Twenty-two

As Lily walked downstairs on New Year’s Eve, stepping carefully in the four-inch heels, Dax said, “You look stunning.”

“So do you.” He wasn’t much for formal clothes, but he looked classy and masculine in slim-fitting black pants and a black shirt.

He touched her cheek. “Got some sun today.”

“On top of the world.” After a lazy morning of sleeping in, sex, breakfast in front of the fire, and more sex, he’d taken her flying again. He had pointed out the various Olympic venues, telling her how Whistler had changed before and after the 2010 Games. But it wasn’t the man-made structures that impressed her the most, it was the grand scale of the wilderness scenery: dense rain forest blanketed in snow, winding rivers and frozen lakes, and spectacular white-capped mountains. He had landed on Serratus Glacier and they’d hiked a ways in the snow, with a thermos of hot chocolate to supplement the winter sun’s warmth. “Your world,” she commented now.

“How d’you mean?”

“That’s the world you love, isn’t it? Nature as raw as you can get it. It’s amazing and awe inspiring.” And so was Dax. Seeing him in his element, she was powerfully drawn to him, yet it also emphasized how different they were. So did the stories they’d shared today about their work—careers they each loved that took them in opposite directions. This was all so confusing. She’d come to suspect that she’d never stopped loving her husband, only erected defenses to protect her heart. But given how different she and Dax were, maybe she needed to hang on to those defenses.

“Yeah, I do love it. I feel at home there.” He studied her. “Could you ever imagine feeling that way?”

She shook her head, knowing she was disappointing him. “I admire it, but it’s intimidating. It scares me. You have the skills to survive in the wilderness, but I’ve always been a city person.”

“Sure, nature can be scary, but it’s . . . I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try, Dax.”

“Often, when nature hurts people, it’s their own fault. Like that Sams family, going out unprepared. Or like forest fires that start because someone’s careless with a match or cigarette.”

“But some fires do start because of lightning.”

“Sure, and avalanches happen, and gale force winds blow up. But that’s nature being nature. It’s not personal; you can’t get mad about it.”

No, but you could get dead. All the same, she was starting to get it. “Unlike people. You want people to be decent, and when they’re not it’s maddening and hurtful.”

“And harder to deal with. With nature, the challenge is . . . clean. With people it can be so complicated.”

Understanding sank in, thanks to last night’s conversation. “Like with your parents,” she said softly, “who you couldn’t trust to be there for you. And your grandparents kicking you out.”

He nodded. “And like your parents.”

“Yes, they’re complicated. At least they can be trusted; they’re predictable, even if we don’t always like what they do and say.” Talking about their parents, recognizing the distance between her world and Dax’s . . . no, this wasn’t how she wanted to feel as they headed off for New Year’s dinner. Change the subject; change the mood. “On the subject of predictable, I bet you think I’m wearing panty hose.” She flirted the silky full skirt around her knees, showing off her legs.

“Seem to recall you saying that women don’t go bare-legged in the middle of winter.”

Teasingly, she raised one side of the skirt to reveal a stocking top attached to a garter.

“Wow, a garter belt? You’ve never worn a garter belt before.”

“Not so predictable, am I?”

“Hot. That’s what you are.” He was bending to kiss her when the doorbell rang. “There’s our taxi.”

Lily followed him into the mudroom where she put on her boots and coat and stowed her fancy shoes in the clothing store’s pretty bag. Around her neck, she wrapped a new silk scarf they’d bought in Whistler, its blue and silver pattern more feminine than her normal scarves. Thank heavens they were taking a cab. In winter, Whistler was made for heavy layers, not evening wear.

Still, as she tucked her gloved hand through Dax’s arm on the walk from the door to the waiting taxi, she enjoyed the snowy air, crisp against her cheeks, pure and fresh as she drew it deep into her lungs.

Dax opened the back door, but when she made to slide inside, he stopped her. Close to her ear, he murmured, “Tonight, I am Falcon, your master, and you will obey me.”

Shocked, she gaped at him. Tonight? At a restaurant? He couldn’t intend . . . What, exactly, did he intend? Excitement quivered through her, mixed with a hefty dose of anxiety. Behaving properly in public had been drummed into her from an early age. Dax knew that.

She could say no. But she loved his bad-boy side. Besides, if she got too uncomfortable, she could always say her safe word. “Yes, Falcon,” she murmured demurely, and swung into the taxi.

Dax went around to sit on her right. He gave the driver their destination then settled back. Putting an arm around Lily, he drew her closer in the darkness of the backseat and whispered, “Unbutton your coat and let it fall open.”

A shiver rippled through her as she obeyed. Another followed when he loosened her scarf, flicked the dangling hummingbird earring, and caressed her earlobe.

When they drove under a streetlight, or an oncoming car’s headlights flashed, the play of light and shadow made the bold lines of his face even more striking. His fingers stroked her neck, ear, throat, collarbone, the lazy sensuality igniting a fire inside her.

“Cross your right leg over your left. Let your skirt ride up above your knees.” When she obeyed, he gripped her stockinged knee, his big hand spread out to curl around it, holding her firmly. “I don’t own you, but I command you. You trust me to look after you, and your pleasure.”

His grip on her knee and the seductive caresses at her throat made her totally aware of him and yes, she did feel like she was in his power. It was a strange sensation, but not a bad one. “I do.”

“You will look after my pleasure and give me everything I ask for.”

Everything? What might that entail, in a public venue? “I will,” she said doubtfully.

His hand slid a few inches higher on her leg, nudging the hem of her skirt to mid-thigh. “What are you wearing under your dress, Lily? A garter belt and stockings and . . . ?”

“A thong and a bra.”

“Ah.” His thumb found the top band of her stocking, toyed with the garter but didn’t unfasten it. Then he stroked the bare skin of her inner thigh above her stocking, inches away from her sex. The steady, provocative stroke was titillating and she quivered with the desire to feel that touch against the crotch of her thong, which was rapidly growing damp.

The taxi drove through Whistler Village, all sparkly and magical, and pulled up outside the restaurant. Dax released Lily and reached for his wallet. The loss of his touch, combined with having no idea what he intended, made her feel vulnerable. She rebuttoned her coat and, when he opened the door, slid out and took his arm. A few people strolled the streets, and laughter and music mingled in the air.

Inside the entrance of the restaurant, Dax helped her out of her coat and handed it to the host along with his own, then steadied her while she took off her boots and put on her fancy shoes.

Lily glanced into the restaurant, so elegant and romantic with ivory-draped tables and diners in dressy clothes. Candlelight sparkled off silverware, wineglasses, and diamond jewelry. The Christmas tree hadn’t been taken down yet. Decorated in white and gold, it stood tall and twinkling in a corner.

“We’re setting up your table,” the host told them. “It’ll only be a moment.”

Dax thanked him then whispered to Lily, “Go to the ladies’ room and remove your thong.”

She sucked in a breath. She’d toyed with the idea of going without panties, but hadn’t had the nerve. Now he’d ordered her to. She dipped her head in acknowledgment and walked down the hall on trembling legs.

The restroom was elegant too, with creamy white marble, burning candles, and a pine wreath scenting the air. The three stalls were private little rooms with wooden walls that stretched from floor to ceiling. Lily went into one and reached under her skirt. She peeled the thong down her legs and stepped out of it, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it in her purse.

In the stall beside her, a toilet flushed and the door opened. When Lily stepped out of her stall, a plump, attractive brunette in black chiffon pants, a spangly silver top, and silver sandals was washing her hands. Their gazes met in the mirror. “Happy New Year,” the woman said.

“Same to you.”

When the woman left, Lily stared at her own reflection. She’d never gone without underwear; in fact, she rarely wore thongs, finding them too skimpy. It was amazing how naked she felt, though no one in the restaurant could possibly tell that she was panty-less. It was her and Dax’s sexy little secret.

She sauntered out of the restroom, very aware of her body. High heels, garter belt and stockings, the swish of silk against her skin, the shock of air against her pussy. Feeling sexy and nervous, she wondered what Dax would make her do next.