Shackled (8 page)

Bethany had never been good at postcoital conversation. To her, words at this point had always seemed superfluous. Considering that her husband rarely attended to her sexual needs, by the time he was done, she’d always been perfectly happy to just roll over and go back to sleep. So she was somewhat surprised to hear herself say, “The water’s still warm. That must be some water heater you have there.”

She felt Jonathan go stiff in her arms for just a moment. And then he laughed, a big, boisterous, full-of-fun laugh that spread warmth throughout her entire body.

He pushed himself away from the wall then swooped down and kissed her. “Come on, Ms. Craig,” he turned off the water and slid back the glass door, “let’s dry off, grab some more coffee, and talk.”

Those words would have made Bethany worry had he not said them in such a gentle tone. The look of tenderness in Jonathan’s eyes as his gaze met hers soothed her as little in life ever had.

Bethany didn’t know what would happen next, but she was perfectly ready and willing to find out.

Chapter 7

“I’ll make breakfast while we chat.”

Bethany shook her head. “Nothing for me, thank you. I don’t usually eat breakfast in the morning.” She wanted to get to the next item on whatever agenda Jonathan had in mind for them. She really wanted to know all the rules, and the boundaries, and what lay ahead. Now that she’d reveled in some excellent orgasms, her head was clear and she felt better than she had in a long time. She was ready to take on whatever came next. She had agreed to this arrangement, whatever it would be, without knowing all the details first. That wasn’t like her. She always functioned best when she had time to analyze and assess and plan before acting.

Jonathan raised one eyebrow as he looked at her. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that breakfast was the most important meal of the day?”

Her mother?
That was a topic Bethany thought best to avoid. “Not really, no.” Impatience began to stir in her. She didn’t want to feel impatient. That emotion was one of the reasons she’d gone to Jordan Fitzpatrick in the first place. She needed to distract herself, so she looked around his kitchen, taking in the beauty of the room.

This was the kind of kitchen she’d always wanted, the maple finish of the cupboards looking quietly elegant, matched perfectly by the granite countertops with tiny flecks of pink and brown. Bethany felt a bit awkward standing in this stylish room wearing nothing more than one of her lover’s button-front shirts.

Her lover
. She’d never had a lover before, and wasn’t that a damn shame?

Jonathan had rolled the sleeves of the shirt up so that they came to rest above her wrists. No underwear covered either her breasts or her pussy. The absence of lingerie was something she really wasn’t used to. She wasn’t used to feeling so naked and exposed.

The only time she’d ever been naked in the past was when she was in the shower. Bethany realized she felt especially uncomfortable being practically naked in the kitchen.

“My mother never gave out that advice either,” Jonathan said, pulling Bethany back to the present. “But it’s the truth. So have a seat here, and I’ll whip us up some scrambled eggs and toast. You need to eat, sweetheart, and so do I.”

Even though his tone brooked no argument, Beth wondered why her first inclination was to argue with him. She wanted him to skip the food and get down to business.

His kitchen featured a center island with tall stools. Bethany knew if she climbed up to sit, her bare ass would likely be on the leather and
not
on the soft cotton of Jonathan’s shirt, even if the garment covered her adequately while standing. She supposed if she eased up onto the chair carefully…

Jonathan solved her dilemma by picking her up and setting her on the seat, ensuring her bottom rested on cotton.

“You’re very strong. I’m not a featherweight, and no, that was not a self-deprecating comment.” In fact, his bold action and gallant strength had sent a tingle through all her female bits.

Jonathan grinned. “I work out.
And
I eat breakfast.”

How did he know she bristled at his breakfast-decree? Bethany mentally shook her head.

He set about getting a frying pan out of the cupboard and eggs out of the fridge. “Do you like cheese with your eggs?”

“Yes, I do.” Bethany sighed. It looked as if she was about to have breakfast, whether she wanted it or not.

It surprised her that Jonathan would cook for her. Tim had never set foot in the kitchen except to eat. Truthfully, she’d always felt most at ease when she was left alone in her small domain to do what needed to be done. She didn’t think she would have shared the space gracefully.

“What did you just think about that put that sucking-lemons expression on your face?”

Bethany blinked and then shook her head. Jonathan’s stare felt intense, and she had to struggle not to squirm under it. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about some of the differences between you and Tim. I shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You were married to the man for a long time. I would think, especially considering the fact that I’m your first lover, comparisons would be inevitable. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Bethany frowned. “Well, yes, but comparing the two of you doesn’t serve any useful purpose. My life with Tim is over. I’ve turned the page, so to speak.”

“I disagree. Not the part about your having turned a page, but about comparison not having a purpose. It’s always good to fully understand what was, and
why
it was the way it was. It helps you cope with what
is
,
which in this case is as different for you as night is from day.”

Wow. Bethany blinked, wondering why she felt as if she’d just been soundly put in her place. Jonathan raised one eyebrow and sent her a look she couldn’t interpret. And then he turned his attention back to making breakfast.

He moved about the kitchen with the ease of familiarity, and although he was only making scrambled eggs with cheese, his competence appeared obvious. He grated fresh cheddar onto a saucer then put the cheese back in the fridge and set the grater in the sink.
Competent and methodical, and used to cleaning up after himself.
In this, Jonathan was a lot like her, Bethany thought.

“You already know the two major rules by which we live—do no harm, and nothing happens without consent,” he said, looking up at her. “Do you also understand that although you’re my sub, your role
isn’t
to wait on me hand and foot?”

How did he do that? How could he narrow in on the exact question that had been sitting at the back of her mind ever since he’d stepped back into her life? She hadn’t even let her mind put that question into words yet, and here it was in front of her.

She’d gone to Jordan, fully expecting to be back in a relationship that would require her to take care of a man. But this time, he would make all the brain-sucking decisions. This was one element of the D/s dynamic of which she was absolutely positive.

“Subs are supposed to obey their masters.” She felt no hesitation debating the point. She’d done a lot of reading, and what she’d read made sense. “Immediately and without question. The subs are the bottom, the Doms are the top, the master’s pleasure comes first, and everything I’ve read states—”

“Remember, I told you,
and
I believe that Jordan told you, that there are many variations of this lifestyle? For most of the Doms I know and associate with, that kind of immediate, unthinking obedience is
only
expected during scenes, sweetheart. Do you know what scenes are?”

“No. You mentioned that word before, and I didn’t understand it then.”

“Okay, we’ll get that explained and out of the way. Think of scenes as bedroom games—whether or not they take place in the bedroom. It’s sexual role-playing. Their purpose is to enhance our sexual experience. Another way you could think of them is as acting out fantasy scenarios. And why are you frowning?”

Bethany said what was on her mind. “Any more enhancement in our sexual experience and I might expire.”

Jonathan laughed. “No, darling, you won’t. The main thing I was trying to explain to you is that you don’t seem to understand what our Dom/sub relationship is going to be. The point that you’ve been missing is that it’s a master’s
responsibility
to take care of his sub—
not
the other way around.”

“I don’t know what that means. Take care of me, how?” Bethany sensed a deep emotion in Jonathan, but she didn’t know, right at that moment, if she wanted to understand that emotion or not. When he said things like that, she just felt lost and stupid, as if she’d truly ventured into an arena she knew nothing about. Her eyes must have shown him the panic she felt, for in the next moment, his expression softened.

“Right now what it means is I’m making you breakfast when you would otherwise have gone without.”

Clever man. He’d brought it right back, full circle. She’d never doubted his intelligence or his ability to focus on a goal.

The problem was, Bethany wanted answers, but so far all Jonathan offered her were more questions.

* * * *

Jonathan could almost see the questions vibrating off her. He’d done a pretty good job of keeping Bethany off balance since he’d opened the door to Jordan’s office the day before. Part of that had been his strategy, and part just pure fun.

He knew her well enough to understand she’d respond more spontaneously if he kept her a little off balance.

His Beth was a plodder and a planner, and if he allowed her to resort to those two old habitual behaviors, she’d become entrenched in her plan, unable to respond and learn. So he really couldn’t have that. He was the master, he had plans, but he couldn’t reveal them all now.

But soon. She was a hell of a lot more sexually responsive than he’d dared hope.

Jonathan put his attention back on breakfast. He dished up the eggs and slid a piece of toast onto her plate. He’d made a fresh pot of coffee, too, and poured them each a cup.

“Tell me about your life these past six months, sweetheart.” He’d been out of the country when he’d heard her husband had died. Since he’d secretly wished the man to perdition for years, he didn’t feel the need to tack on any politically correct but insincere condolences at this point.

“It’s been an adjustment. Tim’s death was sudden. I loved him, in a way. You can’t be married to someone, live with them for more than a quarter of a century, and not mourn at least a little when they die.” Beth stirred her eggs with her fork and then lifted a small bite to her mouth.

Jonathan could see her focus had turned inward. He scooped another forkful of breakfast but let her have the space she needed to organize her thoughts.

“That sounded callous, and I’m sorry for it. The truth is I grieved more for my children than for myself. Erica and Daniel both loved their father, and I grieved that they lost him.”

Jonathan ate slowly but kept his gaze on her face. Her words were coming progressively more easily. He’d bet this was the first time Beth had been able to talk about her true feelings to anyone since her husband’s death.

“They stayed with me for a few weeks after the funeral, and I know that while in their minds they were staying to make certain I was okay, they needed to be at the home where we’d been a family together. To grieve, and to remember, and to begin letting go.”

He didn’t know Beth’s children all that well. They’d been younger than him and had different friends and interests. He did recall they tended to take after their mother in their attitudes toward responsibility, and life in general, which was a very good thing.

“What about Beth?” Jonathan asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you let go?”

“It was different for me. My relationship with Tim had changed subtly over the last few years. It became more like we were roommates sharing a house than husband and wife. In a lot of ways, I’d let go, emotionally, years before. That is, I still did all the things I’d ever done. But I’d…withdrawn, I guess you could say, emotionally.”

“I hope you don’t blame yourself for that, sweetheart. It takes two people to build and maintain a relationship. As someone who only saw your marriage from the outside, it seemed to me that Tim did nothing to shore up the foundations of your lives.”

“No, I don’t feel guilty.” She stopped and looked at him. “Except for one thing, and it’s silly. I should be feeling righteous about it.”