Make Me, Sir
Page 65

Her throat constricted, and she swallowed against the nausea accompanying the memory. “Jang got rough.”
His mouth tightened, but he only nodded and examined the bruises on her back and hips and shoulders. “How did you get these?”
“Falls.” She found a smile for him. “Being dropped into a big box. Knocked onto a dock.” She touched the abrasion on her forehead. “This was the dock too.”
He traced around the ugly bruise on her right side, and she winced. He frowned. “Are your ribs cracked or broken?”
“Bruised.” She sighed when he lifted his eyebrows. “Only a crack or two from when Jang kicked me. Then again, I did kick him in the balls.”
A dimple appeared beside his mouth when he smiled. “Good for you, Darlin’.” With firm hands, he sat her on the edge of the bed. Cupping her cheek, he examined the bruise there and the others along her jawline. “From the dock?”
“Jang.”
“I owe Z a drink for taking care of him for me.” His words were mild, but she saw the fury in his eyes and the tension in his muscles. Oddly enough, his anger on her behalf drained some pain from her own memories.
She rubbed her cheek against his palm. “Vance said Z did a thorough job. Jang’s ribs were definitely broken.”
“Knowing every breath he takes will hurt for a long time does help.” He tipped her chin up and scrutinized her face. “He put his hands on you… How badly is that still bothering you? I would think it might bring back some ugly memories.”
“A few.” She closed her eyes, unable to tolerate the piercing gaze. “I was…scared.” Trapped, hurt, no way out. She shivered.
He sat down beside her and enclosed her hands in his warm ones. “Go on.”
She tried to shrug. “I’ve had a few panic attacks. It’s getting better, maybe because I managed to fight back a little this time. And I chose to play decoy, so everything didn’t happen out of the blue, for no reason. I’m more upset about…” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “My friend. K-Kim. There’s not much hope now.”
“Ah, Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Come here now.” His hard arms closed around her and pulled her against his chest. Her eyes pooled with tears because she had someone to lean on, even if for only a short time. The comfort… No one had held her since the hospital, and God, she’d needed that. As if he could tell, he simply cuddled her for a while, rocking slightly. His chin rested on the top of her head, and she felt enclosed in warmth and safety.
“You know, you scared me spitless, Li’ll subbie. First when I heard you’d been kidnapped, and then…even worse, seeing your box tip toward the water.”
She smiled against his shirt. Other people besides her could be frightened. “Thank you for not letting me drown. Vance said you got hit by a pipe when you swung me back onto the dock.” She pulled back and touched the bruised, abraded spot on the edge of his forehead, half covered by hair. He had a bruise on his jaw too. He’d taken a fist in the face. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“My pleasure.”
She unbuttoned his shirt. The white gauze bandage on his left shoulder seemed horribly wrong on his golden tan skin. A yellowing, round bruise bloomed over his left ribs, and she gave him the same inquisitive gaze he’d used on her.
“Took a punch.”
God, look at him. Bandages, bruises, cuts. All from knowing her. She’d almost gotten him killed. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Now don’t you start watering up over a few marks, sugar.” He pulled her back against his side. “I get worse in karate classes.”
“You almost died,” she said. She pushed her head against his arm, shaking inside so hard she might shatter. She’d gotten past most of the aftereffects, but the nightmares of those few minutes hadn’t lessened. Cesar yelling, ?Fucking cunt.? Her body no longer her own. Freezing. Marcus’s yell, ?Gabi, down!? The crack of the pistol. “If I’d dropped like you ordered, you…” The sound he made, the blood, so horribly red. “I’m sorry, Marcus. You worked so hard on getting me past freezing up, and still I didn’t move and you—I’m so sorry.”
“And you’ve felt guilty ever since.” He actually chuckled, and she looked up to see the amusement on his face. “Did you really think one evening would fix you all up? A problem like yours doesn’t disappear so easily, Gabi, and if you were thinking straight, you’d know it, Miz Counselor.”
She stared at him. “You don’t blame me?”
“For something you have no control over? Hardly. And if you’ll trouble yourself to remember, one minute before you froze, you kept me from getting shot. That bullet probably would have killed me. We’re even, Darlin’.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and smiled down at her. “Besides, taking a bullet in a successful FBI operation has made my reputation in the DA’s office.”
“Oh. Well.” Men. Strange, strange creatures.
“Anything else we need to discuss about the fight?”
She shook her head. So that’s why he’d wanted her naked—to check her injuries. All her worries about having to tactfully refuse him were silly. Relieved…and disappointed, she reached down and picked up her jeans and thong.
“Nope.” He pulled them out of her grip and pointed to the center of the bed. “Put yourself there.”
“But—”
“We’re not finished yet, darlin’.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
She opened her mouth to argue, caught his “I’ve spanked you once and I can do it again” stare, and slid backward on the bed to the designated spot. Pulling her legs up, she wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling very exposed. When she noticed his leather toy bag sitting by the headboard, a quiver shook her. Sneaky. What was the sneaky lawyer planning? Her hands started to sweat, and her heart thudded hard enough to do damage to her rib cage.
He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over a chair. Joining her on the bed, he leaned against the headboard. “Now we’ll discuss you and me. Come here.”
Why did he get to keep his jeans on? But it was…a little reassuring. Maybe he didn’t plan to make love. Then why couldn’t she put her clothes back on? I’m so confused. “I think I’d rather stay here. Marcus, can’t you understand this won’t work? There is no you and me. We’re totally incompatible.”
He snorted in exasperation, snagged her arm, and pulled her gently onto his lap. At the feeling of his hard arms around her, she felt her eyes blur with tears. Again. Don’t do this to me, Marcus.
“What we have here is a failure to communicate,” he said, his dark, rich drawl thicker than normal. “You best tell me why you ran away from me and sent Galen with a letter.”
“I didn’t run. I came here to stay with my parents.”
“Do not even try to bullshit me, Gabrielle.”
The sound of the less than polite term halted her thoughts for a second. His darkened expression and the dangerous look in his eyes warned her his tolerance had reached a limit.
She pushed away her internal “don’t do this” voice and gave him the simple truth. “I’m not a sweet submissive, Marcus.”
“I do believe I have grasped that fact.”
“You don’t want a brat. You don’t want the problems or the troubles. I know that and…” She stared at her hands. “I thought about pretending to be a sweet, quiet submissive for you, but…after staying with my parents, I know I wouldn’t be able to do it for long, and it’d break my heart to put that look in your eyes again.”
He put one hand on each side of her face, and his thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. “What look, sugar?”
“Disappointment,” she whispered.
“You’re going to disappoint me sometimes,” Marcus said. Her gaze got caught in the blueness of his. “If I disappointed you, Gabi, would you want me to leave?”
“No. But it’s different. I know who you are, and I wouldn’t want you to change.”
“There we go. Gabrielle, I don’t mean for you to change. I love who you are, little brat.”
Her breath caught, and joy spiraled up inside her like a whirlwind of glitter. Love? He loves me? Me? And then she shook her head. “No. No, you don’t.”
“Contrary little sub—never accepting anything. Why am I not surprised?” He smoothly reversed positions with her so her back rested against the headboard and he straddled her bare thighs. “Gabrielle, over the last month, you’ve made every sweet, obedient submissive seem boring.”
The spurt of hope faded quickly as logic returned. “You hate when I disobey you. I saw that.”
“Sugar, when you were acting and I didn’t know it, you drove me crazier than a june bug,” he agreed.
Absentmindedly he ran his hands over her breasts, distracting her. Damn him, she craved his touch like a drug, wanted to be in his arms, under him. She closed her hands on his wrists, needing him to hear her. “I wasn’t pretending all the time. Don’t you understand?” she said. “And—”