Awakening (2 page)

At first, she’d been content to be by herself. She’d recognised that the world didn’t deserve her baggage. She was never going to do to another human being what she’d done to Charlie. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Watching someone slowly come to hate you was a chilling experience and one that haunted her. She had only to look in the mirror to see the evidence of his pain and she was determined to go it alone rather than take the risk of hurting anyone else.

Being alone was easier said than done. She’d made it through the year she had vowed to do, but now there were some days where simply breathing hurt. Everything about her life was isolated. She lived by herself and didn’t know her neighbours. Her only companionship was Chester and as much as she loved him, he couldn’t talk to her. Her work as a diamond grader and jewellery appraiser was solitary and she could go days without interacting with a single co-worker beyond the perfunctory communication necessary to perform the work. She was no longer just alone, she was profoundly lonely. Hence the book club. She needed human interaction. If nothing else, she needed to be around people.

Claire continued along the last aisle spanning the wall at the front of the store until she found what she was looking for, the romance section. She quickly scanned the author last names until she found “L” and picked up the club’s selection for the next meeting. That done, she scanned the titles and randomly picked up books from her favourite authors. As she reached for one paperback, a book on the next shelf over caught her eye. The title,
Finding Herself
, all but jumped up and smacked her on the face. Its large, bold script against a plain black book jacket fairly blinked “look at me, look at me”.

Claire picked up the book, flipped it over, and scanned the blurb, only to thrust the book right back onto the shelf and turn away. That wasn’t a romance novel; it was an erotica anthology – about BDSM. She hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the tag on the shelf indicating the genre. She wasn’t interested in reading erotica; at least, that’s what she was telling herself since her fingers were almost itching to pick that book back up.

Over the last year, her reading selections had become more and more risqué. She’d grown up on the likes of Barbara Cartland where there was no sex at all or, if there was, it was a discreet sentence where the heroine very pristinely offered up her virginity. During her relationship with Charlie, when sex became less and less frequent, and especially after it was nothing more than participatory masturbation, she’d begun to read progressively more sexually explicit novels.

J.R. Ward’s
Brotherhood
series had been the answer to her dreams. Lots of graphic sex tied up into a love story. She’d masturbated a lot after reading one those books. If you could call what she did masturbation. Applying steady pressure to her clit outside her panties didn’t rank up there with what she’d heard of other women doing, but it got her off and that’s all she really cared about. However, racy romance novels were one thing, but erotica was something else entirely. But that blurb; it was as if it were seared into her brain. One sentence in particular had made her tingle …
Join us as these women submit to their secret desire to be ruled by that one man, the one who sees inside her and pushes her beyond her inhibitions to pleasures she’s not even dared to fantasise about.

Every cell in her body was screaming for her to buy that book. So many times she had wanted to ask Charlie to do something to her only to be embarrassed and bite her tongue. So many times she had been frustrated at his tendency to just keep it simple and fuck her lying on their sides, rubbing her clit until she came, when what she really wanted was for him to get rough and fuck her like he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t take her. She craved hot, jungle sex, but had never had the courage to demand it. And truthfully, after a while, he’d only had sex with her because she was there and he wasn’t a cheater. She didn’t blame him for not putting any effort into it, but that didn’t do anything about her frustrated desires.

Almost against her will, she found herself backtracking and pulling the anthology off the self. For long moments, she just stared at it. The cover was compelling. The image was in shadows and quite artistic. A naked woman knelt in profile with her hands behind her back, tied with what looked like a scarf. Her nipples were hard and her lips were parted. She was blindfolded and her head was bent. Her posture epitomised supplication, but her arousal was obvious. Claire gripped the book so hard her knuckles showed white. She wanted to read it, but she was nervous. What if it was really perverted? Imagining what might be inside those pages, however, had her breath hitching just a bit and a slow flush sweeping through her limbs.

Claire darted a glance toward the front of the store where the cash register was located. There was no way she was going to walk up to Mr Rugged and ring that book out. That was like having to buy tampons or yeast infection medicine and the only cashier in the store was a gorgeous guy. She couldn’t do it. She might not be willing to talk to him, but she damn sure wasn’t going to embarrass herself in front of him.

With a sigh, she started to put the book back, only to stop abruptly as she caught sight of Mr Rugged finishing up his rearranging of the armchairs in the reading area. The flex and flow of his muscles as he moved made her palms itch to touch him. He didn’t notice her perusal as he took the last two folding chairs into what had to be a store room in the back corner, leaving the four leather club chairs as Claire had imagined they would be – perfectly lined up, one at each edge of the low, square coffee table.

Tingles flew through her body as the idea over took her. She could read it here. Bibliophile catered to readers. It was encouraged even. She’d just spend some time reading a few of the selections and make sure she put it back before she left. She didn’t have to buy it, and she didn’t even have to feel guilty because she was going to buy several books before she left.

Decision made, Claire slipped the book into her stack and headed back to the reading area. Settling into the furthest chair from the front, she set her intended purchases on the table and flipped to the first story.

Chapter Two – Finding Herself

E
VAN
L
ANE STEPPED
out of the stacks leading to the back of the store and stopped short as he saw the newest member of the Romance Readers Book Club settled into one of the leather club chairs, engrossed in whatever it was she was reading. Her long, honey-brown hair hung like a satin curtain hiding her face, but as he watched she tucked the hair on the side closest to him behind one ear, giving him a tantalizing view of clear, creamy skin, elegant cheekbones and delicate features. She was so small only her head was visible over the top of the chair, but Evan already knew what she looked like from the neck down. Petite, with a trim frame and small, pert breasts encased in a simple, pale green sweater and form-fitting blue jeans. She wore high-heeled, leather boots that gave her a few inches in height, but he was willing to bet she barely reached his chin without the heels.

He’d been surreptitiously watching her since he first saw her walk in and grab the display table like her life depended on it. She seemed so delicate and skittish, as if she’d run at a moment’s notice. His first instinct had been to go to her and make sure she was OK. His breath had caught at the sight of her and his stomach had lurched, which had made no sense, but then, when she grabbed the table, he’d understood. He had obviously sensed her distress.

Evan considered himself a fairly empathetic man. He liked to believe he was tuned into other people and able to sense intuitively what they might need. It was a quality that had served him well over the years. Her fragility had called to him the moment he’d seen her. But, unless she passed out in the middle of his store, he was leaving her alone.

He needed to clean up the coffee area and put away the snacks in preparation for closing, but that was going to put him right behind her and part of him wanted to stay as far away from her as possible. The entire time she’d been in the store, he’d made sure to be at the opposite end. She made him twitchy, like ants were crawling under his skin. It was almost as if she were dangerous. Which, of course, made no sense. She was simply a customer and a small, fragile-looking one at that. Hell, she probably didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet and, God knew, she couldn’t actually harm him, so this weirdness really needed to end. With a decisive shake of his head, Evan moved over to the coffee area and began emptying out the filter and wiping away crumbs.

Evan wasn’t trying to compete with the Barnes & Nobles and Amazons of the world. He simply wanted to offer dedicated readers a place to come where they could find unusual selections and enjoy the atmosphere while reading a good book. Bibliophile had been his dream since he was a teenager. He’d always been bookish, but had wanted to get out of the small, podunk town he’d been raised in, so he’d joined the military and never looked back.

After spending sufficient time in the service to have racked up several combat tours, multiple injuries, and enough nightmares to last a lifetime, he’d been honourably discharged and had opened Bibliophile. It was the culmination of his dream and he loved every minute of building and running the store. Bibliophile was really the only that kept him going after …
No!
He wasn’t going there. He took a deep, steadying breath and resumed his task until everything was arranged to his satisfaction.

Turning, he planned to remind the woman that closing time was in 30 minutes; however, the sight before him knocked the wind out of him. The book she was reading was open in her lap and she gripped the edges as if she’d fight anyone who tried to prevent her from reading it. Her lips were parted and her breathing was ragged. Before he could ask if something was wrong, she brought one hand to her chest, pressing in hard as if to steady herself, and that’s when he noticed. Her nipples were hard, jutting out in stark relief from behind the thin knit of her sweater. He’d noted before that her legs were crossed, but now he saw she was clamping them together viciously. She was excited.

Whatever she was reading, she was aroused. There was an empty book jacket lying on the table, and a quick glance at the book in her hands confirmed that she’d removed the cover. It was upside down, but Evan was intimately acquainted with his stock and he knew that cover. It was
Finding Herself
; she was reading dominance and submission erotica, and if her body language was any indication, she was close to coming.

Evan’s body reacted violently to the knowledge. His cock punched into an erection straining mightily behind his zipper and his chest clenched hard as what breath he had left dissolved in his lungs. He fell back against the coffee bar, hard enough to rattle the contents, and she jumped as if she’d been shocked. Whipping her head around, she gazed up at him with wide, glossy hazel eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her cheeks were dusted pink with the flush of arousal. Evan’s cock twitched hard and he felt himself beginning to leak. Horror shot through him. No
fucking
way. This wasn’t happening.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed off the coffee bar and growled out, ‘We close in 30 minutes. You’ll need to check out.’ He stalked off toward the front, ignoring the flush of humiliation that stained her cheeks as he left her there.

Claire felt the colour burning her skin as if it were a brand. She cringed with the humiliation of Mr Rugged having seen her in that state. She’d almost climaxed just from reading the story. In truth, she’d been considering finding the bathroom and taking care of herself.

It reminded her of the time she had gone over to her friend Katie Shannon’s house for a slumber party. Katie had found her father’s porn stash and they’d watched a video after he’d gone to bed. It had been very mundane in retrospect, just a whole lot of rough doggy style, but Claire had been so affected by the video, she’d had to go into the bathroom to relieve the tension. When she was done, she’d gone back out, but the video had been over.

She’d never forgotten that movie. Oscar-worthy cinematography it was not, but it had still changed her life. She’d used it as fodder for her burgeoning fantasies for many months until she’d discovered romance novels. It remained the only porn she’d ever seen. Reading this book had been almost like that. Oh, her physical reaction had been exactly the same, but that story had resonated with her in ways she didn’t quite understand.

The story was quite simple. Carol, a woman recently separated from her lover, finds herself being dragged to a local sex club by her best friend. There she meets a man who tempts her with promises of sensations and experiences she’s never had before if she agrees to follow his every instruction. The woman agrees and proceeds to submit to the man’s every whim.

Reading it had been like feeling as if layers of her psyche she hadn’t even known existed were being unwrapped. She felt exposed and somehow vulnerable. She’d expected to start the book, get hit by some graphic deviant sex, and then put it down. Curiosity satisfied. Instead, it had been as if the book were glued to her hands. As if she were drowning and that book was her lifeline. She could no more have put it down without finishing that story than she could have told her heart not to beat.

Everything faded as the words painted erotic images in her mind. She lost track of her surroundings, of the very time passing. Claire had been drenched and on edge within the first five pages, and she’d been hovering on the brink of climax throughout every paragraph since Sir had told Carol to strip for him.

Claire had literally begun to ache. Her nipples had hardened and she’d flooded her panties. She’d always wanted to have rough, animalistic sex, but she’d never considered submitting to anyone so completely. She didn’t see herself as submissive. But she did want something more than your garden variety sex. To this day, she dreamed of having her lover grab her and have his way with her. Making love to her as if his life depended on getting deep inside her and fucking her senseless.