Lauren Dane - Drawn Together

“Sure.”

Her voice was small, but a little better than it had been earlier. He’d take that as a win.

She was in his bathtub, her hair wet, slicked back from her face, leaving her young and vulnerable. “You’re beautiful even without makeup.” He shook his head as he brought the wine to her. “Enjoy it. I’ll be back in a while to see if you want another glass. Just call out if you need me. For anything. I’ll be in my room.”

She let out a shaky sigh as she sipped. “Do you have music?”

“I do. What would you like to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

He bent to kiss the top of her head. “All right.”

“And then . . . you can come back. If you want.”

He tried to remain nonchalant but inside he was celebrating the bit of ground she’d just given up to him.

“Give me a few. I’ll be back.” Always.

She sipped a rather fine glass of red and sighed when Beth Orton began to fill the air.

He wasn’t irresistible enough? He had to like Beth Orton too? How much was a girl supposed to take anyway?

He gave her space. She needed it and he’d known that. For a man like him—so infuriatingly pushy and bossy—to have backed off and let her process had been important.

He came in a few minutes later with a bottle and another glass.

“This okay?”

“I love Beth Orton. Also, this is a very good wine. I should probably get out. The water will be getting cold.” But she made no move to do so.

“I have a pretty big water heater tank. Want me to freshen the water with hot?”

She cracked open an eye. He stood here, his hair tousled, wearing a T-shirt and low-slung sleep pants. He was a thousand kinds of hot. Protective. Dominant.

“You scare me sometimes,” he muttered, though he smiled and ruined the effect. Or rather, made it a million times hotter.

“What have I done to be scary? I mean right now.”

“You look at me and I know you’re thinking stuff. Sometimes it’s stuff that makes me really lucky. Other times I worry for my safety.”

“Keeps you on your toes.” She stood and felt better at the way he took her in. It wasn’t the gaze of a man who felt pity, or that she was damaged goods. His eyes were hungry, lit with appreciation and desire.

He put the wine down and wrapped her in the towel when she stepped out.

“Let me.”

She struggled, taking the towel and stepping back. She’d only just managed to get her control into place. The lure of letting him take over was a lot to get past. But she needed to or she’d fall apart.

“I need to do it myself.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned against the counter, sipping his wine as she dried off. He handed her the lotion and she slathered it on, filling the room with the scent of coconut.

The rhythm of it soothed her, the scent, the warmth of the room and the slight buzz from the wine. And him. She should not get used to him, get used to drawing comfort from him, but it was past that.

“I forgot a brush.” She squeezed the water from her hair with the towel.

He opened a drawer and moved things around before holding one up. “Will this do?”

She nodded.

“Can I?”

She nodded, turning to face the mirror. He moved up behind her and began to slowly brush her hair. She closed her eyes and held on to the counter in front of her to keep from melting into a puddle.

“How about you get dressed and then we can go into the guest room and you can settle on the bed while I finish brushing? It’s been a long day and you’ll be more comfortable. Plus, you’re all glisteny and you smell good and you’re naked. A guy can only take so much.” He smiled at her reflection and she leaned back against him before nodding.

She pulled panties and her pajamas on and then socks. He smiled at her the whole time. “What?”

“What’s not to smile at? There’s a sleepy, gorgeous woman in my house. Also, it’s sort of cute how you wear socks.”

“There is nothing cute about me. Anyway, my feet get cold. It’s fall.” She frowned, but it didn’t last long as he settled on the bed and she joined him. He was so gentle with her she sort of melted into him, totally relaxed.

After what felt like a very long time, he leaned down and kissed her. “Go to sleep. I’ll take you to breakfast tomorrow if you like. Wake me when you’re ready.”

He went out, locking the door before he closed it, and she realized she was in way too deep with Jonah.

She pulled the blankets up and snuggled down. The room smelled like him, which calmed her jangled nerves.

She figured dreams would keep her awake, or nervousness would mess with her sleep, but it didn’t happen. She was asleep before she’d been able to obsess over it too much. 

He woke up early, as he usually did, even on weekends. Decades of being up for 8 a.m. meetings had pretty much ruined his ability to really sleep late.

But she was there too. That’s what woke him. She stood in his doorway, hugging the doorjamb, looking hesitant.

He pulled his blankets back and she came to him. “Best wake-up I’ve had in ages,” he said as he snuggled her up against his body.

“Yeah?” She climbed atop, grinding her cunt against him.

“Well, I do like to say there’s always room for improvement. You’ve got a good start.” She was glorious in the morning. Her hair tousled and soft around her face. No makeup. She was warm and soft and goddamn, he wanted more.

The shadows from the night before were gone. He knew those memories took up a permanent place inside her, but he was glad she looked better.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Bed is very comfortable. It’s quiet. You have a great house. Thank you for . . . you know, everything.”

He cupped her neck. “Anytime.”

“Yeah?”

He tried to focus on the words, but hello, nearly naked woman grinding herself against his cock. “Careful there, missy, you’re playing with fire.”

She pulled her shirt up and over her head. “I am? Gosh, I sure wouldn’t want that.”

He rolled and she landed on his bed on her back. One quick movement and her pants and underwear were gone and she was gloriously naked on his sheets. Where she should be.

“Now then. Are you being deliberately provocative?” He tugged a nipple between his teeth and she moaned.

“What gave me away?”

He laughed, really liking this side of her.

“Don’t move.” He got out of bed and she watched him, a smile on her lips.

He went to his drawer, the one he’d begun to think of as Raven’s drawer. He kept his toys in it. Things he’d bought with her in mind. The chain he’d bought for her was there and he thought of a good use for it. Just not right then.

He saw what he was looking for and pulled it out, turning.

Her gaze went to the collar in his hand, one of those imperious brows of hers rising.

“Kneeling please.”

She did it immediately and he liked that more than he could put into words. Her hands went behind her back.

After he’d gotten her in bed the night before he’d stayed up very late thinking about the entire situation. Whether or not it was a good idea to continue with the D/s nature of their relationship. The last thing he wanted to do was harm her. Or push any of her buttons related to what he knew was a pretty fucked-up childhood.

But then he’d realized that if he had pushed buttons that way she would have told him. Probably not directly, but Raven Smith did not do things she didn’t want to do. And she got off on their relationship just as much as he did. It wasn’t therapy. It wasn’t a balm to her wounds. She liked it when he dominated her and he liked to do it. All the other stuff wasn’t a part of it. And if it ever became part of it, she’d call a halt to it.

“You see, I was thinking about you. As I often do. And I realized how much it would please me if you wore a collar. My collar. But you’re not a leather-collar type of woman. I wanted something that would be unique. Like you are. He held up the platinum choker.

“You want to collar me? Like a slave?”

He laughed. “No. I don’t want a slave, and if I did, you and I wouldn’t be together. I want you to be reminded of me; of the way you’re mine. All day. Every day. I don’t need the whole world to know it. Just you and me.”

Her eyes glittered. Not with anger. Not with fear.

“I’m not one to make a commitment.”

“Because none of the people before were right for you. I am. You know it or you’d have stormed out of here two minutes ago when I first held up the choker. You like it. When you get these fool ideas about how flighty you are, or how you don’t do monogamy, you can think about what you’re wearing around your neck and know you’re lying to yourself. You’re mine, Raven. Try to deny that. I dare you.”

She sucked in a breath, her mouth opening to speak. He waited.

“No one owns me,” she said at long last.

“No one but you. I said, I don’t want to own you. When I say you’re mine, you know exactly what I mean. And you’re scared. Scared I’ll fuck you over, or run away or whatever. I’m telling you right now that you’re here with me. Like I want. Like I’ve wanted since the first conversation we ever had. I get what I want and I want you. Not to own. Not to harm. But to cherish.”

He held the choker closer to her and she examined it. But her hands were still clasped at her back.

“And if I wear it, what does that mean?”

“I told you what it means to me. What would it mean to you? Hm? That’s not something I want or even am prepared to tell you. You own your own feelings, your own reactions. When I put it on and you’re wearing a declaration of your connection and commitment to me, what would it mean to you?”