Savior (An Impossible Novel) (14 page)

He walked me to the door, his hand on the small of my back.  The gentlemanly action contrasted sharply with the dec
idedly ungentlemanly things he had done to me last night.

He leaned into me slowly, and I found myself torn between the desire to bolt and my intense craving to feel his lips on mine.  A knock on the door saved me from my dilemma.  Clayton frowned and then cursed softly when he looked through the peephole.

A deep, masculine voice drifted through the door.  “Come on, Vaughn.  Your shift was supposed to end ten hours ago.”

Clayton jerked the door open irritably.  “What are you doing here, James?”

The man standing in the hallway was gorgeous.  Even though he was a little shorter than Clayton, his broader shoulders made him every bit as imposing.  He was dressed in a sharp suit like the ones Clayton wore, but his appearance was a little rougher around the edges.  His dark, wavy hair curled around his strong jaw, which was covered with stubble.  When he turned his eyes on me, my heart skipped a beat.  They were such a light blue that they were almost silver.  They reminded me of a wolf’s eyes.  I was sure I had seen those eyes somewhere before.

“Do I know you?”  I blurted out.

His smile was enigmatic.  “I don’t believe we’ve met properly.”  He extended his hand for me to shake.  “I’m Agent Smith James.  I’m supposed to be part of your security detail, but Vaughn seems to be determined to keep me chained to my desk.”  He eyed Clayton significantly.  “It’s time for my shift. 
You
can spend the day in the office.”

Clayton glowered at him. 
“Fine.  But you don’t have to be so hands-on.  You’re supposed to be running surveillance from a distance.”

Smith shrugged.  “So are you.  And if stickler Agent Vaughn gets to break the rules, then no one can bitch at me about it this time.  Cheer up.  I brought you coffee.”  He picked a cup from the cardboard tray he was holding and offered it to Clayton.  He winked at me as he handed one to me too.  “He gets pissy if he doesn’t get his fix.”

Clayton took a sip and then grinned ruefully, allowing the taunt to roll off of him.  “The offering of coffee doesn’t excuse your nosiness, but it does help your case.”

“What can I say?  I was curious.  You’ve been keeping her all to yourself.”  He turned his attention back on me.  “How would you like to come to a party at my place tonight?”

“Smith!”  Clayton said sharply, his tone imbued with warning.

“Oh, calm down, Clayton.  You’re invited too.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” Clayton reminded him sternly.

“We will be,” he insisted smoothly.  “Our job is to watch over Rose.  If we’re all together, then we’ll both be watching her.  Besides, you don’t seem to mind mixing work and play these days.”  His eyes glittered, and he smirked at Clayton.

“I would love to come,” I interjected before Clayton could say something snappish.  It didn’t seem he was going to leave me alone anytime soon, and being in a group setting would help me keep him at arm’s length.  And I liked parties.  Having fun would keep my mind off of Greg and off of the tangled situation I had gotten myself into with Clayton.

Smith beamed at me.  “Excellent.”

Clayton sighed, resigned.  “I guess I’m coming too, then.”

Smith clapped him on the shoulder.  “Try not to sound so miserable.  You might even have fun.”  He tugged his sleeve back and glanced at his watch.  “Sorry to tear her away from you, Clayton, but we should probably get going.”

Clayton took me by the shoulders and turned me so that I was facing him.  His expression was regretful, and I couldn’t deny that I felt a pang of unhappiness at the prospect of leaving him.

“Meet me at Blue Café for lunch.”  It wasn’t a request.

I had fallen into his azure eyes, and I spoke before I could think.  “Okay.”

He smiled down at me before planting a swift kiss on m
y forehead.  I was grateful he didn’t try to take my lips in front of Smith.  When he drew away from me, he forcibly turned my body and pushed me towards his friend.

“Get going.  I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”  My eyes widened and I yelped in shock when his hand cracked against my ass.  My cheeks burned as I heard Smith laugh.  The nerve of him!  I had just been relieved that he hadn’t kissed me in front of his friend, but he thought it was okay to
spank
me?!  We were going to have to have a serious talk about boundaries later.  I needed to put the monster back in check.

“Bye, gorgeous!”  He called after me.

I was still too mortified to speak, so I flipped him my middle finger as I stalked away from his apartment, not looking at either man.  Smith just laughed harder.

The fact that my pussy was now burning even hotter than my cheeks did nothing to improve my mood.

I still hadn’t forgiven Clayton by the time I got to Blue early that afternoon.  Not only was I irritated by the fact that he had spanked me in front of his friend, but I was even more maddened by the arousal he had awoken within me that just wouldn’t seem to dissipate.  The soreness of my ass against my desk chair served as a constant erotic reminder of his harsh discipline that had brought me such intense pleasure.  Every time I shifted in my seat, a blush colored my cheeks, and it took all of my willpower to keep my head down and my mouth shut when Cheryl commented on it.

“What’s his name?”  She had asked chattily, as though we were best gal-pals.  I bit my tongue to hold
back the stream of vitriol I wanted to release, but my silence only goaded her on.  “Or don’t you remember?  I guess it gets hard to keep track after a while.”  Her voice was snide.

It was almost painfully difficult to force my lips into some semblance of a smile.  “Did you want me to do the alterations on Miss DeLuca’s dress next?”  Ignoring her poisonous words was my only option.

Now I found myself sitting alone at Blue; Clayton had texted to let me know he was stuck in traffic and running late.  My fingers were itching to sketch, to let some of my pent-up anger and frustration flow out through my pencil.  I gave in to the urge and pulled out my journal, deciding to indulge myself until Clayton arrived.  I fell into my task, allowing the rest of the world to fade around me as I became completely absorbed in the creative process.

“That’s incredible, Rose.”  Clayton’s voice jerked me back to reality, and snapped my journal closed, hiding my drawing from view.

“Hey,” I said quickly.  “What’s up?”  I wanted to divert the conversation away from my sketches.  I never shared my work with anyone.

“I knew
you worked at Ivory, but I didn’t realize you designed some of the clothes there,” he remarked as he settled down across from me.

“I don’t,” I said sharply.  “I just do alterations.”

I was relieved when a waitress interrupted us to take our order, hoping we would move on to a different topic once she left.  But I had no such luck.  Clayton was nothing if not tenacious.

“Why?”  He pressed.

I could feel myself frowning at him.  “Because my bitchy boss would die before she let me design anything for her shop.”

“Then why don’t you quit?  You should be working somewhere where your talent will be appreciated.”  He said it as though it was the simplest thing in the world.  It became clear to me then that he had no concept of being trapped in the lower-class.

“Because I couldn’t afford the fancy degree that would grant me the luxury.”  I was almost snapping at him now.  “Not all of us were handed everything we could ever want on a silver platter.”  I couldn’t hold back the bitter words.

He folded his arms across his chest and fixed me with a stern stare.  “I can’t deny that my parents were able to provide for me.  But I won’t apologize for that, Rose.  And I haven’t had everything handed to me; I’ve made my own way since high school.  A football scholarship paid for my college education, and after I graduated I went to work for the FBI.  I started out at the bottom and worked my way up, just like everyone else.  You don’t get anywhere without working hard and paying your dues.  Not everyo
ne has to face the problems you’ve had to, Rose, but no one’s life is all sunshine and roses.”  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes that made my heart ache.  “And just because I’ve never lived in poverty that doesn’t mean I haven’t been through my own personal version of hell.”

“Clayton, I…”  I hesitated, unsure of what to say.  I suddenly felt like a self-absorbed brat with a chip on my shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  It was wrong of me to assume…”

To my great relief, he didn’t look angry; he was as imperturbable as ever.  Instead, he reached out and took my hand in his.  “I know life has dealt you a pretty shitty hand, Rose,” he said earnestly.  “But you have the talent, brains, and spirit to do anything you put your mind to.  You just have to let yourself believe that.”

No one had ever said anything like that to me before.  My mother had always told
me I was useless, a disappointment.  But, trapped in Clayton’s sincere gaze, I almost
could
believe that I had the power to change my own destiny.

Our intimate moment was interrupted by the arrival of our food.  I shook myself slightly and tucked Clayton’s words away at the back of my mind.  Maybe I could give them further consideration at a later date, but right now I was in no position to be making any changes in my life.  When this mess with the Latin Kings was over and Greg was out of rehab, maybe I would allow myself to contemplate it.

“So,” I said firmly, heralding a subject change.  “Two questions: Why does Smith James have a first name as a last name and a last name as a first name?  And why the hell do you think it’s okay for you to spank me in front of him?”

Clayton shot me a playful smile.  “Sorry, I didn’t quite understand that first question.”

I glared at him.  “I’m really more interested in the answer to the second question, and you know it.”

He held up his hands in a show of capitulation, but he didn’t look at all contrite.  “I told you I have a friend who’s into BDSM.  Smith gets it.  I didn’t mention your name when I started asking him questions
about it, but I don’t think it was too difficult for him to put two and two together.  Besides, he recognized you when he saw your photo in Greg’s file.  It seems he already knew all about your proclivities.”

What?! 
How could he know that?  Oh, God, I hadn’t slept with Smith on a drunken night out and then forgotten him, had I?  That was impossible; I wouldn’t have forgotten a man who looked that divine.  But this morning, I had thought there was something familiar about him…

Those eyes.
 
I
had
seen them before.  Only they had been peering at me out of a black mask that concealed the Dom’s face.

No.  Way.

“Smith is Master S?!  Like,
the
Master S?!”  Everyone on the kink scene in New York knew Master S.  He was the expert, aloof, unattainable Dom that every unattached submissive salivated over. 

Clayton arched an eyebrow at me.  “Please try not to look so excited.  You’re really crushing my ego here.”

I just laughed.  “I think we’ve already established that your ego could use some serious downsizing.  But don’t worry,” I reassured him, “I don’t think he’s all that interested in me.”  I had tried to flirt with Master S – Smith – a few times in the past, but he had never taken the bait.

Clayton frowned.  “So that means
you’re
interested in him?”

I grinned at him.  “You’re awfully cute when you’re jealous.”

To my surprise, he returned my smile, unflappable as ever.  “I think I’m going to add that show of impertinence to our running tally.  With the obscene gesture you gave me this morning, I believe that puts you at six.” 

“Six what?”
  My voice was somewhat shaky as a delicious sense of erotic trepidation began to stir within me.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” he taunted.  His eyes glowed with triumph, satisfied that he had reasserted his control of the situation.

And damn it if he hadn’t.

“But not right now,” he added a touch regretfully.  “You had better get back to work or you’ll tick off your bitchy boss.  Sorry I was so late getting here.”

I glanced at the time on Clayton’s watch and jumped to my feet.  “Crap.”  My sandwich was untouched; I would have to scarf it down while I jogged the three blocks back to Ivory.

“I’ll pick you up at eight and we’ll head over to Smith’s place.”  His habit of informing me what our plans were rather than asking me was infuriating. 
And somewhat sexy.

Damn it.

Chapter 9

“You’re good for him, you know,” Smith informed me casually as he sat down in the armchair across from me.

“What?”  I asked, bewildered.

Clayton had just left my side for the first time in over three hours, and Smith had swooped in as soon as I was isolated.  We had engaged in a few group conversations since I had arrived at his apartment, but now the small gathering was thinning.  And Smith seemed content to leave the few guests left to their own devices so that he could corner me.  I glanced nervously towards the kitchen to see if Clayton was coming back with our drinks.  The prospect of being left alone with Smith without some kind of social buffer was nerve-wracking.  Now that I knew who he was – Master S – I couldn’t help but find him intimidating.  He looked so casual in his dark-wash jeans and grey t-shirt, but I knew how he looked in black leather with a mask concealing half of his face and a whip in his hand.  And that man was kind of terrifying, in a wonderful way.