Matzoh and Mistletoe Page 4

  She felt his sigh. “There are things about me you don’t know, things we need to discuss before we go any further. Things that will help put what I did, and why I stopped, into perspective.” He kissed the top of her head and drew her closer. “And we need to talk about you and Sam, too.”

  She went rigid at the mention of her ex-husband’s name, then leaned back and scowled at Jeremy. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  He kissed her nose even as he rubbed gently along her back. “I know, kitten, but I need to. You mean a lot to me, and I need to know what happened so I know whether I should hurt him or thank him.”

  Kitten? He’d called her that twice now, and the playful nickname made her feel warm inside, as did his admission, but she still wasn’t sure what to think about what he’d done, and she definitely wasn’t happy about discussing Sam. Some wounds were still too raw. Might always be too raw. “Fine.”

  In spite of her confusion, she allowed him to guide her head back against his chest. He smelled like man and musk and a woodsy undertone that was probably his soap, but she liked it. He was wrapped around her, and if she were honest with herself, she felt comforted and oddly safe there in his embrace. Jeremy was a big guy, all muscle, and strong, but gentle in his strength. The careful way he held her was proof of that. On the other hand, while there’d been no anger or malice in the swat he’d given her, and his voice had been low and sexy and teasing, he’d still hit her.

  She tensed again and he knew that, too, because his arms shifted and he pulled her even closer. His touch calmed her body, but her mind was another story.

  The only difference between what Jeremy had done to her and what Sam had done to her was how each made her feel, but in reality, wasn’t it the same thing?

  * * *

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn’t believe he’d slipped up like that, falling into Dom behavior without conscious thought, without consent. Her husband had hit her in anger, which had to be on her mind, and dammit, he knew better. It was achingly obvious Becca was bothered by his words and actions. Without context, why wouldn’t she be? In his previous relationships, that playful slap would’ve been the prelude to much deeper, darker pleasures. But Becca didn’t know the game, so her confusion was genuine—and completely warranted.

  Time to back up, back off and do some damage control. His body balked. Her skin was so soft, her scent so potent. Hell, that taste of her had been a mere sip to a dying man, and he’d been thirsty for years.

  But first things first.

  “You offered dinner earlier. Is the offer still open?”

  She wrenched herself out of his arms and stood, watching him. Usually her eyes danced with excitement or laughter, but right now, they were slightly unfocused and wary. He kept his face neutral, and finally she nodded.

  “I’ve had beef stew going in the slow cooker all day, so it should be ready. It’s not a traditional Christmas feast with ham and all the trimmings, but...”

  His mouth watered at the thought. “I’m not big into ham. Stew, on the other hand, is probably my favorite meal of all time.” His stomach grumbled in agreement and he felt himself flush. “As you can tell.”

  Some of the caution eased from her face. “I have homemade bread, too.”

  “Sold.” He pushed up from the sofa and walked to her. He grazed his knuckles across her cheek. “I know you’re confused. I promise I’ll explain it later, if you’ll be patient with me. Can you do that for me, kitten? Will you give me that chance?”

  She stared at him for a long while then rubbed her face against his hand. “I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I can ask for. I’ll follow you, since I don’t know where you live.”

  She gave him the address, scratched Oscar’s ears again, and then they headed out. To his surprise, she didn’t live far from him at all. He’d even passed it on patrol a few times. He’d expected she’d live in a newer development in a fancy house, and maybe she had with her husband. But her home was small and older and, while it was fairly nondescript from the outside, it was warm and cozy and colorful on the inside. It fit her to a T.

  He hung his jacket and the pouch carrying his off-duty weapon in the front hallway. She had a rustic wooden bar nailed into the wall with hooks evenly spaced out. There was a bench beneath it and, following her lead, he toed off his shoes when she did, stowing them underneath. That coat rack gave him ideas, wicked, sexy ideas, but he forced himself to focus. If what he liked turned her off, he’d have some serious thinking to do.

  He’d never imagined himself in a relationship where kinky sex wasn’t a part. But Becca was special. He knew it and his heart knew it but his body wanted to do things to her to make her scream. He honestly had no idea if he could have a vanilla relationship with her, but he knew he’d have to try if she shut him down. Now that he knew what he’d been missing, he wouldn’t easily give it up. “It’s smells incredible in here.”

  She smiled tentatively over her shoulder. “Thanks. I know we just got here, but are you ready to eat?”

  He nodded. “I’m starving. What can I do to help?”

  In her small kitchen, she pointed him to a cabinet where the doors had been removed. “Bowls are there, and utensils are in the drawer below. What can I get you to drink? I have wine, juice, milk, iced tea, beer.”

  “What are you having?”

  “Beer. Goes well with this stew.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She pulled two from the fridge and grabbed mugs, then grabbed napkins. She also took a loaf of bread from a bread machine and sliced it into thick chunks, handing him the plate.

  When everything was on the table, he held out her chair for her. She sat and ducked her head, and he swept her hair to the side, kissing her neck and biting lightly over the pulse there. He licked the sting away, and then sat across from her so he could see her face. “Bec?”

  She looked up, her eyes dazed again.

  Christ, he had no problems imagining her under him, that unfocused, sexy look on her face as he took her to the edge and back until she begged for mercy. Then his stomach growled again, bringing him back to reality. “Eat your dinner, kitten.”

  She picked up her fork and dug in.

  He did the same, savoring every bite of the best stew he’d ever eaten. “What kind of bread is this? It’s delicious.”

  “Challah. A traditional Jewish bread. I decided to see if I could make it in the bread machine. It’s usually braided so it doesn’t have the look, but it does have the flavor.”

  “Good stuff.”

  “Thanks. I also have matzoh bark for dessert.” He must’ve had a blank look on his face because she explained. “Matzoh is unleavened bread we eat at Passover. They taste like crackers. These are coated in butter and melted chocolate. It’s not really a Hanukkah thing, but I made some for school to give to my fellow teachers, and I had extra.”

  His mouth watered. “Sounds bad for you, but tasty.”

  “Pretty much.”

  They ate in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, and then she set her fork across her bowl and rested her chin in her hand. “I’m ready for your explanation. What don’t I know about you?”

  He hesitated with his fork halfway to his mouth, then finished the bite and swallowed, thinking of how best to explain this. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  She cocked her head to the side and just waited.

  Yeah, he hadn’t thought she’d go for that. “My relationships are...different.”

  She raised a brow but her gaze was level. “I’m a middle school teacher. I can outwait any stall tactic you can come up with.”

  Her dry wit made him choke back a laugh he didn’t think she’d find funny right now, but damn, he loved a woman who could hold her own. “Alright then. I don’t do regular, vanilla sex. Well, I do on occasion, but I prefer down and dirty, no-holds-barred kinky sex. With me in charge. I like to use restraints, rope, blindfolds, spanking, flogging and caning on my partner. All of it i
s consensual, but that’s what I like.”

  Her eyes widened, but it wasn’t with the dismay or disbelief he’d expected. Her cheeks darkened, and her nipples beaded under that tight green elf sweater she wore. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but nothing came out. Finally, she waved a hand in front of her face. “I, uh...wow.”

  He cocked his head. “This doesn’t shock you?”

  She gave a half-laugh and continued to fan her face. He could practically see the wheels turning in her brain, could see her tying what had happened at his house to what he’d just told her. “Shock? Yes, it does. I never would’ve guessed that about you. But I don’t think that’s what you mean. You want to know if I’m turned off by it.”

  She really didn’t pull her punches. “Yeah.”

  “I can think of about twenty different synonyms for the adjective that best describes what I’m feeling, but not a single one is disgust.”

  Synonyms? Adjectives? “You really are a teacher, aren’t you?”

  She blinked. “You knew that.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know I’d be getting a grammar lesson, and on Christmas, to boot.”

  “Smart ass.” She threw a hunk of bread at him and sighed dramatically, but then she stilled. “I don’t have any experience with anything like this.”

  “I didn’t think you did. Involvement with women who don’t know my preferences and want the same things I do has never been on my radar. But, kitten, though I’ve been involved with you on some level for five years now, I never expected that involvement to turn into something where I’d have to explain them to you. I never expected you to be single.”

  “I know what you mean. I was married to Sam for six years. I ignored my feelings because I took my wedding vows seriously,” she said softly, “but for much of it, I wanted a man I couldn’t have. In the beginning, it was easy to bury my feelings because I loved Sam. But then things changed and—”

  His heart twisted as she pushed herself out of her chair and went to the sink, looking out the window into the night, giving him her back.

  “Bec?” In the glass, he could see her reflection, could see the way she worried her lip and closed her eyes.

  “Maybe we do need to talk about Sam. About my marriage.”

  His blood started simmering. “I’ll rip his fucking head off.”

  Her head dropped forward.

  He pushed back from the table and came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly to him. He bent his head against hers. “Tell me.”

  “Sam has very definite ideas about what it means to be a proper Jewish woman.”

  The simmer turned to a boil. “Only the woman, right? The man can do whatever he wants?” When she nodded, he swore. “Fuck that. That has nothing to do with being Jewish or Christian or any other religion. Sam expected those things of you because he wanted to control you.”

  Her body went tense, and her voice came out in a tortured whisper. “And you just told me you like to be in control.”

  Shit. “There’s controlling someone because you’re a jackass, and then there’s being in control as the dominant partner in the bedroom.”

  She tried to push away from him, but he wasn’t having any of that. He turned her so she faced him then braced his hands on either side of her body, along the sink’s edge. “Look at me, kitten.” He purposely used a Dom’s tone, injected that note of command that would either piss a non-kinky woman off or make a submissive woman wet.

  She blinked and met his eyes, her pulse throbbing in her neck, her cheeks pink.

  Yes. He felt like pumping his fist in victory. It was a small step, and maybe the only one she’d allow, but at least she hadn’t clocked him or kneed him in his balls. “The difference is consent. His type of control is about taking all your true choices away, making you feel less of a woman, less of a competent person. It’s a control that takes, it’s one-sided, and in many cases it’s abusive.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “The control I like is about giving you the chance to be the kind of woman you want to be with no boundaries except the ones you set. I can’t take that control from you, in my world. You have to choose to give it to me, and if you do, I promise I’ll treat it with care.”

  Her body trembled, and he knew she’d reached her limit on the discussion. He wasn’t ready for their time to end, not now, and not like this. He hugged her then drew her back to the table, pulling her onto his lap.

  “What are you doing?” she protested, trying to stand.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and held tight. “I want you right here while we finish eating. I need to hear the rest of what happened with Sam, but it’ll keep.” He reached across the table and grabbed her bowl of stew. “Right now, I want to enjoy your company and spend Christmas night with you, starting with this amazing dinner you made.”

  He dipped the fork into her stew and held the bite up to her mouth. “Open for me, kitten.”

  She rolled her eyes but opened her mouth. He fed her the bite, then took one of his own as he watched her chew and swallow. He dipped a piece of bread in the broth and held it up to her mouth, locking eyes with her.

  In a perfect world, she’d be on his lap, naked but for the collar around her neck and the plug in her ass. But he’d take what he could get, considering he never imagined he’d have even this much with Rebeccah. Every minute was an unexpected gift.

  He continued to feed her, ignoring his own meal, nuzzling her neck, stroking her back and touching her how he’d always wanted to while she ate, until her food was gone.

  “Aren’t you eating?” she asked, shifting on his lap, bringing her hip into contact with his harder-than-stone erection.

  “The stew was delicious.” He ran a fingertip along her jaw line. “But what I’m truly hungry for isn’t on the menu tonight.”

  She watched him with those wide, solemn eyes of hers. “Are you so sure about that?”

  Chapter Four

  Hardest damn words she’d ever uttered, even harder than the words I want a divorce.

  She wasn’t stupid. Even through her jeans she could feel his erection against her thigh. It had grown as he’d fed her each bite of food, as he’d tormented her with his incredibly gentle yet sensual touches.

  The words had been hard to get out, but they hadn’t been spoken lightly. She knew what she was offering.

  Me, on a silver platter.

  His bold words about what he wanted in a woman hadn’t shocked her, they’d set her on fire. Some of them were scary. She’d never considered caning or flogging, but being tied up and blindfolded? Yes, please.

  She wanted it, wanted to know what the fuss was about. One night when Sam had been in a good mood, she’d asked him what he’d thought about it. After all, they were married and it would be fun, right?

  Wrong. He’d gone coldly furious.

  “Easy, kitten.” Jeremy grabbed her wrist and held it fast, stroking his thumb over her thudding pulse.

  She froze. “Oh, God,” she muttered, realizing she’d been furiously rubbing the cheek Sam had struck. It was obvious Jeremy understood the significance of it, and her stomach soured. “I’m sorry.”

  “No reason to be, but I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I was teasing earlier. We have no schedule here, nothing that says we have to do anything more than have dinner and talk.”

  “Let me up, please,” she muttered, and he released her immediately. She picked up his dishes and hers and rinsed them, then put them in the dishwasher. She put the leftover stew in the fridge, and then set the crock in the sink to soak. Through it all, Jeremy remained quiet, though she could feel him watching her. Finally, she turned to him and blurted out the words she’d been trying to get organized in her brain. “I don’t know if I’ll like the things you talk about, but I think I know what I want. I like the idea of them, but I don’t know about the reality. Does that make sense, or is it as confusing to you as it is to me?” When he didn’t respond
, she dropped her face into her hands. “Gah. I sound like an idiot.”

  He was on his feet in a flash. “You don’t. You sound like a woman who’s never been given the opportunity to try the different things that turn her on.” He pried her hands away from her face. “Am I right?”

  She locked gazes with him and was stunned by the acceptance she saw. She nodded.

  “His loss, and that’s all I’m saying on that subject for now. I’ll be honest with you, kitten. I’ve never been in a real relationship where the woman wasn’t already part of this lifestyle and aware of her own part in it. I’m not sure how this will work out for us. I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know all the answers. But I do know that for the last five years, no woman I’ve dated has been you. So if you want to take a chance with me, want to try out those things that turn you on, I’m not going to turn you down.”

  Her throat constricted. This was what her husband should’ve given her, but hadn’t. It wasn’t her problem, and it never had been. She knew that now, after several sessions of talking with a therapist. It was his problem and, as Jeremy had said earlier, it was also his loss. “Thank you,” she whispered, forcing the words past her tight throat.

  “I want you, kitten. It’s crazy how someone I’ve known for a grand total of ten work days could twist me up like this, turn me inside out.” He smiled sweetly, his eyes warm with the sincerity of his statement. “I want you, but I’ll take the gift of your company tonight. We can do whatever you want to do.”

  Her heart pounded triple-time as she considered his words. Could she do it? Could she tell him what she’d thought about, all those nights she lay in bed alone in the guest room instead of her wedding bed because her husband thought she was unclean? Could she tell him he was the one she’d fantasized about then, imagined him smiling down at her as she knelt before him, her mouth open wide? “I want...”

  The words wouldn’t come. She let out a frustrated growl and wrenched herself out of his grip, fleeing to the living room. She dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace and picked up the matches, but her hands shook as she tried to start a fire.