“Submissives need to give just as much as Doms need to protect.” Did Rainie find it easy to leave because she didn’t believe he needed her? He closed his eyes.
She was a woman who loved fulfilling the desires of everyone and everything around her—pets, friends, Doms. And her lover hadn’t let her do anything for him. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
There was more to her moving away though—a compulsion he didn’t understand.
But in order to get through to her, he’d have to show her he needed her…and that he’d fight to keep her with him.
* * * *
On Tuesday, a cold snap had blown off the Gulf, giving a bite to the moist air. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the maples as Rainie left her car and joined Jake in front of a popular Irish bar. She glanced up at him, relieved the strain on his face had faded.
The last few hours had been bad. Actually, they’d had an easy day until late afternoon when a cop arrived carrying a bloody mess. Saxon and Jake had done their best to save the animal. According to Ceecee, they’d tried long after most vets would have given up, but the dog had been too badly injured.
When Jake had come out of surgery, face set with misery, Rainie’s eyes had filled with tears. He’d started to turn away, then hesitated and said, “I know after-hours isn’t in your job description, but I’m… Would you come with me for a drink? For company? I…need you.”
He needed her. She could do something to help. Despite her sadness, her heart had been lightened.
When they reached the bar, Jake pulled open the door and smiled down at her. “Thanks for taking the time to join me.”
She fought back her first response, “I’d go with you anywhere,” and offered instead, “You’re welcome.”
The crowded bar smelled of beer and frying food, with hints of cologne and perfume. From the corner dedicated to darts came a light thunk, then high-pitched cheers and groans.
Hand on Rainie’s arm, Jake checked for a table.
She waited silently, cherishing even the smallest impersonal touch of his hand, storing memories for a future without him.
Jake ran his knuckles over her cheek. “You know, you’re excellent company, even when quieter than normal.” The sun lines at the corners of his eyes creased. “Maybe because you’re quieter than normal.”
Jostled out of her melancholy, she stared at him. “You’re-you’re insulting me? I was kind enough to join you and—”
A roar went up from the crowd watching basketball on the bar television. Rainie glanced over, noted the scoreboard—Miami Heat in the lead—and added her own, “Woot! Woot! Woot!” She was totally going to win her five-dollar bet with Saxon.
“There’s a table.” Taking her hand, Jake tugged her after him. His grip was strong. Warm. Familiar. And she wanted to hold on forever.
As he threaded their way through the rough-hewn tables, she smiled at various acquaintances. To her dismay, Mandy and Jefferson from her high school sat at one table. Her stomach clenched. Did they have to turn up everywhere?
It was as if they were walking, talking reasons of why she had to leave the Tampa/St. Pete area.
Then Jake stopped at an empty booth far too close to them. Dammit. She should have told Jake to pick a different bar. This one was far too popular with the locals.
Since flinging her arms out and screaming at the heavens, “Just shoot me now,” wouldn’t help—no matter how satisfying—she simply took a seat across from him. At least her back was to the rest of the room.
“What can I get you folks?” A waitress in jeans and a skimpy top appeared.
“Rainie?” Jake prompted.
“A Frozen Mudslide.” To Jake’s raised eyebrows, she explained, “It’s like getting chocolate, dessert, and alcohol all at once. Good for the end of a crap day.”
When his eyes darkened, she regretted her words. Why had she been stupid enough to remind him of the dog’s death?
But his smile reappeared. “Women and their chocolate.” He nodded at the barmaid. “Make that two.”
“Won’t work for you, dude,” Rainie said. “You see, the soothing effect of chocolate is diminished by too much testosterone—and I think you’re at toxic levels.”
Jake snorted.
As the giggling barmaid left, Rainie realized something. “You let me order. Without interfering or taking over.”
“Ah.” He leaned back comfortably, his long legs stretched under the table, catching Rainie’s ankles between them. She tried to move, but his legs trapped her. And her hormones burst out of the gate like racehorses when the bell sounded.
“I like being in control for sex, sweetling,” he said easily. “However, I don’t need to be in charge all the time.”
“Unless I try to put mushrooms in your eggs?” Her last morning at his house, he’d delivered a stinging swat to her ass as well as a lecture on why fungi were not to be confused with food.
His grin flashed in the dim bar lights. “’Tis most distressing when a subbie tries to poison her Dom.”
Her Dom. He never would be again. “Mushrooms or not, making breakfast is not sexual.”
“Sure is. Whenever a female is in a man’s house, it’s all about sex. Showering is sexual. Meals are sexual.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s a guy thing.”
“Like I said, toxic amounts of testosterone.” No joke. Every moment in his house had been infused with anticipation of being ravaged on the couch or fucked on a counter…and she’d loved it.
To Rainie’s relief, the barmaid interrupted the conversation to drop off their drinks.
Jake eyed his suspiciously. After a drink, he swirled the glass and drank again. “Good stuff.”
Rainie smiled. “Thanks.” She took a sip, closed her eyes, and moaned appreciation for the sublime combination of chocolate ice cream, Baileys, and Kahlua.
When she opened her eyes, his gaze met hers—hot with lust.
Her expressions of enjoyment stopped abruptly.
But, after clearing his throat, he returned to their conversation. “Seems like your Shadowlands notes said you wanted a part-time Dom. Not a full-time one.”
No, this would not be a topic they’d discuss. Not when the subject increased her sense of loss. “Nothing I’m going to worry about now, since it’ll be a while before I get settled in and find a new club.”
The muscles in his jaw grew taut, and his eyes turned an ice green.
He still wanted her to stay. The realization tightened her throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She forced her lips to tilt up. “So, what do you think of Miami Heat’s chances against Orlando?”
“I think you are changing the subject,” he said softly. “We’re going to—”
A man crowded their table. “Rainie.”
Rainie looked up. “Bart? Aren’t you supposed to be in Europe?”
“Yes.” He almost spit the word. His stocky frame was rigid with a fury she hadn’t seen since one of their truckers committed a hit and run. “I had to cancel our plans…to come back and save my business.”
Cory must have made a mess of things. No surprise there. “I’m sorry Cory—”
He slapped the table so violently the glasses rattled. “I hired you when you had no references. Gave you a good salary. Responsibilities. Trusted you.”
Wait…he wasn’t mad at Cory, but at her. Her breath clogged in her chest. “Yes, you did. And I worked my butt off for you.”
He leaned in, glaring into her face. “Sure you did.”
“That’s enough.” Jake rose.
Bart ignored him. “You walked out the door the minute I needed you. No notice. Left my boy in the lurch.”
When Jake stepped between them, Bart made a disgusted sound. “You aren’t worth yelling at.”
He stomped across the room, pushing people out of his way.
Rainie stared after him. But, but, but…
“Rainie.” Jake sat next to her and tucked her into his side. “Easy, sweetling.”
Bart disappeared somewhere in the room. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. The music and conversations were drowned out by the clamor of pain in her head. In her heart. He thought she’d walked out on him. He’d yelled at her. She put her hands over her mouth to hold back the sobs.
“Shit.” With gentle fingers against her cheek, Jake forced her to look at him. “Baby, I’ve seen you remove the hide from two old dragons. This was just one man, and he was wrong. Why didn’t you lay the truth on him?”
“He is”—her voice broke—”he was a friend. Gave me a job. Trusted me. Just like he said.” Self-loathing poured blackness through her veins. “I should have tried harder to work with Cory.”
“Rainie, his son attacked you. You didn’t walk out.”
“Oooo, is the whore crying?” The whisper came from the nearby table of classmates.
Rainie stiffened as the comments grew louder. “Look, Sheffield’s got it bad. Is he pussy-whipped or what?”
She tried to pull away. Jake shouldn’t hold her. Shouldn’t—
His head tilted, and he scowled. His arm was an unmovable iron bar around her.