She’d curled her small fingers around his wrists, and her gray eyes had gone smoky. Lovely.

As he ran a finger over her lips, he looked forward to seeing them swollen from his mouth, his cock. If she wasn’t careful, even a gag. “Come with me. We’re going to talk.”

Taking her wrist firmly—he’d seen how she’d checked for escape routes—Xavier led her across the sloping lawn. He stopped beside a table with a chessboard set up.

“White or black?” he asked politely.

She flinched at the sound of his voice. Her gaze flickered up and away, and under his fingers her pulse was speeding, which seemed strange. He often took a submissive to the edge of fear, but this wasn’t a scene, and he hadn’t pushed Abby at all. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

A lie. His mouth tightened.

She swallowed before asking in a near whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

She was worried he was angry? He studied her more closely. Yes, she looked like a child called to the headmaster’s office. Odd. The most painful reprimand he’d ever given her was a few swats of his hand. “Why would you think I’d be mad at you, little fluff?”

Her clear gray eyes were wide, and he didn’t resist the urge to move closer. Her rounded chin fit into the palm of his hand. “Tell me, Abby.”

“I…I don’t know. You look… I don’t know what you’re thinking, and you’re not smiling.” Her hands clenched together, and a shiver ran down her frame.

“You’re afraid of me?” He had trouble believing it. Her lack of fear had been one of the reasons she’d drawn him.

“I…” She swallowed and seemed to give herself a mental shake before really looking at him. “You’re not mad, are you?”

There. Back with him again. She definitely had some odd headspaces. “Absolutely not. I’m angry with myself for hurting you, Abby. But you’ve done nothing wrong at all.”

“Oh.” Her eyes took on a sheen of tears, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Now, let’s play chess.” Her startled blink made him chuckle, and he gave her the absolute truth. “If I get you alone, I’m going to ravage you, pet.” He stroked her soft, soft cheek with his thumb and wanted to fill his palms with— He removed his hand and stepped back. “We need to talk first.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she said under her breath. “Um. Chess. I’ll take white.”

Somehow she managed to make him want to laugh and hug her at the same time. Instead he seated her at the table and chose the chair across from her. “White starts.”

Her bishop’s pawn moved out. He took his turn. They played silently for a few moves until he realized she’d let the silence hang forever—in the other game they were playing. Your move, Leduc. “You affect me in ways I’m not used to.”

Her gaze darted up to his, and, brave sub, she took her verbal turn, even as her bishop slid into position. “What ways? And if so, why did you…you…”

“I avoided you, yes. And that was the reason,” he said. “Since my wife died, I haven’t been with anyone who affected me other than physically.” He cleared a space for his queen to move out.

As she spoke, he heard the hurt in her voice. “You didn’t want to look at me when we made love. You turned me over.”

This observation was harder to answer. “Actually…” He sighed. “Sometimes I see her face when I’m with someone. That feels wrong, so I avoid the missionary position.” He needed to finish the thought for her sake. For honesty. “With you, I pulled away because all I saw was you.”

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the board. “I’m sorry about your wife. How long ago did she die?”

“Four years. And I’ve been comfortable with the way I live my life.” He tried to think of what he wanted to say next.

“Tell me about her? How you met. Who she was.”

He hesitated. He never spoke of Catherine. But Abby was watching him, her big eyes sad on his behalf. “She wasn’t traditionally beautiful. Just vibrant. Her husband and I attended grad school together and stayed friends. She was his slave, and when he died she became lost in a way that independent women can’t imagine. She wasn’t helpless, but…” How could he explain? “She was a person in a sailboat without an anchor. You might be an excellent sailor, but if your anchor is gone, then every time you relax, your boat blows off course.”

“I understand,” she said softly. “I’ve seen that happen with elderly widows. For a slave used to a more encompassing control, it must be terrifying.”

Softhearted Abby. “I couldn’t tolerate seeing that, so I took her home.” He lifted a bishop and rolled it between his fingers. “I’d only planned to keep her safe, but as time passed, we fell in love. She became my slave, my partner, my wife. When the local BDSM club went out of business, I started Dark Haven so she’d have a place to be with other slaves.” She was my everything, in every corner of my life and heart.

Abby’s brows drew together. “Now you have slaves at home and still play with others at the club?”

She’d heard some gossip, then. “Close. I date some women, I’ll scene with club members or staff, and I’ll keep a slave until I find her a Master.” She probably should know that wasn’t his true nature. “I actually don’t enjoy being a twenty-four/seven Master.” He half smiled, remembering an argument with Catherine.

“You’re a big girl. You can pick out your own clothes.”

“No. I should wear only what pleases you.”

“Oh.” With a finger, she pushed a pawn forward one space.

“Avoiding you didn’t work, Abby. I’d like more.” He moved his bishop. “So the question is this: would you like to explore submission outside the club?”

Her gaze came up long enough for him to see the desire in her eyes. Without answering, she set her castle into action.

He waited. They played for a few minutes, and he had her bishop, but she’d taken his knight in turn. Pawns fell by the wayside. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

The corner of her mouth rose. “I’m thinking that you’re awfully bossy.”

He grasped her wrists—so delicate in his big hands—and flattened her arms on each side of the board. “I am that, pet, and you enjoy it. Now give me an answer and not an evasion.”

The flush in her face was a telling response to his control and attracted him in the same way his dominance did her. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip.

“You want to…play…with me outside the club,” she said slowly. “But you’d still date others? We’d have no commitment to each other?”

He regretted the hint of unhappiness in her voice, but he couldn’t give her what he no longer had. “No commitments. Let’s play it by ear for now.”

“Perhaps that would be wise.” She turned a pawn in her fingers, studying the piece as if it held answers. “I think… Yes. I’d like to try. Sir.”

He sat back and studied the board. She’d said yes. Why did he feel uncomfortable with that? Perhaps because his territorial instincts were yelling, This one is mine.

But he couldn’t ask for what he wasn’t willing to give in return. His instincts would just have to suffer.

He returned his attention to the game. When had she taken his queen? In fact, far too many of his pieces had fallen victim to the sweet little fluff on the other side of the table. His eyes narrowed. Her next move would put his king in check, and he had nothing to prevent it. “You sneaky little sub.”

When she gave him a worried look, he couldn’t keep from grinning.

And she laughed, more open than he’d heard before, a throaty, happy sound that ran up his spine and tightened his chest.

This one is mine.

Chapter Twelve

In the early evening, guests interested in kinkier games had piled into a long trailer heaped with hay. As Virgil’s pickup slowly pulled the wagon down a tiny road, Abby recalled her grandmother’s sentimental stories about horse-drawn hayrides. Gran might not have been so nostalgic if her rides had terminated in a kinky battle zone.

Still a bit unsettled from the talk with Xavier, Abby was grateful for the long ride. Too many surprises weren’t good for the nerves.

He wanted to play with her. Her.

And he wasn’t cold at all—if anything, he cared too deeply. She leaned back against him, reassured by his strong arm around her as the wagon bumped along. After hearing the pain in his voice when he spoke of his wife, she understood him better. What would it do to such a protective—and controlling—man if he couldn’t save someone he loved?

Her heart ached for him—and a little for herself, because he obviously didn’t want to care for anyone else. But she wasn’t ready to jump into anything either. In fact, it was rather appalling how quickly she’d had sex with Xavier.

What kind of a woman had a relationship fall apart and jumped into bed with another man? Hadn’t she loved Nathan at all? I don’t know anymore.

The trailer came to a halt, and everyone spilled out into a wide clearing surrounded by thick forest. Abby balanced on the wagon side and looked around. Trails led off into the shadowy woods. On one side, various items were piled on hay bales.

“Come, Abby.” Already on the ground, Xavier grasped her around the waist and lifted her down so easily that it took her breath. “I think Lindsey could use some support,” he said, leading her across the clearing.

He stopped beside Lindsey and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re pale, pet. Are you all right?”

Lindsey nodded, although the spattering of freckles stood out on her face, and her brown eyes were wide.