One Cut Deeper Page 6

  Then he gave me his mouth in the sweetest, most tender kiss I’ve ever had. He took my mouth slowly, savoring the way I tasted. I felt so treasured that my eyes burned again, especially when he cupped my face and whispered my name. As soon as I opened my eyes, he smiled against my lips.

  “Get dressed and then I’ll give you your instructions.”

  The last thing on this earth I wanted was my clothes. I wanted to crawl into his bed and see how far I could push him. Since I hadn’t looked in his box of toys, I still didn’t know exactly what he was into, beyond bondage, and that had been pretty mild so far. I hadn’t even gotten the collar.

  But when the master said instructions, a smart sub wouldn’t argue, not on the very first day. Once I was more confident he wouldn’t send me home, I might argue just to see what my punishment would be, but this soon, I didn’t want to risk anything that might turn him off. I don’t want to lose this before...

  I couldn’t finish the thought or risk breaking down again. I’d already cried once and he hadn’t kicked me out. I didn’t want to push my luck.

  As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, I wanted to strip off all the confining clothes and kneel beside the bed again.

  Where he lay.

  On his side, chest bare, but the rest of him hidden beneath the sheet, he gave me a hot, heavy look. Even seeing that silver ring winking at me from his nipple, I didn’t move closer, for fear that once I went on my knees beside him I’d never be able to get up again.

  “You mentioned you might have some errands to run today.”

  Errands? I blinked, trying to get my rusty mind to slip into gear and work despite the male perfection gazing at me. “Oh yeah, some last-minute shopping.”

  “Good. I’m going to sleep for a few hours and I don’t want you sitting around here waiting on me. Somehow I don’t think that I would rest very well, do you?” He chuckled, taking the sting out of his words, because yeah, despite my best intentions, I was creeping toward him, my mouth watering to get that ring between my teeth. If he hadn’t told me to leave, I would have sat right here waiting for him to wake up with as much intensity as Sheba eying her ball. “If you want to come back tonight...”

  “If?” I winced at the shrill tone of my voice.

  “If,” he repeated, “then there are a few things I want you to do first.”

  “Okay, sure.” Actually, I had a few things I wanted to do too. I needed to find the perfect Christmas present for him. I needed to restock a few sexy things to wear, not that I’d mind if he made me go nude all the time. Maybe a few old favorite toys as hints, in case he didn’t have them.

  “Rule Number 1—No shopping for you or me and this possible relationship.” When my mouth fell open to protest, he laughed again. “You’re my Christmas present, Ranay. Your trust is all I want for Christmas this year. I also don’t want any of your old patterns to crop up yet. Not until I know what we’re dealing with. This is a fresh start for us both. This is new and we’re going to explore it together.”

  He turned my disappointment into something sweet that seemed to melt down my throat and heat my stomach. “Okay.”

  “Rule Number 2—If you want to spend the night with me tonight, you have to call your family first and secure an invitation for me to attend whatever celebrations you’ve promised to attend for the holidays.”

  I winced. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone I was in a relationship again. Either they’d all hover and panic, waiting on me to fall apart, or they’d try to keep us apart for fear that I would get hurt, or worse, he’d back out as soon as the full impact of my needs became known, and then I’d have to explain to them all over again. Yes, I’m broken. No, I’m not normal. I want and need things you can’t possibly understand. I can’t turn those things off. I can’t. I’ve tried. I might as well stop breathing.

  “No hiding, Ranay.” He said it gently, but when I met his gaze, I flinched at his burning intensity. “I’m not the kind of man who’s going to tiptoe around your life for fear of upsetting your loved ones. They deserve to know enough about us that they’re not worried about your well-being and safety. They need to meet me as soon as possible so I can alleviate some of their worries right out of the gate. We’re in this together, kitten.”

  “It’s going to be hard.” My lips trembled as I mumbled the words. “They love me, I know they love me. They want only the best for me. But sometimes, I don’t think they understand. At all.”

  “They don’t have to understand, as long as you and I come to an understanding. They just need to know that you’re safe with me.” He lightened his voice, rolling over on his back so the sheet slipped a bit lower. Interesting. He had another tattoo above his groin, a small design that I’d missed before, nestled in the tender skin above his hipbone. What was it?

  I couldn’t tell from here, but as I started to move closer, he held up his hand.

  “No, I don’t think so, Ranay. If you come over here for a goodbye kiss, then I won’t get any sleep. I don’t want you to see how grouchy I get without my beauty rest, not so soon. You might change your mind about me.”

  Me change my mind about you? I blew him a kiss and then turned and quietly pulled the door shut behind me. You have no idea.

  Chapter Six

  I taped the last present shut, then sat back to examine my handiwork. Wrapped presents were another thing that was going to shock my family. They knew I was a last-minute shopper. Usually they were lucky if I’d taken the gift out of the Walmart bag and put it into a gift bag with a wad of tissue paper.

  But if he could wrap a present for me, then the least I could do was put a few thoughtful touches on the gifts for the people I loved most in this world. Even if they annoy the crap out of me, I thought as my phone rang.

  Sighing, I answered my sister’s call. “Hey, Sam. I was just going to call you.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of, and yes, you still have to come tomorrow.”

  Samantha was two years younger than me, not that that would ever stop her from bossing me around. Based on her complete incredulity any time I tried to explain the lifestyle I sought, I don’t think she was into BDSM play at all, but she had more dominance in her little finger than I did in my whole body. “I never said I wasn’t coming tomorrow.”

  I hesitated, trying to think of a way to present the facts with the least amount of discussion.

  “Just tell me,” she said impatiently, as if she thought I was deliberately being evasive.

  “I met someone.”

  A long silence met my words and I could already feel the chill creeping over the miles of air separating us before she finally responded. “Who?”

  I could hear the five thousand questions she hadn’t asked me yet. Is he a biker? An ax-killer? A drug addict? Where’d you meet him—a bar? Jail? Online?

  Which was infinitely worse than jail would ever be, of course, because that’s where I’d met Josh.

  “Charles MacNiall.” I was pleased at the blasé tone of my voice, like we were talking about some new color of towel for the bathroom. “He’s one of Dr. Wentworth’s clients, the one I left you a message about yesterday because I was going to be dog sitting for him.”

  Sam sniffed with disapproval. “I see. How long have you known him?”

  “Er...” Did I go with the year or more I’d been working at the clinic? Because technically I had known him that long.

  “Not how long you’ve worked at the clinic,” she retorted, knowing exactly what my hesitation meant. “How long have you known him?”

  “In the Biblical sense?”

  “Ranay! Honestly. Is he nice?”

  My hackles rose. “Like I wouldn’t know anyone nice?”

  “Well, Sis, you do tend to go after a certain kind of man. If you know what I mean.”

  “No, actually, I don’t. It’s not like I hang out in bars or clubs, Sam.”

  “Not any longer.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the hurt to stay far below t
he surface. Yes, I’d once done the club scene. I’d slept around a little more than I probably should have, considering I was a “nice” girl. I’d been looking so desperately for that one thing I needed, and no one seemed to have it. No one had known what I was talking about.

  I heard her talking in the background, voices muffled because she’d put her hand over the phone, and I could imagine all too well what was said. When someone came back on the line, it wasn’t Sam.

  “Sam says you met someone, honey?”

  That carefully optimistic voice broke my heart. You owe me, Charlie MacNiall. “Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m seeing someone, and he’d like to meet you all.” Although I don’t know why.

  “Oh?” Her voice brightened. “Absolutely. We’d love to meet your young man. Wouldn’t we, Sam? Definitely bring him tomorrow. I can’t wait to meet him. So, what’s he like?”

  My chest hurt so much it took me a minute to respond. “He’s nice. Real nice. You’ll like him.”

  “I’m sure we will,” she said in that same brightly determined voice that seemed to say oh dear Lord Jesus, not again. “Are you okay? I mean, I know how hard it’s been, honey. Do you need to see Dr. Huntington?”

  Dully, I shook my head, though she couldn’t see. “No. I’m fine, Mom.”

  “How’s your depression? Your anxiety?”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated in that same, level voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. So is it okay if Charlie comes too?”

  “Absolutely, the more the merrier. Did I tell you that Michael’s going to be here?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t count the number of times she’d already bragged that my brilliant, successful brother would be attending our mundane, little family get-together. He’d probably had to reschedule half a dozen important business trips in order to come for Christmas all the way from sunny California.

  “He’s bringing someone too. Her name’s Brittany.”

  “Great.” God, she even sounded perky and perfect. Knowing Michael’s taste in women, she’d be model thin, blonde and probably loaded.

  Maybe I should hit my anxiety meds before going over tomorrow. I won’t have to call Dr. Huntington—I still have an emergency stash.

  But then I remembered I wouldn’t be alone. I wouldn’t have to sit there at the table with a frozen smile and choke down another bite of dry turkey while everyone kept treating me like I needed a straitjacket.

  Closing my eyes, I called up his face, the wicked heat in his eyes, the adorable dimple in his cheek. I’d be going home with him, learning what made him laugh or groan with desire. Now I knew that beneath that charming exterior, he had plenty of tats for me to lick and nibble. Big, powerful hands he wasn’t afraid to use in order to show me exactly how hard he could be.

  While he plunged that lovely cock into me. Tonight, please, please. Let it be tonight.

  “So you’ll be over for dinner, right?” Mom asked one last time. “You know your father would love it if you could come by three in the afternoon.”

  That was her way of saying we know you’re always late, so if I tell you to come at three, you might make it by five. This time I didn’t mind the desperate edge in her voice. “Sure, Mom. We’ll be there.”

  Chapter Seven

  To keep myself away from his closed bedroom door, I zipped up my jacket—with my gloves this time—and took Sheba for a long walk. I kept touching my cell phone, sure that he’d text me if he woke up and wanted to know where we’d gone. I’d left a note in the kitchen too, just in case.

  I’d seen everything west of his house driving out from Springfield, so I walked east along the same narrow paved road. After I’d walked about ten minutes, the road turned into dirt. Fenced pastures of cows and horses stretched out on either side, rolling hills and woods. I’d grown up in town with neighbors so close they could see you in the bathroom if you forgot the blinds were open. Yet here I’d walked for almost an hour and hadn’t seen a single driveway.

  That must be some kind of supernice neighbor if he’s willing to come this far to check on a dog. Who am I kidding—I drove fifteen minutes out of town to get here.

  But not for the dog alone.

  The dust cloud ahead alerted me that I was finally going to see someone way out here in the middle of nowhere. In a few moments, a big, gold Suburban appeared, slowing once it saw me. I edged over to the dead grass and weeds by the ditch to give them plenty of room. Somehow I wasn’t surprised when the SUV stopped and the window went down.

  “Hi there.” A man with short dark hair smiled and waved, leaning across the console. “You must be the dog sitter.”

  Sheba sat at my feet, her big ears perked. She didn’t make any sound of aggression, but she seemed taller, the fur rising up along her neck and back. She didn’t like this guy. “And you must be the neighbor.”

  “Sure am. I live a few miles away.” He waved vaguely in the direction he’d come, still all smiles and cheerful good-old-boy charm. “I’m glad Mac found someone to stay with Sheba on such short notice, especially with the holidays and all.”

  He waited for some kind of response. Maybe he thought I’d grumble that Charlie had dared ask me to work on Christmas Eve. But it wasn’t in me to complain about anything the master asked me to do, so I merely shrugged.

  “So you got any Christmas plans?”

  I took a small step back. I wasn’t used to that kind of directness from anyone, let alone a stranger. A man I didn’t know. On a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I reached down and buried my fingers in Sheba’s ruff. She still hadn’t growled, so I didn’t think the man was a threat, but I didn’t like him.

  “I mean, in case Mac is delayed. You know how airports dick you around and reschedule your flight just to be inconvenient, especially this time of year.”

  I couldn’t tell if the guy was fishing for information on when Charlie would be home or if he was trying to find out if I’d be alone again tonight. The creeper. I turned around and started walking toward the house. “Hey, nice to meet you, but I’ve got to get back.”

  The SUV rolled alongside, the weirdo still leaning toward me. “I could give you a ride. You’re probably two miles from his place.”

  I smiled brightly and kept right on walking. “No thanks. Sheba needs the exercise. I don’t mind.”

  He chuckled and waved as he sped up. “Suit yourself. Merry Christmas.”

  The dust choked me but I kept walking. I didn’t want to give him an excuse to turn around. Sheba shook herself and looked up at me as if to say good riddance, wagging her big tail.

  “Yeah, me too.” I frowned. The guy hadn’t told me his name, either.

  My phone buzzed with a single-word text from Charlie. Hungry?

  I was so hungry—for him, not dinner—that I broke out into a run before I could stop myself.

  But I was too far away—and too out of shape—to jog all the way back. I really did hate that kind of exercise. I didn’t want to show up gasping and sweating—that was for later when he was working me over—so I forced myself to walk the last ten minutes. I probably still needed a shower, or at least some deodorant, but I wasn’t going to amble to the master’s side when called.

  I never expected to walk into the kitchen and find him cooking. For me.

  And oh, it smelled incredible. The master cooking for the slave? It messed with my head in a very good way. I’d never known a man who could cook, let alone cook well.

  “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium,” I replied, washing my hands at the sink.

  “Then I’ll throw yours in the oven for a bit.” He’d used an honest-to-God iron skillet to sear the fillets, with liberal butter and mushrooms. Holy calories, no wonder it smelled so good. That was my only excuse for not noticing all the candles he’d lit. Or how incredible he looked in a white T-shirt and ragged jeans. Barefoot and in the kitchen. I’d never dreamed of a master like him.

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “There’s a salad in the fridge. J
ust set it and the dressing on the table.”

  Damn, a man who ate veggies when steak was on the table. Now I really had died and gone to heaven. The dressing wasn’t store-bought, either, unless he’d deliberately taken it out of its original bottle and put it into a glass cruet. “How’d you learn to cook like this?”

  “Easy. I like to eat.” He winked at me over the stove, flashing that dimple. “Actually, I fell in love with wine first, then I learned a few dishes that paired well with my favorites. I don’t know how to make that many different things. Do you enjoy cooking?”

  “I’m more of a baker. Cookies, cakes, that sort of thing, though I’ve gotten out of the habit.”

  “Cheesecake?” Must be his favorite dessert. It was the second time he’d mentioned it.

  I pretended to think a moment, as if I were flipping through my mental recipe box. “Hmm, maybe. Seems like I used to make a chocolate cheesecake topped with a surprisingly decent raspberry sauce.”

  “Sign me up for that one.” He pulled the skillet out of the oven, plated my steak and added a crusty salted baked potato. “Why’d you stop baking?”

  I shrugged, trying to blow off the question with a flippant response. “I got tired of dieting.”

  He handed my plate to me but didn’t let go of it, waiting until I met his eyes. He didn’t have to order me to tell the truth. “I prefer to bake for others. I didn’t have anyone to bake for any longer, so I stopped.”

  He released my plate as a reward for my honesty. Grabbing his own, he came around the bar and joined me at the small breakfast nook table. Three fat pillar candles lit the table, while he’d lit at least a dozen votives on the counter behind us, the window sill and the decorative shelves on the wall. “What troubles me the most is that you gave up something you enjoy because the relationship ended. Were you punishing yourself?”