Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

Lights across the water flickered on as twilight settled in. Tail wagging, Butler trotted in from the backyard, never one to miss a chance at tidbits from the table.

Alex took a bite of stir-fry, and his eyebrows rose. “This is excellent.”

His compliment created a warm glow inside her. The housekeeper came in every other day to clean and always left something in the refrigerator to heat up for supper—and wasn't that so cool?—but Mac enjoyed creating meals, especially here, where fresh fish and vegetables abounded. And she did make a hell of a stir-fry, if she said so herself.

“Who is Jim?” Alex asked.

“He owned the vet clinic where I worked.” He saved me, loved me like a daughter, taught me how honest and caring some men could be . She swallowed. “When he died, I had nothing to keep me in Oak Hollow.” Except his house, and that would go up for sale as soon as she had somewhere else to live.

Alex studied her for a second. “That's why you're relocating?”

“Pretty much.” Emptiness welled up inside her as she remembered the aching loneliness after Jim's death. But being with Alex had lightened the desolation, at least for now. She needed to remember what he'd said—that he didn't want a girlfriend, just the appearance of one—and not let herself get used to being with him. Her eyes burned suddenly, and she slid off her chair to pet Butler until the need to cry had passed.

When she returned to the table, she saw the curiosity in Alex's eyes. But anything she told him about Jim and Mary would open the way to more questions, and Alex would find out about her past. She couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face. The past needed to stay in the past. “I—”

“What made you pick Seattle?”

She blinked at the unexpected question. “Uh, I…I heard some people talking about it once.” At a vet convention. Mac had waited in a corner while Ajax rounded up business, and she'd overheard some Seattleites talking about home. It had been her last night as a whore; maybe that's why she'd remembered their conversation so well: “ Lakes and mountains and the ocean. I didn't want anywhere dry and brown, and I didn't want to shovel snow anymore .”

Alex grinned at her mock shiver.

“I wanted to try a city.” Big enough to get lost in. As far away from Iowa as possible, without drowning in the Pacific . She smiled at Alex. “So…you want to watch a movie tonight, or are you returning to work?”

“A movie.” A corner of his mouth curved up. “Since it's my turn to decide, we'll watch Patton . Or possibly The Thin Red Line .”

“Frak that. It's not your—”

“I keep forgetting to ask,” he interrupted. “What is frak ?”

Could anyone have lived in this century and not seen BattlestarGalactica? Really? She eyed him uneasily. Maybe he was really an alien, here to take over the world and—

“MacKensie, pay attention. Frak?”

“Uh, right. From BattlestarGalactica , the new one. They used it in place of…uh… fuck .”

“Ah.” His finger rubbed his lips, and she could see him smothering a smile, undoubtedly because of her red face.

Considering all the times he'd…fucked…her, why should the word be so hard to say? She frowned at him. “Anyway, it was a TV series. And when it came out on DVD, Jim and I watched it again.” She smiled at the memory. “God, I love that show.”

“I'll add it to the library, then.”

She jerked her gaze back to him. “You will not.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don't like science fiction, so you'd be buying it for me. And you're not going to do that.”

One eyebrow tilted up. “I'm not?”

“No.” Maybe she was being rude, but still…

“Do you not like presents, little cat?” he asked softly.

“I—” She pushed back from the table and stepped around Butler to walk across the room and back. “You see, presents are—should be reciprocal in a way. But I don't have any money, so I can't give you anything back, and just taking things makes me feel”— like a whore —“useless. And greedy.”

He had that observant look in his eyes again, that stillness in his body that showed he'd focused totally on her. But then he smiled and said gently, “All right, sweetheart. I can see how you might feel that way.” He held his hand out to her, one of those silent commands that tilted her world.

How did he do this to her? Even when he wasn't being a Dom, he was. She put her hand in his.

And then he grinned. “So since we don't have any good science fiction, we're watching Patton tonight.”

“We are not.” Their ongoing fight. Chick flicks and science fiction versus his war movies. Actually, she loved having someone with whom to watch a movie, even if the movie sucked. Not just watch either. Since their time at the beach, the movies had acquired “intermissions.” He'd taken her in front of the fireplace, bent over the arm of a couch, and while straddling his legs on the chair. If she gave him any trouble—or if the mood struck him—she might find her hands bound.

Or ordered to stay in one place without moving. God, that had been so difficult—lying on her back, legs open, hands over her head while he… She swallowed and caught the simmer of heat in his eyes.

“I want to see Sleepless in Seattle . It seems only appropriate considering I'm living here,” she said, ignoring the way her voice had turned husky. “We'll flip for it.” She pulled away and carried her dishes out to the kitchen.

Alex set his dishes beside hers on the counter. Then firm hands closed around her waist, and he set her on the kitchen island.

“Hey.” She frowned at him. “What—”

Clever fingers unbuttoned her shirt. “I want dessert before my movie.”

She'd fallen asleep, curled in his lap, head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, enjoying the light citrus fragrance of her hair and the heavier scent of hot, raunchy sex. The movie she'd chosen continued to play, but he'd muted the sound when she drifted off.

Interviewing for jobs must be hard work. Probably living with him was harder.

She'd come a long way in the past week. She didn't flinch away from his touch now, and her responses during sex were uninhibited and responsive. God, he enjoyed making love to her.

But holding her like this, teasing her during their meals, waking with her in his arms, pleased him just as much. In fact, he couldn't envision the house without her in it. Butler made good company, and listened attentively to Alex's complaints about idiotic managers, but he couldn't come up with suggestions as MacKensie did. Or laugh when Alex told of the latest fiasco. As a dining companion, Butler left something to be desired too.

He shook his head slightly. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't want a relationship, dammit. He liked his life, his solitude, and having his house to himself. Or he had.

His little sub wouldn't be leaving right away, though. He'd talked her into staying at least a couple of more weeks, or until she secured a position. Her reluctance had bothered him, until he realized it had nothing to do with him but originated in her hatred of being under obligation to someone. To anyone.

She certainly had an abundance of pride. In many ways, she reminded him of his mother, and wasn't that an appalling thought?

Mac stirred and murmured, and he realized she'd stiffened. Her head thrashed back and forth, and the high whimpers she gave sounded like those of a child. Her hands opened and closed.

“MacKensie, wake up,” he said, keeping his voice low. Nonthreatening. “Wake up now.”

Her eyes opened. She blinked up at him, then looked around the room. “Not a closet,” she whispered.