Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

“I am now.” The lady smiled at him. “You did a fine job there. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Well, I need to move along. I still have to get a present for Henry.” The woman brushed the dirt from her lavender sweats and frowned at the rip in one knee. “Our fortieth anniversary is tomorrow, and we buy each other a treat every year.” She nodded at Simon, patted Rona's shoulder in thanks, and walked toward the toy booth.

Rona stared. The treat for Henry was a sex toy? After forty years of marriage?

Damn.

Simon huffed a laugh, then wrapped an arm around Rona's waist. “Come, lass.”

“Where'd you learn to fight like that?”

He steered her down the street. “Military, then the martial-arts circuit for a time. I quit when my son arrived.” He lifted his left hand, tried to curl the fingers, and smiled ruefully. “I fear I hit a few too many solid objects before then.”

Frowning, Rona took his hand. White scars from old surgeries traced over his skin; the bones underneath felt rough and uneven. “You must have broken every…”

She looked up guiltily, let go, and put her hands behind her back. Bad Rona . Hadn't she already learned that grabbing a dom was a no-no? “Sorry.”

His flashing smile lightened his face. “True, a submissive doesn't touch without permission.” When he grasped her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, the suggestive caress sent a tingle through her. “But I enjoy having your hands on me too much to object. For now.”

“For now?”

He threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “I think, eventually, I will enjoy reprimanding you just as much.

Your ass turns such a pretty pink.”

Before she could speak, he gave her a hard kiss and released her.

She stared at him, the sheer heat his words had engendered burning away any sarcastic response.

Smiling, he took her hand and started walking again. “The stage is down this way.”

“Simon. We're not dating.”

“We will.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip, and the carnal look in his eyes dried up all the saliva in her mouth.

She looked away, concentrating on her walking. I'm not attracted. Really . And that's like claiming that Lois Lane never really wanted Superman. Nonetheless, remember rules one and two from the goals list . “Simon. I appreciate the trouble you've taken, but I'm not interested in…in anything more.”

She winced at the thoughtful look in his eyes. Despite the noisy crowd and the brightly colored booths, all his attention was now focused on her, nowhere else, with an unsettling concentration.

“You're attracted to me,” he said so confidently that she glanced down to see if she wore a sign saying I WANT YOU. “And you're not involved a relationship.

So…?”

Obstinate, wasn't he? “I was married for twenty years. The last few years, we just tolerated each other until our children left the nest, and when they did, we got a divorce. I promised myself I'd never get trapped like that again.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Being married…” It had been like wading through a dark swamp, unable to find a way out. “I have a new life. I'm free to explore and experience everything I missed. That includes a variety of men.”

“Ah.”

Obstinate, wasn't she? Simon shook his head.

She lifted her stubborn chin and lengthened her stride, as if she could shake him so easily. She couldn't. Not after the way his body and heart had leaped when he'd seen her in the crowd. He stepped around a bare-chested gay couple dancing to Combichrist and rejoined her.

Unfortunately, he understood how escaping a cage might make a woman wary about being caught again. It would take some clever bread crumbs to lure her closer.

And he wanted her closer. Even if he disregarded that unexpected connection from before, she attracted him. She'd helped his son at the riot and rescued the old woman with no hysterics or screaming, just compassion and practicality. And she could have claimed involvement with someone but hadn't. She might not share her emotions freely, but what she shared would be honest. And that was as unusual as it was appealing.

He wanted her in his life, wanted to see if they matched as well as he believed.

No, he wouldn't let her run away, not if the need to explore proved to be her only objection. He smiled down at her, thinking of how she'd look cuffed to his bed while they…explored. But deeply held opinions rarely changed with logical arguments. So for now, his plan must be to keep her near, and he just happened to have the perfect way to do that.

As they neared the stage, he stopped. “Rona, this coming Saturday, I'm holding my annual Christmas party for those in the lifestyle.” He touched her cheek and caught a trace of her citrus and vanilla scent—tangy and sweet, well suited to her.

“I'd be pleased if you'd come. You will meet plenty of unattached doms.”

“Really? Even though I said no to…seeing you?”

“Even though.” He wanted to see what they had in common—and what they'd fight about. He already knew she'd be an interesting opponent, forthright and clever. He might deliberately lose an argument just to hear her husky laugh. Then again, considering her obvious intelligence, she'd probably win all by herself. He pulled an invitation from his wallet. “Since you're new, I'll make sure you don't get in over your head.”

“Well. Thank you. I'll think about it.” From the flare of excitement in her eyes, he knew she was hooked. He'd have time to convince her to give them both a chance at happiness. And those soft curves would feel wonderful under him.

Smiling at that thought, he handed her the bag containing the rabbit vibrator he'd bought. “I got this for you, lass.”

“You what?”

“I would have enjoyed showing you how it works, but since you prefer otherwise, you may simply think of me when you use it. Tonight.” Before she could recover from the shock, he kissed her lightly on her soft, soft lips and walked away.

The lunch crowd in the hospital cafeteria had thinned quite a bit by the time Rona managed to cut free of her phone and e-mails. The scattered tables held a spattering of nurses in scrubs, med students, two surgeons between cases, and a few visitors. She set her tray on the small table and sat down across from her friend. “I hate hump day.”

Brenda laughed and dipped a french fry in ketchup. “Me too. Speaking of humping, did you know that Charles Madigan got a divorce?”

“Really?” Rona dumped a sparing amount of ranch dressing on her healthy salad. Dieting was tiresome, but the anticipation of baring…everything…this weekend proved more than sufficient incentive.

“Makes good money, our age, single, gorgeous. Why aren't you looking interested?”

“He's all right, but I want…more.”

Brenda frowned. “ More like in that bar you went to?”

Rona laughed at the disapproving tone. “Uh-huh.”

“And how the hell do you figure on finding…more? You got a plan mapped out, Ms. Obsessive-Compulsive.”

“Thanks a lot. You know, if you don't write down what you want, you'll never know if you get there.” Rona nudged aside the insipid-looking excuse for a tomato, then speared some romaine leaves. “Actually, a man invited me to a party.” She snickered. “A more party.”

“Oh…my.” The brunette pointed with a french fry. “Did you meet him at that club?”

“Yes.” The memory of Simon's implacable voice threatening to chain her legs apart sent heat through her body in a mighty wave. Knowing she'd turned red, Rona lowered her head and poked at her salad. “And again at a street fair.” Where he bought me a vibrator. And told me to think of him while using it … Oh, she certainly had. The jerk had known she would.