Freed (13 page)

Elliott awoke to the sun shining through the window with unusual warmth at his side. The white duvet was tangled between his legs as he glanced next to him, finding Mary snuggled in to him. He gently turned on his side, not wanting to wake her.

She looked so peaceful with her eyes shut as she slept.
So damn pretty
. He found himself a little surprised that she had stayed over. Yet he thought that hadn’t been a conscience choice, either. They had one helluva night, and even he noted the exhaustion in his body after all of their lovemaking.

Mary made him feel young again. His body reminded him that he wasn’t that young.

Unleashing all his adrenaline and emotions had left him dropped into that hazy state that he used to enjoy so much in his younger years. Now he preferred an easier life, without so many complications.

Though Mary was a complication he wanted to keep. He sought to spend many more mornings like this with her. Unable to stop his desire to be closer to her, he traced his finger down her face, moving off the soft strands of dark hair.

She moaned softly and the sweet sound cut straight to his heart.
This
he had wanted for more years than he dared to count. A woman he could wake up to in the morning and live a life with, yet a woman he could also sexually dominate at night.

Mary, in all her perfection, could give him that life.

She breathed deep with sleep, and his nasty divorce filled his mind. He’d married Kate when he was young and not fully understanding what he wanted from a life partner. More important, what he wanted from a submissive.

This woman, though, she was different.

Special.

When she looked at him, she broke his world apart, opening it to unknown possibilities. He brushed his finger through the strands of hair by her face, and her eyes opened.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Good morning.” He continued to stroke her face. “Did you sleep well?”

“Incredibly well.” She snuggled her head against her pillow and shut her eyes, falling in to his touch.

Yes, darlin’, just be here with me.

Elliott allowed himself the moment to appreciate the tenderness between them. Though when Mary tensed, he frowned, anticipating her next move. Her eyes snapped open, the dark distance clouding in their depths. She shifted on the bed, putting space between them.

Coldness swept into his bones. He had hoped they’d moved past this. Now he realized whatever the reasons were that brought her to his hotel room last night no longer remained on her mind. He couldn’t hide the curtness in his voice. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Put distance between us.”

She sat up, pulling the sheets with her. “You know why this is hard for me.”

All he knew was the fury that filled his chest. Perhaps he allowed himself to think that her coming to him last night was a step in the right direction. His mind spun as he pushed off the duvet and rose. “No, I don’t know why.” The warm air brushed across his naked flesh as he narrowed his eyes on her. “I hear what you keep saying, yet your body tells me something else.”

She hesitated, her gaze raking over him, landing on his cock in a hot blaze of arousal. Then she lifted her head and only a blank stare greeted him. “Why can’t we just keep this casual and fun? Why can’t you be okay with what happened last night?”

“I am okay with what happened last night.” He grabbed his underwear and pants. Irritation made his movements jerky as he dressed. A relationship he had dreamed of was right there, nearly waiting for him, but her games continually stopped it. “I’m not okay with what happened this morning.”

“I don’t like to cuddle.”

No, she liked to cuddle when her mind shut off and she needed him to hold her. “Lie,” he all but spat.

Her brows drew together, a frown marring her face. “I’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not looking for a romantic relationship.”

“Lie,” he growled, doing up the button on his pants.

She huffed, scowling at him. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I agreed that last night was a coincidence that couldn’t be ignored. That something drew us together and I needed to act on it. And you’re right, I do crave the hands of a Dominant man, but my heart belongs to Charles. It always will.”

Her words brushed across his senses, as a situation he hadn’t noticed before suddenly became clear. So much so that all her actions and everything she did made total sense. His chest tightened with the swell of anger inside. He had thought Mary kept putting distance between them out of guilt, because her husband died. Now he knew a truth that made sickness roll through him.

“I am a damn fool,” he bit off, folding his arms. “This whole time I thought you burned for
me.
But it’s not that, is it? You burn for your husband. When you’re with me you think of
him,
don’t you?” She paled before his eyes and cast her gaze down. His face heated with his glare. “I’m just a reminder of him. You don’t have the connection with me. You have it with Charles, and it’s that sensation—that feeling of
your
Dominant’s hands—you are after.”

He paused, waiting for her to refuse it.

She didn’t.

He reached for his shirt on the floor and then dressed. “Here I thought I found a beautiful connection, but it’s not that, is it? I’m simply witnessing the connection you have to your deceased husband.”

Again, he hesitated.

She said nothing.

He scowled at her dark head of hair bowed to her lap. “I thought that first night you were experiencing an emotional drop from not playing in so long, but it wasn’t about that, was it?” He shook his head, anger boiling through him like a fever. “You imagined yourself with
him.
And the emotional response was because of how long you’ve craved his touch. You’ve been picturing him in your head every time we have played, haven’t you?”

She finally lifted her head, shame darkening her eyes. “Elliott.”

“Don’t.” He didn’t need further confirmation. “You may not know what you deserve, Mary. Or maybe you think you shouldn’t feel what you feel, so you can’t imagine yourself with anyone else. But I know what I deserve.”

“What do you deserve?” she whispered.

“To touch a woman and have her respond honestly.” His voice rose with the tension consuming him. “I deserve not to be lied to. I deserve to have her wake in my arms and be happy to be there. I deserve not to be used as a way for a woman to remember her dead husband, but that she wants to experience life with
me.
”

Her lips parted, then shut, and tears welled in her eyes.

He clenched his fists, his fingers biting into his palms. Even now, he despised her beauty. He cursed that he wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her. He loathed the very fact that she would simply squirm away, not wanting his hold, but wishing it was Charles. Shaking his head in disgust, he growled, “I won’t continue to touch you like this.”

“Like what?”

He approached her side of the bed, staying out of her space. “You’re either with me or you’re not. It’s one thing to keep this casual. It’s another thing for you not to be honest with your feelings for me and pretend that I am someone else. Be real with me.”

“I’m being as real as I can.” Her voice rose, matching the flames of anger in his. She thrust the covers off and grabbed her dress off the floor. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m giving you all I can give you.”

He crossed his arms, seeing her half-corset and knowing that one symbol told him how much she wasn’t with him. She wouldn’t have worn it for Charles, and keeping it on told him now it was her way of declaring she wasn’t Elliott’s. “No, you’re giving me all you think you can give me. All you think you deserve. What kind of man would that make me to allow it?”

She drew in a deep breath, her eyes blazing with ire. “I’m so damn tired of Doms always thinking they know what is right for me. I don’t need you telling me who I am or what I am. I know who I am. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He arched a brow. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do.” She glared. “I have been very clear with you that this is a casual encounter.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Charles is dead.” His voice sounded ice-cold even to his ears. “I’m here.”

Big tears filled her eyes, and he didn’t know if those were out of anger or sadness. “You’re right, Charles is dead. Yes, I thought of him when I was with you, because it’s all I know. If being with me, in a casual way, isn’t enough for you, then that is your problem, not mine.”

Those words nearly sent Elliott to his knees. The force of them struck him right in the chest. In part for sadness for her, because it only showed how grief still affected her. Here was something so damn special between them, a connection that she had clearly experienced with Charles now had been repeated, though she couldn’t see past her pain. She couldn’t see that Elliott made her feel something that was as perfect as what she’d experienced with her husband. She didn’t think she deserved to be loved again, or that it was her right to.

The other reason his muscles quivered was because he didn’t deserve those words. He’d been nothing but caring toward her. By all appearances, he was disposable to her. “You’re right, Mary, that is my problem.”

He grabbed his blazer off the chair and then approached the door. His hand grasped the brass handle and he drew in a long breath before he turned to her, seeing tears rolling down her cheeks. “A problem that I can choose not to have in my life.” Then he whipped open the door and walked out, ignoring his heart, which begged him to go back to her. With each step he took he remained unsure whom his anger was directed at.

Mary, for letting him taste the life he’d longed for.

Or himself, for believing that he’d actually found it.

Just before eleven o’clock, Mary entered the busy restaurant in Times Square, spotting Cassie sitting at a table near the window. The sun shone through, lighting her daughter up, and only seemed to grow deeper when her daughter smiled.

But Mary couldn’t find her smile, as shame spread through her for what she’d done to Elliott. Mind-numbing confusion raced alongside of it. She felt right in her choice to keep things with Elliott casual, yet, at the same time, it also seemed so very wrong.

Mary watched Cassie rise from her seat, and she leaned in to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “How was the partying last night?” she asked.

Cassie rubbed her eyes, which had dark circles beneath them, and dropped back into her chair. “Exhausting, but fun.”

Mary took her seat. “Tired nights usually are the best.”

Before Cassie could reply, the young waitress strode over and asked, “May I get you drinks?”

“I’ll take a tea,” Mary replied.

Cassie added, “A Coke for me, please.”

When the waitress left, Cassie pushed out of her chair. “Okay, I’ve smelled that buffet since I walked in. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

Mary followed her daughter to the buffet, and took a plate off the warmer. She grabbed a cucumber sandwich and added some summer salad. As Cassie took anything that wasn’t nearly as healthy to her plate, Mary finally smiled. Her daughter ate like her father had, a lover of meat and anything deep-fried. “At some point, you are going to have to eat healthy,” she said.

“I’ll eat healthy when I’m old and can’t enjoy food like this,” Cassie mused, grabbing a few desserts. “Right now, my body lets me devour junk without putting on weight, so why not enjoy it while I can?”

“You’ll regret that line of thinking when you’re older and have formed terrible eating habits.” Mary remembered a time when she could eat whatever she wanted without having to care, but now things were different. She needed to watch what she ate and also walked as much as possible.

When she thought about it, it was so crazy how fast time went by. Too fast to let time just pass one by, she thought. As she strode toward the table, her steps faltered before she righted herself; she used to live by the live-life-to-the fullest philosophy.

In her younger years, she even got into an erotic lifestyle because it made her happy. She went into medicine instead of law when her father would’ve preferred law. Doing everything and anything she had wanted to do, on her terms.

Mary was like her daughter, vivacious.

With a heavy heart, she realized now how much she’d changed from that vibrant woman she’d once been. Her body felt weighed down as she returned to the table and took a seat.

When Cassie joined her, her daughter asked, “Have you heard from Christian at all?”

Mary nodded, placing her napkin on her lap. “He sent an e-mail yesterday and they’re in Egypt, traveling there for a couple weeks.”

“He’s so lucky,” Cassie said, cutting up her fried chicken.

“You could join him.” Mary picked up her cucumber sandwich. “Now that the show is done, why don’t you go away for a couple weeks to see him?” She took a bite of the sandwich and relished the sweet mayo.

Cassie shrugged, talking with her mouth full. “I considered it, but the director is doing another show in a month and has offered me one of the roles in it.” Continuing to chew, she added, “It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

Mary smiled in understanding. She was proud of all her children, as all three were doing so well in life. While Christian hadn’t set down roots, he was madly in love with his girlfriend. They’d saved for three years while working at the casino before giving up their jobs to travel for a year. It wasn’t the traditional way, but if Mary wanted anything for her children, she wanted them to be happy and doing what they loved.

Charles wouldn’t have agreed, of that Mary was sure. She suspected he would’ve wanted Christian to go into a traditional job, as was Calvin’s path in life, following in his father’s footsteps toward business.

Charles isn’t here.

Life is so damn short.

Having her kids living out their dreams was all that mattered anymore. Now Mary wondered why she hadn’t thought of doing that for herself. She wasn’t sure when she’d decided to stop living or, more to the point, to live only for other people.