Re/Bound Read online

  Maybe if he told her he spent the night sleeping on the sofa of a woman he really liked? No. She would insist upon meeting Darcy, and he wasn't ready for that. It would severely compromise his investigation to have any of the women in his life know the truth.

  He found the object of his affection lifting two breakfast pastries from the toaster. She hummed as she poured java into a mug. Gray dress pants hugged her hips, and her dark rose blouse accented the rest of her curves. Her hair hung around her shoulders. It shimmered in the light pouring through the window where two roses sat in a vase, his attempt at a romantic gift. In thirty years, he had never given flowers to a woman who wasn't a relative.

  Even now he wasn't sure about the gesture. Darcy hadn't seemed overly impressed until he told her the reason he'd only brought two. Then her eyes had softened, the blue turning three shades lighter, and her smile had grown.

  He liked to see her smile.

  Sweeping her hair back, he planted a kiss at the base of her neck. She reached up and caressed his hair and his cheek. “Good morning. I didn't know what time you had to be up, but I have a meeting in an hour.”

  “Now is good. I have to go home, shower, shave, and find clothes that don't look like I slept in them.” He snagged a mug from her dish drainer and set it next to her full one. She filled it without being asked. “You covered me up last night. Thank you.”

  “You're welcome. I figured you shouldn't drive an hour home as tired as you were. Do you take sugar? I'm out of milk and cream. And are you hungry? I don't have much, but you're welcome to anything I do have.”

  “Black is fine. Breakfast later.” He carried the mug to the round table situated under a large window overlooking what appeared to be a garden. With the last remnants of winter only a week in the past, nothing much was happening there now.

  She joined him, choosing the closest chair.

  He smiled into his coffee and rested his free hand on her thigh. She shifted toward him the tiniest bit, the long muscle on the top of her thigh tensing and relaxing with the movement.

  “I suppose you'll be busy with family stuff all day.” She broke off a piece of pastry and slipped it between her lips.

  “Are you asking me out?”

  She shrugged. “I thought we'd stay in. I could make dinner. You could bring the wine. I could thank you for last night.”

  He was relieved that she didn't seem upset that he'd pushed her to accept having one hand immobilized last night. While he was driven by a need to push boundaries, he wasn't out to sabotage his chances with her. He sipped and watched over the rim of his mug as she struggled to remain nonchalant. “You already thanked me.”

  Now she looked up and flashed him a mischievous grin. “I can thank you better than that.”

  Leaning back, he kept one hand on his mug and narrowed his eyes at her. He gave her thigh a little squeeze. “Darcy, you thanked me the way a good submissive is supposed to thank her Dom. I call the shots when it comes to sex.”

  “Of course.” She finished off one of her two pastries. “Is there anything special you'd like me to wear?”

  A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. He loved her audacity. Too many subs thought being submissive meant they couldn't have a backbone, an opinion, or a strong personality. “I like to see you in skirts. You have fantastic legs and a lovely ass. Other than that, I don't know. I am under no illusion that I am good at picking out women's clothing.”

  A short-lived line creased between her brows. She had been looking for something more specific. Since he thought she looked fantastic in anything and he looked forward to stripping her bare, he didn't really care what she wore. Not only that, but engaging in a sexual relationship with an asset who didn't know she was an asset always put the operation at risk.

  For most women, sex contained emotional aspects. If he were to be honest, he would have to admit that it did for him as well. He had never conducted a scene with a woman he didn't have feelings for. Where Darcy was concerned, the depth of the feelings developing for her made him extra leery. He knew he would be wrestling with this decision while people eulogized the uncle he had never really known.

  Did he want her under him, submitting completely, more than he wanted to spare her the hurt she would feel when she found out about his true purpose for being in her life? And for that matter, did he have the right to push her boundaries the way he had the night before? She hadn't liked being restrained at first, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that she was the kind of submissive who needed to be challenged. If he didn't push her boundaries—and he had to be careful to not push her too far, too fast—he didn't think she would develop true respect for him. He didn't regret asking her to compromise, and he would have stopped if she insisted, but she hadn't. Quite the opposite—she'd enjoyed it.

  But it wasn't all about pushing boundaries. He didn't relish the idea of engaging in impact play without bondage. As the person responsible for her safety, he dreaded hurting her in ways that were real and lasting. Floggers, canes, and whips were meant to be used on the surface of the skin. The muscles were to be stimulated. He couldn't live with himself if he accidentally damaged a kidney or something serious like that.

  Malcolm knew exactly where this could lead, and he knew exactly how it could blow up in his face. Was he selfish enough to take a few weeks of bliss with a woman who made him stiff just from the way she ate a breakfast pastry? He already knew trying to convince himself he didn't feel squishy and tender things for her would be useless.

  On the other hand, if they had an established relationship, perhaps it would provide a strong enough foundation to survive the coming earthquake.

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss against her soft lips. “We'll have to do it tomorrow. Family is in from all over the place, and I won't be able to slip away today. How about tomorrow at two? We can hang out for a while.”

  He watched the gears in her head churn as she reorganized her weekend. She finished her coffee and her breakfast. “Two is good. That'll give me time to get a pedicure.”

  The man wearing dress pants and a white button-down shirt looked every inch the badass agent. He sat on a hard sofa, a paper cup full of an opaque liquid clasped loosely in his hand, and stared off toward the set of double doors leading to the room where the funeral had just taken place.

  Malcolm plunked down on the other end of the short couch and slung his arm along the bamboo spine lining the top. He stroked the smooth wood for a moment and thought about how protected Darcy would be if she were here now, sitting between the two of them. Wasn't that why he got into law enforcement in the first place? To protect.

  Darcy, he had realized, had no idea she played with fire. As such, she had no idea she needed protection.

  And Keith hadn't come to the funeral just to support his closest friend. Malcolm swiveled his head to glance at his handler. Inquisitive green eyes met his gaze, and Keith lifted an eyebrow.

  “I'm in,” Malcolm said. “I start my new job Monday. I need you to get me three levels of tracking programs. Snyder wants to track activities too. He's still feeling me out for more.”

  “Did you use Markovich?”

  “Yeah.” Though he regretted the necessity, it wouldn't be the last time he used her. “Snyder brought her in for the meeting. Shocked the hell out of her. She thought they were meeting about something else. He used me to blackmail her into staying with the company. Not sure why.”

  Her presence had given him a way to show Snyder he was adept at covering up any evidence of nefarious activities. Once Darcy had left, the meeting had taken an entirely different tone. Yet Malcolm had been unable to determine Snyder's exact goals where Darcy was concerned.

  “She's hot. Maybe he's looking for a trophy wife.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “She wasn't too pleased by the idea of working for Snyder for another month. I don't get the sense he had a romantic interest in her.”

  “No emotional connection is needed for a trophy wife. All she needs
to do is look good on his arm and do what he says. She pretty and she's a submissive, the perfect combination.”

  It took all of Malcolm's self-control not to growl at his buddy's oversimplification of the situation. “She's intelligent and she has a backbone. She's not going to roll over and obey his every whim. Snyder didn't come out of that meeting with everything he wanted from her. She doesn't fit the profile of what he'd want in a wife.”

  Keith's mouth quirked up, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Sounds more like your type. Do you have plans to follow up with Markovich? Maybe make sure she didn't kill Yataines before you develop mushy feelings for a suspect?”

  “I don't think she has it in her to murder anyone. I'm seeing her tomorrow. I'll get her to talk more about her relationship with him. So far she's had nothing negative or critical to say. There are a few framed photos of them in the first level of the house.”

  It irritated him a bit. Most women fresh out of a long-term relationship had plenty of critical things to say about their exes. The fact that she seemed to have put Yataines on a pedestal didn't point toward her innocence. He would feel a lot better, as an agent and as a man, if she would point out anything she perceived as a flaw in the man.

  Keith shot him a knowing look. “Have you slept with her?”

  Malcolm shook his head. The deceptively simple question held too many layers. “I stayed the night, but that was accidental. I fell asleep on the couch. She slept elsewhere.”

  He watched as Keith turned over the information, both what he had and hadn't revealed. One of the reasons the two of them had such a productive partnership had to do with the innate ability each had to fill in the blanks with one another. Keith couldn't come out and ask Malcolm anything that, once on the record, could cast doubt on the investigation. Becoming emotionally entangled with a suspect could derail a case.

  Keith leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. “Take her to the butterfly house.”

  Malcolm nodded stiffly at the code meaning Keith needed to see the situation for himself. If the situation were reversed, Malcolm would do the same thing. They didn't have the time or the resources to waste on a tainted investigation.

  “I'll have her there between three and four tomorrow.”

  A jubilant voice cut across the lobby and put an end to their discussion. “Keith, I'm so glad you could come.”

  Both men looked up to the tiny woman with a big presence. Malcolm smiled at his mother.

  Keith stood and opened his arms wide. “Mama Legato, you get more beautiful every time I see you. When are you going to leave your old man and run away with me?”

  She kissed Keith's cheek and wiped away evidence of her pale pink lipstick. “Always a flatterer. One day you're going to say that to a woman and she's going to take you seriously. Watch out, kid. That woman will break your heart.”

  Knots in her stomach formed and smoothed out as Darcy alternately anticipated and stressed about whether or not they would do a scene. She desperately wanted one, but Theo was sometimes frustratingly difficult to read. One moment she was sure she had him, and the next she wasn't sure about anything. She both liked that and found it exasperating. She'd always been able to figure out Scott's mood, even when he had tried to form that emotionless mask all Doms seemed to affect when they were in control of a scene.

  Theo represented new territory in so many ways.

  The doorbell rang, and she gave her reflection in the mirror one last look. The requested skirt fell to midthigh. It hugged her hips and accented her legs in a way that made them appear both longer and slimmer. Opting against stockings, she left her legs bare. Her neatly manicured toenails peeked out from the open tip of wine-colored high heels that went with the deep midnight hue of her skirt. Theo's height meant she could get away with four inches that thrust her hips and breasts to the fore.

  Soft satin straps crossed her torso, following the curves of her breasts and pulling the stiff fabric of her matching wine shirt tight. The skirt wasn't new, but the shirt and heels were the fruits of her shopping trip the night before. It felt good to purchase clothing with a particular man in mind. She hoped Theo liked the ensemble.

  She had kept her makeup to a minimum. The emotional and physical exertion of a scene wasn't makeup friendly. Some Doms liked to see their submissives with streaked faces, but Darcy found that clownlike appearance undignified. Some indignities were erotic and titillating. That wasn't one of them. She wouldn't wear more for a scene unless Theo specifically requested or ordered it.

  Throwing her hair behind her shoulder on one side, she nodded at the wide-eyed woman in the mirror before crossing the foyer to answer the door.

  The strong afternoon sunlight glared behind Theo and blocked out most of his features. The shadows revealed jeans and a polo shirt. She blinked away the black spots dancing in front of her eyes and motioned him inside.

  He brushed a kiss across her lips before she could say a word in greeting. Immediately her nerves calmed. He pushed the heavy door shut, blocking out the glare of the sun.

  “How was the drive?” She wasn't sure about the protocol for asking about a funeral, especially one for a man he professed to barely know.

  He dropped a backpack on the hall tree next to the door and swept his gaze over her body. A sense of satisfaction curled up her spine as desire flashed through his dark eyes. “Totally worth it.”

  “I could drive to your place sometimes.” She felt a little like an ass for not offering sooner.

  “Sure.” A fleeting frown scrunched his chin for a second before he shook it away. “But unnecessary. I have a buddy who lives in the city and is traveling for work. He's offered to let me stay at his place.”

  Disappointment tingled through her tummy. She'd been hoping he would stay the night more often, perhaps falling asleep in her bed instead of on the sofa. He was the first man who stirred deep and tender feelings she thought had died with Scott. That alone made him special.

  A big part of her wanted to fall right into the scene, but the rational part of her brain cautioned that he would want to talk first. Any Dom worth his salt would insist on a conversation to explore what might happen in the scene and to set up the hard limits.

  “It's a nice day for April,” he said. Once again his gaze roamed her legs. “Keep the skirt, but you're going to have to change your shoes. We'll be doing a bit of walking.”

  She glanced around her house, not understanding where the walking would happen. Though the layout made her two-story colonial feel spacious, it really wasn't that large. The main floor had a living room, kitchen, nook, half bath, and two offices. The upstairs was smaller, containing only three bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a good size for a family, but she could still navigate it in heels.

  “Walking?”

  He grinned and swung his keys around on his finger. “Yes. I'm taking you somewhere else for a few hours. I find it easier to talk about a scene when sex isn't imminent. That way you can focus on the conversation instead of anticipating the scene. Grab a jacket. You never know how the weather is going to change from one moment to the next.”

  He drove a low, sporty kind of car. Other than noting a black exterior and a gray interior, Darcy didn't bother to look at the brand name. It would mean very little to her anyway.

  He held the door open for her and closed it after she got in. She waited for him to give some kind of clue about their destination, but he said nothing. Soon miles of freeway disappeared under the tires.

  “Will we be back for dinner?”

  “Yep.” He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel in time to the beat of a classic rock song on the radio. “Don't worry. I've never had a woman cook for me before, so I'm not going to blow this opportunity.”

  She caught the humor in his tone, but she didn't know the exact cause. He could be amused at her less-than-sly attempt to find out where they were going, or he could be joking about never having had a woman cook for him. She opted to feel
out the latter. “Really? Not a one? Did your dad do all the cooking while you were growing up?”

  He shot her a quirky grin. “He did his fair share. For the record, I don't count relatives or any women not looking to get into my pants.”

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “Well, you certainly make it difficult to get into your pants. Most men only need an invitation and they drop their drawers. I know I'm a little out of practice, but you're proving a little more challenging, Mr. Stevenson.”

  His husky laugh rolled across the small, intimate space inside the car. “Oh sweetheart, don't fret. It'll happen. First I have to know how you feel about butterflies.”

  It wasn't the way she'd envisioned the conversation beginning, but at least they were making progress. She had a purple butterfly in her toy chest. Wearing one while receiving a spanking never failed to deliver a nice orgasm.

  “I like them. I have one at home if you'd like to use it. You're welcome to use anything from my toy chest.”

  His brows wrinkled, and then he chuckled softly. “I meant literal butterflies. What caterpillars become after they hang around in a cocoon for a few weeks.”

  Heat rushed to her neck and cheeks.

  “I probably should have told you right away. I'm taking you to see the butterflies at MSU. April is the last good month to see them. I think you'll enjoy the experience. But the other thing is good to know.” His hand closed around hers and squeezed. “We have about an hour to discuss limits, preferences, and fantasies. Why don't you start by telling me your hard limits?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Though she'd looked forward to having this discussion, now that he'd voiced the words, doubts assailed her. What if she couldn't go through with it? Theo had dominated her in small ways so far, but she'd never done a scene with anyone except Scott. What if he found her lacking in some vital way?

  Traveling on the interstate that would take them from Ann Arbor to East Lansing probably wasn't the best place for her to let insecurity ruin everything. She plunged right in. “I'm not into breath play or anything that uses needles or draws blood. I like the electricity stuff, but only in small doses and only if you feel very comfortable with it.”