Chapter 13
Derek rolled over, sleep evading him in the darkened room.
Her message pushed him to change his mind, change the way he thought his life
should run, and change the way he responded to her easy sensuality. But then
the urge to run, to leave town until the club was complete, filled his head.
He never should’ve taken on her training. Mark was an ass
and had no right to force the issue. Derek balled up the pillow and crammed it
behind his head, propped up in the dark bedroom while he put off sleep.
What the hell had happened to his backbone when Mark
insisted he train her? Snapping back and standing his ground would’ve been the
best option. Now he was stuck.
Or was he?
Most of the work left to do at the club was minor. In the
morning, he’d tell Mark he had an offer to assist in a club in Vegas and bail
for a few weeks. Mark would finish Joanne’s training and when the club opened,
she’d be ready and he could watch from the sidelines. Just like he had for the
last few years.
He rolled over in bed and relaxed, his body sprawling in the
cool sheets. The shadows moved in the hall, floorboards squeaking, night noises
settling in for the duration. A breeze floated across his chest, warm,
delicate, like the whisper of early spring in Galveston when the water heated
and the sand began to bake. His body baked, too, ached with need, and
unfulfilled desire.
Slipping into the room, her soft footsteps brought her to
him.
Her hair was up, piled on her head, exposing the delicate
column of her throat. Long bare legs were showcased by her standing submissive
posture, her hips barely covered by the oversized shirt she wore.
His shirt, he realized. He must have left it in the club and
she’d taken it home. Was she feeling the urges he had, the pull of attraction?
Did she want him as deeply as he craved her?
Her hands moved up her body, cupping what he knew to be
full, rounded breasts, and his mouth watered with the need to taste, to suckle,
and to nip until she cried out. He wanted her begging for more.
She shouldn’t be here chipping away at his reservations, his
need to control his body and preserve his memories. When her hands lifted to her hair and removed
the combs, all the air in his chest left in a rush. Russet locks tumbled free
and he was on his feet, ready for whatever she offered.
She moved to within inches of his chest and he reached for
her hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging her closer. The feel of her
body against his fueled his need to possess.
“Remove the shirt.”
Her fingers went immediately to the buttons and in moments
the shirt was a pool of gray on the floor. He cupped her breast, the feel of
her nipple pressing against his palm a heady reminder of her submission at the
club.
“Why are you here, Joanne?”
He had to hear the words, wanted her submission and her
heart.
“I’m here for you, Master.”
