Bound and Determined (48 page)

decision was too much to make. Owen helped him into bed, wincing inwardly

at the grunts of pain Sterling made as his shoulder was jarred even a little, and

arranged the pillows from his side of the bed around Sterling.

“How's that?”

“It's okay.” Sterling's lips were pinched, the skin around them bleached

white, but his eyes were sliding closed as Owen watched.

He waited, but Sterling's breathing had evened out and he seemed to be

asleep, so Owen placed the ice pack on his shoulder and went downstairs to

lock up. Once everything was locked and the lights turned out, he went

upstairs again, undressing as he stood in the doorway, and dropped his clothes

to the floor, something he almost never did.

Sliding in between the sheets with the extra pillow he'd taken from the

guest room, Owen did his best not to make the mattress shift, but he didn't

completely succeed and Sterling murmured softly, reaching out for him.

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205

“Shh, I'm right here,” Owen told him. The ice pack slid off Sterling's

shoulder, but it'd been on for a while, so Owen decided not to replace it. “Go

back to sleep.”

“Can't,” Sterling said peevishly, even though Owen was sure he had been

sleeping. “Hurts, and I missed you.”

“Do you want a painkiller?”

Sterling tried to hitch himself closer and whimpered. “No. You.”

“Okay—just stop moving. Let me come to you.” Carefully Owen slid closer,

resting a hand on Sterling's hip so he wouldn't risk jarring Sterling's arm. “Is

that better?”

“Mm.” Sterling opened his eyes, which looked half unfocused. “I love you.”

That wasn't something that Owen wanted to hear when he felt that he'd

failed Sterling and let him down. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, and it wasn't a

familiar one. He was good at his job, he was good at being a Dom; his life had

felt solid, built on a firm foundation. Sterling had brought that house of cards

tumbling down, and Owen was as lost as Sterling had been when he'd gone

looking for comfort in all the wrong places.

Pointing any of that out to Sterling right then was impossible. Hell, by the

morning this conversation would have been sponged from Sterling's memory,

wiped away by pain and drugs, forgotten.

So Owen kissed him, the lightest brush of his mouth against Sterling's,

and said, “I love you too. Now go to sleep.”

It wasn't a lie; it hadn't been for a long time, but Owen still felt guilty

about saying it, even if Sterling's mouth did curve in a contented smile as sleep

took him again.

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Chapter Seventeen

Sterling woke up to an incredibly stiff shoulder and an equally stiff cock.

Probably the result of being in Owen's bed, he told himself as he sat up,

wincing, and leaned against the headboard. That wasn't comfortable, either—

Owen's headboard was awesome for being tied to, but not so much when it

came to leaning. Still, once he was there he didn't want to move again, so he

just stayed.

He could hear sounds of movement downstairs and wondered what Owen

was doing. Having coffee? Trying to figure out where to send Sterling for the

rest of the semester break? Owen was too responsible to kick him out when he

was hurt, not to mention probably feeling guilty about him getting hurt in the

first place. Not that it was Owen's fault, because it wasn't, but Sterling couldn't

remember if he'd told Owen that the night before—everything was a definite

blur, and he actually wasn't sure how he'd gotten to Owen's house at all.

His ass was sore too, he realized, but nowhere near like his shoulder was.

Having it pop out of its socket like that had been sickening and even more

painful than the original injury.

Sterling looked down at his erection and glared at it.
So
not appropriate

under the circumstances. Hearing Owen's footsteps on the stairs, Sterling

quickly yanked up the sheet and blanket to his waist to cover up his dick.

“I thought I heard you moving around.” Owen was holding a cup of coffee,

which was the perfect accessory as far as Sterling was concerned. “Here, take

this for now and if you like, I'll bring you up some breakfast. Or do you want to

get up?”

Owen glanced down as he handed over the cup. It was only two-thirds full,

which was a detail Sterling appreciated; spilling hot liquid over his crotch

might take care of the problem of his erection refusing to subside, but there

were less drastic ways to do that. “Hmm.”

It was a noncommittal sound, but the amused glint in Owen's eye made it

pretty clear that sheets and a blanket could only do so much.

“Oh, great, make fun of the guy with the useless arm,” Sterling said,

sighing. “Look, I know you must not want me here, so you don't have to

pretend, okay? If you'd feed me something and help me figure out how to get to

my car, that'd be more than I deserve, and I'd be grateful.”

Owen looked at him with a serious expression. “Sterling. I
do
want you

here, so stop being ridiculous and drink your coffee. And your car's in the

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207

driveway—Alex dropped it off last night and put the keys through the mail

slot.”

That was enough of a surprise that Sterling stopped sipping his coffee.

“You told him to, didn't you?”

“I told you I'd take care of everything last night, but you probably don't

remember much.” Owen sat on the edge of the bed very carefully, so that only

the slightest of jolts went through Sterling's arm. That put Owen really close,

which did nothing to help his dick get the message that now wasn't the time to

be insisting on saying hello. “Let me refresh your memory before we move on to

other matters at hand.”

Sterling took another gulp of his coffee to give himself something to do.

None of that sounded good, but he wasn't going to argue with Owen about

anything today. He owed him too much. “Uh, sure. Whatever you want to say,

just say it.”

Owen patted his leg reassuringly and left his hand there, high on

Sterling's thigh, his strong fingers kneading it absently. He raised his eyebrows

inquiringly. “Why are you so tense? Do you think that you're in complete

disgrace and I'm furious with you? That any moment now I'm going to launch

into a lecture, yell at you, kick you out? I hope not, because it's not the way I'm

feeling at all.”

“It—it's not?” Sterling's fingers tightened on his mug, studying Owen's

face. It was such a good face—strong, handsome, understanding. Without a

doubt, Sterling knew that it was the best face he'd ever see in his life. No one

else would ever measure up to Owen.

“I was—still am—angry with Kirk. He didn't take care of you. He shouldn't

have even agreed to—never mind.” Owen gave him a wry grin. “You're

persuasive enough to get me to take you on, entirely against my better

judgment; Kirk never stood a chance.” His smile faded. “I'm very sorry you were

hurt. Even sorrier that you felt that desperate and didn't come back to me,

didn't know that you
could
, that you always can. I'm not done with you,

Sterling. We haven't even started—but we need to be sure it's what we both

want.”

All the time that Owen was speaking, his hand was warm against

Sterling's leg through the sheets. It was hard to concentrate when Sterling

wanted that hand higher, over the throb of his cock, but he made an effort. If

Owen spotted that he was distracted, he'd probably say
Focus
in that stern,

kind voice, and Sterling wasn't sure, but that might be all it would take to

make him come.

“I want you as my sub,” Owen said and that got all of Sterling's attention.

“This time,
I'm
asking
you
, without being pressured or coerced or manipulated

or seduced—and, yes, you did all of that and you know it. I want it understood

that you're
mine
. I can keep you on a much tighter leash if it's what you want,

or we can take it slowly for a while; we'll need to work out the details, but that's

what I would like. You, belonging to me. My boy.”

208

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Sterling's heart was hammering in his chest, and he parted his lips to say

something—he wasn't sure what—but nothing came out at first. He knew he

was staring at Owen with wide-eyed, open longing. What Owen had said was

still sinking in, still hovering at the edge of being real. If it was real, and he

hadn't imagined it—

“Yes,” Sterling blurted out. “Is that—was I supposed to answer? Because

that's what I want too. Pretty much the only thing I want. I—” He had a vague

sense that he'd said it last night, so he might as well jump in at the deep end—

Owen wouldn't let him drown. “I love you. I want to be yours, just yours.

Please.”

“I told you I loved you last night,” Owen said, which had to be a lie

because there was just no way that Sterling would have forgotten that. Not that

Owen had ever lied to him before, but he'd been high, not dead, and he would

have remembered something like that. “You weren't really listening then, but I

don't mind saying it again. I love you. You're just impossible
not
to love,

exasperating though you are at times. I pretty much stopped trying a while

back.”

Sterling found himself smiling; it felt like a wide, goofy smile. “So does this

mean you're not kicking me out?”

“I am most definitely not kicking you out,” Owen said. “I'd like to do the

opposite, actually, if we can figure out how to arrange it.”

Not sure what that even meant, Sterling dismissed it because he cared

more about making sure Owen knew how happy this made him. “This is—it's

what I wanted, for a long time. Are you sure?”

That got him a narrow-eyed look that sent a sizzle of heat through him.

“Very sure.” Owen tilted his head thoughtfully. “So where were we? Oh, yes.

Matters at hand.”

Sterling was torn. He didn't want Owen to go anywhere; staying this close

to him for the rest of the day would be ideal, and he knew that they had a lot to

sort out. Shit, he had to get his suitcase and other things from the hotel, and

make time to talk to Alex who was probably freaking, and make appointments

with a doctor and all kinds of stuff. No, he didn't want Owen to go, but the

longer Owen stayed this close, his hand caressing Sterling's leg, the more

impossible it got to ignore the fact that Sterling was so turned on he was close

to begging for something he knew he wouldn't get. He told himself to focus—big

mistake as that sent a jolt of pure lust through him—and tried to look

attentive.

Owen's hand finally moved, flipping back the covers in a smooth, sudden

movement, and exposing Sterling's dick, hard, darkly flushed, slick-wet at the

tip, his balls drawn up snugly. His lips twitched in a smile. “Urgent matters, by

the look of it.”

The breath Sterling drew in was shaky. “Is—are you—you're going to tell

me I can't come for the next year or something, aren't you?”

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209

“That wasn't what I had in mind,” Owen said and closed his hand around

Sterling's cock just below the head.

Sterling moaned. “Oh God. Owen, please.”

“Be careful with that cup of coffee,” Owen told him. “You wouldn't want to

spill it. And don't move—if you chance hurting your shoulder, I'll stop. And I

don't think you want me to stop, do you?” Owen's perfect, beautiful hand

stroked Sterling's dick, tugging the skin over the ridge and then back down

again. Sterling's toes curled.

“No. No, don't stop.” God, it was so hard not to move.

“I won't unless you spill the coffee or move,” Owen said, his hand moving

smoothly, his fingers flexing, teasingly light, then a tight tunnel Sterling

wanted to thrust up into. “You see, for this once, it's completely in your hands.

If you obey me, the way I know that you can, the way I expect you to be for me

always, perfectly, beautifully obedient, my good boy, then you'll get to come,

Sterling. I won't stop until you come or unless you move. I'm going to keep on

doing this until you—”

“Oh,
God
,” Sterling choked out. Sweat prickled his forehead and the back

of his neck. Owen's hand, his fucking
hand
, working him with so much

assurance, his thumb flicking over the slippery head now and then, a quick,

firm circle that made him whimper every time, helplessly, fruitlessly pleading