Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

“Yes.”

And wasn't he just being a world of help in this conversation? “Then aren't the reasons for my being here—living here—gone?”

“Ah.” Firm fingers pushed her hair away from her face, raised her chin. “Do you want to leave?”

Just looking at his hard cheekbones, the sun lines beside his eyes, his lips, which held no smile, made her heart quiver, made her want to plaster herself against him. Instead she gave him a nasty look. “My question came first.”

He laughed, and then his gaze turned serious. “Stay, little vet.”

The words made her heart turn over.

He finished. “Let's see where this goes.”

It wouldn't go too far; she knew that. He was rich; she was poor. High society: ex-whore. Stable: neurotic. But for now, there was no place in the entire world that she'd rather be than here in his arms.

Late the next afternoon, Mac edged in the door, juggling her bundles, only to have everything drop except the one thing that might have survived a spill. “Frak, frak, frak.” A bark came from the back of the house and then scrabbling sounds as Butler charged toward the foyer to greet her.

To top off the wreck of her day, she heard footsteps. Alex was home.

And this wasn't her home. What was I thinking?

Her stomach sank. He'd probably order her right out of his house. The clawing worry in her stomach duplicated the tiny claws digging into her forearm. The kitten had seen Butler.

“Easy, kitling,” she murmured. “I don't think he eats cats.” But she didn't know, now did she? “Butler,” she said firmly. “Behave.” She turned so the cat was out of the dog's sight and vice versa.

Alex walked around the corner with that easy grace and power, and her heart did that funny dip like it did every time she saw him. Maybe she had a heart condition.

“How did the day go?” he asked; then his eyes narrowed, and he moved forward. “What's wrong, little vet?”

Caught.Caught dead to rights . When she was a kid, she'd rescued a half-starved puppy and brought it to the foster home. Arlene had thrown it out. “ This is my home, not yours .” That night, Mac had sneaked out and found the puppy still in the front yard. So little. All bones and big eyes. She'd carried him across town to the animal rescue and cried all the way back. You would think she'd have learned.

Of course, Alex liked animals. Maybe… Her stomach tightened, and she looked down. Anything to avoid his eyes. This was Alex's home. Not hers. If he liked cats, he'd have one.

He huffed a laugh, and she looked up in time to get a firm kiss on her lips. “I'm not sure which of you is shaking harder,” he murmured, disengaging the kitten's claws with an easy competence. “Butler, lie down,” he ordered absently when the dog's approach triggered a tiny hiss.

“I'm sorry,” Mac whispered, looking at the antique furnishings. “It's just for tonight, and then I'll try to find him a home. He was in the middle of Mercer Street, and I couldn't leave him. If you don't want him in the house, then…” Maybe she could sneak him into a motel.

He gave her a puzzled look. “MacKensie, if you could have left a kitten in the middle of the road, then you aren't the woman I thought you were.” He followed her gaze to the antique table. “But if you're going to bring beasties home—and being a vet, you probably can't resist—then we'd better move some of this stuff to the attic.”

The sinking in her chest continued through her whole body until she felt as if she stood in quicksand. “You mean”—she swallowed and stared at the white kitten purring against his chest—“it can stay? Tonight, at least?”

“Of course.” His eyes held both amusement and warmth. “However, if you bring home so many that the house smells like a kennel”—he stepped closer—“I'll have an excellent reason to spank your pretty ass until it's bright pink.”

The wave of heat that seared through her took her by surprise.

His lips curved, and he ran a finger down her cheek. “Maybe I won't wait for an excuse,” he murmured. But then, as if he had an internal switch to turn off his desire, he stepped back and handed her the kitten. “I assume there's kitten chow in your car?”

She nodded mutely and blew out an exasperated breath as he and Butler headed out the door. How come he has a switch and I don't?

Later that evening, Alex leaned on the door frame and grinned. His little sub sat cross-legged on the rug by the fire, introducing the snow-white kitten to the pleasures of string chasing. Three feet away, Butler lay quivering with eagerness to help. The dog and cat had come to a wary understanding after a few altercations. If Butler sniffed too enthusiastically, he'd get scratched. If the kitten pounced on Butler's tail, it now knew an entire dog would try to play. Alex hadn't laughed so hard in a long time.

From the way she'd been holding her ribs, MacKensie hadn't either. She had a lovely laugh when she really let go, uninhibited and joyful, and it pleased him immensely that over the past weeks, her laugh came more easily and had even descended into adorable giggling once or twice.

With a clever move, the kitten captured the string. Thin tail held high with pride, he dragged his prize off behind a chair.

“Supper is ready,” Alex announced.

Mac turned. “You cooked?”

“That's a very parochial attitude,” he informed her. “In this enlightened age, men can and do cook.”

“Uh-huh.” She pushed to her feet. “You might be enlightened—and I'm not too sure about that—but cook?”

“If you must be so literal about it all, Margaret cooked. I heated.”

His insubordinate little sub laughed at him, so he pulled her closer and took her mouth. It softened under his, and a quiver slid through her body. He hadn't forgotten the look in her eyes when he had mentioned spanking her. Perhaps he'd bed the animals down somewhere and then bed MacKensie.

He put a kiss on her forehead and let her go. As they headed to the kitchen, the kitten darted ahead, bursting out of hiding to pounce on shoelaces before scampering away again.

Alex tucked an arm around MacKensie's waist, pulling her closer. “ Stay, little vet ,” he'd said on Wednesday without even thinking. But now that he'd had time to think, he felt the same. Women had come and gone in his life—many women—but apparently he'd been waiting for this wary little sub.

As he started dishing up the food, something stung his calf. He looked down to see the kitten climbing his jeans to get to the food.

MacKensie sputtered out a laugh and disentangled the little guy. Holding him even with her gaze, she frowned into the innocent blue eyes. “You've already eaten. Twice.” Her gaze shifted to Alex, laughter bright in her eyes. “He's obsessed with food.”

Alex held up a tiny piece of crab to the kitten. The food disappeared. The kitten licked Alex's finger clean, then, unsatisfied, sank tiny teeth into his thumb.

Alex yanked his hand away, ignoring the snickering coming from his little sub. He glanced at his thumb. No blood. “Ungrateful feline. You can get your own food next time.” He rubbed the upright ears with a finger and sighed as claws latched onto his sleeve and a pink nose checked his hand for more food. “Definitely obsessed with food.” Alex glanced at MacKensie. “Since we already have a Butler, I suppose this one can be our Chef and hang out in the kitchen all day long.”

She grinned at him. “A chef. Anything to avoid cooking, huh, Sir?”

“You'll suffer for that impertinence, sub,” he growled at her.

No fear appeared in her eyes, just a flash of heat. “Oh dear.”