Forbidden Obsessions Page 3

  He grinned at her petulant tone and held out a chair for her. “Your feast awaits, princess.”

  She glared up at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

  He laughed and set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, along with a plate heaped with food. A proper breakfast.

  “I can’t eat all this.” But even as she said it, she started in on the eggs.

  “Eat what you can. It’s there if you want it.” He stepped away and brought back coffee and a plate for himself, then sat across the table from her.

  She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

  “No, I was waiting for you.” He took a sip of coffee, then pinned her with that direct gaze of his. “I figured we could talk about any questions you might have.”

  Questions? She made a conscious effort to finish the movement of fork to mouth. So many questions, but none of them appropriate, although she figured those were the kind he actually meant. But she was good at playing dumb. She finished her bite of perfectly cooked eggs and nodded. “So, are you almost ready to reopen? What kinds of things still need to be done?”

  A shadow crossed his face, so quickly she might’ve imagined it. “Right now, until the construction crew is done laying the hardwood floors in the sitting room, small things. None of the other rooms besides mine and yours have linens in them, because they smelled smoky from the fire. So I need to get some new ones, and then make up the rooms. All of the bedroom furniture was professionally cleaned, so I’m good there. And I need to refill the pantry because the kitchen had water damage. Right now, I only have what I can use.” He cocked his head. “Oddly enough, most of it involves shopping. I’m not a big fan.”

  “If you’d like, I can help you out while I’m here.” She grinned. “I love shopping of any kind. Especially when it’s not my money.”

  He laughed but shook his head. “You’re here to recuperate, not work. Take time to pamper yourself. Sleep late. Watch television. Sit in the sun and read a book. Visit with the horses.” That sexy smile tilted at the corner of his mouth. “Explore.”

  Her heart sped up. There was an implied challenge in his tone, and the butterflies in her stomach took flight. Still, she played it cool and nicked a piece of toast from the serving plate between them. “We’ll see, but will you think about it? Surely there’s something I can do to earn my keep.”

  He raised a brow. “I can see we need to work on your understanding of what it means to rest and relax. You’re not very good at following orders.”

  Oh, definitely a challenge. One that charmed her, aroused her and yet still scared the bloody hell out of her. Too bad it was now, when she had her eye on the prize of getting her life back together. “Maybe,” she said again, taking another bite of eggs, forcing herself to ignore the temptation he dangled in front of her.

  He snorted but started eating his breakfast. “All right, I’ll accept some help as long as it doesn’t interfere with your recovery. After we’re done here, we can look at each room that needs linens and make a list. No hurry to get them, but at least if you have a list and you’re out somewhere, you’ll know if it’s something that fits.”

  Which reminded her of a question she had. “The suite I’m in is gorgeous. Do the rooms have themes or names?”

  “No, not really. They’re all traditional cottage-type rooms, what you’d find in any bed and breakfast.”

  “Yes, because every B&B I’ve ever stayed in has hooks in the ceiling,” she said dryly.

  “Well, yes. There is that.” He grinned. “But other than that, the rooms are pretty standard inn fare. I tried to make them very retreat-like. Calm, soothing, but I don’t want them overshadowing what goes on here. Consider them the setting rather than the main attraction.”

  She nibbled on a piece of bacon. Was she really going to take that baited statement and ask him what went on here? The temptation to know was nearly impossible to ignore. She looked at him, at the contained way he sat in his chair, his movements elegant and precise, the rolled cuffs of his button-down shirt showing off tanned forearms and capable hands, and she lost her train of thought. Her eyes drifted over his chest, along the line of buttons until her gaze landed on the hollow of his throat. His jaw was strong, solid, wholly masculine and enticing. She wanted to lick along its length, to see if he tasted as good as he looked. His teeth were even and white, and she could almost feel him biting lightly against her—

  “Olivia?” He touched her and she jumped, startled out of her reverie and her totally inappropriate staring.

  The red rushed to her cheeks so quickly she felt dizzy. “Sorry?”

  “You okay?”

  The words wouldn’t come out of her mouth without stammering. “I, uh, yes, I’m fine.” Good Lord, she sounded like a twit. “Just thinking.”

  His eyes flared with heat he didn’t bother to bank. “About what, princess?”

  The words were cool, the complete opposite of the look in his eyes. They were raw, even demanding. It wasn’t a polite question. It wasn’t even a question, really. It was an order, and God help her, she wanted to obey him. The thought sent desire through her body, unfurling low in her belly and places south. A momentary flash of defiance washed over her, but the need to answer him, to follow his command, was far stronger. “What you meant by what it is that you do here.”

  He nodded, as if he’d expected no other answer. “And do you want to know?”

  She stifled a sigh. Goals, goals, goals. “Not today.”

  He smiled slightly. “Fair enough. All you need to do is ask. I’ll answer any questions you have, any time.”

  She nodded, then ducked her head and tucked into her food.

  * * *

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  Olivia’s voice drew him away from the email he hadn’t really been reading. He closed down the program and stood, letting his eyes sweep over her freshly showered body as she waited in the doorway of his office. She’d changed into one of those shapeless yet somehow sexy cotton dresses women loved. Her skin held a rosy flush from the heat of the shower, and her hair was still wet, bound in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder. The tail of it left a dark wet spot on the sunny yellow color of the dress, making it vividly obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. She held a light sweater in her hand, and when she reached to put it on, the thin material of the dress stretched across her chest, giving him a tantalizing view of tightly pebbled nipples before she covered them up.

  He would’ve loved her to have left the sweater off, because the view from where he stood was incredible. His cock agreed with him, swelling even more at the thought.

  “I’m ready.” He took a sip of his now-cold coffee to clear his throat, then stepped out from behind the desk. “Let’s start with the bedrooms.”

  They went back upstairs, and he took her through each room. She took notes on her phone and pictures from each doorway, too. They talked through colors and comforters and quilts as they walked, and her attention to detail made him relax about turning this job over to her. He did need new linens in each room, but he could’ve had the designer who’d initially decorated the rooms reorder things. That was what he’d planned to do, until she’d asked him if she could earn her keep.

  In the last room, she turned to him, a happy smile on her face. “I think I know what you’re looking for, so it should be fun shopping for them.”

  His shudder wasn’t faked. Shopping was pure torture, and not the good kind. “If you say so. I’m glad you’re willing to do it.”

  She laughed lightly, her blue eyes sparkling. “I’m happy to. It seems a small enough thing to do for you allowing me to stay here.”

  Her sweater wrap had a long tie at the bottom, one that could easily wrap around her waist two times. She kept fiddling with it, untying it and retying it, giving him small flashes of t
hose tempting nipples, but she wasn’t doing it to be enticing. She was antsy.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  She blinked, her hands stilling behind her back. “What?”

  Jesus Christ, what that did to him. He wanted to press her face-forward against the wall, take that tie and bind her hands behind her with her own sweater. Then he’d turn her around, draw the top part of the dress down, play with her nipples for as long as he wanted to. He forced the all-too-tempting thought from his brain. “Take off the sweater if it’s bothering you. You keep fidgeting with it.”

  She blushed. “Oh, God. I don’t mean to. It’s the steroids I had to take after the last surgery. I was on them for a long time and I’m coming off them now, but you have to cut down gradually. I feel like I don’t have control over my own body. I’m not usually this restless.” She held up her hands, shrugged and dropped them again.

  That made sense. Without thinking, he reached out and ran his hand lightly up and down her arm, squeezing her fingers. She froze, and he made himself stop touching her. “Let’s walk, then.”

  He knew ways they could both burn off some energy—totally erotic, mind-numbingly sexy ways—but yeah, not now. She was giving major hands-off vibes, even though her eyes said otherwise. And him? Business to get back up and running. The nagging thought that maybe he should chuck the whole thing crossed his brain, but he ruthlessly shut it down. He’d make decisions regarding his future later, when he wasn’t as raw from all that had gone on here over the past few months.

  They went back downstairs, where he brought her into the sitting room. This was one of his favorite rooms in the house, or at least it had been. It had suffered severe smoke and water damage. The walls had been replastered and repainted, but the hardwood floor was still in the process of being laid. Just a few more days, and then work would be done. He’d lost a lot of personal things from this room, too. Erotic art, books, things he’d collected from his travels. Fury swept through him, but again, he shut it down, focusing instead on the beautiful woman waiting for him to get his shit together.

  “This room needs a lot of work. I’ve ordered furniture, but I need to replace a lot of other things. Actually, you need to replace a lot of things, since you know how much I love shopping.”

  She smiled, then looked around the space. “What did it look like before?”

  He pointed. “Sofas were there and there.” He described the rest of the room as it had been. “And the bookcases were full of both hardback and paperback books, art, magazines. Everything got soaked and ruined.”

  Her smile faded, and she touched his arm lightly. “I’m so sorry. Sounds like you put a lot of thought into the things you had here.”

  He nodded, then exhaled sharply. “You’re right. They were just things.”

  A look of distress passed over her face. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Without thinking, he reached out and skimmed a finger down her cheek, then picked up the tail end of her braid, playing with it. “I know you didn’t, princess. But it’s a valid point. A young girl lost her life that day. I lost copies of the Kama Sutra, some pen-and-ink drawings, furniture. Things. Replaceable ones. So thank you for the reminder.”

  It took a moment to realize she stood motionless, her breath coming in short pants, her eyes wide and her color high. It took another to realize that, as he’d spoken, he’d wound her braid around his fingers and now had it tightly in his grasp, the way he might if she were his sub. Or if she were his, period.

  He unwound it slowly, his eyes locked on the pulse pounding furiously in her neck. When he set the braid down against her body, his knuckle brushed her nipple, and she sucked in a gasp. Such mixed vibes. She was attracted, whether to him or to the dominance he projected, but she was scared, and she was fighting as hard as he was not to want what she wanted. Or at least it seemed that way.

  The lust that burned within him was quickly tempered by a flash of self-doubt. The truth of the matter was he just wasn’t sure he was right about what he thought he saw on her face and in her eyes. Much of what he did as a Dom required him to believe in his own abilities and people-reading skills. The whole foundation of his life was built on trust—in himself and in others—but ever since the investigation into his life and his business, that foundation was as shaky as a house on stilts in a hurricane. It was part of the reason he was reevaluating whether he should open back up. How could he mentor others if he wasn’t sure of himself?

  Very carefully, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Olivia’s temple, speaking softly in her ear. “I forgot my manners. I’m sorry, princess.”

  As he pulled away from her, her breath brushed across his skin, searing him with its heat.

  “I’m not.”

  Chapter Three

  On the morning marking the first full week she’d been at Bondage and Breakfast, Liv woke with the sun as she had every other day, thinking about the routine of sorts she and Gabe had settled into. She did her PT outside if it was nice, adding more to her exercises every day. Her spine ached after each session, but that went with the territory, didn’t it? He made breakfast for them both, waiting to eat with her. After she washed up, she went out alone, scouring the outlets and small local shops for replacement things and then, over a late lunch, they’d play show and tell with her purchases. So far, there’d only been one thing she’d bought he hadn’t liked, and she’d returned it the next day. In the afternoon, she’d relax a bit, sitting in the sun outside, soaking it up greedily. She read, or she dozed, but she was always ultra-aware of where Gabe was.

  Sometimes he worked in the garden, and those days she watched him from half-lidded eyes, enjoying the way his jeans or shorts hugged his arse. He was in phenomenal shape, nearly perfect in every way save for the scars around and on his knee.

  And sometimes he sat quietly outside with her, reading or working on his laptop. She wasn’t sure if she could call those silences easy, because on those days, her mind was chaotic, her body wildly aroused simply by his presence. The frustration was rampant, and she was sorely tempted to ignore the road map she’d laid out for her recovery.

  Enough thinking. Time to get up and get moving.

  She yawned and stretched and...oh, God. Utter panic flared. She couldn’t move her legs. No, no, no. For a tortured moment, she forgot she wasn’t still in the hospital, worried she’d never walk again. Her arms pinwheeled, and she pushed herself up to sitting, tearing frantically at the quilt covering her. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest until she realized the sheet was tangled around her legs, locking them together. Her hands shook as she unraveled the unintentional bindings, and sobs choked in her throat. She didn’t take a full breath until her feet were on the floor and she was walking, albeit unsteadily.

  Still breathing roughly, she fled downstairs to the kitchen, desperate for something to drink to quench her panic-induced dry throat. Normally she didn’t help herself, even though Gabe had told her to, but she went to the fridge and grabbed the container of orange juice. She fumbled the container as she was pouring, which knocked against the glass sitting at the sink’s edge. She reached for the glass to prevent it from falling in but missed. It shattered, and she wound up spilling the sticky juice all over the counter and her hand. “Goddamn it.” She reached for paper towels, her voice cracking as she battled her tears back.

  Hands reached around her, steadying the container, and she jumped.

  “Easy, princess. Just me. I’ve got it,” Gabe murmured. He took the paper towels and sopped up the mess, his incredible warmth still at her back, his muscled, bare arms caging her where she stood. He dropped the wet towels into the far side of the sink, then turned on the water. After squirting some milky-white liquid soap into her palm, he slid his fingers between hers in the stream of warm water, washing the juice off them with infinite care. “You didn’t cut yourself, d
id you?”

  Her heart was beating triple time again, and not from panic. Or, at least, not the same kind of panic. This fear came from temptation incarnate. The glide of his slick fingers against hers set off every nerve ending in her body. Who knew her hands were such erogenous zones? When she felt the rough hair of his legs brush against her bare ones, she realized with a startled flash that she hadn’t dressed before running downstairs. She was in nothing but a pair of bikini underwear and a threadbare fire academy T-shirt that served as her nightgown. He wasn’t wearing much either, because his full arousal was pressed against her arse, the heat of it barely tempered by fabric. He couldn’t have on much more than boxers or briefs.

  It was hard to make her voice work. “N-no, I’m okay.”

  He grabbed some more towels and dried off their hands with the same careful precision. “Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset this morning?”

  “Not really,” she said, her head dropping forward. To do so would be to rip the wound open again, and she’d had quite enough drama for today. She hoped he understood and wouldn’t push.

  He pressed his cheek against her hair and held her tightly for a long moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “But if you change your mind, I’m here.”

  Good Lord, that was incredibly sweet. If she stood here much longer, she’d wind up telling him everything and begging him to kiss her and make her forget all about it. It was harder than it should’ve been to duck out of his embrace, but she did. “Thanks, Gabe. I’m okay, really. I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

  She went to the table and sat down, looking directly at him for the first time since he’d come downstairs.

  Oh. My. God.

  If she wasn’t already sitting, the view would’ve made her knees buckle, and that would’ve just added to the embarrassment of the morning.

  He leaned against the sink, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. She guessed he slept nude, because these were running shorts, not boxers or sleep shorts. His chest was wide, his nipples a dark copper. A dusting of brown hair covered his pecs, and a thin line of it trailed down the center of his body, disappearing beneath the waistband of the shorts. He was aroused, and there was no hiding it behind the lightweight material.