The Dominant (26 page)

“Not right now.”

Thank goodness. For as much as I was pleased Abby felt brave enough to ask me questions, there were some things I wasn’t ready
to discuss.

And I still had a week and a half before I had to.

Elaina picked up on the second ring.

“Hello,” she said.

“Elaina Grant Welling,” I said in my best no-nonsense voice.

“What? What’d I do?”

“If I wanted Abby to know the particulars of my relationship with Melanie, I would have told her.”

I walked to the window in my bedroom and looked down to where Abby and Apollo were playing outside. She’d wanted to take him
outside one last time before going to bed, which was fine—I wanted her out of the house while I talked with Elaina.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“I didn’t tell Abby anything, other than that Melanie wasn’t your . . .” She stopped for a second. “Abby told you.”

“I don’t mind you knowing about my lifestyle. I do mind you interfering.”

“How is my telling Abby that Melanie wasn’t a submissive interfering?”

Because Abby would want to know why Melanie and I didn’t work out. She would want to know why I had gone from being a dom
to trying something “normal” and then gone back to being a dom.

“You’re interfering anytime you tell my submissive something I’ve chosen not to tell her.”

“Your submissive?”

“Yes, my submissive.”

“Is that all she is to you?”

“What the hell does that mean? You have no idea what it means to have a submissive.” I glanced back out the window and saw
Abby reach down and pet Apollo’s head. I sighed; my fight wasn’t with Elaina. “I don’t want to discuss this with you. You
have no clue what my lifestyle entails, and I don’t feel like giving you the details tonight.”

“I just thought she might be more one day. I thought she might be . . . special.”

My something special. I closed my eyes.

“It’s my life, Elaina,” I said. “Let me handle it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of it.”

We hung up after making a bit of small talk about the blizzard. She asked if I wanted to talk to Todd, but I declined.

I opened the window a tiny bit. Just enough to let some cold air rush into the room, but of course, Abby’s laughter came drifting
in too. Her laugh filled me with warmth, even as the cold air chilled me.

I walked to my bed and sat down. When had everything become so confusing? Why had I ever allowed Abby into my life? It would
have been so much easier to have left her as she was—someone I dreamed about but never met. Someone I watched, but never approached.

She approached you. She wanted you
.

She wanted me as a dom, and I had just told her in the library that I had met and anticipated all her needs, but I hadn’t.
I had not always been gentle and patient and caring. I had failed her as much as I’d failed Melanie. Probably more so.

And still, she’s here
.

Because she doesn’t know
.

I groaned and fisted my hands in my hair. I couldn’t think
straight anymore. Nothing made sense. Nothing. I had a week and a half left to come clean with her, and instead of deciding
how best to go about telling her the truth, I was spending my time reading Shakespeare and having naked picnics.

I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and I stood to meet her at the door. Apollo made it to my room first and
pushed his cold nose into my outstretched hand. Abby walked up behind him.

“He got all wet,” she said. “I tried to dry him off, but . . .”

He lifted a wet paw to my knee, and I felt the dampness through my pants.

“Can’t be helped in this weather,” I said. “Thanks for taking him out.”

She petted him one last time. “I like playing with him. He’s a lot of fun.” She turned to leave.

I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her everything. To murmur in her ear how much I wanted her. How
much I needed her. To tell her she was my one percent—my something special. To fucking kiss her. “Abigail?”

She turned and looked at me with expectation. “Yes, sir?”

Fucking used the wrong name. If you want her to believe she’s your one percent, you should have called her Abby. You can’t
do anything right
.

Which was why I shouldn’t try.

“Good night,” I whispered.

A soft smile came over her face. “Good night.”

I stayed in my room the next morning until I heard her in the kitchen. I tossed my book to the nightstand and went to join
her.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, providing perfect light as Abby danced across the floor, a cooking fork in
her hand.

I entered the kitchen and propped myself up against the countertop. “‘I’ll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed
with dew,’” I said, and grinned.

She stopped dancing and nonchalantly walked to the stove to flip the bacon. “‘You have witchcraft in your lips.’”

She liked it. She wanted to play.

“‘All the world’s a stage,’” I said. “‘And all the men and women merely players.’”

“‘Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player.’” She took the eggs off the stove and spooned them into a bowl. “‘That struts
and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’”

It was time to bring out the heavy ammo. I walked to the stove, where she would have to look at me. In the most dramatic pose
I could muster, I held one hand to my chest and pointed the other to the window.

She laughed, and the sound made my heart soar. What was it I had been worried about? I couldn’t remember anymore.

With a serious expression, she looked at me. “‘Asses are made to bear, and so are you.’”

The Taming of the Shrew
?

“‘Women are made to bear, and so are you,’” I said, quoting the next line, unable to keep the pride from my voice.

She turned the burners off, moved the frying pan to a trivet, and turned to fully face me. “I have no other but a woman’s
reason: I think him so, because I think him so.”

I laughed. Damn, she was good.

And I was running out of Shakespeare quotes.

I had one more. I couldn’t find one that called her a vixen, but this one was almost as good. “‘O villain, villain, smiling,
damned villain!’”

“You called me a villain.”

“You called me an ass.”

“Draw?”

I pretended to think about it. “This time, but I’d like the record to show that I’m gaining on you.”

She lifted the bacon onto a serving plate. “Agreed. But speaking of gaining on me, I need to use your gym today. I have a
few miles to log on the treadmill.”

“I need to jog as well.” Her bacon looked perfect, just the right amount of crispy without being burned. I took a piece. “I
have two treadmills. We could work out together.”

After cleaning up from lunch, I headed to the library. As expected, Abby sat curled up on the floor with Apollo beside her
and a book in her lap.

I sat down at the small desk. Between mushroom risotto and the naked picnic, I’d gotten very little work done the day before.
I flipped my laptop open and started answering e-mail.

A few hours later, my phone rang. I looked at the display. Jackson.

“Jackson,” I said, watching as Abby stood up and left the library.

“Nathaniel,” Jackson whispered. “Hey.”

I dropped my voice to match his. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want Felicia to hear.”

Oh, no. Had something gone wrong? I looked outside—the snow had melted a little today. If something had happened between Felicia
and Jackson, she should be able to make it back to
the apartment. I wondered for a minute if Abby would want to stay through the weekend and not go home . . .

“Nathaniel?” Jackson asked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m going to do it.”

For the life of me, I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Do what?”

His voice dropped even lower. “I’m going to propose.”

“Propose what?”

“Come on. Get with it. Propose. I’m going to ask Felicia to marry me.”

“You are?” I concentrated on the computer screen in front of me as his words sank in. “You are?”

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “But it feels so right. I just know it’s right. Everyone always says
how you’ll know. Well, I know.”

My heart started to pound. You would know? Just like that? It was that easy? You asked yourself if it was right and then—bam—you
knew?

“Uh, Jackson . . . I . . .” I stuttered. “I don’t know what . . . congratulations.”

“Thanks, man. Listen, don’t tell Abby. Let Felicia surprise her.”

“You’re assuming she’ll say yes.”

“She’ll say yes. I know.”

As we hung up, I felt myself gearing up for the battle to come. The part of me that knew I couldn’t do a normal relationship
and the part that desperately wanted to try. I pulled a stack of papers from my desk and flipped through them, not really
seeing what they were.

You aren’t normal and you’ll never be normal
, I told myself.
Accept it and get on with it. You have a good thing going with Abby now. Why ruin it? She’s happy. You’re happy. Enjoy what
you have
.

I thumbed through the papers.

Pull it together, West. Jackson and Felicia getting married doesn’t change anything. He’s like your brother. You should be
happy
.

And I was. I was happy for Jackson and Felicia. But why couldn’t I have—

“Nathaniel West.”

My head shot up.

What the hell?

That was all I needed. As if I wasn’t confused enough, Abby had decided
now
was a good time to traipse into the library and call me by my name?

Had I not told her to address me as
sir
during the week? I narrowed my eyes and thought back—yes, yes, I had. It had been one of the rules I gave her on Sunday morning.
She had never been one to intentionally disregard a command, so what the hell was she up to?

“I assume you will apologize for that slip, Abigail?” I asked.

“I’ll do no such thing.” She brought her hands out from behind her back and showed me the box of candy I kept in the kitchen.
“What are these?”

The hell? The day just got more and more baffling as it went on. She was calling me by my first name over candy? Really?

Perhaps all the situation needed was a strong look. I set the papers down and glared at her. “They are chocolate bars, Abigail.
It says so right on the box.”

She didn’t move as I stood up. “I know what they are, Nathaniel. What I want to know is, what are they doing in the kitchen?”

Not only was the day growing more and more confusing, it was also going straight to hell. Why the fuck was Abby asking me
why I kept candy in the kitchen?

“What business of yours is it?” I asked.

She shook the box at me. “It’s my business because these are not on your meal plan.”

Not on my meal plan? I didn’t have a meal plan. She had a meal . . .

Oh.

Oh.

She wanted to role-play. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Abby would never want to be a domme, but if she wanted to
play around a bit. Well . . .

Part of me knew this was dangerous, blurring the lines even further. The other part of me wanted to see how far she’d go.
I’d told her my room and the playroom were off-limits for the week. Where would she take this? Had she planned this out?

There was only one way to find out.

“Do you think I put together a meal plan for you because I’m bored and have nothing better to do?” she asked as victory surged
in her eyes. “Answer me.”

My words from the night I punished her. I uncrossed my arms and dropped them to my sides. “No, Mistress.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “I had plans for today, but instead we’ll have to spend the afternoon inside, working on your punishment.”

I wasn’t sure what she had planned, but for that one moment, I didn’t much care. Abby and I working together on anything for
the entire afternoon would be delightful.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mistress.”

“You’ll be sorrier still when I’m finished with you. I’m going up to my room. You have ten minutes to join me there.”

She turned and left the room. I glanced down at Apollo and smiled. “Go to the kitchen, Apollo.”

He cocked his head to the side and pawed the air.

“I mean it.”

With a heavy sigh, he left the library and I was alone. Needless to say, my thoughts were all over the place. What was Abby
up to? How far would I allow her to take this? If it were a real scene in which I was a submissive, I would enter her room
naked. Since that wasn’t the case, I decided to leave my clothes on.

As I walked up the stairs, thoughts swirled around in my head. I needed a plan. I needed to decide how long and exactly what
I’d allow Abby to do. Lay out when I’d call a stop to her little game. But how could I plan when I didn’t know what she had
planned?

Her words from the kitchen came back to me:
You think too much
.

She had been right, of course. I did think too much. So for tonight I wouldn’t think. I’d simply allow myself to fly by the
seat of my pants—to be spontaneous. I could handle whatever Abby had planned, and if at any point I needed to, I’d call a
stop to it.

It was simple when you thought about it.

She stood by the foot of her bed, dressed in the silver robe she’d worn the day I collared her. She looked even more beautiful
today, if such a thing were possible.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “What do you have to say for yourself, Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel.

The way she said my name. The way it fell from her lips.

I dropped my head so as not to show how it affected me. “Nothing, Mistress.”

“Look at me.”

No. Please, no. Anything but that
. If I looked at her, she’d know. She’d know everything. I couldn’t hide it anymore. Then again, I didn’t want to hide it
anymore. I was so tired of hiding.

“I am not a mistress,” she said. “I am a goddess.” She pushed the robe from her shoulders, exposing more of her gorgeous body.
“I will be worshipped.”

The truth of her words stunned me momentarily. She was right. She had never been more right.

She was a goddess.

She should be worshipped.

Tonight, I would do no less than prove it to her. I would show her exactly what she did to me, what she made me feel. Perhaps,
in return, she would show me how I made her feel.

Dropping the role-play completely, I walked to her, closing the distance between us. Gently, I gathered her in my arms and
sat us both on her bed.

I stared deeply into her eyes. What was this thing I felt whenever I looked at her? What was it she did to me that no one
else ever had? Whatever had I done to deserve what she gave me?

The only things I knew with any certainty were that she was my one percent and I’d be damned if I’d deny it any longer.

Of its own accord, my hand reached out to stroke her cheek. “Abby,” I whispered, rejoicing in the freedom her name held. “Oh,
Abby.”

To say it, to say her name . . . How was it something so simple stirred my very being? As if I’d finally found what I’d spent
my entire life searching for? She was mine and I was hers, and if the world ended at that exact second, I’d die knowing that
most sacred truth.

And still, I craved more. I needed more. I needed . . .

Her lips.

I traced her mouth with my thumb. “‘A kiss of desire . . .’”

I couldn’t finish. It was too much. My body shook with the effort to remain where I was.

As my one percent, of course she knew what I meant. What I had been unable to say.

“‘. . . on the lips,’” she finished.

I could contain myself no longer. I had denied myself too much. In telling myself kissing would make our relationship too
personal, I’d created a rule that didn’t matter and couldn’t be obeyed. It hadn’t helped anything anyway.

I pressed forward, willing myself to take my time—to enjoy and revere the moment. I was so close, I could taste her—could
feel her breath, warm against my lips. I inhaled deeply and then, ever so gently, touched my lips to hers.

Oh, God.

Surely my body couldn’t contain the joy that welled up inside. Surely this frail human shell was not meant to feel such deep
emotion.

But my heart still beat within my chest, so I steadied myself and kissed her again.

And still I lived—or started to live. I wasn’t sure which.

I knew I would never get enough of her. Never would I tire of her lips on mine or the way she felt in my arms. The greedy
bastard inside begged for more, and it wasn’t enough to simply touch her lips—I had to consume her. Had to let her consume
me.

I framed her face with my hands to steady us both and kissed her again. Longer. But still softly—she was a goddess to be worshipped
and I was nothing but a lowly disciple longing for the favor of her touch.

My tongue brushed the outline of her mouth, tasting and teasing. She parted her lips slightly, and my heart clenched in amazement.
She would allow me this honor. After all I’d taken from her, still she would give me more.

I knew immediately her taste would be seared into my memory for as long as I lived. Her hands ran through my hair, pulling
me closer, and I moaned.

She unbuttoned my shirt without breaking our kiss, and just as quickly, she slipped it from my shoulders and ran her hands
over my chest.

Oh, God. Yes, Abby. Touch me.

I finally convinced myself to pull away and stood watching her as I stepped out of my pants.

She held out her arms. “Love me, Nathaniel.”

Love?

Was that what it was? I loved Abby? Is this what Jackson meant? What Todd and Elaina had? Certainly not. Certainly no one
else had ever experienced emotion this intensely before. But if love was the only way to describe it, love would have to do.

Love.

I loved Abby.

I had been such a fool.

“I always have, Abby.” I picked her up and gathered her to me once more. “I always have.”

I gently lowered us to the bed, kissing her again, allowing the truth of my feelings for her to wash over both of us. This
time, unlike the others, there were no words spoken, because no words were needed.

It was as if I touched her for the very first time. Even her hands on my body were new. Touching, teasing, and exploring,
yes, but there was a new meaning behind each touch and caress.

I love you
, my fingers said as they breezed down her arms.

I love you
, her fingers responded, stroking my back.

Her lips danced against mine, our mouths moving together in unbroken and unrestrained love.

Our joining was slow and purposeful. I closed my eyes as emotion surged inside me again for it was more than I could bear.
My entire life, I’d seen and used sex as a means to physical pleasure. I had always made certain my partners and submissives
had pleasure in return, but that was all it was—meaningless pleasure. Now I knew the truth. Sex could be, should be, so much
more. It should be me using my body not just to bring pleasure or to gain pleasure, but to show love, to give love, to give
myself.

The truth burst from me as I released, and a tear escaped my eye.

Afterward, I drew her to my chest. I stroked her hair, unable
to keep my hands from her. With a sigh of contentment, she turned and put her head above my heart, and within minutes, she
fell asleep.

Sleep did not come as easily to me. Instead, the real world crashed down.

What had we done?

What had
I
done?

I closed my eyes and tried desperately to hold on to the feeling I’d had minutes before. But I wasn’t strong enough and the
demons came back.

She would hate me for what I’d done now. Hate me when she discovered that I had been dishonest with her. She might stay with
me for a time, but eventually she would feel nothing but pity, and I knew I could not bear her pity.

Her eyes would grow dimmer with each passing day as she discovered I could not be what she wanted. And what did my earlier
epiphany mean? Was my entire life as a dom something less than it should be? How could I reconcile what I was with what I
felt?

I tightened my arms around Abby’s sleeping body. How could I offer her less than what she deserved?

As the night deepened, I knew.

I loved her. I would do anything, absolutely anything, for her.

I would let her go.