Authors: Eve Berlin
“Consider it done.”
Mischa smiled at Dylan. “You’re a doll. Oh, calamari! I’m starved.”
Connor let out a long breath when food was laid on the table and they were all distracted. He didn’t want to think too much about Mischa returning to San Francisco. Or what would happen—or what wouldn’t happen—when she came back to Seattle regularly.
No expectations. Wasn’t that what they’d agreed on? Why the hell couldn’t he stop wondering? And wasn’t wondering a mere step away from
expecting
?
Mischa felt Connor tense beside her, wondering what was wrong with him. She was having a good time, and he knew Alec and Dylan—he should be as much at ease with them as she was. The Japanese beer was good, the tempura-fried calamari even better. And better still, the promise of some amazing sex later, as always. What was going on with him?
She turned her head, trying to read his expression as he stared at Alec, who was staring back at him. Men! Impossible to decipher. She decided to give up and return her attention to the meal.
During dinner Connor finally seemed to relax a bit as talk turned to the upcoming wedding, mutual friends due to arrive for the event, and why Dylan and Alec wanted to skip the traditional wedding shower and bachelor party.
“Mischa, come with me to the ladies’ room?” Dylan asked once the plates had been cleared.
“Sure, hon.”
“Why can’t women go to the bathroom by themselves?” Alec asked, standing as Dylan got out of her chair.
Connor did the same when Mischa stood, and she had to admit to herself once again how much she loved these old-world manners she saw in the truly dominant men.
“We have to disappear once in a while so you guys will remember to appreciate us,” Dylan said.
“I always appreciate you, baby,” Alec told her, adoration for his future bride clear on his face.
Dylan grinned at him, leaned in to give him a kiss while Mischa’s stomach began to churn. Would Connor appreciate her more once she’d returned to San Francisco? How screwed up was that? That she’d have to leave the damn state before he’d miss her.
And why did she have to care so much?
“Come on, Misch.”
She shook her head, trying to calm her wandering thoughts as she followed Dylan toward the back of the restaurant. The restroom was as sleek as the rest of the place, with bamboo-covered walls and an elegant lounge area. Dylan grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit down on a black leather love seat.
“Mischa, what is going on with you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you failed to notice Connor glowering all through dinner.”
“He did seem a little wound up tonight, but I don’t know what it was. Things have been good with us. Really great, actually. Maybe he’s just having a rough night, or there are some issues with his work. Honestly, I’m trying not to trip on it too much. I make myself crazy enough over him as it is.”
“Why are you getting crazy if things have been good between you?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t know…maybe because things
have
been so good.” She stopped, biting her lip for a moment. “Sorry. I know that doesn’t make much sense. I just…I don’t like to think about me going home and both of us just moving on as if nothing has happened. I can’t wrap my head around that.”
“Because?”
“Because…” She had to stop again, blow out a long breath. “Because something
has
happened.
Is
happening. This was supposed to be fun. And it has been, in spades. But it wasn’t supposed to be anything else. Anything
more
.”
“Misch, what are you trying to say?”
“That I’m…having feelings for Connor. And I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t really want to. This is
so
not what I need right now.”
“Maybe it is,” Dylan said quietly.
Mischa shook her head. “No, it’s not. How can it be? I’m opening a new business, and that is no small feat. There will be months of planning and interviews and building permits, then trying to promote the new shop, attract a clientele. Not to mention preparing my San Francisco shop for me to start splitting my time between cities. I’ll have to look for an apartment eventually. There are a thousand things to do, things I
must
focus on. God, the other day I was late to a meeting with Greyson because
I was lounging around in bed with Connor. Grey made some snide remark about how apparently I’ll forget all about the business now that I have a boyfriend and even though he was joking, that really hit me where it hurts. And Connor is not
even
my boyfriend. Not by a long shot.”
“Misch, no one doubts your devotion to your work.”
“Well, it made me doubt it myself. For a minute, anyway.” She shook her head, frustrated that she was having so much trouble expressing herself. “I mean that it made me recognize that I
am
distracted. And I can’t afford to be. I don’t have time for this!”
Dylan put a hand on her arm, gave it a small squeeze. “Okay, hon. Calm down.”
“Don’t you see, Dylan? I can’t fucking calm down. That’s the problem.”
She wiped a stray tear from her cheek with an impatient hand, watching confusion pass over Dylan’s face. They were both quiet for several moments.
“Wow,” Dylan said finally.
Mischa sniffed. “Wow what?”
“You love him.”
Mischa covered her eyes with her hands. “Please don’t say it,” she whispered.
Dylan’s hands covered hers as she pulled them from her face. “Mischa, it’s okay.”
“It’s not. It is absolutely not okay. I have a career to think of. I have a life.”
“And you can’t have those things and love, too?”
Mischa just shook her head helplessly.
“I have all of those things.”
“That’s you,” she protested.
“Why do you have to be any different? Misch, I understand
how you feel. I was in the same place not all that long ago—you know that. Until I found Alec. Until loving him made me realize that
he
was what I’d been missing. That loving him was what I’d been missing.”
“I don’t think that’s who I am, Dylan, and it’s certainly not who Connor is. We’ve been clear with each other from the start. I can’t expect him to change. That’s not fair. It’s not realistic.”
“The way he looked when you mentioned Greyson’s name tonight tells me something different.”
“What look?”
“Like he was ready to tear Greyson’s head off and eat it with his sushi.”
That made her smile a little. “He did not.”
“Okay—maybe it wasn’t that bad. Still, the man was jealous.”
“Jealousy doesn’t equal love.”
Dylan shrugged. “Maybe not. But it also doesn’t equal a guy who doesn’t care.”
“It’s just a sense of possession. Isn’t that a part of the dominant and submissive thing?”
“Yes, to some extent. But when a man feels that you’re
his
, well, that’s a whole different story.”
“He’s never said I was
his
.”
“He’s thinking it.”
“How can you be so sure about that?”
“I’ve seen that look before. On Alec. On a dozen other men, within the BDSM scene and out of it. I was writing about it even before I experienced it for myself.”
“I don’t know, Dylan. I don’t know what he’s feeling. It’s confusing. Because even if I did know, I sure as hell don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I can have this, do you understand what I mean? And wanting it if Connor doesn’t is foolish. Dangerous.”
“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Misch? I won’t say it’s easy, but I’m telling you it is absolutely worth it.”
“I don’t know. Despite your surety about love I just can’t grasp it. All I feel is the danger, and none of the joy that’s so apparent with you and Alec.”
All she knew was that loving Connor meant her whole life, everything she’d worked so hard for, could crumble beneath the crushing blow of him turning away from her.
But she couldn’t turn away from Connor. Not yet. She had to find some way to handle her feelings, to stay with him as long as she could. To ignore the fact that there was a finite ending to what they had.
She swallowed hard, trying to get her throat to work past the tight lump in it.
“I just need to gather my strength,” she told Dylan. “To continue on as I always have. That’s the only option for me.”
Dylan frowned. “Okay, hon. If that’s how you want to handle things, I’m behind you, no matter what. But I do wish you’d think about it.”
“I appreciate it, Dylan—everything you’re saying. But I’ll do better if I stop thinking so much. I really will. Okay?”
“Yes, of course. Okay.”
Dylan gave her arm another squeeze. It was meant to reassure her, Mischa knew. But it felt too much like the dull squeezing of her heart as she swallowed down the rising pain, the emotion that threatened to choke her if she dared to really let it out, even for a moment.
She had to stop thinking about any possibility of a future with Connor. She had to focus on her work, the one thing that had always saved her. She was used to it, focusing on work. Getting all of her self-worth through her career as an artist, her other career as a writer. Being a successful business owner. That was what
made sense to her. What she wasn’t used to, what didn’t make sense to her, was being in love.
After dinner they stayed and drank tea and talked for another hour, giving Mischa time to calm down. She was glad she had a better handle on herself by the time they’d said good night to Alec and Dylan and were riding back to Dylan’s place in his big black Hummer. They were both quiet on the short drive—the muffled splashing of rain on the tires, the gentle surge of the windshield wipers, soothing her.
Once inside the apartment Connor helped her out of her damp coat and took off his own, and she hung them up before they moved into the living room. There was a distant rumble of thunder as they sat on the green suede sofa.
“Do you need anything to drink?” he asked her, ever the gentleman, even in her own temporary home.
“No thanks, I’m good. What about you?”
“I don’t need anything more to drink; I must have had an entire pot of tea.”
“I meant, are you good, Connor?” she asked quietly, not wanting to startle him, but needing to know.
Needing
, which she didn’t like at all, but the feeling that something was wrong was too strong to ignore.
“What? Sure, I am. Fine.”
“It’s just that you seemed pretty wound up at dinner.”
“Did I, now? Well, work has been a bit rough. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m a little behind on my next project, is all.”
“Do you need to go? I don’t mean to keep you from working. I know it’s important. You don’t need to stay.”
She started to get to her feet, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.
“I don’t need to leave, Mischa. I’ll stop brooding over my work; you don’t need to worry about it. I have everything under control.”
She settled back into her seat. “You always do.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “I wasn’t being facetious, Connor. It’s true, you are always in control.”
“Are you saying you don’t like it?”
“No. You know I do. And I don’t mean just the sex, the power play. I like that you’re someone who’s in command of his life. It’s the way I like to run my life, too. Organized. Career-driven.”
“Yeah. So, what are you leaving out?”
“Why do you think I’m leaving something out?”
“I’m trained to read the subtext, aren’t I? And there’s more beneath the surface with you.”
His eyes were gleaming in the lamplight. Watchful, as always, but she could still swear there was something else going on in there.
“Isn’t there with everyone?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. But something specific is going on with you right now.”
“And there isn’t with you?”
He was quiet a moment, a frown passing over his lush mouth. “Touché,” he said softly.
Despite their uneasy banter she was acutely aware of the heat of his body next to hers. No matter what she was angsting over—and she had to admit she was, too often these days—that part never went away. And now, when he was a little uptight, maybe even a little angry—even though
she
was a little angry—she felt the fire of his presence down to her bones.
“Connor, I don’t mean to…Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing. Annoying you. Making you mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
He reached out, tucked her hair behind her ear. A small shiver went through her. His gaze met hers, a smoky green in the soft light coming from the floor lamp, the reflection of streetlights gleaming through the bank of tall windows. There was a tenderness there, a bit of rawness. Maybe a little of the anger—or whatever it was—glittering in his steady gaze. And so it surprised her when he pulled her in hard, crushing her breasts against the solid planes of his chest, and kissed her. Surprised her again when his kiss was fierce enough to take her breath away.
The man was all contradictions, which confused and enticed her at the same time. But in moments, she was unable to think about it. To think about anything. He undressed her quickly, with rough hands, never taking his mouth from hers. Her dress slipped from her shoulders, then her bra. He slid the fabric from beneath her body, taking her panties along, too. And still kissing her, he unzipped her boots, pulled them off, leaving her in nothing but her thigh-high knit tights.
He was still kissing her as he undressed himself, pausing to pinch her nipples, to reach under her and squeeze her bottom just a little too hard as his clothes came off. When they were both naked he pressed her down into the cushions and immediately lowered his head as he held her down, one hand on her belly, one on her thigh, spreading her open for him.
He dipped his head and went right to work, taking her clit into his mouth, sucking hard.
“Jesus, Connor. Give me a second to…oh…”
His tongue was swirling on the tip of her clitoris. She felt that small nub of flesh going hard, growing longer as he sucked her into his hot mouth.
He was still holding her down, and when she tried to shift position he held her harder, not allowing her to move. And there
was not one part of her that wanted to rebel against his hold on her. She was loving every moment of it, needing to be taken over by him, to lose herself in it.