Donovan Dynasty: Bind Part 46

And she'd responded to his kiss.

The next morning, while she'd slept, he'd gone for a long run around Memorial Park. He'd wondered what the h.e.l.l he'd been thinking in bringing her home. Tasting Sarah had been like having a bite of dessert. She'd been decadent and delicious, and the sample had only increased his appet.i.te. It-she-they were impossible on every level. He had s.e.xual desires that were outside the norm. He'd scared off more than a handful of women over the years.

He'd got where he was in life by taking carefully calculated risks.

Seducing Sarah would be one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. After all, what were the chances that his perfect a.s.sistant would also want to be his kinky little submissive?

Finding a world-cla.s.s employee was rare. He could find play partners. But over the next few weeks, the more he'd tried to deny the idea of being with her, the more it had persisted.

Behaving at work had become a bigger struggle each day.

His friend Julien had warned him of the dangers. If the relations.h.i.+p fell apart, Reece would be without a lover as well as a valuable work ally.

Reece had quickly discovered that, when it came to Sarah, logic was a thing of the past.

A month later, he'd asked her to accompany him to an after-hours business meeting. He'd rationalized that he could explain her presence to his a.s.sociates, to her, even to himself. As if he'd still been a teenager, he'd held his breath until she'd agreed to be his guest.

In that moment, when she'd slipped into his car and he'd heard the whisper of her silk stockings and seen an expanse of thigh beneath her dress's hem, he'd known he had a difficult choice to make. Less than a week later, he'd done the only thing possible. He'd fired her and asked her to move in.

After her initial shock, she'd accepted. They'd celebrated their new life with a honeymoon of sorts. When they'd returned to Houston, she'd started her own business, working from the home they'd shared. Over the next year and a half, she'd become his most valued ally, his trusted advisor. He'd loved having her at business dinners and on trips. Every decision they'd made had supported their commitment to their growing relations.h.i.+p.

Or so he'd believed until he'd returned home from work one day to find the house, her home office and his life empty.

For the first few days after she'd run, he'd imagined turning her delectable a.s.s every shade of red before welcoming her back into his arms and life...where she belonged.

Then reality had sent in.

She was never coming back.

After the anger and stunned disbelief had worn off-an embarra.s.singly long time later-he'd picked up the pieces of his shattered dreams and had stowed them, and the memory of her, away. Lesson driven home.

Now he told himself to turn the f.u.c.k around and go find Julien and slam his betraying a.s.s against the wall, despite the fact that it was his birthday weekend. The man was no fool. He had known that Sarah was in the room when he'd told Reece he'd procured a lovely sub for an evening of entertainment.

More than anyone, Julien knew what Reece had been through. After all, he'd been with him the whole miserable way. Together with their friend Kennedy, they'd emptied a fair number of Scotch bottles. But Reece hadn't moved on. A month later, Julien had grown weary of Reece's moroseness and had staged an intervention. Julien had said that he'd tracked down Sarah. As he'd dumped expensive booze down the drain, he'd added that she was safe, but that she wanted to be left alone. Afterwards, he'd dragged Reece to the gym, forced him to work on business plans and re-engage in his life.

By even the harshest of standards, Reece had done well for himself.

But there was a reason for those sad songs on jukeboxes. Did one ever recover from the shock of losing one's soul mate?

She remained in position, gaze cast down, and he couldn't deny the attraction he still felt. His c.o.c.k hardened, and he ached to slide inside her warmth.

To her credit, she'd learnt a few things in the two years since he'd seen her.

During their time together, he'd repeatedly told her how he wanted to be greeted. Submissively... By her waiting for her Master's pleasure. She'd always struggled with his request. She had no patience. So she'd either sneak a glance at him, giggle, talk incessantly or s.h.i.+ft nervously.

But tonight she maintained the perfect position. Her forehead was pressed to the floor, and her long brown hair-kissed with suns.h.i.+ne-blonde highlights-had been swept to one side, leaving her nape exposed. Everything about her radiated vulnerability. Tonight she was behaving like the woman he'd always wanted her to be.

A frisson of jealousy gnawed at his spine. Who the h.e.l.l had taught her the things she'd refused to learn from him?

Though he let the minutes drag, she didn't speak or fidget. Only her shortened breaths betrayed her nerves.

Truthfully, his silence wasn't a test for her. He was buying time, figuring out how to react, searching for places to file away his thoughts and reactions. Elation. Devastation. Curiosity. It would be stupid to open old wounds. But a greater, unhealed part wanted to know why the h.e.l.l she'd left. What had scared her so bad that she hadn't been able to turn to him?

"Kneel up." His command was familiar. Her response was not.

Her movements were sensual, graceful as she unfolded her body then used abdominal strength to lift herself from the floor.

She positioned her knees wider than she'd ever been able to. With a gentle shrug, she pulled back her shoulders before linking her hands behind her head. As if she'd done it a thousand times, she shook her head. Her hair fell back from her face, and she met his gaze.

There was no shock etched between her eyebrows. Instead, her green eyes were open wide with trust.

She swallowed deeply and said nothing.

For a minute, he forgot how to breathe. As big and strong a corporate strategist that he was-accustomed to negotiations so tense they made front page news-he had just had his brains scrambled by a woman a bit under five feet tall.

She continued to look at him without blinking, seeming to offer Reece a glimpse of her soul.

He scoffed at the ridiculous thought. The man who'd been fanciful enough to believe that kind of romantic c.r.a.p no longer existed. And the woman in front of him was the reason why. "You knew I'd be at this party?"

"Yes."

"Did you put Julien up to it? Or did he put you up to it?"

"It's my fault. I begged, cajoled, pleaded. Blame me."

"What the h.e.l.l do you want, Sarah?"

She faltered then, looking down at the ground before glancing back at him. But when she spoke, her words had a confidence that had been missing in the past. "To connect. Talk. Explain. Apologize."

Silence hung.

Then after a quick breath, she rushed on. "To scene."

"Why?"

"I'm hoping one night together will help me get over you."

He'd been expecting something else. Something more profound. As it was, he rocked back on his heels.

"I need to convince myself that what we had wasn't as good as I remember."

Reece searched her face, looking for...what? The truth? A hidden agenda? An answer to the dozens of unresolved questions?

"I'm hoping you'll indulge me with a beating, Sir."

Her courtesy was new, too. In all the time they'd been together, she'd called him Mr McRae at work and Reece at home. Even in a scene, she'd been unable to force herself to address him as Sir.

It wasn't until after she'd left that he had realized they hadn't been as close to his image of the perfect union as he would have liked.

"I've never found anyone like you, Sir."

"You've been looking?" The sense of betrayal that had simmered for years churned to a low boil. He now knew better than to stay near any woman who ignited that kind of emotion in him.

"Not consciously. No."

"But?" he prompted.

"I've compared everyone else to you. How could I not?" She hesitated, as if reluctant to say more. "I've never connected with anyone like I did with you. No one compares with you. I'm...frustrated, I guess."

"If nothing else, I owe you an explanation," she said, her voice strong as well as melodious and mysterious. She took a deep breath. "And I need to apologize."

"Save your breath. I won't accept it." Not now.

Sarah winced.

He turned and strode towards the door instead of succ.u.mbing to temptation and sweeping her into his arms.

"Sir?"

He paused but didn't look back at her.

"I deserve your anger. Your hostility. But I was hoping for more than your indifference. You know that's the thing I fear the most. The way you're capable of cutting people off, emotionally and physically."

She was right about that.

"I don't give second chances," he reminded her. But indifference towards her? When she was so utterly beautiful and had yanked out a part of his heart when she'd run? Not likely.

But had that been part of the problem? The fact that he'd always been so available to her? Besotted had been the horrifying word Julien had used.

"We shared something special." Undeterred, she persisted, "Surely you've wanted to beat some sense into me? Punish me, maybe, for the way I left?"

"I imagined it," he conceded. "But that was a long time ago. Don't fool yourself that I even think of you anymore."

He heard her take a shaky breath before saying, "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, so I won't ask for it. But I'm begging you to show some mercy. Let me atone."

Her plea sliced through his defenses.

Despite his best intentions, he faced her. f.u.c.k. What the h.e.l.l was it about her? He wanted to pretend that s.e.xual attraction didn't exist between them, but it was there, raw, primal, pulsing. This woman could lead him around by his d.i.c.k.

He reminded himself that she'd given him, them, no chance at success or a future. Part of him hated her for that, her cowardice, for not being the woman he'd wanted.

"Reece... Sir..."

"Nice manners," he said.

"Thank you, Sir."

"If you're still in this room in sixty seconds, you'll get everything you're asking for."

The woman at his feet wore no makeup, hid behind no artifice. "I'm not running."

"This time."

Her head snapped back to indicate his direct hit. But then, even more forcefully, she repeated, "I'm not running."

"You should."

"I'm sure you're right."

His beautiful, stubborn former lover remained in place.

"I don't know whether to applaud your bravery or condemn your stupidity," he said.

"Perhaps both, Sir." She attempted a smile that fell flat. "Internally I'm doing both right now."

He remembered hearing the same mixture of antic.i.p.ation and nerves in her voice the first night he'd tied her hands to his headboard. He'd treated her as if she were the most delicate, precious thing-and to him, she had been.

But her callousness had changed him, hardened him.

"Scene with me, Sir?"

"Not a chance."

"Julien tells me you don't have a sub right now. Surely you miss that, if nothing else?"

He did. It had been a long time since he'd played with a submissive, and Julien knew it. "The room setup," he said, glancing around. "You or Julien?"

"Julien."

He nodded. While Reece preferred suspension, the St Andrew's cross that Julien had provided was large and st.u.r.dy with thick leather cuffs, perfect for securing even the biggest, strongest, most recalcitrant sub.

"I understand he had it built here by a local carpenter."

Were they that sure of his reaction? Or of his lunacy where she was concerned?

"Your toy bag is over there." She inclined her head.

"Adding breaking and entering to your resume, Ms Lovett?"

"No, Sir. Julien has a key," she reminded him.

"Ah. The letter of the law versus the spirit of the law argument."

"The ends justify the means," she said with a grin.

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