Make Me, Sir
Page 57

Snuggled in the bedding, Jessica breathed slowly, still deep in sleep. One half-curled hand nestled under a round cheek. Her long golden hair spilled over the pillow, the light strands glowing against the dark fabric.
Just as she glowed like a beacon in his dark life. He pulled his chair closer and wrapped his hand around her delicate fingers. Did she have any clue how much she meant to him? He worked with children, sad, broken, abused children who’d seen more horror in their short lives than most adults. Sometimes to heal, they needed to know someone—anyone—understood their sorrow and rage and confusion. He’d listen. He’d take in their pain and release them of some of the burden.
But pain accumulated, and even the love of friends and family hadn’t been able to lift his increasing sadness. Then Jessica erupted like a small hurricane into his life. Her keen intelligence and logical mind was balanced by her spirit, her courage—and her love. She reminded him that the world held as much good as it did evil.
God, he’d almost lost her today. His shoulders tightened. Leaning forward, he pushed her hair away from her face. Silky hair—soft, soft cheek.
When she blinked, he cursed himself for his lack of discipline. She needed the sleep.
Her hands fisted, and she stiffened. He felt her fear, saw it overwhelm her.
“Jessica,” he said in a level, clear voice.
Her eyes focused on his face, and he saw—felt—relief flood through her. “You’re safe, kitten,” he said, affirming it verbally.
She pulled in a breath, looked at the room, the bed, the window. When her eyes met his again, her smile blossomed. “You saved me.”
“I think you might have managed to save yourself.”
She considered it, his logical sub, and shook her head. “No. If you hadn’t come, he’d have won eventually. I was cuffed. Even if I’d gotten out of the van, I couldn’t run. Not after hurting my ankle.” She pouted. “I’d like to think I sprained it when I kicked his face, but I think the steering wheel did it.”
“Bloodthirsty little sub,” Zachary murmured.
“Oh sure. I saw Jang after you got through. I didn’t do nearly as much damage.”
Zachary’s hands closed as if he had the man’s neck in his grasp. He should have bloodied him a little more.
She smiled at him, her green eyes glinting with laughter. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a hero. Saving the subs like a proper dom.”
Saving. He frowned. “You shouldn’t have needed saving or been anywhere near those men. Jessica, why did you leave last night without speaking to me?”
He caught a flash of oh shit before she stalled. “Well.” Obviously needing to be on a more equal level, she pushed up in the bed and winced.
Dammit. He couldn’t stand seeing her in pain. Grasping her under the arms, he gently pulled her up in the bed and tucked pillows behind her back. Her face had paled. Nonetheless, he couldn’t put off this talk any longer. They’d had enough silence between them. His jaw clenched. If she wanted to leave, he needed to know. “Now tell me. Why?”
She looked down and fingered the abrasions from the damned metal handcuffs the kidnapper had used. “Things had… You haven’t been the same. For a while. You’ve acted so…distant. And mad at me. Every time I sassed you or anyone at the club, you’d gag me as if you didn’t want to hear me. I knew you were unhappy. I thought it was because of me.”
“But—”
“No, Zachary, let me finish.”
Zachary. He rarely heard her use his real name. Usually only in bed or when she was moved, as if it had special meaning to her. He took her hand. Everything in him wanted to object that she’d not understood, to coax her to let him fix it and make it right, to help her understand their relationship wasn’t broken completely. Instead he tilted his head and kept silent.
“I saw you with Gabi. I could tell you had a secret, the two of you. And you treated her…differently…than the other subs. Almost like you treat me.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“The amount of caring you show me…her…is exponentially higher,” said his little mathematician. “More protective.”
“But—”
She stared at her hands again. “And then I met your sons.” She bit her lip. “Eric doesn’t approve of me. He obviously thinks you should find someone more—more like you. I’m just an accountant, from a middle-class family. I’m not rich or sophisticated or beautiful, and I’ve seen pictures of your ex. She is. If Eric can’t get you back with his mother, he wants you to have someone classier…and older.”
He nodded. Eric saw first with his eyes, not his heart.
“So. I felt like you’d pulled away, not wanting me around—you even told me not to come to the club—and I was jealous. And insecure. I thought maybe you had second thoughts about being with me.”
Past tense. She’d used the past tense. “You know differently now, don’t you?”
“Some. I understand about Gabi being a decoy, and you wanted to keep me from getting targeted. But that still doesn’t… Nolan and Beth are engaged. Dan and Kari are married and having a baby. And they all met after we did.”
He rubbed his face. The best-meant ideas didn’t always work out in the way a person expected. “Jessica, as my boy so kindly pointed out, I’m older than you are. I have grown children. You’re just starting your life, kitten, and I don’t want to push you into something you might regret. Especially since a person first entering the lifestyle can confuse the desire to be dominated with desire for the dom.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. “We can’t have a relationship because you think I’m too young? God, Z, I’m thirty. How old do I have to be to know my own mind?”
The sparks lighting her eyes delighted him—she was rapidly returning to normal—but he had enough experience with women to realize that if he smiled, she’d throw something at him. “I might have been overly cautious,” he admitted.
“I’d say so. I’m still here, aren’t I? I know where the door is, and I know how to say „no thanks." You’re being stupid. Get over it.”
He sat back in his chair, a bit stunned. Her cheeks had flushed with—ah, that was definitely anger. And there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind. Well, then.
Uh, oh. He’d gotten a look on his face that boded no good for her, yet everything in her rejoiced because the expression wasn’t that of a man who was bored with his girlfriend, but the possessive look of a dom.
She winced. Had she really called him stupid?
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said in a chillingly smooth voice. “You want a commitment. And do you want children to go with that?”
She sputtered. “You make it sound like, ‘Here’s your order. Do you want fries with that?’ ”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I want fries—I mean children. With you.” Telling him about her hopes made her feel as if she stood naked on a cliff in a cold wind. Why could they discuss everything else, but this…this seemed harder? “I want at least one baby, maybe two. And considering how rude one of your kids is, I’ll probably do a better job of motherhood than your ex.”
His lips twitched as if he’d started to smile. But this baring the soul was too one-sided, and she faltered. “W-would you want more children?”
He steepled his fingers and gave her a level look over the top. “Jessica, I work with children. I like children. And I’d enjoy actually being present this time. I’ve always regretted being out of the country so much when Eric and Richard were growing up.”
Oh. She breathed out as her ballooning anxiety started to deflate. “Really?”
“Really. And maybe I should add that Eric asked me to convey his apologies for his rudeness.” Z smiled. “He’ll come around, kitten. Now go on, give me the rest.”
The rest. She mustered her thoughts, lined up his objections. Her wants had been tabulated; she needed to sum it all up. Like their ages. The idiot.
“Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.”
He laughed, actually laughed, and she grinned. Maybe her hopes wouldn’t materialize, but she felt the healing between them, the sense of rightness return.
“You are an awful submissive,” he said softly. “Quite the brat. Are you going to also address that small problem of yours now?”
She hunched her shoulders. He was tired of her mouthiness, wasn’t he? Her hopes shriveled. Then she remembered what Gabi had said: “No wonder Z adores you.” The jerk was playing his psychology tricks on her. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at him. “Nope. You like me as I am.”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “No, Jessica—I love you as you are.” He rose and stripped the covers right off her, and she realized he’d removed her clothes when he’d helped her to bed. She squeaked and instinctively grabbed for the sheet.