Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (77 page)

As she snuggled closer, the first thought that came to her muzzy mind was…safety. Not in a physical sense, though surely Burt could take care of her in that way, but this was more of an inner peace. A “my head and heart are safe with this guy” kind of thing. It was a knowing that unfurled in her belly. Rang in her head. Filled her up.

And the second thought? Well, that was easy—
damn he’s hawt!

“Solie? Wake up, honey.”

Solie stretched with a half-smile-half-frown. “No wanna wake up. Comfy.”

Burton’s arms loosened as if he were about to get up. It was obvious he didn’t really want to when his hold tightened again.

And the thought that he wanted to stay exactly where he was made Solie feel all manner of gooey inside—something she’d never quite experienced with
that other guy
. She wondered why considering that she’d loved Marcais. Truly loved him. But there was a piece of herself that she hadn’t truly given over. Perhaps she’d known all along that he was playing her while a part of her soul hoped she’d been wrong.

“This is interesting,” Burt whispered against her hair before dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her bed-head. “We’ve been friends for years and now, I—”

Solie stiffened, unsure of whether to eagerly anticipate what he was going to say, or prepare to flee. Burt stopped mid-sentence, took in a deep unsteady breath and blew it out. Arms tightened more around her body, then he let go and got out of bed.

Solie sat up, pulled the cover to her chin and pulled her knees up to her chest. Suddenly she felt so…cute.

“Why the blush, Sols?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she simply shrugged and kept her mouth shut. This
kawaii
thing wasn’t something typical. After all, she was a bitch on wheels every day, all day long as she ran her company. Sexy? Sure. Kick ass? Yep. Cute? Not so much. But there was no disputing that Burton just seemed to bring it out of her. Or maybe it was the Hello Kitty shorts-and-tank top pajamas she wore. A set given to her by the very man peering down at her from beside the bed.

God, something about Burt rang her bell. And right now, she didn’t really care what it was or why. In spite of the emotional roller-coaster she’d been on, there was one truth she didn’t bother to dispute—she trusted this man. Completely.

He’d been her friend through all her ridiculous bullshit even while in the midst of his own heartbreak. While Mac was going through her on-again-off-again divorce with her husband, Landon, Burt was there. He was the genuine article when it came to loyalty minus naiveté or games.

And here he stood in her bedroom looking all kinds of yummy in a pair of tented—whoa, wait,
tented!
—boxers and a fabulously formed bare chest sprinkled with fine black down that arrowed to a very, very happy trail.

Oh my God, definitely tented boxers.

Burton’s hair was a mop of jet black waves, cut short on the sides and a little longer on top. She almost smiled at the way it stuck up all over his head, glossy and inviting to her fingertips. Eyes so clear and crystalline blue they brought to mind one of those deep pools at the top of a glacial mountain under a clear sky.

Had she noticed how gorgeous he was before? Sure. But she’d never allowed herself to dwell. He’d belonged to someone else…and so had she.

But now she looked her fill after having spent the night being consoled in his arms. And Burton Khrys was just…wow.

And did she mention the tented boxers? The package beneath the fabric seemed long, thick and inviting. And it was all for her? Then again, maybe he always had some serious morning wood and it had nothing to do with her at all?

“Stay there. I’ll be right back,” he said.

A certain something about Burton—a something she’d been able to ignore before—seemed so close to the skin that it was almost tangible. And when he left the room, it left with him. And just that quickly, she missed it. Him. Whatever.

Six minutes later—but who was counting right?—Burton walked back into the bedroom and brought the scent of toothpaste and that certain
whoosh
of masculine energy with him.

He motioned with his head and said, “Scoot.”

She immediately moved over and he set a tray down in front of her. Burt snatched some tissues out of the box next to the bed, pressed them into her fingers, and then put his attention back on the tray.

Solie looked down at her hand and back up at Burton.

“You’re going to need it, Sol.”

She was going to need tissue? This couldn’t possibly be good.

Before she could ask why, he picked up her favorite porcelain mug and a small glass of half and half off the breakfast tray. A splash of cream soon joined what smelled like Italian roast coffee.

He handed the hot mug to her and said, “No sugar for you. Do you need to test your blood sugar first?” Yep—a gentleman who, beneath the skin, was not a gentle man. And she loved the contrast. Always had.

Solie tried not to compare him to her former dude but it was impossible. Why? Because Marcais knew she was diabetic but had never once asked if she needed to check her blood sugar or anything else, for that matter. Instead, he’d bring her all manner of sugary crap as gifts, then get mad at her when she couldn’t eat it.

Okay, squash that. Back to the present.

“No, I’m fine. My doctor told me that a lot of times my fasting blood sugar doesn’t really measure how well I’m doing. It’s what happens after I eat that tells her whether my body is doing what it should or not.”

While she made small talk, Burt was busy grabbing a little brown bottle off the nightstand, retrieved a single tablet and pressed it into her palm.

“Thank you,” she said as she popped the medicine into her mouth and chased it down with a gulp of coffee bean heaven. She moaned as she swallowed and then peeked over the rim of her mug at her friend. As she sipped, Solie almost smiled into the brew at Burt’s lopsided, but totally smug, grin.

He was racking up brownie points. And he knew it.

Cheeky bastard.

With the tray moved over to the dresser, Burton sat down right in front of her and looked her square in the eye. Her cup paused halfway to her mouth.

“Listen, Solie. I know when you look at me you see someone who’s been active in the BDSM community for years, someone who enjoys impact play and being a basic mean old man…”

Old? He was one year older than her? She raised an inquisitive brow, but didn’t interrupt.

“I also know that you know me better than anyone else. And I have a proposition for you, none the less.”

A prop-a-what? Was he serious?

She braced herself. Hard. But not out of fear like with Marc…

No. Nope. Keep it here, Solie
.

And she would remind herself a million times a day if that’s what it took to move on toward healing.

“I know you’re on the rebound. But if I can take your pain, any of it, Solie, I want to do that for you. You could use the release, the catharsis.”

Well he was right on that particular point, but there was more to this than Burt’s desire to help her relieve the big ball of emotional tension she’d been carrying around. So she sipped her coffee and waited for the other shoe to drop. And God, she hoped that particular shoe was her size—nine medium, thank you very much.

“I’ve always been honest with you, Sols. It’s been a long time since we discussed any feelings for each other, and understandably so. We’ve both been in relationships with others for years. I’m grateful because it allowed us to be good friends with no physical baggage between us. Still, you know I’ve found you attractive in every way, for a very long time. My timing is shitty, I’m sure, but it’s the truth.”

No wonder he’d handed her the tissue a few moments ago. Damn eyes were starting to tear up without her permission.

“Please tell me those are tears of happiness.”

She cocked her head in genuine surprise.

“I may be able to anticipate some of your needs, woman, but I’m nowhere near a mind reader. I have no idea what’s running through your head, or whether I’m making you happy or sad right now.”

So she smiled because that’s all she could manage just now.

“Okay, happy then?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Back to my little monologue…. Shit!” Then he jumped up and flew out the door.

“Well, wow,” she grumbled to herself. The snarl turned into a grin when the smoke detector blared. In fact, Solie stifled a very unladylike snort. Neither of them had ever been good at cooking. Thankfully Mac and her husband, Landon, usually took care of that particular task whenever they had dinner and movie night at any of their homes.

Back in the bedroom, Burton presented her with a small plate of perfectly crisp bacon and two of the most burnt English muffins she’d ever seen.

She laughed. Just couldn’t help it. And thankfully, Burt had a good sense of humor and joined in.

“Uh, since this is still smoking I think I’ll just leave the bacon and go toss the rest.” He picked up the charred bread with a napkin and started to head out again. “Be right back. Windows are open in the kitchen.”

Before he could get up, Solie’s free hand shot out and took him by the wrist. The moment he stilled she snatched her hand back. She hadn’t meant to snatch him like that, but there was no way he could leave the room. Not now.

His expression was wide open and she was glad to see that he wasn’t offended that she’d grabbed him like he owed her money. Instead, he simply stood and waited for her to say whatever was on her mind.

“Wait, Burt. I-I really need to finish this conversation. Please.”

Instead of leaving, burnt bits were tossed into the little waste basket next to the nightstand and he sat back down.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“I want to know when your feelings for me moved past friendship.”

“Beautiful, they’ve always been past friendship. But I was with someone else at the time, and so were you. I don’t cheat, and I wouldn’t disrespect you or the person I was dating at the time by asking you to be the ‘other woman’. Having you as a friend wasn’t my way of settling for what I couldn’t have. It was important to me to be a good friend to you because you deserve it. And you’ve been a good friend to me right back. Been there for me. Saw me through all kinds of ridiculous drama with idiots in the lifestyle. And we’ve had some good times, too.”

He gently traced her jaw with one hand, and snatched another tissue out of the box to dab at her tears with the other. “And there’s no denying that the attraction between you and I has always been there, just kind of buzzing beneath the surface.”

She blew her nose and took a bite of bacon. How did he make perfect bacon but manage to burn water? Solie sipped a bit more coffee, and then offered him the cup.

She felt all kinds of special when he took it, gulped without hesitation and set it down with a smile.

“While you’re healing from your relationship with Wonder Dick, I hope to have a chance to play with you, then perhaps be more.”

“Wonder Dick?” Solie snarfed her coffee and started coughing. Burt just shook his head at her and pounded her on her back.

“As I was saying, when you’re ready, I want to talk about where this zing thing between us could go. What we could possibly grow to be to each other. So think about it, Solie?”

“But, but I have cooties!” she wailed. She never wailed…except for last night…in Burton’s arms after learning about just how deep Marcais’ dishonesty went. She’d been so upset that Mac fed her coconut brownies after dinner. Okay, so maybe she did occasionally wail. Whatever.

Burton looked at her with a mix of compassion and anger. “Luckily the cooties he gave you are curable. You had your massive dose of antibiotics yesterday. Seven days of no sex and you’re good.”

She knew this, but still she felt…tainted. Unclean. She tested clean before
and
after being with Marcais. In fact, he’d shown her his paperwork, so she knew he’d tested clean, too. So for him to give her an STI now meant he’d picked it up outside of their relationship. Obviously.

“Solie, stop it. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t read minds,” she snapped.

“Really?” he growled as he gave her “that look”. She rolled her eyes and mumbled an apology.

“You did everything you were supposed to do, Solie. You’re not at fault here. If you’d been the one slinging your pussy around to any and every one without protection, then yes, I’d blame you for this. But you didn’t. That’s all on him. I can’t tell you not to feel angry or hurt, but I can remind you that this is not your fault. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t form the words past the lump in her throat.

“Do you hear me, Solie?”

She lifted her chin and looked at Burton as she had so many times over the years. Even while baring the most vulnerable parts of himself, the man was still a force of nature. Right now, Solie drew on that special energy of his and let it settle into herself. Chest loosened, upper lip stiffened and suddenly it was as if the tears of last night, and the sniffles of three minutes ago never existed.

Strength. It’s what he gave her. Though she had plenty of her own, this was a different kind of fortitude. This wasn’t boardroom-politics strength. This was more of a weather-a-shredded-heart kind of determination. She was more intimidated right now in her pj’s trying to fathom letting her guard down the tiniest bit to let Burton in, than she would be if she were standing toe-to-toe with someone who threatened to take over her company.

He was in no way asking for all of her—not her heart, and perhaps not even her body. She knew that BDSM play wasn’t all about sex with Burton. Sure, he enjoyed impact play with floggers, crops, rope and cuffs; however, what he loved most was getting into his play partner’s head. And still, he hadn’t even asked for that.

He’d only asked to give her what she needed…and she would be the one to decide what that was. And later, if she wanted to, he was open to moving into something a bit more…personal.