His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (3 page)

His smirk made her want to slap him—or kiss him. “Miffed, are we?”

Hope couldn’t help but growling. “What ‘miffs’ me is you thinking you still know me.” She turned to leave but Gabe blocked her way.

“We’re done here,” she bit out before moving around him.

Gabe stopped her with a hand around her neck. He put just enough pressure to make her knees give out beneath her. Damn him for remembering.

He pulled her against him with one arm wrapped around her back. “But,
cara
, you haven’t even heard my proposition yet.”

Suspicion almost washed away the lust coursing through her veins, but Gabe kept her off balance with a tender kiss to her forehead. His tenderness took the edge out of her voice.

“Then tell me.”

“Come to Maison with me this weekend. All I want is time to talk with you. You left so suddenly, not to mention you disobeyed by leaving before we’d talked things over.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I still owe you spankings for that.”

Hope couldn’t help but shudder. Gabe could spank her to both tears and orgasm—sometimes both together. And he always knew which one she needed, even before she realized it herself.

“That’s…not fair.” Her eyes fluttered closed, weighed down by lust. “But I can’t, I have to work,” she gritted out. All her time needed to go into her current projects and to finding new clients.

He sighed and stepped back from her. “It just so happens that the owner of Maison Domine wants to have the place redecorated. Must be something in the kinky waters because she and Melina aren’t the only ones, either.”

He had her attention now.

“Katrina and I are good friends. I could recommend you for the job. And a handful of others.”

She needed his connections. “That would be very kind of you.” She licked her lips, nervous yet seeing the value of his proposition.

He brushed a thumb across the dampened spot on her bottom lip. “Of course, you’d need to come with me this weekend to meet her and check out the site. I remember you like evaluating your clients’ needs face-to-face, or at least you did when you worked for a company.”

And that was the kicker. “If that’s your proposed agreement—I come to the club and you introduce us—then what’s in it for you?”

“Me? Why, I’ll have you at Maison for the weekend.” His feral grin made her heart jump. He’d always worn that look before a good bout of discipline. She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know, I know, no promises beyond talking. I’m okay with that.”

Jerk, still being able to finish—hell, start—her sentences. But despite all her internal red flags, he had her by the pocketbook. She needed this job.

“Are you in?” He drew closer, the fire in his chocolate eyes mesmerizing her.

God, she shouldn’t, but she’d rarely been able to defy the force of his personality, not that she’d ever wanted to. His dominance had meant fewer things for which she had to be responsible in her already stressed-out life. And he’d been gentle, caring, earning her trust.

Until their final night…

And that thought sprayed icy-cold water over her lust. “Gabe—”

He pulled her into the circle of his arms. It felt so good to be there again, like coming home.

“Give me—us—this weekend. Your business deserves it, at the very least,” he said, his chin resting on her head.

Dominant Gabe, she might have been able to resist. Tender Gabe? She was a goner.

“We should talk about what happened.” His whispered words had her struggling against his strong arms.

The possibility of that conversation pressed against her like a giant weight. But he had a point…maybe. “This is a really bad idea.”

“You can leave whenever you like, and I’ll still give the owner your referral.”

How could she refuse that? “Yes.” The unspoken ‘Sir’ vibrated through the room.

“I’ll meet you up there Friday night. Since I know you changed your contact information, give me your card and I’ll email you details and directions.”

She pulled the slim business card case out of her jacket pocket and handed him one, warmed by his admission that he’d tried to contact her.

He nodded and said, “I’ll see you Friday.” One final heated look and he was gone, leaving her weak-kneed and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

Chapter Three

Friday afternoon snuck up on Gabe. Opening the shop had him buried under work, which made the days pass faster than he and his brother consumed Nana’s garlic bread. The club would be a welcome reprieve from real life.

The drive to Maison Domine never failed to impress him, and his shoulders relaxed beneath his black motorcycle jacket. High in the mountains of the San Fernando Valley, the club sat far enough from Los Angeles to feel like an escape, yet not too far for a motorcycle ride. Roads curved and wove through the foothills and occasionally revealed glimpses of the sprawling LA metro area below. Once he drove high enough, blue sky and patches of greenery dominated the view.

Last year’s fires had left their mark—swathes of mountainside were burned, but snippets of plants were making a comeback, their sprouts poking through the soil. He caught sight of a few red-tailed hawks and a kestrel, their graceful soars and swoops impressive even after so many years of bird watching. Hope had gone with him a few times, just as entranced by the different species of birds as he.

Tension crawled back into his chest, along with an echo of pain from their breakup. If he could call it that. A bad night together, a mistake on his part, true, but something they should have worked through together. And when he went to visit her the next day, her apartment window held a
For Lease
sign. She’d kept that from him, that and ghosts from her past that he still hadn’t identified.

Part of him, that blasted optimist, thought maybe she’d changed, maybe she would be more open with him now. Maybe she’d stop keeping secrets. That would go a long way toward rebuilding trust. In a kinky relationship, too much could go wrong without proper communication, and he needed the assurance that his sub was enjoying and benefiting from his ministrations, especially during a scene.

He scoffed at the ridiculous thoughts as he took a hairpin curve around the mountainside. Hope may not even give him a chance to touch her this weekend, much less do anything that would require trust between them. He’d had to bribe her just to talk with him.

Trust might be asking too much. Hell, it had been two years ago.

He’d seen the effects of that firsthand on their final night together. He gripped the handlebars tighter, his gloved hands digging into the rubber-covered cylinders. Revving the engine, he sped up, needing the momentary thrill to clear his mind.

Curve after curve swooped by and nothing mattered but the pavement and the world flying by outside his tinted visor. Losing himself in the rumble of his Harley and the classical music piping through this helmet speakers, Gabe resolved to use the weekend as closure, for better or worse.

An hour after leaving Sherman Oaks, he came to the modest side road marked only with a sign reading
MD
. He turned right onto the asphalt and was, once again, glad he had a motorcycle. Trees loomed tight to the snug single-lane road. Though their high canopy provided much-needed shade during the summer, they made it a bitch to clear the snowfall during the colder months. Gabe laughed, recalling the time Hope had lost her passenger-side mirror driving down a one-way street tight with parked cars on both sides. Hopefully the trees would not exact the same revenge.

At last, he broke into a large clearing. To the right sat Maison Domine in all its sprawling log cabin glory, to the left, parking, and past all of it—nothing. Maison topped one of the smaller mountain ledges, affording a priceless view of the foothills, and beyond them, the valley. The sunset compelled his attention, and Gabe regretted not being able to photograph it. He’d decided to leave his camera equipment at home, lest Hope’s gorgeous body tempted him to take sexy, erotic pictures of her. He imagined bringing Hope out there, wearing nothing but his collar and cuffs, the sky reflecting its colors onto her pale, pale skin. The insistent erection he’d had since last Saturday night throbbed in anticipation.

“Down, boy. Sex is not part of the deal. Talking only.”

Yeah, his cock definitely wasn’t listening.

Sex with Hope had always been mind-blowing. Her body fit against his perfectly, her every curve pressed against him. And she was so tight. He growled, part lust and part frustration. She’d used sex to keep distance between them, to keep things casual. Intimacy had been one of her hard limits, as he’d learned the hard and lonely way. Now he had a second chance with her, and it wouldn’t be wasted. A smart man might not push her comfort zone this weekend, but he was born too stubborn for that.

He would take from her all that he could coerce or seduce—they owed each other that much. And he needed to see if she was the same scared little rabbit putting on a show of bravado that she had been before. She’d certainly changed her appearance a lot.

His chest constricted. She’d been beautiful when they’d first met, but…damn. She was a knockout now. He liked his women curvy but lean, and while Hope had lost some weight, her ass and thighs still made his mouth water. And her breasts, lush and creamy, had made his tongue tingle from wanting to taste them. Well, what he could see of them in her buttoned-up suit. His imagination had taken that little line of cleavage and zipped off to la-la land.

It would be a challenge. But he didn’t like taking the easy road.

With a predatory grin, he parked and surveyed the other cars there. He recognized many of them from years ago. He also noted Jax and Lara’s swanky new Tessla Roadster, which meant his duffel would be here. The couple had offered to tote his toy bag there and back so he could ride the Harley.

He’d wanted the bag, just in case.

Speaking of Hope, her dark gray SUV glimmered from the end of the row. Despite being a early-model car she’d owned for years, it looked brand new. Never let it be said the woman didn’t take care of her possessions. She detailed the car every Sunday morning and relentlessly cleaned dirt and crumbs from the floor mats. Even the wheels and hubcaps shone. At least that much about her hadn’t changed.

As he unbuckled his helmet, Gabe let out a sigh. Maybe this time they’d stop hiding from each other. Or at least, maybe she’d stop hiding from him and come to terms with whatever intimacy issues she had. Gabe had made peace with his own fucked-up past long ago—it wasn’t relevant anymore and didn’t need to be shared.

A few buckles and snaps later, his saddlebags popped free. He headed toward the huge club building and marveled once again at Kat’s business acumen, turning this former camp retreat into one of the premier BDSM clubs in America. She’d been an invaluable friend for years, even when he’d lived in Boston for his glassblowing apprenticeship.

Gabe hightailed it to the entrance, pulse kicking up with every step, and entered the lobby. The browns and greens, the simple decor, the openness of the interior, all made him breathe more easily. Some of the tension sloughed from his shoulders and he took a deep breath, catching the pine scent always present, mixed with the faint smell of food.

“Kat?” he called out, knowing she wouldn’t be too far off. Friday nights, she played hostess. Saturday and Sunday, she played…whatever she wanted.

Her brunette head poked over the third-story railing that ringed the main room. “Gabriel?” She always used his full name, her rolling French accent making short work of the syllables. “
Mon ami
, I have only now finished preparing your room—perfect timing,
oui
? Bring your bags up. It is going to be a full weekend, but I made sure you would have your usual room, even after two years. I know how you hate change.”

He hit the staircase to his left, taking the steps two at a time. The oak flooring of the third story creaked under his heavy boots as he made his way to the far end of the hall where his room overlooked the cliff and had a perfect vantage point for sunsets. Not to mention the private balcony that provided inspiration for a dozen naughty ideas. The sheer space of the suite gave two dozen more.

Half the top floor housed her office and apartment. The rest was divided into two suites—coveted weekend rooms. He was touched that Kat had reserved one for him.

Katrina lingered outside his open door. Nosy woman, figured she’d have questions about the first woman he’d ever brought to Maison. Her gaze flickered down to his crotch. “Happy to see me?” She arched her brow and barely restrained a smile. “Or is that for the darling Hope O’Shea I finally had the pleasure of meeting? You talked about her so often before you left, but you and she never visited the club. I guess you will not be aiding other Doms this weekend, and I know many a sub will be sorely disappointed. They still talk about you longingly, some of them.” She gestured into the open door. “Come, put your bags down and join the group for drinks and food. Hope is already down there, making friends without you. Who knows who she could meet?”

He stopped dead at her words and turned back to Kat, who had been following him in. “Meet?”

Her sly look made him wary. “Oh Gabriel, you know how beautiful women attract attention, and there are quite a few unattached Dominants here this weekend. And if you recall from your past visits, beautiful women alone are—how do you say—jackpot here.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. Hope is here as my guest.”

He pivoted and continued into the room. The plush carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked past the kitchenette to unceremoniously drop his bags next to the dark brown couch of the “entertainment room”, as Kat liked to call it.

She sat at the table for two in the kitchenette, making herself at home. “She is your guest, of course, but so far as I have seen, you and she had no official arrangements.”

He ground his teeth, surely making his dentist shudder. “She knows the deal.”

He stalked into the bedroom to check on the bag Jax should have left there. His toy bag sat on the expanse of Cal-King mattress, mocking him to get a move on with Hope.