Текст книги "Finding Master Right"

Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“I bet you couldn’t even stand up right now,” he challenged.

“I’m fine.”

“No.” He frowned.

Ignoring him, she went to sit up. A groan escaped her when her ass rubbed against the sheet.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said, helping her lean against the headboard. “Then stay and watch the rest of the movie with me. After that, if you still want to leave, at least I won’t be worried.”

“The rest of the movie?” she said with a snort. “As if I saw any of it at all!”

He chuckled. “We’ll start it over.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.” It sounded like a warning, even to her. Maybe it was. She’d taken care of herself for years now. Needing a man, smelling like desperation, crying into a pillow after sex . . . That wasn’t her. Even though she was sore all over, exhausted, and feeling a little dirty, she was still an independent woman.

Sighing, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I know you don’t, Trouble. But you’re going to let me anyway.”

And for some reason, she did.

After he fed her, made her drink her weight in water, and snuggled her up to him for the duration of a movie, he reluctantly let her go. The drive home passed in a blur. She desperately needed to talk to Janine, but it was too late to call.

Tomorrow Kate would tell her all about Banner, what they’d done, and ask how she was going to get through this while keeping her heart intact. Being mastered was the last thing she thought she wanted, but she’d be damned if she hadn’t called a man Master tonight. A mistake she could never repeat.

***

The phone rang four times before Janine picked up, sounding harried. “What’s wrong, Kate?”

She bit her lip. “Sorry. It’s not an emergency or anything.” Although, admittedly, she’d called five times in the last two hours without leaving a message. That must’ve been some kind of record for them. She could see why Janine might be worried.

Her friend’s sigh echoed in the phone. “It’s my day off. I was trying to sleep in.”

“Sorry!”

“It’s okay. I’m up now.” She chuckled. “I can tell it’s important. You’re not usually so obnoxious. What happened?”

This should probably be handled delicately. Banner was a good friend of Chris’s, so she should be careful how she talked about him to her best friend, especially after swearing up and down to herself she wouldn’t go too far the first time.

“I slept with Banner,” she blurted.

Crap. Not so smooth.

Janine gasped. “Oh my god!” A squeal followed. “That’s awesome!”

“Noooo. No, no, no.” She didn’t need a cheering squad. What she needed was a slushy to the face and a wake-up call. “Not awesome. He’s a Master. I don’t want a Master. Did you forget that?”

Janine made a dismissive sound. “None of that matters. There are other things that are more important.”

“None of that matters?” She paced the length of her kitchen. “Of course it matters! He wants a slave. I’m not slave material. You know that.”

Silence.

“Right?”

“Well,” her friend hedged. “Not in the traditional sense, but you have to keep an open mind. You haven’t tried much. Who knows what you’ll end up liking?”

“I do. And it’s not being a slave.” Holding the phone with her shoulder, she started making a cup of coffee. She’d need about a dozen of them to get through the day.

Janine chuckled. “He must want to spank you so bad.”

“What?”

“You’re so stubborn! What does it matter what you call yourself? Do you like him? Did you like having sex with him?”

“Um.” Fuck yeah seemed too eager a response. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It was intense.” She grabbed the cream from the fridge and poured it in her mug, careful not to drop her phone in with it.

“Just don’t overthink it so much. Let what happens, happen.”

“Normally, I appreciate your hippy go-with-the-flow advice, but right now I need a reality check. We weren’t supposed to go that far. I think I made a mistake.”

“It’s only a mistake if you treat it that way. Brush it off and go back to where you’re comfortable.”

She considered that for a moment. It made sense. If Banner didn’t know it was a mistake to her, they could just start over, being more careful now. Should she tell Janine she’d called him Master?

No. She felt stupid enough as it was.

So where was she comfortable? She let her mind drift back to last night. In his arms after having sex, feeling sated and warm and fuzzy, eating ice cream and laughing at the movie. That was the most comfortable and satisfied she’d felt in a long time.

He wants a slave.

How many times would she have to remind herself of that in the next few weeks of training? Maybe she should text him to find out if he’s okay. He hadn’t seemed regretful last night, and he was the one who’d banged her until she bunched the sheets in her fists and screamed, but guys had feelings too.

After a deep breath, she felt a little better. “Okay. I guess it’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s not. Banner’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you.”

Yes. She did believe that. For all his stern looks, and his big palm smacking her ass, he was a gentleman. And when he wore a suit . . . Instant girl hard-on.

“Plus, he ain’t hard to look at,” Janine added in a whisper. “Don’t tell Chris I said that.”

Kate laughed. “Bad girl. I should hold that over your head.”

“Bitch. Now that you have yourself a Dom, I can blackmail you too.”

Sadness sunk in, wiping her grin away. Having herself a Dom sounded really good after last night. But it couldn’t be Banner. What they had together, though hot and fun and amazing, was still only temporary.

“I gotta get to work,” she mumbled, then took a sip of her coffee.

“On a Saturday?”

“Mandatory overtime.” Hopefully, the caffeine would cheer her up. She was still sore and exhausted from the previous night, but she had to force herself through the day. “I’ll talk to you later.”

They ended their call, and Kate sucked down her java while doing her hair and makeup. As much as she loved her job, going in today was the last thing she wanted to do. What she really wanted was a long bath and some retail therapy. Maybe Janine would be up for a shopping trip later.

“Pixie!” She called her dog over and clipped the leash onto her collar. The click made her shiver and reminded her of last night. She’d been on a leash, led around like a dog.

Ugh. She gave her head a shake. How had she let that happen? It was so undignified, but she couldn’t deny the flutter that started in her belly just thinking about it.

On her way out the door, Pixie trailing behind her, she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. Naming the bulldog Pixie was kind of a joke. The dog was anything but tiny. Short, and like a typical bulldog, stocky and mean-looking. She’d picked the breed because of its low exercise needs. Working all day meant she couldn’t look after her, and having a dog with excess energy tear up the house would suck. Plus, she hoped her low bark would give criminals pause if they tried to break in.

They went on a short walk around the condo lot, and then she watched the lazy dog collapse onto her bed as if she’d just hiked Mount Everest. Minutes later, after Kate had packed her lunch, Pixie let out a long, satisfied snore. She could always count on that dog to make her smile.

She glanced at her phone, sitting innocently on the counter. Feeling more confident now, she grabbed it to text Banner. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she thought through what to write.

It was probably best to keep things light.

Are you awake yet? I feel half-dead and now I have to drag my tired ass to work. LOL. How are you?

Instead of waiting for a response, she forced herself to put it out of her mind and left for work. Just before she started the car, her text alert dinged.

She looked at the contact. Damn, he was fast.

I’m good. I’m sorry I kept you up late though. You didn’t say you had to work today. Give me the address and I’ll bring you some coffee and lunch.

She smiled, and her stomach fluttered. Sweet man. But showing up at the clinic was a bad idea. Not only would her coworkers get nosy, but she was very careful about confidentiality and keeping her personal life separate from her clients.

But, oh the things he might do to her with the office door closed.

Thanks, but that sort of thing isn’t allowed there. Glad you’re feeling well. Have a great day!

It felt like a brush-off, but she was already running late. At lunch she’d open the window of communication again. Maybe she’d invite him shopping. The thought made her laugh. She pictured him holding her purse as she tried on clothes. Would he sulk like most men? Something told her he was secure enough in his masculinity to hold a purse. And he had every reason to be.

Chuckling, she started the car. Hopefully, the day would go by fast and with minimal interruptions from her overactive libido, despite the reminders of last night creeping into her head. Already, she felt as though she’d been marked, as if she had BANNER’S FUCK TOY stamped in big letters across her forehead. If only they wanted the same things from a relationship . . . but they didn’t, and no amount of hot sex or wishful thinking was going to fix that.

Chapter 6

“Was the sex really that good?” Ambrose grinned, and Banner flicked pool water in his face. His friend swam out of range and floated up onto his back. The beer-logo swim shorts Ambrose wore looked trashy in the tastefully decorated indoor pool area. How the guy had made a mint as a shipping magnate was still a mystery. He cleaned up okay, but Banner could still see the roughness in his manners, even when he was in his suit and tie disguise.

With his dry hand, Banner hit the lock button on his phone and tossed it onto his towel before Ambrose destroyed yet another of his phones with his shenanigans.

“I was checking on Rook.”

“Sure you were. I recognize that expression.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ambrose smirked. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Fuck off.” There was no point in denying it. He barely knew the girl¸ and he was angsting over her more than he had right to. Going into their arrangement, he’d known it wasn’t going to turn into anything long term, but after just one day together, he had the most idiotic crush on her.

Ambrose swept his arms across the water, the heavy black Roman numeral tattoos still looking as new and crisp as the Norse tats on Banner’s forearms. The shop Konstantin had picked for them all to use years ago had been a good choice.

Doing a few laps helped Banner burn off some nervous energy. When he was done, he treaded water in the deep end.

“Now, if you’d tell me what you did with her, I could give you a more informed idea about why she’s not returning your texts.” His friend paused, and his gaze sharpened. “You haven’t sent any more texts, right?”

“I’m not telling you anything, perv. And no, I haven’t.”

“Good man. You have to leave the ball in her court now, otherwise you look desperate and creepy.” Leave it to Ambrose to be a smug bastard about women, as though his own love life was healthy and thriving.

“I know that, jerkoff.”

“I don’t think you really know how this works, Banner. When was the last time you wanted a girl and she didn’t jump up and down and clap her hands? You need advice from your wingman to get through this.”

Banner sighed. “Konstantin would know what to do.”

“Well, he’s visiting his babushka, so your sorry ass is stuck with me.”

“I know he won’t be back from Russia for a while, but the next time he goes we have to make sure he gets a fucking Facebook account first. He doesn’t check his e-mail.” Banner swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out. “Although, how exactly would either of you give me advice on this, anyway? It’s not like you’ve had . . .” He grabbed a towel and scrubbed the water from his hair. There was no way to finish that sentence that didn’t sound awkward and pathetic.

“It’s not like I’ve had, what? A girl blow me off? Try having your sub abandon you after six years.”

“Jeez. Do you need a tissue, Ambrose? Shae left you almost two years ago. You don’t get to play that card every time I have relationship issues.” Sometimes it seemed like Ambrose was just using Shae as an excuse to not get involved in anything serious again. Sleeping with Banner’s exes amused him, but he didn’t seem to be ready for more. “I was there for you through that, but you need to get counseling or something if you’re still messed up about it. I have more to complain about at this point. My last few relationships never even got to the point of a collar.”

Ambrose snorted. “Maybe your dick is defective.”

“Fuck you.”

“I think it’s better if we just stay friends. Your defective dick might ruin things between us.”

Banner whipped a pool noodle at him, and Ambrose ducked, laughing. What kind of millionaire trashed up their indoor oasis with pool noodles? Ambrose, that’s who.

As Ambrose got out of the pool, Banner sat in one of the rattan chairs and opened a soda.

“Kate called me Master. Twice.”

The levity drained from the room. Ambrose paused in his toweling, and his brows shot upward. “Seriously? That’s an interesting turn of events.”

“Yeah.” Banner shifted in his seat, replaying both instances in his mind. If it had been a regular situation, Kate’s reactions to him would have been very promising. Instead, she didn’t want him, and the lost opportunity had been making him grouchy for days. He’d tried fishing for information from his friend Chris, since his wife was Kate’s best friend, but he didn’t know anything. “It wasn’t something I asked her to do. It was just a knee-jerk thing for her, I think, but it’s fucking with my head.”

“You connected, obviously. The spark and the dynamic were there?”

“It was wild. If she wasn’t new and only interested in experimenting I’d be on her doorstep, trying to convince her to give me a real shot. But that’s not what we agreed to.” He leaned back in the chair, the familiar creak of the rattan annoying him today. “I didn’t mean to sleep with her, but I’m only sorry that she thought it was a mistake.”

“Either you freaked her out, or she freaked herself out later.”

“Who knows? She’s not talking to me.”

Ambrose winced. “That face. People write entire country albums about the look you have on your face right now. Did she steal your dog, your horse, and your pickup?”

“If she did, I’d have a legit reason to stay away from her.” Banner took a swig of his soda, wishing it were beer.

Which would be worse—if she showed up next Saturday, like they’d agreed on, or if she didn’t? Maybe the chemistry was a onetime thing. Maybe the giddy feeling he’d gotten when she’d sat on his lap to watch the movie, and the intelligence and humor he’d seen in her while they talked were all just about him being lonely and deluding himself. He barely knew her, really. Becoming infatuated with her now wasn’t very smart. “Let’s go get me drunk.”

“No drunk dialing her. Deal?”

He walked to the pool’s edge and picked up his phone. Instinctively he checked it, then held it out to Ambrose. “Yeah, you’d better hang on to this.”

His friend shook his head. “Hopeless.”

***

Banner rang the buzzer at his mother’s sprawling modern house, even though he knew the formality annoyed her. It had never been his home. When he was a kid, they’d lived in a regular place in the middle of town.

His dad had been a bit of a workaholic, trying to give them a good life. He wasn’t home long enough to fix anything or mow the lawn, so it’d looked out of place in their tidy neighborhood. He had learned how to do that stuff from Victor, the old man who lived next door. He’d tried to fill in as the man of the house from the time he’d hit middle school. It wasn’t until he was old enough to learn the family business that Banner had developed a relationship with his father, and that ended almost as soon as it started.

Not long after his father had died, Banner had made his first few million and bought the family this house. He’d thought his mother deserved to have nice things after so many years, but more importantly it got her out of the house that had belonged to the man she’d worshipped, who’d been fond of her but never really had time to return her devotion. The indifferent way his father had treated his mother was the hardest part of forgiving him.

The door was answered promptly by Shannon, his mother’s caregiver. The pretty girl barely had the chance to smile in greeting before Rook skidded past her, barreling into Banner’s chest. Banner grabbed his little brother in a headlock and gave him an obligatory noogie.

“Stop!”

Banner did, but then threw him over his shoulder and headed for the great room.

“I’m too old for this, Banner. Put me down.”

“Suddenly, this is too undignified for someone your age?”

“I’m fourteen, not six.”

It was difficult not to point out that Rook was about the size Banner had been at eight or nine. Rook was built more like their father, small and thin, whereas Banner had taken after their mom’s brothers.

The great room was empty and spotless, other than a collection of Rook’s art supplies and his easel by the bay window. He put the boy down near his workstation and studied the grays and blacks of the bleak winter forest the paper held. Beautiful, in a quiet, sad way. His use of light and shadow were exceptional.

“You said charcoal, right?” Banner fished in his satchel and handed over the box.

“Thanks! I was on the verge of having to switch to pastels.”

Banner considered how to best frame the work when it was finished so they could hang it in the house or at his office. Hopefully, Rook was interested in selling it. He was more than good enough to sell his stuff, but he never wanted to show it to anyone. “That might have ruined your depressing motif.”

“I know, but Meadow refused to let me use her eyeliner, so the only other thing I could think of was dirt.”

“You’d have to go outside for that.”

“Yup. I told you I was desperate.”

Banner laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad I could help, then. Has Mom been up today?”

Rook’s face fell. “No. Shannon and I got her to wake up, but she’s still in bed and staring off into space, mostly.”

“Not for you to fix.” He hugged Rook and didn’t let him go until he pulled away. “Don’t forget I’m bringing you to the art show downtown on Thursday. Where’s Meadow?”

“Yeah, I won’t forget. I have my clothes picked out already.” Rook gave a shy laugh, then started to open the box of charcoals. “Meadow is directing the guys who are working on winterizing the grounds.”

“How’s Dylan?”

Rook’s expression brightened. “He’s fine. I texted him earlier. He’s playing Minecraft right now, but he’s coming over later.”

“If you ever have any questions . . .” Banner gave him a pointed look. For a moment Rook looked at him blankly. Then he realized what he meant.

“Oh jeez. Shut up!” Rook shoved him. “What do you know about gay sex? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“You can keep asking, but the answer is still no. Sadly, I’m straight.”

“So you can tell me what? What to do with a woman? Like I care. Besides, I already know everything. I’m not a child, and we have the fucking internet.”

“Language, sir. There’s no reason to cuss.” The internet? Not good enough. He’d have to talk to him about it soon.

Rook rolled his eyes and waved him off.

Banner walked down the hall, noting the gleaming surfaces and general tidiness. Meadow was very strict about the house looking perfect, and Banner suspected that she was worried their mother would become her old self again one day and be critical of how her daughter had been keeping things.

Out of habit, he checked his phone. The only message was from Ambrose, urging him to drop by later. Neither of them was used to Konstanin, who was the chronic texter, being away for so long. He’d almost given up on hearing from Kate. Either she’d show up this weekend or she wouldn’t—checking his phone wasn’t going to make a difference.

Shannon met him partway, carrying a tray of food that looked like it had been shuffled around but not really eaten.

“She’s awake?”

“Yes. She’s been up awhile, but she’s not in the mood for company. You know how it is.”

“And not eating?”

Shannon shrugged. “I do what I can.”

Banner smiled at her. “I know you do. You treat her the way I would if I could be here all the time. Actually, you’re probably more patient.”

The caregiver chuckled and flashed a dimple. Charming girl, but safely married. “Compared to my sons, this is a cakewalk.” She nodded a good-bye and headed toward the kitchen.

Desiree Jennings’s door stood open, although she probably wouldn’t invite him in, if he gave her the choice.

“Mom, are you awake?”

She lay in bed, looking weak and frail. “I’m not feeling well today, Banner. Can we visit tomorrow instead?”

He glanced across the room and was unsurprised to find the shrine to her husband still intact. A candle burned before it as though the light could summon him back. No counselor had succeeded in convincing her to move on with her life, and even the love and care of Banner and his siblings hadn’t drawn her back into the world of the living.

Undeterred, Banner pulled back the curtains and light flooded the room, despite the overcast day. “You need to get out of bed for a while, or you’ll get bedsores again, remember? And the physiotherapist has said you need to get more exercise or your legs won’t get any stronger.”

“I can walk just fine for what I do. I was never a person for sports. What does she expect me to do? Take up tennis?”

“You’re rich now. Isn’t that what rich women do?”

“I’m not rich. You are.” She patted his arm when he sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re just kind enough to take care of us.”

“Up, up, up!” Gently, he helped her swing her legs over the side of the bed, thankful that she still slept near the edge to leave room for his father, if only because it made it easier to help her get to her feet. “If you don’t get moving you’re going to need a walker soon.”

“I don’t have anywhere I want to go, so what difference does it make if I need a walker?” She allowed him to haul her up, the perpetual tracksuit she wore mostly disguising how painfully thin she was. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and she blinked rapidly as a ray of light from a window reached her.

The usual frustration nagged at him. If someone wanted to die, how did you make them live?

“Did you go to Rook’s parent-teacher meeting yesterday?”

“No. I wasn’t well.” She clung to his arm until she had steadied herself, then let go and turned away.

“Mom, you know I had to work late. That’s the only reason I asked you to go.”

“He gets excellent grades. Why go? I would have had to shower and dress up.” She sighed as though the prospect of attending to her personal hygiene was exhausting.

“If we don’t go it looks like no one cares about him. You went to every single one of mine and Meadow’s. Why not Rook’s?”

She shuffled toward the master bath. “I’m old now. There are events in a person’s life that make them question meaningless social conventions. I don’t host dinner parties or send people birthday cards anymore either. It doesn’t make me a bad person.”

Once she reached the bathroom, Desiree shut the door between them and turned on the fan, most likely to show she wasn’t interested in his lecture.

He sighed. So much for patience. He shouldn’t have gone in grumping at her—it just made her shut down. Sometimes it was hard to take a step back and be the mature one, especially when it came to taking care of a parent.

Banner grabbed the picture he’d given her for Christmas off the dresser. In the photo, he, Meadow, and Rook smiled at the camera as though they were a normal, happy family. He brushed a thumb over Rook’s smiling face and put the picture in the middle of Desiree’s shrine to their dead father.

Maybe the next time she prayed to be with him, she’d remember she had three children who weren’t ready to be orphans.