Liberated Heart: Windy City Book Three Page 8

  He collapsed on top of her, nuzzling into her neck. Every inch of her body felt worn out, used. He'd taken every ounce of energy. He licked her bare shoulder. She needed another shower. Bradley rolled to her side, yanking her to his chest.

  The tenderness between her legs spoke to how hard he'd used her. Used. He'd used her mouth the night before, and now he used her body. It wasn't without pleasure; she'd come three times at his hands. He hadn't been selfish. He hadn't been cruel. He'd given her exactly what she wanted. And she loved every intense minute of it.

  Unexplained tears formed in her eyes, and the bubble in her chest told her she wouldn't be able to hold them back. Rolling away from him, she pushed off the bed. She needed to get away from him, put some space between them. She hadn't simply liked what they did. She didn't merely get off on it a little. She loved it. And heaven help her, she wanted more.

  The bathroom door clicked behind her as she closed it. Bradley called after her, but she shook her head. Words weren't going to happen. Not now. Once the feeling of intimacy faded, she'd look at him again. Rebound—he was her rebound. That was all. Just a rebound.

  Maybe if she said it enough times, she'd start believing it.

  Chapter 9

  Bradley waited until the water ran in the shower again before giving up on talking to her. Worried he'd pushed too hard too fast, he stood outside the bathroom door, debating on barging in or not. He didn't usually let his submissive keep secrets, and he sure as hell wouldn't let her hide away after having the most incredible sex he'd had in years.

  But she wasn't his submissive. She was a weekend distraction.

  Growling at the closed door, he shoved his legs into his jeans. Distraction or not, he had to figure out what triggered her flight response. Although he didn't think a flogging would help, it probably would make him feel better to administer one.

  Ever since he'd used the flogger on her at the club, all he could think about was doing it again, hearing those pretty gasps, the sexy yelps, and watching her eyes widen as the burn of the flogger faded into warm arousal.

  When they'd gotten back to his place, her lips hadn't only wrapped around his dick, her utter submission had wrapped around his entire being. Some women didn't take to his brand of dominance, they felt him too harsh and mean, but not Erin. He could see it in her. She craved it, got off on it. Kid gloves weren't going to work with her. She wanted the manhandling and needed the strictness he offered. As he was about to turn around on the stairs and march back up to his room, his cell rang.

  "Bradley?" Kendrick didn't wait for him to respond. "Is Erin with you?"

  He glanced up the stairs. She should be done with her shower by now. "Good morning to you too." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Had she told anyone what she was up to? He would have to talk to her about safety in the future. "Yes, she's here."

  "Thank fuck," Kendrick breathed into the phone. "I thought it was you. At least…I’d hoped so."

  "What?" Bradley reached the kitchen and opened the fridge. She'd be hungry. He sure as hell was.

  "Royce wasn't sure he'd heard that girl right. You bought Erin at the auction last night, right? That was you?" Concern built in his voice.

  "Yes, I did. She's here and she's fine."

  "Well, that leaves one more question: what the fuck are you doing with Erin?" Bradley smiled over the big brother tone, then smiled even wider when Erin sauntered into the kitchen.

  He hadn't brought her bag up to her yet, but as he suspected, she was pretty resourceful. His Bears jersey worked fine as a nightgown. Her thighs and calves couldn't have been sexier, and the messy, haphazard look of her thrown together ponytail pulled at his dick all over again.

  "Bradley. I'm serious." Kendrick's shout broke his trance.

  Erin didn't meet his gaze as she walked around the kitchen, looking through drawers and cabinets.

  "One sec." He put his hand over the phone and finally caught her eye. "What are you doing?"

  "I was going to make us breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon if you have them?" She grabbed a frying pan from the island cabinet, successfully not meeting his eyes.

  He stared at her for a split second before nodding. "Yes, in the fridge." He held out the phone. "It's Kendrick."

  She winced, then shook her head. "No, I don't want to talk to them. I'll text them later." She avoided the phone as though it were going to bite her.

  He left her to work on the eggs and took his call outside on the back patio. "Sorry about that. She's fine. She's making breakfast." He watched her through the patio windows. The easy way she moved around the kitchen, making herself at home…it felt right.

  "What happened? How did she end up at the auction? Where the hell is Jonathan? What have you done to her?"

  Bradley wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the firing squad, but he couldn't help but feel a little flicker of annoyance at the last question.

  "I haven't done anything to her that wasn't consensual." He couldn't help the grind to his voice. He didn't appreciate the accusation, no matter how subtle. He hadn't known Kendrick that long, at least not as long as Alex, but he knew him to be a respectable guy. His words were coming from worry for a friend, not an attack on him. Still, a chafe is a chafe.

  Kendrick let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. It's just Erin is…well, not like us."

  Bradley laughed at that. "Oh, I think you're seriously mistaken."

  "Well, maybe she's going through something. I don't know. She hasn't been around much, she's not answering Kelly's messages or texts, and we can't get a hold of Jonathan. Obviously, something happened. It's just…she's fragile." There was that word again.

  "She's a grown woman who is more than capable of standing on her own two feet." Bradley watched with thickening desire as Erin bent over to retrieve a dropped towel. Her bare ass peeked out from under the hem of his jersey.

  Kendrick sighed. " Tell me she's okay and I won't worry."

  "She's okay," Bradley answered, licking his lips. Erin stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a glass in his cabinets. The shirt rose up, exposing more of the beautiful curves of her ass. He would spank her today, hard and long and until she cried. It was a promise to himself. A reward for not marching in there and bending her over the kitchen table.

  "If you can, get her to check in with one of the girls. They are going out of their minds with worry, and Alex fucked up really bad last night, so Alyssa is here too."

  "Hands full of women trouble, huh?" Bradley joked. Kendrick grunted a response and ended the call, with another warning to use gentle hands with Erin. Bradley watched her through the patio door. That woman needed many things but being coddled wasn't one of them. She had some answering to do, and he wouldn't let her get away from it.

  "I made coffee." Her singsong voice surprised him when he stepped back into the kitchen. "How do you take it?"

  "Uh…two sugars and cream." He stood beside the breakfast nook where she'd already put out napkins and silverware. With a smile, she moved to the pot of freshly brewed coffee, and damn if she wasn't wearing the same smile when she returned to him, offering the cup. "Thanks." He nodded and took the mug.

  "It's all ready." Once he sat at the table, she put a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. It smelled delicious. He couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked breakfast. Typically, he grabbed a protein shake after his workout, or grabbed a banana on his way through the kitchen.

  She sat across from him with her own plate of food. He watched with curiosity as she placed the napkin in her lap, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. Again, she was running and trying to hide. Fuck that.

  "Thank you for making breakfast." He hoped his voice would make her look at him.

  Instead, she shrugged. "It wasn't hard. I hope it wasn't too forward. I had to dig through the cabinets to find the coffee and everything."

  Forward? Obviously she had no idea how much everything she had done since sauntering into the kitchen
in his jersey had been the exact right thing. Not only did she cook, but she'd served him coffee. A little thing to some, but to him, having her make it, prepare it, and deliver it was as intimate as a kiss. The fact that she'd done it all on her own, without coaxing, only made the act all the more appealing.

  "Not at all." He took a sip of his coffee and moaned. Perfection. "Are you going to tell me why you ran away this morning?" He sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and focusing his stare on her. She shifted in her chair, keeping her gaze away from his.

  "We don't need to talk about it." She shook her head and took a small bite of her eggs.

  He gave her a moment, then sighed heavily. "I know you aren't accustomed to answering to someone, but you'll just have to get used to it. Especially if you mean to go on with this type of relationship." Thinking she'd be moving on to another man, another Dom, made his muscles tense. "Running away isn't an option. You don't get to hide your emotions or worries. You were upset about something after we had sex, and I want to know what it was."

  She held her fork over the plate, her eyes still not meeting his. Patience really wasn't his thing. "Don't you think I deserve to know? It's a bit of a blow to a man for the woman he just slept with to lock herself in the bathroom." If he'd been a less confident man, he may have been wounded by her actions, but he had already concluded there was something going on in her head that had little to do with him personally.

  "You're right." She placed her fork beside her plate and smoothed her hands down her thighs. "I'm sorry. It's just…I've never done that before." Her eyes still wouldn't meet his.

  "Had sex?"

  She gave a little laugh. "I'm not that sheltered. I mean, I've never had casual sex." Her next breath came out in a whoosh, as though she'd just unloaded a stone from her chest.

  "Nothing we did was casual." He felt a grin tugging at his lips but managed to contain himself.

  "You know what I mean."

  "How many men have you slept with?" He wanted to kick himself. There were better ways to bring up the subject than blurting out the question.

  "Counting you?" Her eyes met his only for a moment before she refocused on his chin. He knew he should correct her, make her look at him properly, but he wanted to get through this part of their conversation first. He had a nagging suspicion he wanted confirmed. He nodded when she didn't continue. "Two." She spoke so softly, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. Two? Meaning him and her ex? Two!

  "Jonathan was your first?" Dumb question. "How long were you two together?"

  "Seven years. We met in college." Her face blushed, the tip of her nose more than her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her there. "It's not because of him. I didn't freak out because of him."

  "You two were together a long time," he noted more to himself. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to suggest this weekend. Maybe it would have been better to send her on her way.

  "At first, I was devastated because I lost him. But the more I went through it, the more I realized it wasn't him I was mourning. It was the idea. We were together a long time. He was comfortable. But…" she sighed, "he didn't like who I was." Her blush deepened.

  He wasn't going to like the answer, but he pressed anyway. "What do you mean?"

  "After he left, I was looking through his office. His computer was still logged on, and I saw some emails."

  Shit. "What did they say?" His imagination could answer that question, but how badly did the asshat damage her?

  " Stuff like I had no mind of my own, I was always underfoot doing things for him, very June Cleaver." She looked out the window, but he could see the tears lingering there. That fucker.

  "You were trying to get him to dominate. Asking him what he liked you to wear? What he thought about your clothes, that sort of thing." She turned to him with her lips parted. He'd been right. "By underfoot, he meant you made his coffee, liked to prepare his meals the way he liked, kept your house neat for him?" He was an asshole. This conversation was making his dick hard again as the image of her bringing him his coffee lingered in his mind.

  "I didn't know it at the time, but yeah, I think so. I think it got worse when Royce and Jessica started dating. I saw their dynamic. I mean, he's not controlling like that, Jessica wouldn't stand for it, but I saw the little signs between them. The subtle way he'd keep her from drinking too much or stop her from berating Kelly for some stupid screw up."

  "I didn't think you knew about them."

  She snorted. "None of them do. They think I'm too sheltered, too weak to understand or something. I don't know. But I'm not blind. I didn't know the terminology, but I guess I'd been trying to make Jonathan into something he wasn't. And he didn't like what I was, so there you go." She worried her lower lip.

  He watched her silently for a moment. How could anyone think this woman was anything but strong?

  "Come here." He pushed back from the table and patted his legs.

  Two brown eyebrows rose in question. "Don't make me tell you again." He lowered his voice, and she moved to obey. He guided her leg over his, until she was straddling him. "Put your hands on the chair back and don't take them off. No matter what happens, if you're in pain or you feel fucking awesome, don't move those hands. Understand?"

  "Yes, Sir," she whispered, then did as he instructed.

  "Look at me. You've taken quite a few liberties this morning." Her eyes found his immediately, and he saw the worry in them. "First, Jonathan never would have been able to fulfill the needs you have. I think you see that now. I'm sorry it happened the way it did, but I think it at least brought out your true self." She nodded. "You like service, taking care of your Dominant. A lot of Dominants love that. Don't try to change that or anything else about yourself."

  "I wouldn't. Not for anyone," she said with more heat than he'd expected from her. "If I had known this about myself, or had allowed myself to explore it, Jonathan and I wouldn't have been together so long. I can't change for anyone. I have to be me." A small part of him wished her friends could see her at that moment. Straddling his lap, obeying his commands, not showing one ounce of weakness. He wasn't oblivious, though. There was still a vulnerability to her.

  He palmed her bare knees. "Now, about running away." Her smooth skin beckoned him as he slid his hands up her thighs. "I do not tolerate hiding, and you knew that." He brushed his fingertips over her bare stomach, feeling the twitch of her muscles at the tickle.

  "I'm sorry." Through lowered lids, she maintained eye contact.

  "Mmmhmm." With featherlike strokes, he brushed the underside of her breasts. Her eyes widened. She gasped at the flick of his finger over her peaked nipples. Another flick and another. Her eyes didn't move, her hands stayed in place, but she had sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "Good girl." Another flick, harder this time, then he captured them between his fingers. "Such a good girl." He reached up and kissed her chin. "Never run away from me again." He increased the pressure, and the grimace she blessed him with made his dick twitch beneath her. "If you have a worry, you tell me. That's how this works. You don't get to keep them and work them out on your own anymore. You give them over. Do you understand?"

  A fervent nod. "Yes, Sir!" The chair creaked behind him, beneath her clenched fingers. He released her nipples, but kept them under his palms, rolling them around.

  "Now, about you leaving the room without permission…"

  Chapter 10

  Shit! She had hoped he’d forgotten about that little mistake. When she had recovered enough control and reentered the bedroom, she'd been glad he had left. She hadn't wanted to face him.

  He'd expect her to explain, and she hadn’t been ready to. Most men would have loved to not have to address her feelings. Jonathan sure as hell never would have bothered to find out what was wrong once she assured him she was fine.

  Bradley wasn't Jonathan. Bradley wasn't like any man she'd ever known.

  She needed to separate herself from him and keep her feelings from growing any more than
they already had. This was a weekend. Just a little fling. She'd go home tomorrow, and everything would go back to normal. She'd figure out what to do with the house, she'd go to work, and next weekend, she'd try out Top Floor on her own. Maybe Bradley would introduce her to a few men who were safe. The idea of meeting someone else, of him handing her over, made her stomach turn. No, she'd have to make a clean break and try to forget him.

  At the moment, there was no forgetting him, though. His fingers tightened around her breasts, squeezing them until discomfort turned into pain. "I'm sorry, Sir." She wanted to look away and close her eyes. "You were gone and—"

  "And you thought when I told you not to leave the room without permission it didn't apply because I'd left the room?" His nails dug into her flesh, and she sucked in a long breath. His eyes dilated. He loved this—loved seeing her uncomfortable.

  "No. I mean…I guess." Where the hell was her mind? "I thought you'd be mad at me." She couldn't help but tell him the truth. "I thought I'd come down—" She sagged when he let go of her breasts. The burn lingered.

  "You thought I'd send you home now?"

  Did he know how psychic he was? He should start a booth at the State Fair, make a few bucks. "I wasn't sure," she answered, arching her back, pushing her chest toward him. She wanted more of his touch, more heat from his fingers.

  "Erin, when you disobey, there are consequences. I wouldn't toss you out because of it. It's my job to correct and mold."

  "Mold? Like make me something I'm not?" Hadn't they already discussed how she wasn't going to change for anyone? Had he changed his mind?

  "No. Like train you to be the person you want to be, the person you are, just more." His eyes darkened, but his hands didn't move, they rested on her thighs. "What do you think would have happened if you had married Jonathan?"

  She thought for a minute and shook her head. "It wouldn't have lasted." His fingers trailed down to the inside of her thighs, but she focused on her answer. "He would have eventually done what he did, or I would have realized I couldn't be me with him. There was always something more I wanted, I just didn't know what it was."