Forbidden Obsessions Read online

“I’m not expecting guests, but I can’t promise you won’t run into things that surprise you or shock you.” He pointed up above his head. A large eyebolt was set into the ceiling. “Every room has at least one of these for restraining a submissive. Including the bathrooms. I’ll let you discover the rest of my little secrets yourself.”

  Oh, that sounded like a dare, and she could never pass one of those up. “Works for me.”

  He grinned, and it changed his face from merely attractive to devilishly, devastatingly handsome. No. She had a plan, and she needed to follow it. Period.

  “Do you want to take a bit to get settled in? Or I have lunch ready for us, if you’re hungry.” The loud whine of a saw split the air and he winced. “I am so glad this part of the renovation will be done in a few days. Maybe we can have that lunch outside. Away from the house.”

  The sudden noise was deafening, and she wasn’t sure how he dealt with it. “Outside sounds wonderful.”

  They ate at a bench in a secluded garden in the woods behind the house. She’d never have guessed it was there, but it was lovely and quiet, a small fountain bubbling in the center. The food was delicious, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she had an appetite. Maybe it was all the fresh air. Maybe it was the man beside her. Funny, but it didn’t bother her when he watched her eat her meal, not like it did when her mother counted every single bite she took.

  Well, it bothered her, but in a completely different, very arousing, totally bad-timing way.

  And the silence wasn’t awkward as it normally was between two people who don’t know each other. Gabe seemed to know when to speak, and when to let her stew in the chaos of her own mind. She appreciated that, especially after the constant interruptions in the hospital.

  She finished her sandwich and sat back against the bench, careful not to twist too far to the side as she faced him. It was that twisting motion that aggravated whatever was going on in her back now. She’d give it another few days before she mentioned it to her doctor. It might be nothing but, after all she’d been through—the accident, multiple surgeries to remove small bone fragments threatening her spinal cord, not knowing how permanent her injuries would be—the thought of another surgery was more than she could bear. Head in the sand much, Olivia? “That was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at her, and his face turned serious. “I don’t know how to ask this except outright, but will you tell me what happened? I saw the news reports but they were vague.”

  She shuddered as her stomach did a slow roll, making the food she’d eaten not such a good idea. She hated talking about the accident that had brought her to this point, but he was being gracious enough to open his home to her, and she got the feeling he wasn’t asking out of prurient curiosity. “Marcus and I were in the same Fire Med refresher class, and during training we got called to a live fire. We were on the ladder truck, and I’d just scaled it to start soaking the roof. I asked for water and I felt the hose expand, but I couldn’t get the nozzle to work.”

  The sick feeling she’d gotten on the ladder returned. She’d known something was wrong right away, but it had been too late to stop the chain of events. “The rest is a blur to me, and I’m not sure how much of this I actually remember or how much of it is what I was told. Apparently there was a defect in the hose. The pressure blew a hole in it and the force pushed me off the ladder.”

  She shuddered and looked over at Gabe. He was still, his face blank, but he was listening intently. She forced herself to continue even though she wanted to never think of it again, even though it took several long heartbeats to make her voice work again.

  “From what I’m told, I hit the truck on the way down and then landed on my SCBA.” She had a vague recollection of falling and blinding, intense fear, but that was it, thank God. She couldn’t share the rest, not now, so she made it short and not-sweet. “Hospital, surgeries, rehab, and here I am.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, digging deep inside for strength and calm.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy. So how are you feeling? Is there anything I should be looking for, or anything you shouldn’t be doing?”

  Her eyes widened, dismay flooding her body. “Did Marcus ask you to watch over me? Because I’ll kill him.” She wouldn’t be surprised. They’d developed quite the sibling-type relationship and, while he teased her with the occasional whine, whine, whine, he’d made sure she didn’t push herself too hard.

  He held up his hand. “Don’t go after him yet. He didn’t ask me to babysit you.”

  She sagged against the bench. “Okay, I’ll let him live. Maybe.”

  He laughed. “Even if he did—and he didn’t—he only has your best interests at heart. That’s just how Marcus is wired. Something I need to remember too,” he added, almost to himself.

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked startled he’d spoken aloud, then his face grew grave. “Marcus did something that felt like a betrayal at the time. I blamed him for not warning me about the investigation into my business and my life, but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.” His face lightened, and a rueful grin landed on his lips. “I know that now. And now I’m going to have to make it up to him, damn it.”

  She cocked her head. “Does it have to do with the fire and the renovations?”

  He nodded. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with BDSM, so I apologize if it sounds like I’m talking down to you.” He paused, almost as if he was waiting for her to share her experience level with him. When she didn’t answer—because she didn’t have one to give him—he continued. “BDSM stands for Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, and Sadism and Masochism. I hold classes and host seminars for people into BDSM play, along with running the inn. I’m a firm believer in safe, sane and consensual rules of play, or SSC. This means every person who plays here or stays here must be here willingly, and I reserve the right to refuse entry to anyone who doesn’t follow those rules.”

  He stopped, waited to see if she had any questions. She didn’t, at least not yet, so she nodded.

  “A few months ago, I refused to allow a couple who didn’t follow SSC rules to attend a seminar. I could tell right away this Dom was abusive, and he went ballistic when I wouldn’t let them in.” His shoulders heaved in a deep sigh. “Two months later, after an arson spree that affected all of the other couples who were here that weekend, they wound up here, where they tried to burn the house down. She was so young, and he was a manipulative, sociopathic Dom who took advantage of her, twisting what domination and submission means to his advantage. He messed with her head, and in a very bad way.”

  Her stomach churned all over again. “Oh, wow. I’m so sorry to hear that. But the police got them?”

  “They got him. She died in the fire.” Gabe scrubbed his face for a long moment. “Anyway, Marcus was part of the team investigating the fires, which didn’t sit right with me.”

  “Well,” she said, shrugging one shoulder slightly, “it’s not like he would’ve been allowed to tell you, right?”

  He smiled wryly. “It took you thirty seconds to come to that conclusion. The correct one, as it were. It took me a little longer.”

  She couldn’t help but grin back. The story was sad, but he was still alive, and a house could be repaired. She didn’t say it, though. As a former firefighter, he knew that firsthand.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  She blinked. “Don’t you have work to do? And don’t you need to be here to oversee the construction?”

  He laughed, an incredibly appealing sound that made her heart skip a beat. “It’s good to be in charge,” he said, winking. “The construction crew is small, just four local guys, and I trust them all. They’ve worked here before.”

  She
put her hand in his, allowing him to tug her up to standing. Her fingers tingled, and her body flooded with heat, which settled low in her stomach. Being around him was like touching a live wire. She dropped his hand but walked beside him on a narrow path, their arms occasionally brushing, keeping her on edge.

  “It feels good to walk out here in the fresh air. There were days I thought I’d never...” Her voice drifted off. Bloody hell, had she really just said that? She never told anyone about that fear. No, it was more than fear. It was her worst nightmare, abject terror that kept her from sleeping, and those nights she had slept, she’d woken covered in sweat, her heart racing. She’d never spoken it aloud, afraid that voicing it might make it happen. Daft thought, but then panic never was rational. She slid a glance his way.

  He looked at her and nodded once, not commenting.

  Thank God he understood she didn’t want to talk about it.

  The woods thickened as they traveled in silence, then the path and the tree line suddenly ended at a white wooden fence that encircled a lush green pasture dotted with sleek horses. There was another bench near the fence, but instead of sitting, she rested her arms on the top rail. “Oh! Are they yours?”

  He leaned against the fence the same way. “Nope. Neighbor’s, but he doesn’t mind me letting my customers sit and watch his horses. I like to come out here, too, especially at night when the moon’s out.” He looked almost embarrassed by his words, but she was thoroughly charmed by them. And then he turned to her, his eyes intent. “You haven’t said much about my choice of inn. Most people are either appalled or intrigued, but I don’t get either vibe from you.”

  Her heart stuttered, and she searched her mind for something to say. Nothing came, though. Nothing she was ready to share, anyway.

  He looked back at the horses, breaking their eye contact, and sighed. “Sorry. That’s just me being nosy. It’s not really important to you staying here while I don’t have guests.” His phone chirped, and he looked at the display and swore. “I need to head back to the house. Do you want to stay and enjoy the view, or walk back with me?”

  She figured now was as good a time as any to head back and get unpacked. “I’ll walk with you, thanks.” Before they left, she looked up at the metal pole standing between them. A twisted bit of rope hung from one of the hooks on either end of its crossbar. “Looks like you need a new flag.”

  He shot her a puzzled frown, and she pointed at the shreds of rope. “Your rope frayed.”

  His eyes blazed fiery hot and locked with hers. “That’s not a flagpole, princess. It’s a whipping post.”

  Chapter Two

  At six, Gabe gave up any pretense of sleeping and got out of bed. The look on Olivia’s face when he’d set her straight about the whipping post had been priceless. He was sure she’d been honestly stunned, but he’d bet she had no idea of the naked interest that had shown in her eyes.

  He’d seen it though, and he’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, imagining her on her toes, hands bound to the bar above her head, naked but for the need on her face and the moonlight on her skin. He’d played a soft flogger over her body, striking her easily at first, letting her feel the first kiss of the strands in a gentle way. Then, when she’d been mindless with need, he’d flogged her harder until she was writhing against the pole, begging him to let her come.

  Almost an hour of sit-ups and push-ups did nothing to alleviate the ache in his gut that had kept him awake. Now he was tired, sore, hungry and sweaty—and still horny. A quick shower later, he was down in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something to make for him and Olivia for breakfast. She needed something hearty, something to let her regain the weight and muscle she’d obviously lost.

  He was so glad to have his kitchen back. It had escaped the actual fire, but like much of the house, it had suffered from water damage. It was finally back to normal, thank God, because he’d been sick to death of eating fast food.

  A noise in the hallway startled him, and he turned to see Liv step into the kitchen, already dressed for a workout in low-cut yoga pants that bared a slice of flat belly, a tight T-shirt that emphasized the enticing curve of her breasts, and practical sneakers. She looked sexy as hell, even though she was pale and too thin. For the first time in several long weeks of chaos, he found himself looking forward to what the day might bring. “Good morning. Going somewhere?”

  She flushed and her eyes skittered away. “I’ve got physical therapy to do, and thought I’d do it outside today. It looked beautiful from my window. Is that okay?”

  “It’s a great idea. Fresh air, plenty of privacy before the guys get here to work on the house.” He stepped in front of her. When she didn’t look up, he cupped her chin and, being very careful not to hurt her, gently but firmly turned her face so she had no choice but to look at him. Her eyes grew wide and slightly panicked. “You’re welcome to go anywhere in the house or on the grounds. You don’t have to ask. And if you get stir-crazy, I can give you some suggestions for local shopping.”

  The panic in her eyes ebbed as she realized he wasn’t going to bring up last night. He wanted to, wanted to see that desire burst forth again, but he had a thousand and one things on his plate that had to get done if he wanted to reopen for business. If. There was that fucking word again. Although last night, rather than being kept awake by the usual do-I-or-don’t-I crap running through his head, he’d been preoccupied by the vision of that stunned expression on Olivia’s face.

  She interrupted his less-than-pleasant musings by stepping away from him with a half smile. “Thank you. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Was it less than Domly of him to mourn the loss of that small connection? Probably, but he didn’t give a damn. After the night he’d had, the simple, controlling touch was calming to him. “Would you like breakfast first?”

  She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to exercise on an empty stomach,” she said, that slight accent lending a bit of crispness to her words.

  “I’ll leave something for you on the stove, then.”

  She looked dismayed and ready to argue, which set his blood on fire. Again. “Oh, it’s not nec—”

  He cut her off with a shake of his head. “It is necessary. This is a bed and breakfast. This is what I do.” And before he made a total and complete ass out of himself by hauling her into his arms and taking her mouth like he wanted to, he went back to the refrigerator and started rifling around in it. “Do you have any dietary restrictions or allergies?”

  Her beleaguered sigh made him smile behind the open door. “No, no, and thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  The fresh air outside in the yard did absolutely nothing to calm her chaotic thoughts. Christ, he was too much. Too much of everything. Too sexy, too nice, too caring.

  Too dominant.

  And she had the feeling she was only seeing the tiniest tip of the iceberg when it came to him being a Dom. What the hell was she going to do if he turned up the charm?

  She set her towel, a bottle of water and her phone down on the porch, then set the alarm for six ten-minute intervals, one for each of the exercises she had to do. She started slowly with stretches, wincing as the scar tissue along her spine pulled. The hospital and then her mum had been putting lotion on her back to soften it up, but she wasn’t about to ask Gabe McConnell to do that. She’d figure something else out.

  The sun and fresh air felt good, though. She’d missed that, stuck in the hospital for so long. She stood again and took a few long, deep breaths, trying to focus on what she was doing instead of on the man she felt watching her from the kitchen window. She refused to turn around, even though she was giving him a bird’s-eye view of her arse. She went back to stretching, stopping only when the alarm chimed ten minutes.

  It took her an hour to work t
hrough the routine she’d learned in physical therapy, but it felt great. Well, except for that one pinchy area, but she wasn’t thinking about it. Not right now.

  She’d drained the first bottle of water halfway through the workout, so she was surprised to find a fresh bottle waiting for her next to her towel. She hadn’t even heard Gabe come outside. Well, that was good. At least when she got into the zone, she was focused on her goals. They came first. But the gesture was incredibly sweet.

  He’d also opened up the back door, and the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee drifted outside and straight to her nose. Her stomach rumbled, also a good sign. Maybe she was getting her appetite back.

  She mopped the sweat off her neck and face and picked up the rest of her stuff. She planned to go upstairs and wash up before eating, but Gabe was there, in her way. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to pass by.

  He shook his head. “Food first.” She raised a damp eyebrow, but he was implacable. “You need to eat.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m quite capable of making decisions for myself.”

  He nodded, smiling agreeably. “Of that, I have no doubt. But today, I’m making the decision for you.”

  She should’ve been furious, but instead she was very, very wet. And not from sweat. She’d fought her parents every step of the way in the hospital about making decisions for her. So why did this man, this virtual stranger, arouse her with words that, from anyone else, would incite her to riot? Still, she couldn’t let it go. “Excuse me?”

  His agreeable smile was still on his face. “You heard me. Food, then shower.” She stayed right where she was, and his smile faded. “You’ve been working out for an hour with no fuel. I don’t want you passing out in the shower.”

  Damn, that made a lot of sense, actually. Still, while part of her—the aching core of her—thrilled to the dominance in his stance, the stubborn Brit part she got from her father didn’t really care for his high-handedness, no matter how correct he might be. Her stomach grumbled, taking the decision out of her hands. “Fine.”