?” he asked all innocently.
She narrowed her eyes. “I just want to point out that what you’re doing is eerily reminiscent of my ex-husband, which is why I didn’t want to tell you where I worked in the first place, and if you don’t cut it out and go home, I’m not likely to want to see you again under any capacity, friendly or otherwise.”
He stared at her for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Go home.”
He nodded. “Okay. Will you at least take an Uber after work?”
She glared harder.
He lifted both hands, palms out, in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m gone. Text me when you get home, yeah?”
“Perhaps, if I feel like it.”
With one more sharp nod, he left. She followed him to the main room and watched him walk out the front door. A piece of her hated making him leave. She’d had the first truly fun day with a man in years.
Even the hours she’d spent studying had been better with him nearby. The ability to watch the flex of his biceps—her memory assaulting her with the feel of them under her palms—had been beyond enjoyable.
Half of her wished she hadn’t been so hard on him when he’d left. There was no reason to compare him to Louis. Yes, she’d met her husband in a bar, and yes, he’d been overbearing and bossy about her working there, but comparing even one aspect of him with Pierce was unfair.
Pierce was kind and patient and fun. He watched out for her in a caring way—not a possessive, abusive way. He paid attention to her interests and remembered what she liked and didn’t like.
Besides the coffee and doughnuts, he’d remembered she loved soup with a sandwich and mustard instead of mayonnaise. He’d been a perfect gentleman too, opening doors and pulling out her chair.
When they walked, he put her to the side of him that was away from the street. The fact that he’d insisted she take an Uber was borne from a place of caring not a place of control.
Pierce was not Louis.
But that didn’t mean she would ever be willing to accept someone else in her life and let them tell her what to do and when to do it. Damn him for being right. She hadn’t had any problems on her walks home, but that didn’t mean she needed to court danger at two o’clock in the morning. She needed to speak to him about his approach, however. She didn’t like taking orders unless she was in the middle of a scene.
London shook herself back to the present and headed behind the bar. For t
he next five hours she served an unusually large crowd for a Sunday, and when her shift ended, she ordered an Uber.
Five minutes after arriving back at her apartment, she sent a text to Pierce before she could talk herself out of the logistics of that move. The last thing she wanted was to give him the impression he could boss her around. It was stifling even if at the same time she’d missed having him around after he’d left, and she wished she hadn’t been so hard on him.
London: I’m home. And yes, I took an Uber, Dad.
She chewed on her bottom lip while she stared at the phone, wondering how he might respond to her snarky comment. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. Moments later, she nearly dropped the phone when it rang. Instead of replying by text, he was calling.
She answered with shaky fingers. “You didn’t have to call. I’m safe.”
“I just wanted to make one thing clear.”
She lowered to sit on her sofa, wondering what the hell had precipitated this response and the odd tone in his voice. “Okay.”
“If you ever want to submit to me at Zodiac or any other club, I’ll gladly scene with you. I have a few hard limits, though.”
She couldn’t imagine what the hell he was talking about. So, she repeated, “Okay?”
“I’m not fond of knife play, so that’s not something you’ll ever talk me into. I’m not interested in experimenting with fire either. I would never draw blood from you, and even hitting you hard enough to cause pain would probably be a challenge knowing what you’ve been through.
“But, London, I have to say, above all those limits would be Daddy/little play. It makes me cringe. I’m not your dad, and I never want to pretend I am.”
“Okay,” she repeated a third time, relaxing into the sofa. He was dead serious. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only trying to make fun of the fact that you were so bossy.”
“Nothing I asked you to do came from a need to boss you around. I just want you to be safe. Walking to and from that bar alone is not safe, especially not in the dark. I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt. You don’t weigh enough to defend yourself. That’s all. I didn’t make those requests from a parental position. I made them from the position of a man who likes you and knows that you sometimes make reckless choices.”
Claiming London Page 7
