Breathe [Running to Love 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

“Lose the pretty bra and panties, but leave the thigh highs and shoes on.” Jace mentally congratulated himself on winning his underwear bet, and tried not to show any hint of how her nudity affected him in his voice or on his face. He couldn’t keep his cock from advertising though.

Rowan quickly dealt with her underwear and then crossed to him when he held out his hand. He made her stand for his inspection for a few minutes, admiring her poise. Her small, high breasts were tipped with tight, dark nipples, and he knew they would taste like sweet blackberries when he suckled them. The naked lips of her tiny pussy glistened with her natural lubricant, and Jace’s mouth watered. He felt his self-control slip and made himself move. He pulled her down beside him and laid her out, spread-eagle. Jace dispensed with any thought of restraints and instead guided her fingers to the slats of the headboard. “Hang on and don’t move, Rowan.”

Her long legs felt so supple to his touch, and he smoothed his hands down her thighs, separating them as he did so. Christ, he could smell her arousal and her luminous eyes sucked him in. Jace shucked his shirt and pried his cock from his pants, breathing a sigh of relief when it sprang free. He kicked his shoes off and dispensed with his pants and boxers. He knew he was probably making a mistake by not teaching Rowan what he wanted from her right from the get-go, but he found he was again sadly lacking in control. This was a sign of something different for certain. Jace normally had no problem making himself wait, but this time it felt absolutely unnecessary. He sheathed himself and slid over Rowan’s long body until he rested between her widespread thighs. His cock found its way home without any direction and fought up inside of her, her incredible heat and wetness easing the way. Fuck, when those silky thighs slid up to enclose his hips and her arms slipped around his shoulders, to hold him close, Jace forgot about teaching her, training her, forgot about being the dominant. His brain snagged on that errant thought. He
was
dominant, never needed to
be
, but this was right, this was what they both needed and he began to rut mindlessly. Rowan met him stroke for stroke, and he powered on until her body lost the rhythm and her pussy began to clench on him. Jace gritted his teeth and staved off his orgasm, fighting the pull of her sheath, swiveling his hips to prod her high up near her cervix, and she abruptly convulsed against him and moaned into his shoulder. Jace followed her over the edge and collapsed against the force of his climax, fighting to get his lungs working again before rolling off to one side. Shit, he hadn’t even kissed her.

* * * *

Rowan lay beside Jace in the dimly lit room, waiting for her heart to slow down and her trembling to cease. She hadn’t expected it to be this way, thought there would be something different, something more, and then chided herself. The sex had been very, very good, better than any of her previous experiences, not that she had a lot to compare to. She had come, the first time being sexual with this man, and without clitoral stimulation. But she felt shortchanged somehow. She thought that they had used the titillation of Lacey and Greg’s connection, instead of building their own. She felt kind of used, convenient, that this could be perceived as a one-night stand, and learned something extremely important about herself in that moment. She wanted what Greg and Lacey had, minus the whip and hanging thing. She wanted that incredible, powerful, obvious connection. This had been a mistake. It felt like Jace had misled her, set her up for something and then withheld it. It didn’t make sense because he had been so aware of her, had seemed to know…

“Rowan?” Jace’s voice interrupted her train of thought. She wasn’t yet ready to face him, so kept her eyes closed and hoped he would leave her alone for a few more minutes. She felt him rise up beside her and run his hand down over her breast and down her side to the curve of her hip, before dropping a kiss on her shoulder. The bed dipped, and she heard fabric rustling. She peeked to see his nicely muscled ass disappearing into the adjoining bath. She wondered if she could get dressed and leave before he returned and had her answer when the shower kicked on. She felt like she had been abandoned and ignored the fact that she hadn’t responded to Jace when he had queried her, pretending to be asleep. She wanted to cry for some reason and decided to get moving and stave off the waterworks until she got home. She couldn’t face him. She wasn’t certain she could face herself.

Fully dressed, although not taking the time to put up her hair, Rowan quietly let herself out of the room and made her way down the hall, backtracking to the green door. She barely managed to choke back a scream when Alistair materialized in front of her.

“Saw you on the hall security feed, sub. Heading home so soon?”

Rowan couldn’t look at him and kept her eyes on the floor. “Rowan!”

His voice cracked like that whip thing and she immediately looked up and answered, “I need to leave, please. Just let me go. I’ve signed your forms and I won’t cause any trouble.”

Alistair searched her face with eyes that now looked like shards of green glass, and then he nodded. “Not my business, but no woman leaves the club without an escort or at least a walk out to her car. How did you get here?”

“Ashley drove us. Can you call me a cab?”

“I’ll see you get one. Come on.”

Rowan hurried after him, feeling as though she was mimicking the striking redhead from earlier, two steps behind and all. He yanked open the front door and looked up and down the street. A shrill whistle emanated from his mouth and a yellow cab pulled a U-turn and stopped right in front of them. She gave Alistair a quick, sideways glance and then thanked him. He pulled a couple of twenties from his pocket and shoved them at the driver before handing her inside and shutting the door. He hesitated and then spoke through the partly open window. “I don’t know what happened, Rowan, but I hope you aren’t running from something you’ve needed all your life.”

She dropped her eyes again and the cab pulled away, and Rowan reflected on his words. Jace had had an initial impact on her like nothing she had ever felt before, but then she’d felt empty, had that used feeling, and she didn’t know if she could trust him after all. It actually seemed as if he had found her lacking, not worthy of educating. She shook any other thoughts out of her head and gave the driver her address. Funny how it hurt to breathe.

* * * *

Jace stood under the streaming water and pressed his forehead up against the tiles. He struggled to process what had just happened with that incredible woman. His old man’s nasty prophecy popped into his head and Jace tried, without success, to push it away. Right, his old man, that prick who used his fists and boots on his wife and kids as far back as Jace could remember, as well as the whiplash of his tongue, until he finally drove them all away, had arrogantly predicted Jace’s life. The ultimate mind fuck. Jace’s mom lived on the east coast now, alone, having no inclination to trust a man again, and definitely not interested in her children who were testimony to her failure as a parent. Julia and Jordan had left home as soon as they were old enough to earn a living. Jordan had joined the military and was now a master sergeant, just back stateside from three tours in Iraq and sublimated all his sexual energy in service of his country as far as Jace could tell. He and Jace got together for a drink once in a while, and were connected in a way only released prisoners of war might understand. Julia was still single, too, and tended to choose assholes when she did try to have a relationship. Both he and Jordan had corrected her “lapses” in judgment over the years. Jace simply avoided commitment and used control in all his relationships, taking huge pride and solace in never crossing that line into abuse. Yup, the old man had left his mark on all of them, in spades.

Being the youngest, Jace had probably caught the least of his shit. His father had less energy, what with being diagnosed with the MS and all, and was subsequently easier to avoid when his mood soured, although his disposition had worsened over time, if that were even possible. Jace had visited him in the care home, once, prior to his death, and the bitterness of rejection by his entire family had been all too evident.

“You’ll meet someone, someday, my boy. Someone who’ll addle your brain, make you wild with lust, and then she’ll let you down. And you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll show her. But she’ll tear out your heart anyhow, no matter what you do, and take everyone else with her when she goes. You’ll be just like me, and I fell in love with your mother at first sight. Bah. More like instantaneous infection.”

Jace suddenly felt cursed. He hadn’t fallen for Rowan. He was simply highly attracted to her. There was no such thing as love at first sight. He had heard about a potential sexual partner from Ashley, had felt the challenge, seen her, had recognized how hot she was and simply lost control this once. And it wasn’t really a loss of control. He hadn’t hurt her. It didn’t mean anything. He wrenched the water off and grabbed a towel. He would begin Rowan’s education, her foray into intense sexuality tonight and ignore the aberration. He had put the cart well before the horse, and he would remedy that immediately. He strode into the bedroom, full of fear and purpose, and came up short when he realized she was gone. Cursed.

He found his clothes neatly folded on the bed and his stomach clenched. So she hadn’t just run out of the room, freaked out. She had taken the time to think about things, maybe hesitated before she walked out on him. This was insane. What had happened? He intended to find out.

* * * *

He found the club empty, except for Alistair, who was ensconced in his office as usual. Did the man never go to bed? Hang out with friends outside of the damned club? Alistair didn’t say anything, just watched as Jace took the chair opposite him.

“Did you see her leave?”

“I called her a cab.”

“Jesus, ’Stair. Thanks for all the favors. What, did she look like I’d beat on her or something?” Jace winced. His father’s voice reverberated in his head.

“She looked unsettled, Jace. I didn’t particularly care for how it made me feel. May I ask what you actually did to her?”

Jace hesitated. It felt so personal, private, but he knew when he needed help. He didn’t even know her last name, where she lived, nothing! He conveniently forgot how he had marched into the bedroom, intent on taking charge. It was like he was whipped. Fuck, that was it! That was why she ran. Maybe.

“I had sex with her.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows and looked curiously like Mr. Spock. Jace felt surreal. “You had sex with her.”

“We discussed hard boundaries, and I had her strip, and then I had sex with her.”

The strange, gravelly sound that broke the ensuing silence turned out to be Alistair’s laughter. Loud, abrasive, untried laughter.

Finally, Alistair sobered. “Vanilla sex. Sex you could get anywhere. You had vanilla sex with an absolutely submissive woman who was here to learn about herself. Clear as the nose on your face. Fuck me, Jace. I’m sorry I laughed. Been there, done that. Good luck to you, man.”

Jace instantly shook his head and rejected that implied premise. “I needed release because of how she responded to Greg and Lacey’s scene. Hell,
I
responded. It just happened. It won’t happen again. I’m going to ask her back here for next weekend and it’ll be different. Can you give me her particulars?”

“You know I can’t, Jace.”

Jace wanted to punch something, preferably Alistair’s goddamn sanctimonious face. He opened his mouth but recognized the inevitable. Well, there were other ways. He stood, glaring at ’Stair, shoving his chair back to rock on its legs as he left the office. He took some satisfaction in slamming the door so hard the sound reverberated at first in time, and then diminished, with his stomping footsteps as he exited the goddamn club.

“Hey, Shakespeare.” Rowan looked up in surprise. Jackie was standing in front of her desk.

“Jackie! What are you doing here?”

“I had a day off, and thought I’d see if my best friend was available for lunch.”

Rowan frowned. She rarely took time away from work for lunch, and Jackie knew it. “I wish you’d called me, Jackie. I’m pretty busy. The head is away on sick leave and I’m doing her job and mine.” Rowan narrowed her eyes on her friend. “What’s going on?”

Jackie looked uneasy, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you and talk for a bit.”

Rowan pondered Jackie’s seemingly innocent statement. She hadn’t seen her friend for over three weeks, and hadn’t really reached out either because every time they spoke, Jackie would raise the issue of Jace. Apparently he was asking for Rowan’s phone number, and Rowan didn’t want Jackie to give it to him. Rowan couldn’t find a way to explain the situation to Jackie without considering it herself, especially in the face of her friend’s apparent happiness. She knew that Jackie was building her relationship with Ashley, and it had stung her for some reason. It wasn’t that she was bothered by the lack of contact. Although she missed Jackie, she understood. No, what she felt was more like envy. She was glad for Jackie’s happiness, but envious that her friend had found something and that she hadn’t. Although, if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t waited long enough to see if things with Jace would go any further, something that had eaten away at her each and every day since that evening at the club, despite her best efforts to ignore it. It also intruded on her sleep, infusing her dreams with fantasies and fracturing any significant rest. She had no right to be envious but was, anyhow, which made her a pretty poor friend. “Sure. Give me a minute to let one of the other girls know. What the hell. It’s Friday. I’ll take the rest of the day.” It would mean killing herself tomorrow, and working on a Saturday when she had long since earned the right not to be scheduled to work weekends.