Wildly Inappropriate Page 6

  She looked down. “Oh.”

  He couldn’t stay here with her. If he did, he’d touch her, and if he did that he’d break every rule. He went to the small closet near the door and took out his suit jacket. “I’ll leave you the suite. Please feel free to order dinner. Checkout is automatic.”

  “Edward...”

  He shrugged on his jacket. “It was a pleasure, Winter.”

  He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, letting the heavy door thunk closed behind him. He turned to stare at the closed door, his stomach in knots. Damn it. He hated this. He wanted to be in there with her, but he would be a complete ass to stay. If he stayed past the agreed upon time, if he tried to use her current emotional state to influence her to agree to another session, he would teach her that he couldn’t be trusted, that Doms couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t want that.

  He wanted Winter Storm—his beautiful princess with the eyes that matched her name. He wanted her so much that he would walk away now, and pray that once she’d come down from the scene she’d still want to do it again.

  7

  Winter picked at her food, her paperwork untouched beside her. It was her weekly treat—lunch at Pat’s Pub—but even the plate of delicious food couldn’t tempt her to eat. She hadn’t eaten much since that night. Since Edward.

  “Something wrong?” Padraig, asked.

  Win looked up and forced a smile. “No, not hungry I guess.”

  Padraig swapped out her nearly empty glass of iced tea with a full one. “You’re more qualified to ask this question than I am—” he nodded at her stack of case work “—but do you want to talk about it?”

  Now Win’s smile was genuine. “I do very little counseling anymore. Mostly just paperwork.”

  Padraig leaned on the bar. “That has to be hard.”

  “It is.”

  “Is that why you’re not eating?”

  Win considered lying and saying yes. She’d been coming to Pat’s for over a year now, but mostly kept to herself. She liked listening to the family that owned the place, liked the way they talked and joked, everything threaded through with love. She liked being a quiet observer, but at the same time, she wanted someone to talk to.

  She looked at Padraig. He was handsome—everyone in the family was good looking—but there was a sadness to him that hadn’t been there a few months ago. That sadness she saw in his eyes was what made her start talking.

  “No,” she said. “It’s not work.”

  “Relationship?”

  “I’m not sure if it could be called a relationship.”

  His gaze sharpened. “The man who came in, asking about hosting a munch.”

  “Oh, you know what that is?”

  “You do?”

  Winter felt her cheeks heat, and reminded herself that she was a grown woman, and had no need to be ashamed. “I do.”

  “You, uh, you two seeing each other?”

  She looked down at her papers. “No. We spent one night together. I thought what we had was special, but I guess it wasn’t.”

  “He doesn’t feel the same way you do?”

  “That’s what’s so hard.” Win absently picked at her fries. “When he left, he looked like he wanted to stay, but if he wanted to stay, why didn’t he?”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  Win looked up. “Of course.”

  “I don’t know if you heard—this place is all about the gossip, after all—but my wife died.”

  “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize you were—”

  She stopped herself before finishing that sentence.

  “Didn’t realize I was married? We weren’t married for long. But being with Mia, it taught me something.”

  Winter watched the emotions playing across his face. After a moment he continued.

  “It taught me that time is precious, and that you have to take a chance, even if you know you’ll end up with your heart broken.”

  “It’s better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all?” she said.

  “Corny as it may sound, that’s true.”

  “So you think I should call him?”

  “I think that if you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life eating cold fries because you’re too distracted wondering what if.”

  Winter laid down the cold fry she held. “Cold fries, even from your kitchen, aren’t great.”

  Padraig picked up the plate. “No, they’re not. I’ll get you a fresh lunch. On the house.”

  He carried her plate away, and Win took out her phone. She pulled up the text conversation with Edward, remembering how excited she’d been when they’d been texting to arrange their meeting. That had been nearly ten days ago.

  Padraig came back, and handed her a white wine spritzer. “Liquid courage.”

  She took a sip. “I may need it.”

  I’d like to meet again.

  She typed the words and then stared at them.

  “Send it,” Padraig said. “The worst that could happen is he’s not interested. If he isn’t, he’s an idiot and doesn’t deserve your time.”

  “Are you giving out relationship advice?” Yvonne, one of the waitresses, walked up next to Padraig behind the bar.

  “Yes, I am, and unlike you, I give out good advice.”

  “Right.” Yvonne plucked Winter’s phone from her hand, looked at the text, and started typing. Winter lunged across the bar and Padraig started to grapple with his cousin. She tapped the screen then handed the phone over. “It’s done!” She smiled, winked at Win, and then walked away.

  Win looked at her phone, her heart pounding. “She sent the message. And she added to it.”

  “I’m sorry. She’s insane.”

  “I miss you. She added ‘I miss you’.”

  Padraig looked at her. “Do you? Miss him?”

  “So much.”

  Padraig shook his head. “Then you needed to say that. Missing someone who is still alive is...”

  Winter winced. “I’m sorry. My problems must seem so stupid to you.”

  “No, not stupid, and I don’t regret loving Mia, even if I lost her. She’d want you to be happy. She’d want me to be happy.”

  Win considered him. “I know a woman you might like, if you’re ready to start seeing someone again. Lila’s wonderful—smart, funny.”

  Padraig laughed softly. “Lilas are always crazy.”

  “Wait, I know. Emmy. You’d love Emmy. Though she’s a bit crazy, too. Just a little, tiny bit.”

  “I’m not quite there yet, but when I’m ready, if I need a date I’ll come to you.”

  Winter’s phone beeped.

  Yvonne hurried over, and she and Padraig both stared at her expectantly. “Well?” Yvonne asked.

  “Let’s discuss. He said ‘let’s discuss’.”

  “Ugh, men.” Yvonne looked disappointed.

  Her phone beeped again.

  “I miss you, too,” she read aloud.

  “Ah ha! Score for Yvonne.” She patted Padraig on the shoulder.

  Win ignored them, staring at her phone, at the simple words, as a smile spread across her face.

  Her phone beeped again.

  Where are you?

  Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed out Pat’s Pub.

  I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

  Win hopped off her stool. “He’s coming. I’m going to move to a table.”

  Padraig smiled. “Good. I’ll bring your food there.”

  Yvonne must have briefed Aunty Riley, who brought the food out to the table Win had snagged. “If he treats you bad, let me know. We can take care of him.”

  “Um, thanks,” Winter said.

  Aunt Riley crossed her arms. “Now eat.”

  Win put a piping hot fry in her mouth. Aunt Riley nodded then went back to the kitchen.

  When the door opened and Edward stepped in, half the bar turned to look at him. Gossip really did run rampant in this place. He frowned at the a
ttention he was receiving, but the frown faded from his face when he saw her.

  Winter’s whole body relaxed when he smiled. The tension and headache that she’d carried like a weighted sack disappeared.

  She slid out of the booth and took a step towards Edward.

  He started walking, each step quicker than the last. She rushed to meet him, throwing herself into his arms.

  Edward scooped her up in a hug, burying his face in her hair.

  Half the bar started to clap.

  “Ah, so that’s why half the bar was watching us. And clapping,” Edward said after Winter explained that the bartender and waitress, both of whom she knew by name, had pushed her to text him.

  They slid into the booth. Rather than sit across from her, Edward sat beside her. It had been a miserable week and a half, during which he’d replayed their scene hundreds of times, trying to understand what he’d done wrong.

  “I hope you texted me because you wanted to,” he said. “Not because someone else egged you on.”

  “I wanted to, I was just…scared.”

  “Scared?’

  “That you’d reject me.”

  “Wait, wait,” Edward held up his hand. “Were you…waiting for me to text you?”

  She nodded.

  Edward blinked, then groaned. “Shit.”

  Winter’s storm-gray eyes widened. “What?”

  “I was giving you space.”

  “Wait, I was supposed to text you?” Her soft voice was filled with outrage.

  “It would have been inappropriate for me to reach out to you.”

  “What? How was I supposed to know that? You ran out the door the instant it was ten o’clock. I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

  He could see the hurt there, in the lines of her face, and his heart twisted. He cupped her cheek. “No, no, Winter. I wanted to stay. I wanted to get under that blanket with you and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “If I’d done that, broken my word, changed the rules mid-scene, how would you ever be able to trust me as a Dom?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that. That never even occurred to me. I just thought I hadn’t been…enough…for you.”

  “No, princess, never that.” He lowered his mouth to hers, whispering against her lips, “Never that.”

  They kissed and everyone in the bar cheered again.

  8

  “Leave it, please,” Win panted.

  Edward, his naked back sweaty, kissed her neck just above the soft leather collar he’d placed there for the scene, and which he’d been about to remove now that they were done. Before now, before Winter, he’d been indifferent to the idea of having a woman wear his collar—a piece of jewelry outside of a scene and a custom-made proper collar when they were playing.

  He wanted Winter to wear his collar. Hell, he wanted her to wear a real collar, maybe something with worked leather and chain link, twenty-four seven, just so she never forgot who she belonged to.

  He shoved the bottle of lube, dildo, and nipple clamps off the bed, then collapsed down beside her.

  Her nipples were pink and still hard, even after the multiple orgasms. He toyed with one, just because he could. She whimpered for a moment, then arched up into his hand, obediently offering herself to him.

  “Princess, my princess.” He grabbed a piece of her hair and used the end to brush feather-light caresses down the center of her naked, flushed body. That was the first thing she did, when she walked into his apartment—take down her hair. He liked that he was the only one who ever saw it down. The length and thickness of it was like a secret only he knew. After a month of playing in hotel rooms, they’d switched to his apartment, where they’d been playing for the past five months. He’d outfitted the spare bedroom as a playroom, with an extra high bed fitted with restraints, a few strategically placed hooks in the walls, and a straight-backed chair.

  When he teased her belly button she bent her knees and spread her legs, offering her well-used pussy to him.

  There had never been a more perfect woman in all of time and space.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Winter’s eyes popped open.

  He’d been holding onto the words, afraid to say them, but that was a stupid fear. “I love you, Winter Storm, my princess.”

  She turned wide eyes to him. “I love you, too. I never thought…”

  “Never thought that a BDSM relationship could turn into something more?” She froze, and he laughed. “You know, I went into Pat’s that day, hoping to have a munch so I could find women to play with. In the past I always needed women, plural. Multiple partners.” He cupped her breast, placed a tender kiss on her nipple. “That’s because I hadn’t met you. All I need is you.”

  “Something more…” she whispered.

  Edward realized he hadn’t been clear. He wasn’t going to repeat the mistake from the beginning of their relationship. “I want you, not just as my sub, but as my girlfriend. No, not just that.” He grinned down at her. “My fiancée. My wife. Move in with me.”

  Winter rolled off the bed, staring at him.

  He sat up. “Okay, I’m going about this all wrong, and maybe I should wait, give you space, but you said not to do that again, and I don’t want to wait. I want to be with you.”

  “You barely know me,” she whispered.

  “I know you.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t even know what I do for a living.”

  “You’re a social worker.”

  “Fine, you know that, but there’s so much you don’t know.” She shook her head, and a tear slid down her cheek.

  Edward’s joy faded, to be replaced by dread. He knelt on the bed, held out his hand. “Winter, come here.”

  “I can’t. Oh, I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Come here.”

  “No, don’t you see? I can’t.”

  She turned and bolted out of the room. Edward stared at the open door in shock.

  What the hell? How had that gone so spectacularly wrong?

  He jumped off the bed and ran into the living room. She was wearing her dress, the same one she’d worn when they met at Pat’s.

  He swallowed. “I did that wrong. Don’t worry, we’ll go pick out a ring and I’ll propose properly.”

  “A ring? Oh, Edward. Please don’t.”

  He took a step back as if she’d slapped him. “Don’t what, Winter?”

  “Don’t make this hard.”

  He finally got it. “You like fucking me, but not enough to date me, is that it?”

  She let out a sob, shoved her feet into shoes, and raced for his front door.

  “Stop,” he ordered, heart breaking.

  She paused, hand on the doorknob, and dashed out into the night.

  Edward gawked at the door, mouth open and heart shattered.

  Win drove recklessly, barely able to see through her tears. She stopped outside her family’s home, where she still lived with her mother. Her mother who was on disability and had COPD but still smoked menthols all day long. Her home where her brother occasionally crashed in between stints in court-ordered rehab. It was the great irony of her life that she spent all day trying to help her clients put their lives in order, but she couldn’t even help her own family.

  There was plenty of work waiting for her inside—all the paperwork she never got done during her workday, the chores necessary to keep up the old house that they couldn’t afford to sell. If her brother was there, she’d have to deal with him, all while her mother smoked cigarette after cigarette while she used her tarot cards to try and tell the future, calling out to Winter to come look every time she dealt a hand that was particularly good or particularly bad.

  Her time with Edward had become her refuge. His apartment was clean and quiet. They laughed and talked, and he did things to her, made her feel things, that put even the raunchiest pieces of fiction to shame.

  He wanted to ma
rry her.

  Edward Donal, the rich, handsome Dom, wanted to marry her.

  Couldn’t he see how ludicrous that was?

  Couldn’t he see how unfair it was to make her want him so much?

  Winter shifted into drive as the sky opened up and it started to pour down rain.

  Edward stared at the glass of whiskey he’d poured. He’d already had two beers, but that wasn’t going to get him drunk fast enough, so he’d had to switch to whiskey. The hangover was going to be brutal.

  There was a knock at the door.

  He straightened. “Winter.”

  Racing for his front door, he threw it open. His apartment was on the second floor, with a small landing just outside his door. The front door was protected by the overhand of the roof, but rain pelted down on the landing, and on the woman standing there.

  She hadn’t had time to put her hair up, and it was wet and plastered to her, like a long, dark cloak.

  “Come inside,” he said.

  “No. I shouldn’t.” Rain wet her face, and made it look like she was crying. She heaved a breath, and her thin dress clung to her breasts. “But I owe you an explanation.”

  Edward crossed his arms. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t want to date me, just fuck me. I get it.”

  “No! No. That’s not it.” She shook her head. “We have communication issues, you and I.”

  “There’s no you and I. Not anymore. I won’t top you anymore. I realize I want more than that.”

  “Just now, you realize that? You’ve never had a sub girlfriend before?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Winter threw her hands up. “You’re rich and handsome and crazy good in bed. Why aren’t you already married?”

  That surprised him. “Work. I was focused on work, on landing this project. And I didn’t really date in LA. I didn’t need to. I went to the club.”

  “So you had tons of gorgeous submissive women you could play with whenever you wanted?”

  Something in Edward started to relax. “I wouldn’t say tons…”

  She gave him an exasperated look, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms. He started to take a step towards her, out into the rain, but she held up her hands.