Warmth surrounded her along with his rich, masculine scent. She gave a soft sigh. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, pet.”
“Get some sleep.” Vance stroked her hair.
Although her body was comfortable, her mind wouldn’t turn off. Vance’s statement kept swirling through her brain. “…there are times that you need to be able to share how you feel.”
She actually agreed. So why, when she wanted the guys to stay with her, hadn’t she been able to say that? Other submissives—other women even—had no trouble asking for hugs, for help, for a shoulder to cry on. She’d never realized she didn’t.
Under her hand, Vance’s chest slowly rose and fell, the curly hair tickling her fingers. He had just the right amount—somehow making him seem even more masculine.
He’d give her that hug if she asked. But at the thought of actually doing so, her brain just…stopped. Her insides tightened, her mind retreating at the thought of opening herself to ask for anything.
Galen curled his arm around her waist and pulled her against him firmly, despite the way she startled. His voice was a rich growl in her ear; his breath ruffled her hair. “Sleep, Sally. You’ll have time in the morning to stew about everything.”
Snuggled in compassion, embraced in safety, she let herself slide away.
Chapter Seven
After showering and dressing, Galen checked the guest room.
Still buried in covers, Sally’s body was a rigid stillness, indicating she was awake. He wanted to talk to her, to know she was all right, but he’d promised her the time to stew. He’d give her a few more minutes.
In the kitchen, Vance sat at the long granite-topped island with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. “Morning. You taking the day off too?”
“Seems like a good plan.” Galen had put in so much overtime he felt no guilt at taking a few hours back. “Think she’d let us send a cleaning service to her place?” He poured a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, then snagged the discarded front page before settling onto one of the wider counter-height chairs.
“Doubt it. She’d probably consider it either an invasion of her privacy or her rights or something.”
“Stubborn little thing, isn’t she?” And the way she’d lingered in his mind since she’d safeworded and stormed out of the Shadowlands was worrisome. He’d never had a problem dismissing a submissive before, never had one keep him awake. Not since his wife had died.
“Too stubborn. After what she went through, she should have been bawling her heart out.”
Galen glanced toward the stairs at the sound of the shower coming on. “She’ll have another chance to weep—it’s your turn to cook.”
Vance didn’t grant the insult a reply, but returned to reading the paper.
As Galen took the last sip of coffee, Sally limped into the kitchen. She’d donned the jeans and soft pink T-shirt he’d brought from her apartment and left for her on the bathroom counter. The shirt had been folded, and he hadn’t seen the front. A robot-like Dalek from Dr. Who was saying: Exterminate All Males.
Christ. He grinned. She really was one of the most interesting women he’d met in a long, long time.
But seeing the scabbed purple bruise on her left cheek wiped out his smile. Be a pleasure to rip the bastard’s balls off and stuff them down his filthy mouth and… With an effort, Galen tamped his fury down. The imp needed cuddling today more than anger. “Crutches?”
“The doc said I can abandon them if I keep the ankle brace on.”
Her wet hair lay in tangles halfway down her back. No makeup. Barefoot. She looked far too young for either him or Vance, but her Shadowlands records gave her age as twenty-six. That meant she’d probably worked for a couple of years before entering the Master’s program.
Part of the impression of youth was how awkwardly she was holding her body and the absence of her cocky self-confidence. His every instinct shouted for him to fix her—her hurts, her problems—and he didn’t even know where to start.
“Hungry?” Vance’s eyes narrowed as he undoubtedly picked up on her defensive posture.
“No.” She bit her lip. “I mean, yes, but first…I’d like to talk.”
“Of course,” Vance said easily. He pushed a chair out from the island with his foot. “What’s up?”
Rather than sitting, she stood behind the chair, her hands gripping the leather-covered back as if it might attack her. “I was thinking.”
Ayuh, she’d been stewing. “Go on,” Galen said. Now they’d hear about Borup and the attack.
“You said I don’t share. Or ask for what I need.” Her gaze dropped to her hands.
She wasn’t talking about the bastard, after all. And she normally looked a Dom straight in the eyes. What was bothering her? “Were we wrong, pet?”
“No.” She swallowed, and her fingers turned white-knuckled. “I hadn’t realized that. It’s a problem I didn’t…”
“You didn’t realize you avoid talking about your feelings?” Vance summarized.
She nodded. “But I’m trying”—she gave them an unhappy look—“and it’s so hard.”
She was breaking his heart. Galen patted his thighs, wanting to feel her as well as hear her. And face it, he needed to give some comfort if that was the only fucking thing he could offer. “Come here.”
When she walked to him, he pulled her stiff little body onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Slowly she relaxed against his chest, and that much trust from her after yesterday was the sweetest of compliments.
His glance at Vance got a nod that left the direction of the conversation to Galen. So he kissed her temple. “Now tell us what you need.”
“I don’t know how to fix this problem. To ask. Or share what I’m feeling.” Her head was down, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vance leaned forward and rested his elbows on the island. “You want us to help?”
She gave an infinitesimal nod.
“Look at me.” Vance waited until Sally lifted her head. “Now, ask.”
Her body stiffened again.
Warm, fresh from the shower, soft in all the right places, and so fucking scared. “Go on,” he prompted.
GOD, WHY WAS this so difficult? Sally felt as if her body had turned to granite. Her hands were cold in spite of the comfort of Galen’s arms around her. But I can do this.
“Help me?” she whispered.
Galen’s arms tightened. “Good girl,” he murmured against her hair.
“Of course we will.” Vance’s devastating smile made her heart skip a beat. “Brave girl for taking the first step.”
She closed her eyes for a moment; their approval soaked into her like the sun’s warmth on a bitter cold day.
Galen chuckled. “And now you feel as if you just ran a mile?”
“More like ten,” she muttered. Christ on a crutch, that had been just one tiny request.
Vance rose and cupped her chin, tipping up her face. His shrewd eyes were a knife blade penetrating straight to her soul. “I need to know why you have such a problem, Sally, but that can wait a bit.”
Oh, thank you, God.
“For now, your job is to try to tell us what you need when you need it.”
And that was supposed to be easier?
Vance waited until she nodded against his hand, and then released her.
“In addition, you’ll honestly share what you feel if asked,” Galen added. “Be warned, pet. I’ll question you often.”
Did she really want to do this? But she did. In all these years, she hadn’t found her own Dom. What if it wasn’t the Doms who were lacking? What if it was her? “I’ll try.”
“That’s all we ask, sweetheart.”
With Vance’s smile, her trembling slowed.
Thinking they were done, she tried to stand.
“Not yet.” Galen tightened his arm around her waist, holding her on his lap as he massaged the stiffness from her shoulders. His firm hand ran down her arm. Tugged on her damp hair. Curved around her nape.
As she leaned her head against his shoulder, she realized he was petting her in the same way she’d comforted frightened barn kittens. When he nestled her closer, she softened into him and fell into a contented haze, letting him do whatever he wanted to do.
Next life, she wanted to be a cat.
“That’s better,” he said eventually. After giving her a light kiss, he set her on her feet. “Although I’d enjoy holding you longer, you need some food.”
“Pancakes or eggs?” Vance asked. He rose and pulled a skillet from the cupboard.
Sally stood in place, confused. Frank had always made her cook. “Um. I can cook.”
“You will, sooner or later. Everyone helps in this house. So…?” Vance raised his eyebrows.
A sugar rush would be wonderful. She’d worry about the calories later. “Pancakes.”
“Done.”
Something brushed against her leg, and she squeaked and jumped a foot, almost losing her balance. Trying to ignore the throbbing of her ankle, she looked down.
An annoyed steel-gray cat stared at her with yellow-green eyes.
Galen laughed, and the deep, resonant sound had her mouth curving up. Had she ever heard him really laugh before? “Glock rules the house. Are you bothered by cats?”
“You’re welcome, pet.”
“Get some sleep.” Vance stroked her hair.
Although her body was comfortable, her mind wouldn’t turn off. Vance’s statement kept swirling through her brain. “…there are times that you need to be able to share how you feel.”
She actually agreed. So why, when she wanted the guys to stay with her, hadn’t she been able to say that? Other submissives—other women even—had no trouble asking for hugs, for help, for a shoulder to cry on. She’d never realized she didn’t.
Under her hand, Vance’s chest slowly rose and fell, the curly hair tickling her fingers. He had just the right amount—somehow making him seem even more masculine.
He’d give her that hug if she asked. But at the thought of actually doing so, her brain just…stopped. Her insides tightened, her mind retreating at the thought of opening herself to ask for anything.
Galen curled his arm around her waist and pulled her against him firmly, despite the way she startled. His voice was a rich growl in her ear; his breath ruffled her hair. “Sleep, Sally. You’ll have time in the morning to stew about everything.”
Snuggled in compassion, embraced in safety, she let herself slide away.
Chapter Seven
After showering and dressing, Galen checked the guest room.
Still buried in covers, Sally’s body was a rigid stillness, indicating she was awake. He wanted to talk to her, to know she was all right, but he’d promised her the time to stew. He’d give her a few more minutes.
In the kitchen, Vance sat at the long granite-topped island with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. “Morning. You taking the day off too?”
“Seems like a good plan.” Galen had put in so much overtime he felt no guilt at taking a few hours back. “Think she’d let us send a cleaning service to her place?” He poured a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, then snagged the discarded front page before settling onto one of the wider counter-height chairs.
“Doubt it. She’d probably consider it either an invasion of her privacy or her rights or something.”
“Stubborn little thing, isn’t she?” And the way she’d lingered in his mind since she’d safeworded and stormed out of the Shadowlands was worrisome. He’d never had a problem dismissing a submissive before, never had one keep him awake. Not since his wife had died.
“Too stubborn. After what she went through, she should have been bawling her heart out.”
Galen glanced toward the stairs at the sound of the shower coming on. “She’ll have another chance to weep—it’s your turn to cook.”
Vance didn’t grant the insult a reply, but returned to reading the paper.
As Galen took the last sip of coffee, Sally limped into the kitchen. She’d donned the jeans and soft pink T-shirt he’d brought from her apartment and left for her on the bathroom counter. The shirt had been folded, and he hadn’t seen the front. A robot-like Dalek from Dr. Who was saying: Exterminate All Males.
Christ. He grinned. She really was one of the most interesting women he’d met in a long, long time.
But seeing the scabbed purple bruise on her left cheek wiped out his smile. Be a pleasure to rip the bastard’s balls off and stuff them down his filthy mouth and… With an effort, Galen tamped his fury down. The imp needed cuddling today more than anger. “Crutches?”
“The doc said I can abandon them if I keep the ankle brace on.”
Her wet hair lay in tangles halfway down her back. No makeup. Barefoot. She looked far too young for either him or Vance, but her Shadowlands records gave her age as twenty-six. That meant she’d probably worked for a couple of years before entering the Master’s program.
Part of the impression of youth was how awkwardly she was holding her body and the absence of her cocky self-confidence. His every instinct shouted for him to fix her—her hurts, her problems—and he didn’t even know where to start.
“Hungry?” Vance’s eyes narrowed as he undoubtedly picked up on her defensive posture.
“No.” She bit her lip. “I mean, yes, but first…I’d like to talk.”
“Of course,” Vance said easily. He pushed a chair out from the island with his foot. “What’s up?”
Rather than sitting, she stood behind the chair, her hands gripping the leather-covered back as if it might attack her. “I was thinking.”
Ayuh, she’d been stewing. “Go on,” Galen said. Now they’d hear about Borup and the attack.
“You said I don’t share. Or ask for what I need.” Her gaze dropped to her hands.
She wasn’t talking about the bastard, after all. And she normally looked a Dom straight in the eyes. What was bothering her? “Were we wrong, pet?”
“No.” She swallowed, and her fingers turned white-knuckled. “I hadn’t realized that. It’s a problem I didn’t…”
“You didn’t realize you avoid talking about your feelings?” Vance summarized.
She nodded. “But I’m trying”—she gave them an unhappy look—“and it’s so hard.”
She was breaking his heart. Galen patted his thighs, wanting to feel her as well as hear her. And face it, he needed to give some comfort if that was the only fucking thing he could offer. “Come here.”
When she walked to him, he pulled her stiff little body onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Slowly she relaxed against his chest, and that much trust from her after yesterday was the sweetest of compliments.
His glance at Vance got a nod that left the direction of the conversation to Galen. So he kissed her temple. “Now tell us what you need.”
“I don’t know how to fix this problem. To ask. Or share what I’m feeling.” Her head was down, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vance leaned forward and rested his elbows on the island. “You want us to help?”
She gave an infinitesimal nod.
“Look at me.” Vance waited until Sally lifted her head. “Now, ask.”
Her body stiffened again.
Warm, fresh from the shower, soft in all the right places, and so fucking scared. “Go on,” he prompted.
GOD, WHY WAS this so difficult? Sally felt as if her body had turned to granite. Her hands were cold in spite of the comfort of Galen’s arms around her. But I can do this.
“Help me?” she whispered.
Galen’s arms tightened. “Good girl,” he murmured against her hair.
“Of course we will.” Vance’s devastating smile made her heart skip a beat. “Brave girl for taking the first step.”
She closed her eyes for a moment; their approval soaked into her like the sun’s warmth on a bitter cold day.
Galen chuckled. “And now you feel as if you just ran a mile?”
“More like ten,” she muttered. Christ on a crutch, that had been just one tiny request.
Vance rose and cupped her chin, tipping up her face. His shrewd eyes were a knife blade penetrating straight to her soul. “I need to know why you have such a problem, Sally, but that can wait a bit.”
Oh, thank you, God.
“For now, your job is to try to tell us what you need when you need it.”
And that was supposed to be easier?
Vance waited until she nodded against his hand, and then released her.
“In addition, you’ll honestly share what you feel if asked,” Galen added. “Be warned, pet. I’ll question you often.”
Did she really want to do this? But she did. In all these years, she hadn’t found her own Dom. What if it wasn’t the Doms who were lacking? What if it was her? “I’ll try.”
“That’s all we ask, sweetheart.”
With Vance’s smile, her trembling slowed.
Thinking they were done, she tried to stand.
“Not yet.” Galen tightened his arm around her waist, holding her on his lap as he massaged the stiffness from her shoulders. His firm hand ran down her arm. Tugged on her damp hair. Curved around her nape.
As she leaned her head against his shoulder, she realized he was petting her in the same way she’d comforted frightened barn kittens. When he nestled her closer, she softened into him and fell into a contented haze, letting him do whatever he wanted to do.
Next life, she wanted to be a cat.
“That’s better,” he said eventually. After giving her a light kiss, he set her on her feet. “Although I’d enjoy holding you longer, you need some food.”
“Pancakes or eggs?” Vance asked. He rose and pulled a skillet from the cupboard.
Sally stood in place, confused. Frank had always made her cook. “Um. I can cook.”
“You will, sooner or later. Everyone helps in this house. So…?” Vance raised his eyebrows.
A sugar rush would be wonderful. She’d worry about the calories later. “Pancakes.”
“Done.”
Something brushed against her leg, and she squeaked and jumped a foot, almost losing her balance. Trying to ignore the throbbing of her ankle, she looked down.
An annoyed steel-gray cat stared at her with yellow-green eyes.
Galen laughed, and the deep, resonant sound had her mouth curving up. Had she ever heard him really laugh before? “Glock rules the house. Are you bothered by cats?”
