Caught Up in You
Page 24
Author: Roni Loren
I won’t risk you.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kelsey didn’t know if her stomach was upside down from the plane landing or from the conversation leading up to it. But either way, she was happy to get her feet on solid ground again as she walked side by side with Wyatt into the small airport.
He had his hand on the small of her back and had smiled politely as people had helped them off the plane, took care of their customs paperwork, and welcomed them, but Wyatt hadn’t said another word to Kelsey after he’d revealed why he didn’t do D/s anymore. So while they rode in the limo that would take them to a chartered boat, she’d watched silently as the man who’d seemed so warm and open over the last day and night disappeared back into the armor of an unruffled business man. She thought she was the pro at slamming the doors and shutting people out, but apparently she’d met her match.
And though her chest ached over the tragedy he’d been through, and she respected his reasons for backing away, another part of her burned with the desire to not let this go, to not take the easy way out. Submitting to Wyatt frightened her, made her feel things. The way he looked at her, spoke to her—like she was something to be revered and protected—was unlike everything she’d ever experienced. Her mind didn’t know how to digest all of that without panicking a bit. Getting used to that kind of affection could hurt her when she walked away from him. She knew that risk. And obviously that terrified the hell out of him, too. But his doubt about her being able to handle this, his worries about her fragility, only made her want to prove him wrong.
Was she really at the point in her life where some man could crush her? Even if she did something idiotic like develop feelings for Wyatt, would she freaking fall apart when their time was up?
No.
Fuck. That.
She wasn’t that person anymore. She didn’t pin fairy tale expectations on reality. Like she’d told him, she wasn’t looking for a prince to save her. She’d been living on her own for a year—had been happy even, until Howie had showed up. If a knife to her throat and knowing a gang wanted her dead hadn’t sent her to pick up a drink or get high, then what would? She was tired of feeling weak, of worrying about slipping up.
This trip was supposed to be fun. She liked Wyatt. The man, the sex, and his dominance. And there was no reason the two of them should spend the rest of the week dancing around each other. But now she had to convince him of that.
“The boat ride isn’t supposed to be too long,” Wyatt said absently, his eyes focused on his phone, his thumb scrolling through emails. “They don’t have an airstrip on Devil Cay.”
She nodded, fiddling with the hem of her cotton skirt, trying to find the right words to kill the awkwardness between them. “I’ve never heard of Devil Cay.”
He glanced up, a quick flick of a look, then he was back to his phone. “You wouldn’t have. It’s a private island and resort owned by the guy throwing this shindig. Well, this year, it’s his son’s deal actually. Edward Carmichael usually hosts this retreat at his resort in Tahoe since it’s ski season, but he’s having health problems and handed the duties over to his son. This place is his son Andrew’s newest acquisition. My guess is the prick wants to show off.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted. She’d never heard such a bitter tone from Mr. Stoic. “Not a fan of Andrew’s?”
“I went to school with him. He’s an arrogant dipshit with too much money and just enough brains to be dangerous. And we hated each other.” He smirked. “He’s also the client my father most wants me to land this week.”
“Fun.”
“Getting his business alone would be worth all the other clients I could gather here put together,” Wyatt said, sounding tired and finally putting his phone to the side. “But I don’t think I’m physically capable of acting like I’m interested in what he has to say.”
“I don’t remember seeing his name on an index card. What’s he into?”
Wyatt sniffed. “Up until a few years ago, he was just another playboy rich kid, spending his time jet-setting, gambling, getting high, and getting laid. Supposedly, he’s taking over the reins of his family’s empire these days with a focus on the luxury hotel division. But my guess is he hasn’t changed that much. He was always more interested in the flash than the work.”
Kelsey crossed her legs and smiled. “Then you’re in luck.”
Wyatt frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Those types are my specialty. They’re the easiest customers to manipulate. You bat your eyelashes and feed their ego, and they’ll buy whatever you’re selling. Let me help you with him.”
A cloud crossed over Wyatt’s face. “When exactly have you come across rich playboys in that little diner?”
“Besides you?” she teased.
“I’m serious, Kelsey.”
She sighed. He knew all her other shit now, so she might as well tell him. “After high school, I danced at a high-end strip club . . . and eventually a few not-so-high-end ones. The only way I made any money was learning how to play my customers just right. I was good at it. If I hadn’t dumped all that cash into my habit, I would’ve been making a pretty nice living.”
“Christ, Kelsey.” Lines creased around his eyes, as if the revelation had physically hurt him. “Did no one protect you?”
“My sister tried, but she didn’t have a shot. I thought I knew it all.” She glanced down and shrugged. “Told you I wasn’t that sweet.”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Look ashamed,” he said, his tone firm. “I won’t sit here and allow you to do that.”
She pressed her lips together and looked at him from beneath her lashes, taking a risk. “Or what? You’re going to spank me?”
He scowled, but she didn’t miss the need that crossed his features before the cool mask slid back in place. “We’ve already discussed that.”
“And I’m not sure I agree.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, the seat bumping beneath her as they went over an uneven road. “I don’t love you, Wyatt.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“And you don’t love me,” she continued, her voice matter-of-fact. “Correct?”
He held his hands out to his sides, clearly confused by her line of questioning. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it. Don’t you see? You’re scared of harming me, of repeating the past, right?”
His lips pressed into a line.
“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about what you’ve been through, but you had a relationship with that woman. Love. That can tear you apart. Can devastate you. But what we’re doing isn’t that. This is a week. It’s fun, sex, and kink. I’m not pledging my lifelong allegiance to you. You don’t need to be responsible for me. I just want to have this experience with you and enjoy it.”
A battle warred in his solemn stare. “But what you said earlier scares me. When feelings get involved, things get messy and dangerous.”
She reached across to slide her hands over his knees, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. “Maybe it’s okay if I feel some things. I’ve lived most of my adult life completely numb. Of course something as intense as D/s is going to stir up those unused emotions, but that doesn’t mean they need to be attached to anything significant.”
“But—”
She smiled. “You make heat-of-the-moment declarations. I have heat-of-the-moment feelings. Doesn’t make them real. But when I’m in a scene with you, when you’re pushing me, I feel more free than I have in as long as I can remember. I want to be able to let go and have a good time with you. Being with you makes me feel like I don’t have a past for a little while.” Like all the dirt is washed away.
He watched her, his jaw twitching and his hands braced on the seat.
“And maybe you need that, too,” she said, her determination building and her voice lowering as she slid her hands up his thighs. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you take the reins, Wyatt. My skin goes hot just thinking about you standing over me. You shouldn’t have to deny that part of yourself. And you shouldn’t deny me.”
His gaze darkened as it slowly tracked down the length of her throat and the vee of her blouse, then back up to meet her eyes again. “You must be a goddamned force in the dungeon, love. You’re sweet temptation wrapped in the armor of a seductress. Men must go stupid at your feet.”
She smiled. “I could always tie you up instead. You could see how you like it at the bottom.”
He growled and then he was pitching forward, grabbing her wrists and pinning her back against her seat. “Not a fucking chance, love. And you don’t want me that way. That won’t make your body go soft and wet like you did for me this morning.”
Her heart was thumping in her ears, the sudden shift in Wyatt welcome but overwhelming her senses. His scent, the soft scrape of his dress shirt against her inner arms, the powerful hold—it all coalesced into instant, throbbing need. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t want to spend the week not touching you. So we’re both a little fucked up. Can’t we be fucked up together?”
“I won’t survive not touching you either,” he said, defeat in his breathless voice. “I can barely share a damn car with you without wanting to pounce.”
“So stop fighting it,” she said softly.
He let out a long, weary breath against the back of her neck. “If we do this, you have to swear not to run from me each time. Treat me as your dom. You have a problem or issue, you come to me. Shut me out and this ends. You scare me when you go quiet.”
The prospect of being that open to any man was daunting. But she knew it was the only way he’d feel safe with her. If she shut down after a scene, he was going to worry she was spiraling to some dark place. “I promise. Sir.”
He lifted her face to him, his eyes flaring blue flame. “I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that.”
“Touch me, sir. Please.” She needed him against her, swiping away all the memories they’d kicked up, all the ugly ghosts.
One hand lowered, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple through the soft cotton of her blouse. She arched into his gentle touch, hoping he was about to take her right there in the backseat. But in her haze of having him over her, she hadn’t realized the limo had stopped.
There was a quick rap on the door and then the sound of the handle being pulled. She froze. Wyatt grinned and gave a sharp pinch to her nipple, making her groan. “Guess I should’ve told him to take the long way.”
The driver cleared his throat, obviously noticing what he’d interrupted. “We’re here, Mr. Austin.”
Wyatt looked over his shoulder as the warm, salty breeze filtered into the car, clearly not at all concerned about being seen in a compromising position. “Thank you. We’ll be right out.”
He pushed himself back onto his seat and straightened her blouse for her. She brushed her hair off her face, trying to cool her flushed skin. “Some proper debutante I am.”
He reached out to take her hand and guide her toward the door, his smile rakish. “Whoever said I wanted proper?”
The driver took her hand from Wyatt’s and guided her out of the car. “Watch your step, Miss. The gravel isn’t even.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to get her footing in the wedge sandals she’d chosen for today. The breeze whipped through her hair, filling her nose with the scent of ocean, and she had to grab for her skirt before it attempted a Marilyn Monroe moment.
I won’t risk you.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kelsey didn’t know if her stomach was upside down from the plane landing or from the conversation leading up to it. But either way, she was happy to get her feet on solid ground again as she walked side by side with Wyatt into the small airport.
He had his hand on the small of her back and had smiled politely as people had helped them off the plane, took care of their customs paperwork, and welcomed them, but Wyatt hadn’t said another word to Kelsey after he’d revealed why he didn’t do D/s anymore. So while they rode in the limo that would take them to a chartered boat, she’d watched silently as the man who’d seemed so warm and open over the last day and night disappeared back into the armor of an unruffled business man. She thought she was the pro at slamming the doors and shutting people out, but apparently she’d met her match.
And though her chest ached over the tragedy he’d been through, and she respected his reasons for backing away, another part of her burned with the desire to not let this go, to not take the easy way out. Submitting to Wyatt frightened her, made her feel things. The way he looked at her, spoke to her—like she was something to be revered and protected—was unlike everything she’d ever experienced. Her mind didn’t know how to digest all of that without panicking a bit. Getting used to that kind of affection could hurt her when she walked away from him. She knew that risk. And obviously that terrified the hell out of him, too. But his doubt about her being able to handle this, his worries about her fragility, only made her want to prove him wrong.
Was she really at the point in her life where some man could crush her? Even if she did something idiotic like develop feelings for Wyatt, would she freaking fall apart when their time was up?
No.
Fuck. That.
She wasn’t that person anymore. She didn’t pin fairy tale expectations on reality. Like she’d told him, she wasn’t looking for a prince to save her. She’d been living on her own for a year—had been happy even, until Howie had showed up. If a knife to her throat and knowing a gang wanted her dead hadn’t sent her to pick up a drink or get high, then what would? She was tired of feeling weak, of worrying about slipping up.
This trip was supposed to be fun. She liked Wyatt. The man, the sex, and his dominance. And there was no reason the two of them should spend the rest of the week dancing around each other. But now she had to convince him of that.
“The boat ride isn’t supposed to be too long,” Wyatt said absently, his eyes focused on his phone, his thumb scrolling through emails. “They don’t have an airstrip on Devil Cay.”
She nodded, fiddling with the hem of her cotton skirt, trying to find the right words to kill the awkwardness between them. “I’ve never heard of Devil Cay.”
He glanced up, a quick flick of a look, then he was back to his phone. “You wouldn’t have. It’s a private island and resort owned by the guy throwing this shindig. Well, this year, it’s his son’s deal actually. Edward Carmichael usually hosts this retreat at his resort in Tahoe since it’s ski season, but he’s having health problems and handed the duties over to his son. This place is his son Andrew’s newest acquisition. My guess is the prick wants to show off.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted. She’d never heard such a bitter tone from Mr. Stoic. “Not a fan of Andrew’s?”
“I went to school with him. He’s an arrogant dipshit with too much money and just enough brains to be dangerous. And we hated each other.” He smirked. “He’s also the client my father most wants me to land this week.”
“Fun.”
“Getting his business alone would be worth all the other clients I could gather here put together,” Wyatt said, sounding tired and finally putting his phone to the side. “But I don’t think I’m physically capable of acting like I’m interested in what he has to say.”
“I don’t remember seeing his name on an index card. What’s he into?”
Wyatt sniffed. “Up until a few years ago, he was just another playboy rich kid, spending his time jet-setting, gambling, getting high, and getting laid. Supposedly, he’s taking over the reins of his family’s empire these days with a focus on the luxury hotel division. But my guess is he hasn’t changed that much. He was always more interested in the flash than the work.”
Kelsey crossed her legs and smiled. “Then you’re in luck.”
Wyatt frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Those types are my specialty. They’re the easiest customers to manipulate. You bat your eyelashes and feed their ego, and they’ll buy whatever you’re selling. Let me help you with him.”
A cloud crossed over Wyatt’s face. “When exactly have you come across rich playboys in that little diner?”
“Besides you?” she teased.
“I’m serious, Kelsey.”
She sighed. He knew all her other shit now, so she might as well tell him. “After high school, I danced at a high-end strip club . . . and eventually a few not-so-high-end ones. The only way I made any money was learning how to play my customers just right. I was good at it. If I hadn’t dumped all that cash into my habit, I would’ve been making a pretty nice living.”
“Christ, Kelsey.” Lines creased around his eyes, as if the revelation had physically hurt him. “Did no one protect you?”
“My sister tried, but she didn’t have a shot. I thought I knew it all.” She glanced down and shrugged. “Told you I wasn’t that sweet.”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Look ashamed,” he said, his tone firm. “I won’t sit here and allow you to do that.”
She pressed her lips together and looked at him from beneath her lashes, taking a risk. “Or what? You’re going to spank me?”
He scowled, but she didn’t miss the need that crossed his features before the cool mask slid back in place. “We’ve already discussed that.”
“And I’m not sure I agree.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, the seat bumping beneath her as they went over an uneven road. “I don’t love you, Wyatt.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“And you don’t love me,” she continued, her voice matter-of-fact. “Correct?”
He held his hands out to his sides, clearly confused by her line of questioning. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it. Don’t you see? You’re scared of harming me, of repeating the past, right?”
His lips pressed into a line.
“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about what you’ve been through, but you had a relationship with that woman. Love. That can tear you apart. Can devastate you. But what we’re doing isn’t that. This is a week. It’s fun, sex, and kink. I’m not pledging my lifelong allegiance to you. You don’t need to be responsible for me. I just want to have this experience with you and enjoy it.”
A battle warred in his solemn stare. “But what you said earlier scares me. When feelings get involved, things get messy and dangerous.”
She reached across to slide her hands over his knees, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. “Maybe it’s okay if I feel some things. I’ve lived most of my adult life completely numb. Of course something as intense as D/s is going to stir up those unused emotions, but that doesn’t mean they need to be attached to anything significant.”
“But—”
She smiled. “You make heat-of-the-moment declarations. I have heat-of-the-moment feelings. Doesn’t make them real. But when I’m in a scene with you, when you’re pushing me, I feel more free than I have in as long as I can remember. I want to be able to let go and have a good time with you. Being with you makes me feel like I don’t have a past for a little while.” Like all the dirt is washed away.
He watched her, his jaw twitching and his hands braced on the seat.
“And maybe you need that, too,” she said, her determination building and her voice lowering as she slid her hands up his thighs. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you take the reins, Wyatt. My skin goes hot just thinking about you standing over me. You shouldn’t have to deny that part of yourself. And you shouldn’t deny me.”
His gaze darkened as it slowly tracked down the length of her throat and the vee of her blouse, then back up to meet her eyes again. “You must be a goddamned force in the dungeon, love. You’re sweet temptation wrapped in the armor of a seductress. Men must go stupid at your feet.”
She smiled. “I could always tie you up instead. You could see how you like it at the bottom.”
He growled and then he was pitching forward, grabbing her wrists and pinning her back against her seat. “Not a fucking chance, love. And you don’t want me that way. That won’t make your body go soft and wet like you did for me this morning.”
Her heart was thumping in her ears, the sudden shift in Wyatt welcome but overwhelming her senses. His scent, the soft scrape of his dress shirt against her inner arms, the powerful hold—it all coalesced into instant, throbbing need. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t want to spend the week not touching you. So we’re both a little fucked up. Can’t we be fucked up together?”
“I won’t survive not touching you either,” he said, defeat in his breathless voice. “I can barely share a damn car with you without wanting to pounce.”
“So stop fighting it,” she said softly.
He let out a long, weary breath against the back of her neck. “If we do this, you have to swear not to run from me each time. Treat me as your dom. You have a problem or issue, you come to me. Shut me out and this ends. You scare me when you go quiet.”
The prospect of being that open to any man was daunting. But she knew it was the only way he’d feel safe with her. If she shut down after a scene, he was going to worry she was spiraling to some dark place. “I promise. Sir.”
He lifted her face to him, his eyes flaring blue flame. “I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that.”
“Touch me, sir. Please.” She needed him against her, swiping away all the memories they’d kicked up, all the ugly ghosts.
One hand lowered, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple through the soft cotton of her blouse. She arched into his gentle touch, hoping he was about to take her right there in the backseat. But in her haze of having him over her, she hadn’t realized the limo had stopped.
There was a quick rap on the door and then the sound of the handle being pulled. She froze. Wyatt grinned and gave a sharp pinch to her nipple, making her groan. “Guess I should’ve told him to take the long way.”
The driver cleared his throat, obviously noticing what he’d interrupted. “We’re here, Mr. Austin.”
Wyatt looked over his shoulder as the warm, salty breeze filtered into the car, clearly not at all concerned about being seen in a compromising position. “Thank you. We’ll be right out.”
He pushed himself back onto his seat and straightened her blouse for her. She brushed her hair off her face, trying to cool her flushed skin. “Some proper debutante I am.”
He reached out to take her hand and guide her toward the door, his smile rakish. “Whoever said I wanted proper?”
The driver took her hand from Wyatt’s and guided her out of the car. “Watch your step, Miss. The gravel isn’t even.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to get her footing in the wedge sandals she’d chosen for today. The breeze whipped through her hair, filling her nose with the scent of ocean, and she had to grab for her skirt before it attempted a Marilyn Monroe moment.
