The Mormon and the Dom (4 page)

Noah had watched Ronan carefully, but when he went to imitate how he’d gotten on the bike, he discovered the passenger seat was up a bit higher than the driver’s seat. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get his leg up that high because of his restrictive trousers. He’d worn the suit to look as good as he could, but now he was thinking he should have worn something that gave him a little more movement.

“Here.” Ronan stood so Noah could get his leg over on the shorter area. “Take your time and go slow. I won’t let you fall.”

With Ronan’s powerful body holding the bike upright, Noah felt safe getting on. Once he straddled the bike, he slid up and back onto the seat. He wasn’t sure what was in the padding, but it felt like some kind of heat-activated foam. As soon as he settled in, the cushion molded around his butt.

“You’re a natural.”

“Let’s hope that’s in all the things we’ll do.” Noah didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Ronan answered him.

“I don’t think we’re going to have a problem.”

“Okay.” Noah made that noncommittal comment while getting himself settled. “How do I do this?” He realized that question could apply to just about everything, so he clarified. “Or do I just cling on to you and keep my screaming to myself?”

Ronan’s laugh was rich in his ears. “Put your hands on my waist and move with me and the bike. You might have an instinct to lean the other way. Don’t. Just trust me and the bike.”

“Trust.”

“Yep. It’s a big part of a relationship between a Dom and his sub.” After a momentary pause, Ronan asked, “Do you think you can trust me?”

Noah knew he was speaking in a broader context than just a ride on the bike. But that didn’t matter when he had a gut reaction to Ronan. “I trust you.”

“Good.” Ronan fired up the motorcycle, and then they were off.

Noah expected the ride to feel like a cross between an out-of-control skateboard and a flying ten-speed bicycle. The smoothness of the motorcycle stunned him. The bike was big enough to feel solid, but it was Ronan’s capable control that got Noah to relax. When he did, he discovered that he was pressed up against Ronan’s back. He was strong, warm, and each minute movement he made seemed echoed against Noah’s body. While he appreciated the helmet from a safety standpoint, he’d like nothing better than to be able to rest his face against Ronan and breathe in his scent. Unfortunately, because of the helmet, he couldn’t really get a good sniff of him at all.

“Are you crying?” Ronan asked softly.

To his horror, Noah realized Ronan had heard him sniffing. “No. I just wanted to smell you.”
Oh. God!
Ronan was going to think he was some kind of a weirdo! That thought bounced around in Noah’s head when he realized the whole purpose of their meeting was so that Ronan could do all kinds of warped things to him. Sniffing him was probably customary in his world. Although, to be fair, he didn’t seem odd at all. If anything, Ronan was an awful lot like Tony in that department. He seemed utterly normal.

“You’re really tense. Relax, Noah. This isn’t some kind of trial.”

“Isn’t it, though? Don’t I have to pass some test at each turn?”

“No. Like I said, I’m sorry for what happened on the corner. I realize now that it makes me look bad in your eyes. I’d like to correct your assessment of me before we get started. Trust really is important for what we’ll be doing.”

Noah couldn’t help but feel like Ronan was backing out somehow. Had he offended him in some way he was oblivious to? Maybe he was just going to drive him around on the bike, then take him right back to the corner of Ninth and Ninth.

“We’re here.”

Noah looked up. Ronan stopped the motorcycle in front of a garage door that was slowly rolling upward. Inside there were at least a dozen motorcycles. Some were torn apart with their guts scattered around like tragic war victims. Others were covered with thin tarps, while still others were lined up against the side, gleaming and perfect.

“This is what you do? You fix motorcycles?”

“I’m a mechanic, but I mainly do the artwork now.”

“Did you do the design on this bike?” Noah had been a little too enchanted with Ronan himself to admire the bike, but he had noticed the rich contrast between the dark blue and bright yellow.

“I did.” Ronan stood so Noah could slide off. He didn’t think he’d ever be graceful at what he was doing, so he strove more to stay upright. After getting off in the most awkward fashion possible, he moved over to the side.

While Ronan coasted the bike into the garage, Noah quickly yanked his pants out of his crack. In the future, he’d remember that dress slacks and motorcycles really didn’t mix. Jeans certainly did. From the way Ronan moved, his jeans looked like they were in love with him. Each fiber seemed to cling to his body and show it to best advantage. When Noah found himself looking for the line of his underwear, he realized he was practically glaring at the man’s ass. Soon enough he’d know exactly what he looked like in the buff.

When Ronan took off his helmet, Noah followed suit. Oddly, he felt exposed.

Ronan placed the helmets on a table, then withdrew Noah’s satchel from the bike. He handed that over to him. When Noah put the bag on his shoulder, the short chains on the manacles clinked against the collapsible spreader bars. Even though the sound was probably quite quiet, it seemed loud as thunder to Noah.

“Let’s go in and have some pie.” Ronan held up the pink pie box.

Noah had thought they were going to sit around in the office space of the garage, but Ronan went through a door in the back. Everything was clean and obviously well cared for, impressing Noah. For some reason, he expected grease smears to be everywhere, but they weren’t. After a short breezeway, they came to glossy white door. Once inside, Noah was stunned to discover a house. It wasn’t small and crappy, but spacious and richly appointed.

“Wow.”

“Surprised?”

“I am.” In this part of the city, he didn’t expect to see a surprisingly modern house. Plush area rugs softened the look of gleaming hardwood floors. Two couches came together in an L with an oval coffee table in front. There was a television over a gas fireplace and a small bookshelf filled with paperbacks. It was not a typical bachelor pad and nothing like the leather-and-chrome-infested hovel he’d imagined a Dom would have. “I thought this area was all industrial.”

“There’s some old grandfathered places that survived the zoning change. No one can build a new house around here, but the three that were here before were allowed to stand.”

“You upgraded everything, though.” Noah wasn’t an expert by any means, but he knew what was trending in housing. He’d been thinking about getting out of his apartment and into his first home. The cinnamon-tiled kitchen floor and the granite countertops said Ronan had completed the remodel within the last two years.

“I did.” Ronan looked around with pride. “Just today it all became mine.”

“You mean you got a loan?”

“I mean I paid it off.” Ronan shook his head. “Did that sound braggy?”

“Not at all. It’s something to be celebrated. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Ronan put the pie on the counter.

“Most people work all their lives and never actually pay off a mortgage.” When Noah saw the appliances weren’t stainless steel, he grinned. These were black and glossy, making him think of oiled black leather.

“What’s that look about?” Ronan asked as he pulled two stoneware plates out of the upper cabinet. The man clearly had a good eye for decorating, because the creamy beige plates matched the kitchen coloring. Even after a quick look around his home, it was obvious the man had an artist’s eye for design.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. It was something.”

“I just—this is so silly, but I’m really glad you didn’t follow the trend of putting in stainless steel appliances.”

“God, no!” Ronan laughed as he pulled the pie out of the box. “I work with chrome on the bikes, so I know how any shiny metal surface is just begging for a fingerprint display. Stainless is a pain.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Noah leaned against the opposite counter from where Ronan was cutting up the pie. He cut the pie in half, releasing the smell of apples and cinnamon into the air. By angling the knife over the crust, he was silently asking Noah how big of a piece he wanted. Once Noah nodded, Ronan cut off a small slice. “My place has nothing but stainless appliances. I hate them.”

“You own your own place?” Ronan put Noah’s piece onto a plate, then cut his own. He tucked the tines of forks under each piece. “No ice cream. No cheese, either.”

“You like cheddar on your apple pie?” Noah thought he was one of the only people in the world who liked that.

“Oh, yeah. A really sharp cheddar on super-sweet apple pie is almost as good as sex.”

Since Noah had no idea if that were true, he just laughed, hoping he didn’t sound like a kid.

“So you’re buying a house?”

“I’m renting an apartment, but I’ve been looking at houses.” So far everything he’d looked at just didn’t feel right to him and he wasn’t sure why.

“Come on in here and let’s try this pie out.” Ronan commandeered both plates, then led the way into the dining room. The table was large, pine, and fashionably distressed. When Ronan placed a plate on the table, Noah sat down, feeling oddly out of place.

Ronan settled directly across from Noah. He lifted his fork and cut off a piece. Halfway to his mouth, he stopped. “You look…confused.”

“I guess I am.” Noah cut off a piece but toyed with the sticky chunk of apple and crust on his plate rather than eating it.

“What did you think would happen?” Ronan put the bite into his mouth. After a moment, his eyes rolled back. “Holy mother, that’s almost too good.”

“Can a pie be too good?”

“If I have a sudden compulsion to eat all of it, it can.”

When Ronan eyed his piece, Noah playfully pulled it closer to him. “Stay on your own side, mister. I had two brothers growing up. I know how to fight for my food.”

“I had two sisters, so I know how to put makeup on you while you sleep.”

“You’re going to make me wear makeup?” That wasn’t at all what Noah wanted.

“No.” Ronan laughed again, making something quiver inside Noah’s belly. “Okay, we really need to set out some rules.”

“Okay.”

“I was just making a joke. You’ll find I do that quite often. Makes things more fun.”

“I’m sorry. I just—I had all of these expectations and—I’m nervous. I’m afraid if I do or say something wrong, you won’t want to dominate me.”

“That’s what we need to talk about.”

From the seriousness of his tone, Noah figured he’d already screwed up.

“I really like you.”

Here it comes, Noah thought. The “I like you as a friend” speech. Noah had gotten this dialogue before. Sure, it had been out of the mouths of high school girls, but the words would sound no less depressing coming from a man. Dating in his teen years had been such a horrible experience he hadn’t even bothered in college. He realized around his senior year that he was attempting to be normal by dating in the normal way, i.e. going out with girls. Even though Noah liked girls, he wasn’t physically attracted to them, and he supposed it showed. However, he didn’t have enough guts to date men. His family would never forgive him, and he didn’t think he was strong enough to stand up to all the people he knew from church. Here, with a professional Dom, Noah thought he could have his needs met while keeping himself firmly in the closet. Unfortunately, his penchant for failure seemed to follow him like a stench. Noah was convinced he was about to get the same old speech from Ronan.

“Whoa. What the hell just went through your head?”

Noah realized he was glaring at his pie. He looked up at Ronan. When he saw what looked like pity in his eyes, he wanted to scream. He remembered his one and only date to senior prom. That was the look the girl had given him when she accepted. Noah had been too excited to understand what the expression meant. She spelled it out for him later when he’d asked her to go steady.

“Noah, please talk to me.”

“Just get it over with.” Noah pushed his plate of pie away. Just a moment ago, the syrupy sweetness had smelled so good he swore he could eat a dozen entire pies, but now it seemed too gooey to tolerate one bite.

“Get what over with?” Ronan moved his plate aside, too.

“The speech about how you like me but not really enough to have anything to do with me.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“No?”

“Not even close.” Ronan sighed. “I guess the time has come to tell you the truth.”

Noah braced himself for some new and more horrible version of the dreaded speech.

“I’m looking for more than a sub.”

It was possibly the last thing Noah expected to hear. Did Ronan want Noah to move in and be his full-time slave? That wasn’t what he wanted. Noah liked working and having a life. Noah intended to hang on to both of those things. This was supposed to be just a release every few weeks or so. For some reason, he thought he could simply pencil the date into his calendar in the same way he scheduled haircuts.

Since he wasn’t likely to figure out the meaning on his own, Noah asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve had these two separate lives.” Ronan placed his hands on the table. They were vertical with the palms facing each other with about five inches of space between them. “I have my work life and that part of things.” Ronan tapped his right hand on the table. “And then I have my life as a Dom.” He shook his left hand. “All my life they’ve run at the same pace, roughly, but they never cross.”

Noah wasn’t sure what any of that had to do with him. “I’m not asking to be in your life. I just want a few hours. I’ll even pay.” Ronan looked so offended Noah sputtered to get an apology out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that you’re some kind of whore. I’m not paying you for sex but to—I’m a walking disaster.” Noah struggled to get to his feet, but when he tried to slide the chair back, he wasn’t able to. When he rose up, he smacked his thighs into the table, jostling everything on the top. Desperate to get away, he swung his legs sideways and clambered out of the chair. “I’ll just call a cab and go.”