Chapter One 9 page

Rome? Mother? Oh frak. She didn't think she moved, but the fingers around her arm tightened.

“Mother, I'd like you to meet my friend MacKensie Taylor, who is moving here from the Midwest. MacKensie, this is my mother, Victoria Fontaine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mac said, forcing sincerity into her voice.

“Welcome to Seattle, Miss Taylor,” Victoria said with not a speck of warmth. “If you'll excuse me, I want to check our seating arrangements.” She tilted her head at her son, patted Butler, nodded to Mac, and swept away.

How long did you have to be rich before you learned to walk like a queen? Mac wondered, shoving aside the pain from being so obviously detested. She glanced at Alex. “I didn't realize you have family here.” Actually, since she wasn't used to having any, she hadn't even thought about it.

“Please forgive my mother,” Alex said softly. “My father was unfaithful and had a liking for blondes, so Mother acts as if every pretty blonde is a hooker.”

A hooker. Mac felt the blood slide right out of her face, and her hands clenched. “Nothing to forgive,” she said hastily. “But I just spotted the ladies' room. If you and Butler will excuse me, please?” Before he could grab her and quiz her, she escaped. She knew her hasty retreat not only didn't look like a queen's but displayed no dignity whatsoever.

Decorated in floral wallpaper with blue tiling the color of Alex's eyes, the elegant powder room held several brocade-covered chairs. Her legs none too steady, Mac sank into one gratefully. Alex's mother thought blondes were hookers. If she only knew… Mac gave a short laugh and buried her face in her hands.

After a minute, her brain clicked back on. Overreacting here.

Really now, although Alex made her feel wonderful and she really liked him, he wasn't…wasn't… She stared at her hands, watching the sparkles on her fingernails. Well, yes, he was. She'd fallen for him in a big way. But they had a deal, and he'd made it very, very clear right from the beginning that he didn't want a real girlfriend. Temporary, Mac, try to remember that.

So fine. On a more positive note, that meant whatever his mother thought of MacKensie wasn't important at all. Besides, she lived in Seattle now, not Oak Hollow; no one knew her past…mistakes.

Mac raised her chin and straightened her spine. Alex had brought her here to help her find a job. She'd better get with the program.

* * * * *

An hour later, the most tedious part of the evening—speeches and acknowledgments and awards—had concluded, the program deliberately kept short and sweet.

Since Alex found sit-down meals at an event this size far from palatable, two years ago he'd prevailed and hors d'oeuvres were served buffet-style instead. Each of the many long tables along the wall featured the artistry of a different local chef, and after serving themselves, guests could sit and eat or wander around.

Alex had seen to the feeding of his little sub, although she had no appetite, especially when she realized they had to sit in the front of the room. A glass of wine helped her color. After the speeches were done, he took her table-hopping, choosing vet contacts she'd find useful and people he thought she'd enjoy. His friends tended to be good, down-to-earth people. He'd enjoyed watching as she charmed the pets at each table and then their owners. God knew she charmed the hell out of him.

With a sense of anticipation, he had introduced her to his uncle. An excellent judge of character, Uncle Andrew had disliked Cynthia within minutes of meeting her. He obviously fell for MacKensie just as quickly and was now trying to talk her into joining the family for a day sail through the San Juan Islands.

Alex lost track of the conversation when MacKensie turned away from him and the light glinted off the long expanse of bare skin. That damned gown. If he touched the smooth, silky skin on her back one more time, he was liable to yank the straps down and scoop her breasts into his hands. Just the thought made him harden.

“Don't you agree?” MacKensie looked over her shoulder at him and met his gaze. Within the space of one breath, her brown eyes darkened as she caught his heat. She licked her lips, and he remembered how that soft mouth had felt around his cock last night.

“Ahem.” His mouth quirking, Uncle Andrew rose to his feet.

Politely, Alex did the same and glanced down to see that MacKensie's face had turned red. He stroked a finger down her cheek, watched it darken further, and tried not to laugh when she glared at him.

“I need to find my Serena before she buys out the auction room,” Andrew said. After looking at the crowd of people in the room, he clapped Alex on the shoulder. “You've done a nice job here.” Then his gaze dropped to the little vet attempting to straighten Butler's bow tie and laughing when the dog managed to sneak in a lick.

Andrew nodded. “Very, very nice.”

* * * * *

All this socializing could exhaust a girl, but the evening was almost over. And she'd done really well. Smiling a little, Mac leaned forward and checked her makeup in the powder-room mirror. Whatever that beautician had used on her must have been industrial-strength. Even the lipstick had lasted.

She straightened up and turned one way, then the other. The evening gown rippled and glinted. Had Cinderella felt like this? Hopefully glass slippers were more comfortable than these gorgeous, strappy, high-heeled sandals. Her sneaker-wearing feet had gone into shock at least two hours ago.

After smiling at the other women lined up in front of the mirrors, Mac gave herself one last approving nod and headed out.

The tiny hallway that led to the ballroom was empty except for a beefy, middle-aged man. To Mac's surprise, he stepped directly into her path.

“Excuse me.” She moved to the side.

He blocked her again. “Now don't you just look a sight? Who would have thought the whore who serviced an Iowa vet convention would be working here? You got some sort of hard-on for vets?” He grabbed her arm, squeezing painfully. “What? Don't you recognize me? You should. I paid you enough, and like I told your pimp, you were a lousy lay.”

She froze, cold seeping into her as if the hall had frozen, turning her bones to brittle ice. Ajax staking out the alley. Man after man from the convention. She'd been so tired. The last man—this man—complaining. Ajax's fists.

“You've come a long way from that dirty little brat in Des Moines.” The fat pockets around his eyes squeezed together as he looked her over, his gaze lingering on her cleavage. “You look good. Very good.”

After the first month or so, she'd stopped really seeing the johns. They'd just been shadows that used her body and gave her money so Ajax wouldn't beat her. But she recognized this brutal man. She swallowed, trying to think. What could she say to make him disappear?

“Tell you what.” He pulled her toward him. “I'll get us a room upstairs. You can show me if your skills improved along with your appearance.”

“No.” Her lips felt numb, but her voice didn't waver.

“Oh yes.” He yanked her close enough to breathe in her ear. Nausea knotted her stomach. “You're a whore; you can't afford to be picky.”

I'm not a whore. Never. Ever. Again. With all her strength, she yanked her arm out of his grasp, ignoring the way his fingernails ripped her skin. “I'm not a whore, you bastard,” she hissed. “Stay away from me.”

Behind her, the bathroom door opened, and two elderly women exited, one carrying a teacup poodle.

Mac's heart thudded against her ribs like blows from a fist as she turned to them. “Excuse me, but could you show me where the auction room is?”

“Of course, dear,” one said.

“Lovely.” Mac forced a smile and sidled closer. “That's an adorable dog,” she said to the woman holding the poodle. “What's his name?”

“This is Figaro.” As she stroked the dog's head, the old woman glanced at the man. “Dr. Dickerson, how pleasant to see you.”

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Johnson.”

Walking beside the women, Mac passed Dickerson. Even without looking, she could feel the anger radiating from him.

As they left the hall, Mac cleared her dry throat. “Are you acquainted with that veterinarian?” He must be a vet if he'd been at that Iowa convention.

“Oh yes.” Mrs. Johnson lowered her voice. “I shouldn't say anything, but”—she glanced at her friend, who nodded—“I hate to see any innocent animal in his hands. He's competent enough, but his temper… He actually struck my poor Figaro once. Just for growling.”

He'd struck her too, Mac thought. Before shoving her at Ajax and demanding his money back.

She managed to continue the conversation until well into the busy ballroom. After they pointed to the auction room, Mac veered off, working her way around the side of the ballroom toward where she'd left Alex talking with the mayor. She checked over her shoulder every few seconds, but the man hadn't followed.

Before she'd even managed to get halfway around the room, dizziness surged through her. Head spinning, she staggered to the wall and dropped into a chair. Her face felt cold, then hot, and for a moment her stomach almost revolted. Breathing through her teeth, she fought the sickness down. One breath. Another. She'd used the technique before, especially in the beginning, when she still thought of herself as a nice girl.

She finally mastered herself, although the taste of bile lingered. When a waiter passed by, she waved, and he provided her with a glass of wine from his tray. She downed it quickly, and the sharpness of the chardonnay eradicated the sickness.

Why couldn't there be anything to eradicate her memories as nicely? After using the little napkin to wipe her clammy hands, she rose to her feet. Still no sight of Dickerson, but any glimpse of a big-boned or ruddy-faced man sent fear stabbing through her. Every cell in her body urged her to run and hide.

She hauled in another long breath. I'm braver than this. I'm not a teenager anymore. She brought to mind Alex's mother, who wielded intimidation and dignity like weapons of war and moved like the slow freighters that crossed the Sound with unstoppable power. Mac took one step, then another, and caught the regal rhythm. She concentrated so fiercely on being a freighter that she could almost hear the waves lapping against her sides.

The relief when she spotted Alex almost sank her boat.

Tears burned her eyes, and her legs wobbled so much, she had to stop. Thank God, his conversation kept his attention. Breathe. Breathe. And then she pushed off again. I'm a freighter just like Victoria.

When she reached Alex, he curled an arm around her waist, continuing to talk with a tiny old woman who wanted the feral-cat people to spay the cats running wild around her apartment complex.

When the woman walked away, Alex turned to Mac. His brows drew together, and his eyes narrowed. He tilted her chin up. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The frown deepened and so did his voice. “Do not lie to me, pet.”

How could she tell him? Just the thought of that man grabbing her in the hallway… Suddenly she couldn't bear being touched at all. She shoved Alex's hand away and stepped back.

She was surprised that he let her, and even more surprised when he stayed out of her space.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he said softly. His gaze burned across her face before he handed her Butler's leash. “Watch over him for a minute, and then I'll take you home.”

He headed for one of the organizers of the event, leaving her with Butler. She stared after Alex until she heard a whine, and a cold nose touched her fingers.

She sank down, her gown ruffling around her feet. “Butler,” she whispered. “I'm glad you're here.”

His tail wagged, and he pushed his muzzle against her stomach, his warmth more comforting than any heating blanket. Animals never turned on her. Never judged her. Never tried to use her.

Feet stopped beside Butler. Dress shoes, black slacks.

Oh please. No. Mac froze, her fingers tightening on the leash. She looked up into Alex's intense blue gaze, and relief weakened her legs until she clutched at Butler for support.

Alex held out his hand and waited, not trying to grab her, just offering support.

Alex. This is Alex. She took his hand.

Chapter Sixteen

Once they reached home, Alex watched MacKensie remove Butler's costume with fingers that trembled so badly, she could barely unbutton the collar and tie.

When finished, she gave Alex a flickering glance before averting her eyes. “I'm going to bed. All this socializing exhausted me.” Her lips tried to curve and failed. “Thank you for taking me.” Her progress up the stairs looked like an escape.

Butler obviously thought so also, and he whined long and low.

Alex ran a hand down the dog's head. “Not just yet, guy. Let's give her a little time, and then we'll see what we can do.”

After a shower, Alex put on a robe, then waited an hour before he tapped at MacKensie's door. She might want to be alone, but he had no intention of permitting that. Not after seeing the look in her face: fear, not exhaustion.

When she didn't answer, he walked in. The French doors to the balcony stood open, letting in the moist night air scented with the fragrance of sweet autumn clematis climbing the trellis below. A slow rain had begun sometime earlier.

Her back to the room, MacKensie leaned against the railing.

Alex gave the bed a glance. Still made; she hadn't tried to rest. She had looked extremely jumpy earlier, so he spoke from the center of the room to give her warning of his presence. “MacKensie.”

She gasped and spun, her instinctive step back stopped by the railing. Damn good thing it was there.

First terror, then recognition. Her muscles eased slightly, and her hands opened, indicating a slight reduction of her nervousness. Not enough. Not nearly enough. His sub was afraid, and that knowledge brought every Dom instinct in his nature to the fore. He walked to the balcony door and stopped. “Come here,” he said softly.

Her chin came up slightly, delighting him. “I don't want company now,” she said stiffly. “I'm not going to…play.”

“I didn't ask you to play. Come here. Now.”

Mac felt the cold wrought-iron railing against her hip, preventing any retreat. The soft light from the bedroom lamp outlined Alex's body, leaving his face in shadow and limiting her ability to read his expression or eyes.

She had only his voice. She tightened her fingers around the railing as if that would tighten her resolve, but her defiance withered like an old, unwatered vine, falling dead at her feet. Her knuckles creaked as she opened her fingers and took a step toward him. Another.

He held out his hand but didn't come closer. The way he loomed in the doorway set something trembling in her stomach. He'd push her down, shove his—

“Little sub,” he said, his voice deep and gentle, smoothing over the sharp edges of her past. “Are you mixing me up with someone else in your mind?”

So many, many others. Her voice couldn't escape through the constriction in her throat.

His hand closed over hers, warm against her cold. He pulled her closer. “Say my name.”

She swallowed. “Alex.”

Warm approval washed over her. “Very nice. And what does a sub call her master?”

Master? When had he—

“MacKensie?”

“Sir. I call you 'Sir.'”

“Excellent.”

He pulled her into the room, toward the bed, and her feet dragged. An exasperated sound escaped him. “MacKensie, I don't make a habit of bedding women who are terrified. Or freezing. Stand right there.”

Without waiting to see if she complied, he fetched her robe from the bathroom and tossed it on the bed. “Hold still.” Efficiently, ruthlessly, he stripped off her gown. As he peeled off her panties, she realized they were wet from the rain. Everything was wet, and she shivered as the air hit her bare skin. “Easy, pet,” he murmured and, to her relief, bundled her into the long terry-cloth robe, belting it around her with impersonal hands. He hadn't even tried to cop a feel.

“Alex?”

His thumb brushed her cheek. “That's right, little cat. Come with me now.” Putting an arm around her, he guided her to the stairs, down and out onto the back patio. Back into the drizzling rain. Next to the Jacuzzi, he stopped. “Don't move,” he said again, then uncovered the top. Steam billowed out, the warmth fleeting in the cold night air.

Alex tossed his robe onto a hook on the wall, then added hers, pushing her hands away when she tried to stop him. A chill ran through her. He was naked; she was naked.

“Get in, pet,” he ordered, holding out his hand to help her down the steps into the Jacuzzi. Her legs moved like cold blocks of concrete. She gasped when the heat seared her cold skin, and turned to climb back out. He stepped behind her, preventing that move.

“It's too hot.”

“You're too cold.” He took her hands, then sat down on the seats built into the sides. “Give it a minute.”

She stood stiffly in the center of the water, jumping when the jets came on, battering against her. Slowly, slowly, as her body adjusted, her shivers diminished and died.

Alex didn't speak, just held her hands and waited, watching her quietly. The dim glow from inside the house carved hollows under his eyes and cheeks, providing just enough light to catch an occasional blue glint in his eyes.

“Good,” he said, just as she realized the water temperature no longer burned. “Sit.”

“I'm not a dog.” She tried to pull her hands away, as useless an action as a Chihuahua trying to win against a Great Dane. Giving in, she let him pull her down beside him. His hands closed on her waist to move her where the bubbling flow of water would massage her back and the knots in her shoulders.

She waited for him to touch her intimately, to grab her breasts. Minutes passed. And then, with a sigh, she leaned back and let the water soothe her.

Sitting next to her, Alex did the same. He had one long arm laid along the rim behind her head. Soon his fingers started to unravel the French braid in her hair. When her hair billowed loose, he grasped her shoulders, ignoring her start and attempt to withdraw, and turned her so her back was to him.

And then he massaged the rest of the knots out of her shoulders and her neck. When he didn't try anything more intimate, she relaxed again, letting him touch her. Muscles she didn't know were tight complained and then went limp.

“That's better,” he said finally and simply set her back in her place so she could lean against the side.

Toenails clicked on the patio, barely audible over the shushing sound of the jets as Butler crossed to the Jacuzzi. He licked her cheek once, accepted a kiss on his nose in return, and then padded back inside the door and out of the rain.

Animals gave simple acceptance and caring, but men always took advantage. Her thoughts stumbled as if hitting a rut in the road. Jim hadn't. And Alex hadn't. She'd been so cold and alone, and he'd taken care of her. MacKensie's eyes burned with tears, and she blinked furiously.

Instinctively she stood. She needed to find somewhere to hide—to cry.

“My sub doesn't cry alone,” Alex said softly. “She cries in my arms.” He pulled her onto his lap and against his chest.

She couldn't… But his embrace was unyielding, and she couldn't hold it in. A sob welled up from deep inside. It hurt and tore through her throat like the man's appearance had torn through her dreams. Another sob followed and another. Why, God? I only wanted to have a new life. To be free from the past. But life isn't fair—never, never fair.

She cried until her throat was raw and her eyes swollen. When she finished, she lay limp against Alex's chest, listening to his slow heartbeat as he stroked her hair. He'd never said a word.

After a minute, he handed her a napkin from the side of the tub. She wiped her tears away and blew her nose.

Grasping her chin, he tilted her face one way, then the other, examining her. “Better. Now tell me what happened at the dance.”

She shook her head.

“Something from your past?”

Her mouth tightened over the words that strained to come out.

He sighed, but his eyes never left her face. “MacKensie, unless you tortured small fuzzy animals or children, I can forgive you. Tell me.”

The thought of seeing disgust on his face pierced her insides with ice. To have him look at her like the people in Oak Hollow had—like that man just had—she wouldn't survive that. “I will never, ever tell you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Don't ask me again.”

He studied her for a long minute. “We'll work on it at a later time.”

“No,” she whispered. Yet when he pulled her back against his chest, she didn't resist at all.

“Poor little sub,” he murmured. “So many worries and so little trust.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, the feeling of his arms around her became more than just comfort. Not because of anything he did, but as the upheaval from her past faded, her body remembered the present. And what joy she'd found here in his embrace. Her hands stroked down his back, releasing tiny bubbles against his skin that tickled her palms. She ran her fingers down his spine, fingered the vertebrae between the long muscles, and returned to the hard-packed muscles covering his scapula and upper arms. When she pulled back, she saw a faint smile on his face.

His hand moved to her breast. When her nipple bunched under the touch of his fingertips, his smile increased.

She sighed as the dawning need tightened like a noose around her, squeezing her into urgency. She wanted to have sex with someone who cared and someone she cared for. She needed to make all those memories of other men go away. Her hands slid to his front, and she squeezed his growing cock until it stood erect.

He chuckled and started to lift her up, and she realized he intended to put her hips on the pool rim at a nice level for his mouth.

“No.” She shook her head and gasped when his hand slid between her legs, finding her wet already. “I want—I need you inside me. Now.” His finger slid over her clit, and she whimpered at the surge in her blood. “Please. Sir?”

He set his other hand against her face. “Do you realize how difficult it is to say no when you call me that and look at me like this?” His hand tangled in her wet hair, holding her for his kiss. His lips expertly teased hers, his tongue as possessive as the finger that slid into her vagina. When her tongue entered his mouth, and he sucked on it lightly, she moaned and pulled back. “Please, Sir?”

She moaned again when he withdrew his finger from her pussy.

“All right, then, little cat.” When she made a move to straddle his legs, he chuckled. “I don't think so. Stand up.” He pushed her to the side of the Jacuzzi that lacked a seat. Grasping her hands, he placed them on the rim. “Bend over.”

Her fingers pressed into the cold, rough concrete. The rain hadn't stopped, and cold drops splattered on her face and back.

Standing behind her, Alex put his arms around her, and his hands closed over her breasts. He played with her, lifting her breasts in his big hands, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs until the peaks turned as hard as the cement under her fingers.

Dammit, she wanted him inside now. She wanted to be engulfed by him, have him drown out her memories so she could pretend no one else had ever touched her. She pushed back and rubbed her bottom against his erection.

He stilled, then bit her neck, his teeth pressing down on the muscle. She remembered when just that had almost sent her over, but not tonight. Tonight too many other things filled her head. That man had touched her. Her mouth had been… She pushed back again, more frantically.

“What you need and what you want aren't the same things,” he murmured in her ear, “but you're going to get both tonight.” His warm breath made her shiver despite the heat of the water.

He entered her in one merciless thrust, lifting her to her toes. Filling her fully, painfully. She cried out, and her hands clenched on the rim, abrading her fingers. Cold rain sluiced over her shoulders and arms, which were out of the steaming water. He thrust into her once again, and she pushed back. Take me. Make me forget.

Suddenly his hands slid lower to touch her intimately, and need sizzled through her, shaking her control, entering her soul. She didn't want to feel anything that deeply, not tonight. She started to straighten.

“Keep your hands on the rim,” he growled. She froze.

Still embedded in her, he pushed her legs apart until they gaped widely and she had to hold the rim for balance. His hips pushed her forward, closer to the wall, and then his hand covered her mound—her bare, hairless mound. The sensation was startling. She wiggled up and down on his cock. “Move,” she whispered.

He ignored her, anchoring her against him with the hand pressing against her pelvis. The other hand touched something on the Jacuzzi's side. When he moved his hand away from her mound, she realized what he'd done. A jet of water hit her directly on her pussy, and the forceful streams of water felt like tiny fingers flickering all over her clit and labia. She jumped and tried to move back.

“Don't move, little cat,” he said, his hips keeping her in place. He secured her further, one hand over her breast, the other right above her mound.

“I don't…” The water demanded a response, and her clit tightened. “I don't want this, Sir.”

“I know, sweetheart. That's why I didn't give you a choice.” With a finger on each side of her clit, he opened her labia, exposing her completely to the throbbing water.

“Uuuuh,” she moaned, unable to move away from the barrage.

And then he started to move inside her, his cock dragging over sensitive tissues, wakening her nerves from inside. Each relentless thrust raised her up on her toes and moved the water up and down her clit like stroking fingers. Inside her, need grew, blossoming along her nerves. Her legs started to shake as her vagina clamped tighter around him. She panted, breathing the cold, moist air that warmed as their movements stirred the water. Tendrils of steam curled around them.

Then his thrusts changed to a forceful rhythm, one that overwhelmed her mind and her emotions, leaving only sensation after sensation. Her clit engorged, growing more and more sensitive, but she couldn't seem to go over. She balanced right on the precipice until every breath came out a whimper.

With a merciless grip, he pushed her closer to the jet, then twisted her hips back and forth in front of the pulsing water. The stream of water hit her clit and then was gone. He turned her back, and water pounded across her for a second. With each twist, he shoved deeper inside her.

Nothing could fight against that. Her clit tightened until it felt as if he'd clamped it between his fingers, and then everything inside her uncoiled violently, shooting pleasure through her in jagged, excruciating waves.

With a low laugh, he slammed into her, keeping her spasms going and going, until his fingers dug into her hips and his thick cock jerked inside her as if her orgasm had compelled his.

Battered inside and out, she leaned on her hands, realizing he must have pulled her back from the jets when she came.

His hands caressed her breasts as he kissed the side of her neck. She'd given him what he wanted, but it seemed as if she'd given him her soul with that orgasm. Now her defenses lay shattered, and she stood there, vulnerable. Exposed. When he pulled out of her, she wanted to cry, but nothing remained inside her.

He didn't try to talk. He simply lifted her up and out of the Jacuzzi and bundled her into her robe. He actually carried her up the stairs to his room, dried her gently, made her drink a glass of water, and pulled her into his arms, never leaving her alone for a second. As she'd wanted, he engulfed her with his presence and the sense of safety he carried with him.

She woke once during the night, curled in a ball with her back against his chest. His hand cupped her breast. Knowing he was asleep, she whispered, “Thank you.”

She was shocked when he nuzzled the back of her neck and murmured, “My sub, my pleasure.”

She fell back asleep knowing how a kitten must feel in a pile of its brothers and sisters.

Chapter Seventeen

The next day, Mac drove Alex's spare car to downtown Seattle.

Lacking the money to extend her lease, she'd returned her rental car. When Alex caught her poring over maps of bus routes, he'd insisted she use his BMW. Stubborn bastard.

Just like Alex, the car both terrified and thrilled her. She shut the door and patted the BMW's sleek hood. Unlike Alex, the car handled like a dream.

She looked around at the wet streets and tall buildings. The gray day suited her mood perfectly. A thin drizzle of rain plastered her hair to her face and dampened her jeans as she strolled the streets.

Just as the sun came out from behind the clouds, she discovered an odd little park that spanned the freeway. There, she perched on a slab of concrete to eat the lunch she'd bought and watch man-made waterfalls cascade over numerous blocks of cement. The jubilant noise of the water almost drowned out that of the freeway.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 730