Present day
The soft down comforter covered Kathryn’s legs, but she was still cold. Unable to see, she found herself chilled even more at the sound of the door opening. Her rattled nerves squeezed shivers from her as she listened to each slightly muffled footstep approaching on the soft carpet.
Through little gaps where her cheeks met the blindfold, she caught a glimpse of a man’s laid-back but stylish loafers beneath his jeans. Biting her lip, she pulled back a smile.
Damn, his shoes are big.
She flashed back to one rainy afternoon on a long college weekend when, for no reason other than idle curiosity, she dove headfirst into “research.” A hop, skip, and mouse click later, she searched for studies on whether the size of a man’s shoes said anything about his pocketful of potential.
Can’t blame a girl for loving science.
One guy actually won a Nobel prize for his work, measuring stretched-out penises against other body parts.
Hmm, wonder which intern scored the coveted role of pole puller?
She imagined the announcement. And in the category of Penile Possibilities, the Nobel prize goes to . . .
The results of these studies? A correlation was negligible. Mr. Big Stuff standing before her might be her own hands-on experiment.
Still, staring down at the promise of his footwear, she barely managed to squelch a giggle or her growing blush. But her third-grade humor subsided as he remained standing there.
Quiet. Watching her.
His fingers were warm as they barely brushed across her hair, then dropped to scoop up her hand in a soft shake.
“Hello, Kathryn.” His voice was low. Deep.
He squeezed her hand, and she shivered as she tried to hold in a shuddering breath. Then his hands moved to her shoulders.
“You’re freezing. Let me turn up the heat, but . . .” He stepped out of her sliver of a view, then back, and she felt softness wrap around her arms and back. “Better?”
She tugged the robe, setting it higher on her shoulders. “Mm-hmm. Funny, I never thought you’d be adding clothes to the equation.”
“Well,” he said, his voice carrying from farther away, “this place costs a pretty penny. If we’re smuggling a souvenir out for you, you’d better love it.”
Laughing, she pulled the cozy plushness tighter and relaxed. “I absolutely do.”
The momentary cheeriness subsided as he returned, pointing those shoes—and she could only imagine what else—straight at her. The heat of his body washed over her, and her breathing stuttered to a halt.
“Breathe,” his gruff voice gently commanded, and she obeyed, sucking her lungs full of air before slowly easing it out through her lips. “Good.”
The mattress lowered as he took a seat beside her, covering her hands in both of his. “Don’t worry, Kat.”
Her voice cracked slightly as she lied. “I—I’m not worried.”
“Then why the frown?” He cupped her cheek for a second, then dropped his hand.
“I—I prefer Kathryn.”
Did I really say that? To him? For once in my life, maybe I could break a rule or two, let someone else in on my nickname. I mean, it’s practically for medical research. Hello? Shoe size.
“Well, Kathryn, we’re not doing anything tonight—”
“Because I want you to call me Kathryn? Seems harsh.” Regretting her back talk, she realized that sassiness might be an unwelcome trait in a sub.
His voice lowered. “Isn’t that what you’re here for? Something . . . harsh?” His finger traced up her spine with a hot, electric charge that dropped her head back, releasing a gasp from her lips. He tugged away her scrunchie, freeing her long hair and combing it out with his fingers.
She whispered, “Yes,” followed by the immediate panic of, “No . . . I mean, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m— “
“Relax,” he said, massaging her neck and shoulders. “Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted . . .” His voice was low but playful. Hypnotic. Alluring. Making every last one of her defenses drop into the palm of his hands. “We won’t be doing anything tonight. And no, not because you want me to use your go-by name.”
He kissed her cheek, and the kinship was immediate. Only military or ex-military would use a term like go-by name.
“Never apologize for what you want. I insist on knowing your desires,” he said softly, and she shivered as his breath tickled her ear. “I have wants too, Kathryn. I want my frisky little kitten not to worry too much about showing off her claws.” His hands kneaded harder. “We’re not doing anything because I heard you loud and clear. Your hard limit.”
No sex? No way. Why the hell did I say no sex?
Don’t listen to her. She’s a crazy lady.
“I—”
“You called your hard limit, and I won’t cross that boundary. At least, not tonight. I can’t take advantage of you just yet. And certainly not until I see a smile back on those beautiful lips.”
A shy grin emerged from her as his thumb brushed the fullness of her lower lip. Her mind tripped over one tawdry thought after the other, like sucking down that hot finger he’d been teasing her with.
“While you’re cranking those gears in your head,” he said, “let me make you an offer.”
“An . . . offer?”
He stood and took her hands, lifting her to her feet. Seconds later, the rustling sounds captivating and concerning her were unmistakable. He was turning down the bed.
Anxious, she swallowed the ball of tension in her throat as he continued.
“Unless you object, I’m lying you down and covering you with the comforter to keep you warm. I’ll be on the other side. On top of the covers.”
What? “Why?”
“Because I need you comfortable. If you’re relaxed, you’ll be easier to get to know. I need to know what you’re thinking so I can understand why you’re here. And what you want.”
She turned to ask him a question, not realizing he’d changed positions once again. The accidental smack of her hand hit his solid chest.
“Sorry,” she said, panicked as she yanked it back.
He picked up her hand and held it to his chest. Doing nothing at all, really. Somehow, it made her calm.
She felt his heartbeat.
His breathing.
And nothing made her feel more at ease. Like . . . coming home.
“What if,” she asked shyly, “I don’t know what I want?”
He huffed out a laugh, whisking her into the cradle of his arms.
“Don’t worry,” he said, reassuring her as he laid her on the bed. He tucked her in, adding, “I ask terrific questions.”
It was strange how a blindfold made her lose all track of time. And dropped her resistance.
For the first time in, oh, ever, she finally let it all out, yammering on and on for far longer than was socially acceptable. A firehose of TMI, she described her string of disappointing sexcapades, not worried for a second how it made her look.
I’m blindfolded. In a hotel room. Lying on the bed and divulging all my sexual experiences to a stranger with expertise in BDSM.
Let’s call it therapy.
And all the while, her attentive, albeit anonymous “therapist” continued to listen.
“I feel like you’re suffering,” she said, “having to hear all this. Like a bad date where the girl can’t stop talking about her exes. Unless, of course, you’ve fallen asleep.”
On cue, a snore erupted, and without thinking, she swatted him. Nervous, she again tried to pull back, but stopped as he grabbed her hand and chuckled.
“You need to trust yourself. You feel like something’s missing, because it is. It’s that simple.” He rolled closer. “You know when you’re not satisfied, Kathryn.”
His words were gruff, yet soft. Filled with understanding. And something about the way he said her name was like he knew her. Knew her like no one else.
Biting her lip, she pushed out a confession. “Well, on more than one occasion, I’ve been accused of being”—she sighed— “frigid.”
He laughed low. “Don’t believe the hype of self-centered assholes. And don’t bite your lip. When you’re with me, consider that my job.” His hand cupped the back of her neck, but he didn’t squeeze. His whispers warmed her ear. “Listen to your body right now. Your breathing. Your heartbeat. You know what you want.”
Her head barely nodded as her nether regions lit up like the Fourth of July.
“You’re not frigid, Kathryn. You’re lost . . . desperate to stave off your own instincts.” He shifted his weight, dropping his grasp and moving away from her as he lay back. “You’re not the only one fighting demons. Mine have kept me away for a while.”
“Away from what?” she asked.
“From this,” he said.
Curiosity might kill the cat, but she couldn’t help asking. “How long?” Impetuous or not, she’d thrown it out there.
“Three years,” he said on a long breath.
Holy shit. “You haven’t had sex in three years?” Blurting it out, she winced.
“No, little girl. I didn’t escape from a monastery.” He caressed her cheek, and she smiled. Then his touch was gone. “But I haven’t been myself. I’ve been . . . lost. Given up a lot of old habits. And thought I’d left this life behind.” His deep voice held a note of despondence.
Resolved to overstep whatever Dom/sub rules were in play, she clumsily stumbled out of the comforter. Kneeling toward his side of the bed, her blindfolded eyes staring presumably at him, she said, “I probably look ridiculous, but I have to face you when I ask you this. If you haven’t been a Dom in three years, why are you doing this now?”
His tone smoldered through her. “Because, Kathryn Chase, in a strange way, I understand you. And in this world, you need to be looked after. I can do that. Keep you safe and protected. Let you play. And explore.” His hand massaged her knee.
Her lips curled up. “Like a naughty guardian angel?”
“Naughty guardian? Yes. But you’re the only angel here.”
She lowered her head, with both her hands now playing with his fingers. “What if I try something and don’t like it?” She shivered again.
“You’re cold. Lie down.” Before she could shimmy back under the blanket, he said, “No. Next to me.”
Uncertain, she felt her way forward, letting her hands travel to his chest. He pulled in a deep breath, and she got a solid feel of a man built for endurance.
Suddenly worried, she stopped.
His hands wrapped around her, pulling her close to him and nestling her body in his hold. His heat and strength were so strangely comforting, her tension evaporated.
“Listen to me carefully, kitten. You’re here for my pleasure.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m here for yours. I’m not here to push you beyond what you can handle.”
His fingers wove through the silky strands at the nape of her neck, then closed, latching on as he pulled her head back and made every molecule of her body tingle. His next words came out on her lips.
“My rush comes when you beg me to take you to your limit.”
Please, she thought as her lips quivered. Take me to my limit. At least point me in that direction.
Leaving her unkissed, he released his hold and slid his hand down her back, where he rubbed gently. “Stay curled up if you like. Tonight, and only tonight, I’m on your terms. Even if it’s just this.” At her silence, he whispered, “But there’s something else you want. Isn’t there?”
Yes.
Tracing figure eights across the muscles of his chest, she whispered, “There is something I’d like to try.”