Lean on Me
Page 34
What? How dare he try to give her the blame? “Why didn't you call me? I waited—” She choked on how much she'd wanted to hear from him.
“I didn't know, sweetie. I flew to Miami Saturday night and just got back yesterday, and then heard about you and Vanessa.” His mouth tightened. “And I've tried to reach you ever since.”
Oh. “I was backpacking.” Fizzles of happiness bubbled through her. He'd called her. “I haven't even been home yet.”
“Andrea, why didn't you call me?”
She closed her eyes. Damn Dom went straight to the point. She wasn't ready to answer that question. “So who was the thief at the Shadowlands?”
“Vanessa lied, and you know it. Don't play games with me, pet.”
Caught. She stopped herself from leaning toward him and settled back. “But how did the money get into my locker?”
“You, sweetie, left your combination on the bench that first day.”
“No way.” The first day. Walking into the dressing room. Setting the padlock and paper on the bench. Choosing a locker and putting the padlock on. Storing her stuff—and being sidetracked by the other trainees' shock at her pants. And never picking the paper up. “Idiota. I made it so easy for her.”
She felt like banging her head against a wall. A bit late for that. “What are you going to do with her?”
“After I questioned her, I gave her to Z to deal with. She's his problem now.” Cullen moved closer; she could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Z plans to make an announcement and apology on both Friday and Saturday nights, so the members know what happened.” Hard hands pushed her knees apart, and he stepped between her legs. “So we're back to the problem of you and me.”
“Why don't we just leave it as it is? We don't live in the same worlds.” The part of her that had stayed coldly angry shoved those words out, and another part wailed that she didn't want to give him up.
“That's not an option. Try again.”
Her eyes burned at the flood of relief.
“Look at you. You don't want to call it quits any more than I do.” Before she could answer, his hand clamped over her nape, and his mouth covered hers, opening her lips, and taking possession. Deep and furious. He pulled back long enough to put his hands under her thighs, lifting her, and reversing their positions so he sat on the tailgate. He wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her tighter until her pussy pressed against a huge erection.
This time when he kissed her, her arms curled around his neck. Dios, she'd missed him.
“Looks like they made up. What do you think, Julio?”
Andrea stiffened at the sound of Rafael's voice. Her cousins had undoubtedly wandered down the block just to check on her.
Cullen merely chuckled and glanced over at the two men, standing with their hands in their pockets, grinning like fools. “I'm taking her with me before she has time to change her mind.” Cullen's arm tightened, defeating her effort to pull away. “Please thank the ladies for a wonderful meal and for letting me share in the birthday dinner.”
Her cousins laughed and headed back to the house.
How dare he tell her cousins what to do? And make plans for her. “No, I don't—” she started.
“Little sub”—the darkness of his voice froze her tongue—“you no longer have permission to speak.”
As everything inside her turned liquid, he lifted her in his arms, put her in the passenger side of his truck, fastened her seat belt, and closed the door.
* * *
What had she done? Andrea toyed with the belt of her shorts and scowled as the truck headed down the empty country road toward the west. The moist scent of the swamp, the palmettos, and the orange groves drifted through the half-open windows. She'd said no. Why hadn't she made it stick? Why had he pushed her?
Because he was a damned Dom and could tell that she wanted to go with him. And oh, she did. This was just so confusing. Did he really want her?
And yet, everyone said he didn't take anyone home. Or maybe he did and no one knew.
“So much thinking.” Cullen's hand closed over her cold fingers. “Did you get any answers?”
“No.” She sighed. Just that she wanted to go with him more than anything she'd wanted in a long, long time. Her hands curled around his big fingers. Callused and warm.
The car slowed, and the headlights illuminated the end of the road and a sprawling one-story house, white with dark green trim. Cullen pulled the car into the garage.
Andrea opened her door and slid out as the lights came on. The coolness of the garage wrapped around her, smelling of exhaust and oil, sawdust and paint. The back wall held tools hanging over an old battered workbench. She studied it for a second. Yes, she could see his capable hands doing carpentry.
He led her into a rustic-looking kitchen with oak cupboards, dark green tile counters, and a big table. Comfortable. Friendly.
“What would you like to drink? Juice, alcohol, water?”
“Nothing, thank you.” She stood in the center of his kitchen and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as awkward and inadequate as at some job interview. The excitement she'd felt at seeing him again had drained away with the drive. What would happen now? Did he plan to pull her into the bedroom for sex?
He studied her face for a minute. “Come, pet.” He pulled her to him. “I'll introduce you to Hector.”
On the other side of a dark living room, he opened French doors and stepped out on a wide wooden deck.
A large dog came out of nowhere, jumped up, and knocked Cullen back against the rail. Oh, Dios. Andrea froze, then heard the deep rumble of Cullen's laughter. “Down, you idiot. Show some manners. We have a guest.”
Andrea put her hand on her chest, feeling the furious beating of her heart. The cabrón had almost given her a heart attack.
The dog sat, his tongue lolling out. Scruffy gray hair. A long, long nose. The tips of its upright ears flopped over.
“What kind of dog is he?”
Cullen chuckled, and ruffled the dog's fur. “Some of this and that, but mostly Airedale. He was a pound puppy.”
The dog cocked his head, obviously checking her out.
“Andrea, this is Hector. Hector, be polite and meet Andrea.”
When the dog raised a paw, Andrea grinned and squatted down to be at the right level. Someday she would have a house and a dog too. She shook the dog's paw, and as if formalities handled, Hector shoved his head into her stomach, knocking her on her butt.
“Hell.” Cullen grabbed the Hector's collar and dragged him back. “I'm sorry, Andrea.”
She giggled and held a hand out to the dog. Stumpy tail wagging, the dog pulled forward until she could pet him. When Cullen let go, she ended up with an armful of dog.
“Likes you, apparently.”
Obviously of the opinion that he was poodle-sized, Hector sprawled across her lap, his butt hanging off one side. Andrea grinned up at Cullen. “He's adorable. I bet he likes everybody.”
“Hardly. He's very fussy about his friends.”
She hugged the dog, collected a few snuffles, laughed when he nudged her hand to obtain more petting. His wiry mustache and whiskers reminded her of her history professor.
“Hector, time to play fetch.”
The dog bounced off her lap, ran to the other side of the deck, and returned with a foot-long, barkless stick. Cullen held a hand down to Andrea and hefted her to her feet, then motioned to the dog. “Go on, buddy.”
Andrea started to follow, but Cullen tucked a finger under her belt to stop her. “What?”
“Strip,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“It's warm enough.” After pushing her hands away, he pulled her T-shirt over her head, undid her belt, and dropped her shorts. Bra and thong followed. She stood, stunned. “I like seeing you without clothing.” He pushed her toward the steps.
She looked over the railing, expecting to see a backyard. Instead a path led down a tall bank to a beach, the sand white under the light of a half-moon. A beach? She turned. “I'm not going out there naked.”
He gave her a level look that melted her bones. “Yes. You are.”
“But—”
His hands cupped her breasts, and his thumbs circled her nipples. Sizzling shot through her, and she caught her breath.
“This is my body, Andrea. Mine to command.” He pinched one peak, and her knees wobbled. “Isn't it?”
Dios, this was different from the club. Just him and her, yet it only made her reaction to his control headier. Crowding her back against the railing, he tilted her chin up. “Answer me, sub. Isn't it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, helpless against the demand in his eyes. “Yes, Señor.”
“Very good.” He kissed her, hard and possessive and thorough, until her nipples ached and her pussy dampened. “Some Doms only exert control in the bedroom or clubs, some all the time. I'm halfway between the two.”
He expected control…more than just for sex. Excitement vied with anxiety inside her, and her hands curled around his forearms. She wanted this, but she was a professional woman, a—
“I don't need a slave, Andrea. I can take care of myself. But I do want a naked sub in my lap when I watch the news at night.” His eyes crinkled.
The image of sitting in his lap, having his hands wander over her without any clothing to limit access made her hot despite the breeze from the beach.
“I didn't know, sweetie. I flew to Miami Saturday night and just got back yesterday, and then heard about you and Vanessa.” His mouth tightened. “And I've tried to reach you ever since.”
Oh. “I was backpacking.” Fizzles of happiness bubbled through her. He'd called her. “I haven't even been home yet.”
“Andrea, why didn't you call me?”
She closed her eyes. Damn Dom went straight to the point. She wasn't ready to answer that question. “So who was the thief at the Shadowlands?”
“Vanessa lied, and you know it. Don't play games with me, pet.”
Caught. She stopped herself from leaning toward him and settled back. “But how did the money get into my locker?”
“You, sweetie, left your combination on the bench that first day.”
“No way.” The first day. Walking into the dressing room. Setting the padlock and paper on the bench. Choosing a locker and putting the padlock on. Storing her stuff—and being sidetracked by the other trainees' shock at her pants. And never picking the paper up. “Idiota. I made it so easy for her.”
She felt like banging her head against a wall. A bit late for that. “What are you going to do with her?”
“After I questioned her, I gave her to Z to deal with. She's his problem now.” Cullen moved closer; she could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Z plans to make an announcement and apology on both Friday and Saturday nights, so the members know what happened.” Hard hands pushed her knees apart, and he stepped between her legs. “So we're back to the problem of you and me.”
“Why don't we just leave it as it is? We don't live in the same worlds.” The part of her that had stayed coldly angry shoved those words out, and another part wailed that she didn't want to give him up.
“That's not an option. Try again.”
Her eyes burned at the flood of relief.
“Look at you. You don't want to call it quits any more than I do.” Before she could answer, his hand clamped over her nape, and his mouth covered hers, opening her lips, and taking possession. Deep and furious. He pulled back long enough to put his hands under her thighs, lifting her, and reversing their positions so he sat on the tailgate. He wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her tighter until her pussy pressed against a huge erection.
This time when he kissed her, her arms curled around his neck. Dios, she'd missed him.
“Looks like they made up. What do you think, Julio?”
Andrea stiffened at the sound of Rafael's voice. Her cousins had undoubtedly wandered down the block just to check on her.
Cullen merely chuckled and glanced over at the two men, standing with their hands in their pockets, grinning like fools. “I'm taking her with me before she has time to change her mind.” Cullen's arm tightened, defeating her effort to pull away. “Please thank the ladies for a wonderful meal and for letting me share in the birthday dinner.”
Her cousins laughed and headed back to the house.
How dare he tell her cousins what to do? And make plans for her. “No, I don't—” she started.
“Little sub”—the darkness of his voice froze her tongue—“you no longer have permission to speak.”
As everything inside her turned liquid, he lifted her in his arms, put her in the passenger side of his truck, fastened her seat belt, and closed the door.
* * *
What had she done? Andrea toyed with the belt of her shorts and scowled as the truck headed down the empty country road toward the west. The moist scent of the swamp, the palmettos, and the orange groves drifted through the half-open windows. She'd said no. Why hadn't she made it stick? Why had he pushed her?
Because he was a damned Dom and could tell that she wanted to go with him. And oh, she did. This was just so confusing. Did he really want her?
And yet, everyone said he didn't take anyone home. Or maybe he did and no one knew.
“So much thinking.” Cullen's hand closed over her cold fingers. “Did you get any answers?”
“No.” She sighed. Just that she wanted to go with him more than anything she'd wanted in a long, long time. Her hands curled around his big fingers. Callused and warm.
The car slowed, and the headlights illuminated the end of the road and a sprawling one-story house, white with dark green trim. Cullen pulled the car into the garage.
Andrea opened her door and slid out as the lights came on. The coolness of the garage wrapped around her, smelling of exhaust and oil, sawdust and paint. The back wall held tools hanging over an old battered workbench. She studied it for a second. Yes, she could see his capable hands doing carpentry.
He led her into a rustic-looking kitchen with oak cupboards, dark green tile counters, and a big table. Comfortable. Friendly.
“What would you like to drink? Juice, alcohol, water?”
“Nothing, thank you.” She stood in the center of his kitchen and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as awkward and inadequate as at some job interview. The excitement she'd felt at seeing him again had drained away with the drive. What would happen now? Did he plan to pull her into the bedroom for sex?
He studied her face for a minute. “Come, pet.” He pulled her to him. “I'll introduce you to Hector.”
On the other side of a dark living room, he opened French doors and stepped out on a wide wooden deck.
A large dog came out of nowhere, jumped up, and knocked Cullen back against the rail. Oh, Dios. Andrea froze, then heard the deep rumble of Cullen's laughter. “Down, you idiot. Show some manners. We have a guest.”
Andrea put her hand on her chest, feeling the furious beating of her heart. The cabrón had almost given her a heart attack.
The dog sat, his tongue lolling out. Scruffy gray hair. A long, long nose. The tips of its upright ears flopped over.
“What kind of dog is he?”
Cullen chuckled, and ruffled the dog's fur. “Some of this and that, but mostly Airedale. He was a pound puppy.”
The dog cocked his head, obviously checking her out.
“Andrea, this is Hector. Hector, be polite and meet Andrea.”
When the dog raised a paw, Andrea grinned and squatted down to be at the right level. Someday she would have a house and a dog too. She shook the dog's paw, and as if formalities handled, Hector shoved his head into her stomach, knocking her on her butt.
“Hell.” Cullen grabbed the Hector's collar and dragged him back. “I'm sorry, Andrea.”
She giggled and held a hand out to the dog. Stumpy tail wagging, the dog pulled forward until she could pet him. When Cullen let go, she ended up with an armful of dog.
“Likes you, apparently.”
Obviously of the opinion that he was poodle-sized, Hector sprawled across her lap, his butt hanging off one side. Andrea grinned up at Cullen. “He's adorable. I bet he likes everybody.”
“Hardly. He's very fussy about his friends.”
She hugged the dog, collected a few snuffles, laughed when he nudged her hand to obtain more petting. His wiry mustache and whiskers reminded her of her history professor.
“Hector, time to play fetch.”
The dog bounced off her lap, ran to the other side of the deck, and returned with a foot-long, barkless stick. Cullen held a hand down to Andrea and hefted her to her feet, then motioned to the dog. “Go on, buddy.”
Andrea started to follow, but Cullen tucked a finger under her belt to stop her. “What?”
“Strip,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“It's warm enough.” After pushing her hands away, he pulled her T-shirt over her head, undid her belt, and dropped her shorts. Bra and thong followed. She stood, stunned. “I like seeing you without clothing.” He pushed her toward the steps.
She looked over the railing, expecting to see a backyard. Instead a path led down a tall bank to a beach, the sand white under the light of a half-moon. A beach? She turned. “I'm not going out there naked.”
He gave her a level look that melted her bones. “Yes. You are.”
“But—”
His hands cupped her breasts, and his thumbs circled her nipples. Sizzling shot through her, and she caught her breath.
“This is my body, Andrea. Mine to command.” He pinched one peak, and her knees wobbled. “Isn't it?”
Dios, this was different from the club. Just him and her, yet it only made her reaction to his control headier. Crowding her back against the railing, he tilted her chin up. “Answer me, sub. Isn't it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, helpless against the demand in his eyes. “Yes, Señor.”
“Very good.” He kissed her, hard and possessive and thorough, until her nipples ached and her pussy dampened. “Some Doms only exert control in the bedroom or clubs, some all the time. I'm halfway between the two.”
He expected control…more than just for sex. Excitement vied with anxiety inside her, and her hands curled around his forearms. She wanted this, but she was a professional woman, a—
“I don't need a slave, Andrea. I can take care of myself. But I do want a naked sub in my lap when I watch the news at night.” His eyes crinkled.
The image of sitting in his lap, having his hands wander over her without any clothing to limit access made her hot despite the breeze from the beach.
