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“I—
Thank
you. It’s very flattering to be asked. But I—
There’s
someone…”

“Someone
special?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She
pushed back the sadness.

“I
enjoyed tonight very much, but I don’t think I’m ready to step into this again
with a stranger.”

“How about with me?”

The
blindfold was whipped off, a slide of silk against her skin. She blinked
against the sudden, dim light. And she found herself staring into Sean Murphy’s
eyes. Shock speared through her, paralyzing her at first. For a moment she was
so stunned she could do nothing but look at him. All the feelings of anger and
betrayal swept through her again with such force she could barely breathe.

Once
she caught her breath she intently studied him. This wasn’t the Sean Murphy
she’d last seen. His eyes were older, as if they’d seen things in the pit of
Hell. A thin scar ran from his right eyebrow to his cheekbone and a light beard
covered his jawline. She glanced down his body and saw scars everywhere, some
thin, others thicker. She couldn’t imagine what terrible things had happened to
him to cause them.

He
brought one hand up to caress her cheek.

“You
have every right to hate me, Jo. I can imagine what you thought when I left.
What you still think.”

Something
snapped inside her. She wanted to scream, to rage, to pour out all the pain
she’d stored up for four years. She beat at him with her fists.

“Damn
you, Sean. Where did you go? Why did you disappear? Do you know how hurt I was?
How sick with betrayal?”

Sorrow
clouded his eyes.

“I
know. At least, I can imagine.”

“And
your stupid boss wouldn’t tell me anything. He said you’d been transferred to
another office and if you wanted to get in touch with me you would.”

She
pounded on his chest again.

“Damn
you to hell.”

“You
got your wish. That’s exactly where I was.” He shifted his gaze away from her.

Her
heartbeat stuttered at the look in his eyes.

“I
don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Let
me fix that tea for you. Then I’ll tell you my story.”

He
handed her the mug with the hot liquid, wrapped a quilt around her, and sat in
a large chair with her on his lap. He kept touching her.
Her
hair.
Her cheek.
The line of
her neck.
And his raspy, gravelly voice told her what he really did for
a living and what had happened to him.

By
the time he was finished nausea bubbled in her belly while her throat tightened
and her heart ached for what he’d endured. She burrowed against him— chilled
despite the hot tea and quilt. The horrors he described, the years of torture,
were almost too much for her to hear.

“But
after they found you and rescued you, why didn’t you call me?”

“Jo,
I didn’t want you to see me the way I was. I could barely stand up on two feet.
I had wounds that had become infected. I was dehydrated.”

He
closed his eyes.

“For
a while the docs weren’t even sure I’d make it.”

She
leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.

“You
don’t know how glad I am you did.”

“And
you
don’t know how scared I was when I contacted Kira. She hung up on me
when I called. I went to see her and literally forced her to talk to me. I
wanted to do this on your birthday, for obvious reasons.”

“She
must have believed you, if she went to all the trouble of helping you arrange tonight.”

He
grinned at her.

“So,
did I make up for all the lost celebrations? Was this a good birthday present?”

“The best.”

She
snuggled into him.

“You
know, I kept thinking to myself that Kira and Jason must have really prepped
the Dom because he knew all the things I liked.”

“I
might have something else for you if you’re my good girl.”

“Always.”

She
paused.

“So
what happens now? Do you go back to work for the same agency?”

“Hell,
no,” he snorted.

“I
don’t think I’ve got nine lives like a cat. I’m not taking those
kind
of chances again.”

“Then
what will you do?”

He
slightly shifted.

“Remember
my friend Will Pearson?”

“The attorney?”

“Uh huh.
He’s convinced me to dust off my law degree and start practicing law for real.”

“Oh, Sean.”

She
leaned down to set the mug on the floor, leaving her free to tightly hug him
against her.

He
brushed his mouth over hers.

“Does
that yes you gave me four years ago still hold? Still want to marry me?”

“Just
try to get away from me,” she teased.

“In
that case, I have another birthday present for you.”

He
stood her on her feet and went to the table against the wall, picking up a flat
jeweler’s box. She winced as she saw his back, crisscrossed with scars. God
only knew the pain he’d suffered.

Then
she forgot as he carried the box over to her. When he flipped open the cover
she gasped at the sight of the necklace lying there. Thin links of gold were
connected by tiny emeralds set in gold rings. At the center, where it would lay
against her throat, was a larger emerald.
A teardrop.
A collar.
The symbol of ownership.

Tears
filled her eyes. The ring he’d given her the first time he asked her to marry
him had been an emerald. But the collar was so much more, an indication to the
D/s community that she was permanently his forever.

Sean
lifted the trinket out of the box and motioned for her to turn around. The
collar lay smooth and snug against her skin. His fingers trembled as he
fastened the clasp. He kissed her neck and shoulders before turning her to face
him.

“Thinking
about you was the only thing that kept me sane,” he told her. “The only thing
that helped me
bear
the pain. You lived in all my
dreams, Jo.”

“But
now I can live in your days as well as your nights.”

“Always,”
he told her.

His
mouth took hers in a scorching kiss, his tongue a flame heating her mouth. She
sank into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, knowing that she’d hang onto
him for dear life.

Forever.

THE
END

About the Author

Desiree
Holt’s writing is flavored with the rich experiences of her life, including a long
stretch in the music business representing every kind of artist from country
singer to heavy metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public
relations agency handling any client that interested her, many of whom might
recognize themselves in the pages of her stories. She is twice a finalist for
an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award,
winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio
as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the
Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and
is published by five different houses.
Romance
Junkies
said of her work: “Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author
of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”