Branded Sanctuary (13 page)

“You wouldn‟t have to do that if you‟d go out with the guys I‟ve told you would be perfect for you.” But Chloe let herself be ushered out the side door even as she said it, overcome with an eagerness that superseded even her ongoing desire to see the twice-divorced Gen find her soulmate.

“I prefer my own brand of self-destruction,” Gen snorted, but she gave Chloe a steady look. “I‟ll be here for about another half hour, okay?” Chloe nodded, then the door closed behind her. She had one last glimpse of Gen‟s face, caught between hope and worry. It made her stop on the bottom step despite her eagerness, testing that positive feeling rolling through her. It felt strong and real. It was a feeling she‟d lacked for too long, and seemed in this moment to be solely concentrated on Brendan.

She really hadn‟t realized how it had weighed her down throughout the day, such that his reappearance seemed to have temporarily not only lifted that oppressive feeling, but some of her other ones as well. The reservations of a blink ago were gone.

She could harbor worries, like those she saw in Gen‟s face, or grab this feeling in both hands like a rope, swing high over that troubled valley. Run with it. Literally.

He was almost at the garden gate that would take him up the front walkway, but when her sneakers crunched along the gravel of the side alley drive, he stopped to look and saw her.

Chloe trotted to him, cutting the corner, skirting Marguerite‟s tulips. Dropping her tote, she did as she‟d wanted to do that very first day. She leaped upon him, trusting his arms to come around her quickly enough to prevent disaster, wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and put her mouth on his. Instantly, a surge of fiery, sweet sensation went through every extremity, from the tips of her breasts to her lower belly, strumming through her thighs, a reaction impossible to avoid given that she had them locked intimately over his hips.

He gloriously, wetly, kissed her back, cupping the back of her head and bracing them against the gate, lurching only a little at her first hop. But he knew how to improvise, and he had a quick recovery time, because he took control of the kiss, telling her without question he‟d missed her as well, and regretted their morning parting. His fingers tightened on her hips and at her nape, conveying his urgency. She wanted it to go on forever, but she made herself tear her mouth away for a vital moment.

“I‟m so sorry. I was terrible. I don‟t want you to forgive me because you feel sorry for me. I‟d hate that. You can say mean things to me, or tell me I have to make it up to you in some awful, vaguely demeaning way. I can wash your car, or do your laundry.” Though desire remained high in his eyes, humor flickered in them. “I wouldn‟t subject my worst enemy to my laundry, Chloe. I shouldn‟t have reacted—”

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She interrupted him with heat. “I don‟t want to be treated like some fragile thing.”
Just because I might be. That’s not the point.
Realizing she‟d tightened her fingers in his hair to distract herself, she saw it had an added benefit. It had given his eyes that decidedly dangerous look. “I know how to do other things to say I‟m sorry.”

“Well, that‟s all you had to say then. Males are pretty straightforward. We‟ll forgive a woman anything for sex.” Definitely laughter in his eyes this time, that sexy smile lodging just under her heart.

With obvious reluctance, he let her slide to her feet, but she was gratified at how he held onto her, bare inches between them. His hands remained at her waist, fingers sliding beneath her skirt, his thumb turning inside the waistband, stroking the elastic edge of her panties. Very subtle, nothing vulgar, a hot, secret caress, so confident and easy her blood remained at high simmer.

“Going to follow me home tonight?”

“It depends on your answer to a question.” Taking her by surprise, he lifted her onto the still warm hood of the Jeep, bracing his body against her knee, letting her hold his shoulder to keep her there. “Do you know about Tyler and Marguerite‟s annual carnival next weekend?”

“Yes.” Chloe was intrigued enough by the change of topic to answer automatically.

“So you know it‟s a little different from most carnivals?”

“Yeah. I know.” She colored a little. “I guess I‟m a little surprised you know about it, even with you being Marguerite‟s friend. I mean, there‟s „family‟ close—which means you‟re close, but you aren‟t told things you wouldn‟t tell your mom—and then

„knowing about the carnival‟ kind of close.”

Chloe had thought Gen and she fell more into the “family” definition, but things had changed since a year ago. Not just with her, but with Marguerite. The woman who‟d given them so little of her personal life before Tyler now cautiously gave them more glimpses of who and what she was, and they accepted it like the gift it was, protecting her privacy, which was why her initial answer to Brendan was guarded, his friendship with Marguerite notwithstanding.

“Marguerite was so involved in the planning this year, we both agreed to help her on this end of things. You know, fielding calls from caterers, dunking booth operators and other unlikely things.” She cleared her throat. “She handles most of the unlikely things, though.”

He pressed his lips together, perhaps against another smile, but she couldn‟t tell, because his expression had gotten more serious. She shifted on the hood, which was a little too warm for comfort through thin cotton. He noticed immediately. Opening the door, he gave her a hand down and guided her to take a seat in the passenger side of the Jeep. He flanked her in the open door, his hand braced on the window frame.

“How‟d you feel about it, finding out that Marguerite and Tyler—”

“Shocked right down to my freaking painted toenails,” she admitted. “But then, on second thought, probably not. I don‟t know that much about people who practice it as bone deep as they do, you know. Marguerite hasn‟t really given us a seminar on her and Tyler‟s particular brand of it, but once you have your foot in the door, you kind of start noticing things. I mean, I‟ve had friends who like to be spanked or tied up, in a fun way, or girlfriends who get off on a guy sweeping them off their feet and ravishing them, like a pirate in a romance novel. In fact, Lorraine, one of my college girlfriends, her boyfriend actually did that, turned our room into a ship‟s cabin and tied her up with red sashes, and I walked in on it—”

Chloe was stopped abruptly by Brendan‟s mouth on hers, his lips curved even as he kissed her to a slower pace, her nervous hands now clutching his chest as his arm slid around her waist. Eventually, decades later, he lifted his head. “Sorry, can‟t resist when you start doing that.”

“So I‟ll shut up?”

He chuckled, the flash of his smile and the warmth in his eyes mixing with the easy desire.
This is the way it was meant to be,
she thought,
what I thought I lost.
And here it was, a gift he was easily giving her.

“No. You just make me feel lots of things, Chloe. I want to kiss you when I feel them.”

“Okay,” she said. “What question was I answering? Oh God. If this is where you tell me you were talking about something entirely different, that you didn‟t know that about M, I‟ll have to disappear into the pavement. And move away, because she‟ll kill me.”

“No. I was actually hoping you‟d say something that blatant so I‟d know we
were
talking about the same thing.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, used the excuse to play with an earring. She‟d put some on today, before things had gotten strained between them. She‟d been feeling better at that point. In fact, she was feeling better now.

“I guess I don‟t understand all of it. I‟ve looked online, seen some scary things, things that don‟t seem like Marguerite and Tyler to me at all, and yet, I understand in some way it‟s that intense for them. Maybe it‟s the kind of thing that feels different on the inside than it looks from the outside. You feel it between them, from them, you know. M said it‟s something that‟s done at all levels. For some it‟s a way to liven things up, but for others it‟s like being gay or straight. An undeniable orientation, down to the blood. I think it‟s that way for them.”

She fluttered her hands in front of her, then let one land on his knee, propped in the door. His glance went to it, then to her face, and the warmth there matched what she felt beneath her palm. She had to clear her throat again. She knew she wasn‟t on her A-game, but honestly, she‟d never dated a man this beautiful and sexually…aware. It gave a girl a permanent case of frog-in-the-throat.

“Sometimes I‟ve wanted to quiz M on it, take advantage of those moments when she and Gen were really coddling me to find out more. But I love her too much to exploit something like that. M‟s still a really private person, and I want her to know I‟m her friend and respect her.”

She furrowed her brow at his fascinated expression. “You look like you just discovered a talking monkey at the zoo.”

It startled him enough that he barked out a handsome laugh, making her grin.

Really grin, and it was amazing how such a gesture could chase shadows away. But she managed to get herself back on target. “Why are you asking about the carnival? The admission price is like ten thousand dollars a person, so if you tell me you‟re going, I‟m going to want to know what you do other than teach drama at a community college.”

“The friendship with Marguerite helps,” he explained vaguely. “But yeah, I‟ll be there. I‟ve been authorized, for lack of a better word, to ask you to be there as well. As Marguerite‟s invited guest.”

“Oh.” Her voice drifted off, as he continued to regard her steadily.
“Oh.”
She knew Brendan and Marguerite had known one another as children, but she didn‟t know any further details than that. Whatever it was, that history had been strong enough that he‟d been the one who walked her down the aisle to Tyler. This moment didn‟t shed any further light on that; if anything, it made it more confusing. But one thing was fairly clear. “Marguerite didn‟t invite you only because you‟re an old family friend, did she? Like when you invite your relative to go to a party with you because he‟s in town, but you really don‟t—”

“Chloe.” His hands closed over hers. “Will you come to the carnival?”

“Does that have a double meaning? A significance I‟m missing?” Suddenly she was feeling more uncertain again, because she sensed a lot of things shifting in the air around them.

He shook his head. “I would never try to trick you. You‟d be coming as Marguerite‟s guest, not mine. I just…I‟d like the chance to see you there, be with you when it‟s appropriate. As a guest you can do, or not do, whatever you wish.” Chloe considered that, looked at their linked hands. “I was dying to go,” she confessed with a small smile. “Definitely not as a participant. I don‟t think I‟m that brave—but something safe, like waitstaff or a potted plant. I‟ve never been to anything like that, and it was all I could do not to ask M a million questions.”

“Well, now you‟ll get to see it firsthand. Since it‟s for the whole weekend, Marguerite said you could stay in one of her guestrooms.”

“Oh? Will you be staying in a guestroom?” She dared an impish look at him, and was gratified that it felt genuine to her, no shadows chasing the feeling. “My guestroom?”

“If you want me in your bed, you only have to tell me so, but…” Brendan blew out a breath, squeezed her hands. “Chloe, I‟m going to say this straight out, okay? I‟m a sexual submissive. I‟ll be there in that capacity. Do you understand what that means?” She stared at him several moments. “I‟m not sure.” Though her mind was going a hundred miles a minute, revisiting those websites in her mind, the hints of things. No, she didn‟t really understand, couldn‟t reconcile those graphic images with the man in front of her, the one who‟d taken such gentle command of their lovemaking when she was too frightened to hold the reins. “But I guess you‟re trying to say I‟ll understand better if I go this weekend. That‟s really why you want me there, isn‟t it? You asked Marguerite to invite me. Because it‟s easier to show than explain, right?”

“Marguerite is glad to have you there. But yeah, something like that.” His jaw had tightened, though, as if he knew all the conflicting thoughts tumbling through her mind.

“This is a big enough part of you that you feel like I need to know it now, before we even have our first official date with dinner, flowers, et cetera,” she continued slowly.

“That‟s why you acted so weird this morning, wasn‟t it?” He looked surprised that she‟d drawn the right conclusion, but inclined his head.

“Do you put all your potential dates through this?”

When he flinched, she blanched. “Brendan, no. Oh God, I didn‟t mean it that way.”

“No, no apologies.” His poignant smile melted her insides, though the shadows in his eyes still made her wish she hadn‟t said it. “I don‟t date, Chloe. Not in the traditional sense. All my more recent, committed relationships, and there aren‟t many, have grown out of who I meet at my preferred club. The Zone, same as the one that Marguerite and Tyler attend. You‟re the first I‟ve ever reached out to like this, and I know it‟s too soon. This doesn‟t obligate you to anything. Honestly.” He closed his hand on the Jeep window frame. “It‟s the reason I‟m asking, really. I want you to know before you get too deep in, so you can decide how you want me. I‟m a good friend,” he added. “I can be. I‟ll be anything you need me to be, Chloe.” She considered that, then looked full in his face, her own thoughts pushed aside as what wasn‟t said penetrated, disturbed her. “But what about you, Brendan? What do you want for yourself?”