Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
“Oh, my Cat, it’s one thing to lie to us,” Evelyn said softly, “but you need to ask if you’re lying to yourself.”
Caught.
Catrina looked at her mother over a beer. They were having lunch at the same brew pub where she’d met them three weeks ago. Three weeks that could have been a lifetime. “How do you do that?”
Evelyn nodded. “Mothers know these things.”
“Your eyes give you away,” Milton added. “The way you look away, down and to the left.”
Just like Damien had said.
“Miltey!” Playfully, Evelyn smacked his arm. “Hush! Don’t give away my secrets.”
With a grin, Catrina reached for a roll and tore a chunk off it. “Next you’ll be telling me she doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head.”
“Actually…” Milton nodded. “Those she does have.”
Catrina laughed for the first time since leaving the Den and its enigmatic owner.
She hadn’t left the house in over a week.
And she’d yet to set up a meeting with any of her boys.
Seeing her mother today, even if her appendage was with her, was something Catrina had desperately needed.
“So not hearing from your gentleman friend does bother you?” Evelyn asked.
That was an understatement.
Even the reminder of Damien was a metal band wrapped around her chest, constricting her breathing. “Yes.” She sighed. It relieved her not to pretend otherwise.
“You two were closer than you let on.”
“I was.” She dipped the piece of bread in some butter, but she didn’t eat it. “Obviously he wasn’t.”
“He seemed smitten to me,” Evelyn said. “He hasn’t called at all?”
“He left me alone for a few days, but he’s called twice.”
“And what else?”
She made small circles with her beer bug. “I’ve received a few text messages.” Several, in fact. Every day.
“And?” her mother prompted.
“That’s it. End of story.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“Same thing I always do. Pick up the pieces and continue with my life.”
The truth was, since she left, she’d been lonely and miserable.
Damien Lowell haunted her days and stalked her nights.
She thought about him when she had to pour her own coffee in the morning. And when she masturbated, she fantasized about the way he’d wielded the crop on her body. He even intruded on her bath time when she remembered the way he’d slicked his hands with soap and run them over her body.
“You’re not going to respond to him?”
“No.” For the first few days she’d considered it, but had ultimately decided not to. Being in contact with him would only prolong the amount of time she needed to heal.
There was nothing to be said.
Never again would she compromise on who she was.
It was easier to tell herself that they had shared a fun couple of weeks.
She just wished she could convince herself not to miss his touch, and most of all, their easy, magical intimacy.
“You’re not at all curious about what he might have to say?”
Her mother and Milton were both staring at her expectantly. “No.”
Evelyn patted Catrina’s hand. “I want you to be happy. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” She softened her voice. “It’s okay to take your own advice. Protect yourself.” She shrugged. “But as I said last time we talked, and you’ve told your clients, you’re allowed to fall in love again.”
I wish it were that simple.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t be the woman—submissive—that Damien wanted or needed.
Nor had he even indicated that he’d like anything more than a sexy two-week training session.
As she’d told her mother, the best thing she could do was to move on with her life.
She sighed.
If only convincing her heart to accept her brain’s decision were possible.
“You’re scared of being hurt.”
Realizing her mother was speaking again, Catrina forced herself back to the present moment.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to take a risk. But there’s a lot of joy to be had out there, just past the edge of your comfort zone.” Evelyn looked at her future husband. “No matter what path we choose, there are no guarantees. And there’s always the potential for a broken heart.”
“Unless he did something dastardly?” Milton asked.
Dastardly?“No.” She couldn’t help but smile at the idea and the old-fashioned word. “Nothing like that.”
“He’s not a liar or a cheat? Because if he is, I’ll want a word with him myself.”
As she shook her head, she marveled at her future stepfather, never imagining he’d be so protective.
Maybe her mother hadn’t done so badly, after all.
“Are you trying to avoid failure, my Cat?” Evelyn asked softly.
Catrina sat there, shocked into silence.
Am I?
“Don’t you want to be absolutely certain that you’re not just trying to protect yourself?” Evelyn asked. “At least talk to your young man.” Encouragingly, Evelyn patted Catrina’s hand one last time. “The way he tied his hair back…that was hot.”
“Mother!
“Evelyn!”
Evelyn giggled and sipped her beer. “I’m about to be married, not buried, my darling Miltey. I notice these things.” Then she batted her eyes at him. “Not that there will ever be any other man on the planet for me.”
Until today, the last time her mother had scandalized her this much, Catrina had been in middle school. She shook her head to clear the image. “About your wedding… Tell me all the details. Did you decide on”—she so did not want to hear about the honeymoon—“what flowers you’ll decorate the chapel with?”
Milton signaled to the server that he’d like another beer and patiently sat back to listen while her mother bubbled over with excitement. His obvious fondness and tolerance of Evelyn’s enthusiasm endeared him to Catrina. Maybe Damien had been right about that, too.
After dinner, she drove home, and her phone dinged, signaling another incoming text message. With Damien’s tone.
Resolved, she ignored it.
But still, she hadn’t blocked his number.
And that told her something.
Over the next two weeks, Damien continued to text, and she continued to ignore him.
Since her discussion with her mom, Catrina’s sleep had been choppy, and she was going through her days feeling dazed and out of sorts.
Finally, she’d realized that if she hoped to move on, she had to resume her regular life…even if she would never return to the Den.
For the first time since she’d agreed to submit to Damien, one of her boys was coming over this evening, and she needed to prepare the house and herself.
Even though her heart wasn’t in it.
Catrina had believed that Topping was a way to keep her heart safe.
Now she realized she’d intentionally protected herself by disconnecting from her emotions and what she truly craved—intimacy.
With a deep breath, she shook off the uncomfortable thoughts.
She needed to focus on her upcoming session. After all, an orgasm was an orgasm…even if it wasn’t from the man—the Dom—she truly wanted.
With Damien’s coaching in mind, she’d sent Shaun several emails, building his tension. Yesterday, they’d chatted on the phone, and she’d explored what he liked in greater depth than they ever had before. Before they’d hung up, he informed her how grateful he was.
Two hours before he was scheduled to arrive, she entered her bathroom and pulled out the makeup bag that she used when she wanted to be dramatic.
After not wearing cosmetics or false eyelashes for so long, this seemed unnatural. Getting the dramatic effects right required all of her skill and concentration.
Then she walked into her bedroom to survey the corner of her closet where she kept her BDSM clothing.
She’d grown accustomed to Damien selecting her attire and she agonized over choosing the right outfit.
Instead of a skirt that would leave her ass exposed, she opted for tight leather pants and heeled boots.
Generally, she wore a corset when acting as a Domme.
Tonight, though, she selected a black, button up blouse from the streetwear side of her rack.
Then she surveyed herself in the mirror.
She no longer recognized herself as a Domme. Was I ever truly one? This afternoon, she felt as if she was preparing for a role, nothing more.
Still, Shaun would be arriving soon. And she had expectations to meet.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
He was early, and that was unusual. At least she was ready for him.
When she opened the door, a wall of red roses and dozens of balloons filled her vision.
Slowly, they moved to one side.
Damien.
Larger than life, shadows beneath his eyes, face leaner and gaunter than it had been the last time she saw him, he stood there.
Her legs went out from underneath her.
“Jesus, Catrina. You look beautiful.”
He perused her, taking in her attire.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
Breathless, unable to respond, she pressed a palm to the doorjamb for support.
“I left you a few voicemails, and numerous text messages telling you I’d stay away if you truly never wanted to see me again.” His voice was broken, hoarse. “You never responded, so I’m here.”
“I…”
“Invite me in?” he asked softly.
Her heart fluttering, she frantically shook her head.
No way was she prepared to face him.. And she had company arriving momentarily.
“Or I can stand here and say what I need to say.”
She glanced down the street. A couple walking a dog slowed their approach, watching what was going on. “Your timing is terrible.”
At that moment, a car pulled up to the curb, and Shaun exited.
Slowly, he walked up the sidewalk, and now the couple with the dog watched with active interest.
Not that she blamed them.
Damien held dozens of roses and balloons, and Shaun was wearing skin-tight pants. His blond good looks provided a sharp contrast to Damien’s seductive dark hair and blue eyes.
Swinging his gaze from Damien, back to her, Shaun asked, “Am I interrupting something?”
She shook her head but looked at Damien. “As I said, your timing is terrible.”
Undeterred, he addressed Shaun. “There’s a VIP event at the Den tomorrow night. Not open to the public.”
“Err—”
“I’ll put you on the list. And I’ll make sure you get priority booking for a session with Gregorio. On me.”
She gasped.
“Seriously?” Shaun said with a shrug. “All right. Fucking all right.”
“Now, go.”
Shaun blinked. “Yeah. Sure.” He turned to jog down the couple of stairs leading to the sidewalk, then he stopped and looked back. “See ya later, Milady.”
With a tight nod, she waved.
“That was unacceptable behavior.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Was it?” he asked, completely unfazed.
So Domlike.
“I’ve missed you.”
His words disarmed her.
When he spoke again, he raised his voice. “I love you, Catrina.”
The couple cheered.
The floor spun beneath her, and she couldn’t breathe.
“And I was a total idiot.”
“You…?”
This couldn’t be happening.
“You called me Master, and I didn’t honor what that meant to you. To me. Catrina, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Oh, God.
Surely this was a dream. An impossible one.
Tears burned her eyes.
The passersby now clapped for them, and a man who was about to get into his car stopped to see what was happening.
“Will you invite me in?” he asked again. “Or shall we continue to provide your neighbors with a show?”
If she were smart, she’d shut the door and lock it.
But at what cost?
Deep inside, in a place she’d barricaded years ago, hope stirred, terrifying her.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Out here it is. Catrina…” He placed the massive flower arrangements on the porch behind him, and then he lowered himself to knee.
No.
Her mouth fell open.
“Milady… Catrina… I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Will you marry me?”
This couldn’t be happening…couldn’t.
“Say yes!” her neighbor shouted.
The dog danced around, barking.
“Damien… I wasn’t expecting…”
His smile became a grimace. “That wasn’t the response I was hoping for.” Still, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box.
With his thumb he flipped open the lid.
In the sun, a massive diamond winked up at her.
“I’d love to put this on your finger as a symbol of my never-ending commitment to you.”
No matter what the neighbors urged, she couldn’t accept.
Taking a deep breath, Catrina attempted to herself.
Love?
Her mind was so filled with fog that she couldn’t process what was happening.
With a deep sigh, he flipped the ring box closed and slid it back into his pocket. “Will you at least hear me out?”
When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “Ten minutes?”
Because her renegade heart wouldn’t let her refuse, she nodded. “Not a moment longer.”
Damien stood, then bent to scoop up the flowers.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Fingers crossed,” he shouted to the couple with the excited pup.
“Good luck, man!” The man gave him a thumbs-up.
Finally, as she stepped aside, her neighbor climbed behind the wheel of the vehicle, and the young couple continued on. “This is just so we have privacy,” she warned him, eyes narrowed as he entered the foyer.
“Understood.”
Though she heard his voice, she couldn’t see him through the enormous display of roses and bobbing balloons.
“Where do you want them?”
She wasn’t sure she had a surface big enough to hold them. “Kitchen island, maybe?”
He laid the flowers flat, and they took up the entire surface.
“Did you buy out an entire store?”
“Two of them.” He shrugged.
Between the bouquets, the balloons, and the ring, he’d gone to an awful lot of effort.
“Look, Catrina.” He lifted a hand, but then dropped it again. “I meant every word I said.”
The world around her reeled.
Once upon a time, she’d dreamed that a gorgeous, adventurous man would sweep her off her feet.
Reality had taught her such a thing didn’t exist.
“Say something,” he urged. “Anything.”
“Damien…”
He waited.
“I, uhm, I appreciate—”
“Not that,” he interrupted. “Not an out and out rejection.”
“What else did you want?” An acceptance is out of the question.
“A discussion, maybe. Unless…”
This time, she remained silent.
“Tell me you don’t care for me. Tell me you never want to look at my face again. That my words mean nothing. That what we shared meant nothing.”
She looked down.
Immediately, she realized her mistake.
“Then…?” he prompted.
When she looked back, he lifted a hand, as if to touch her.
Shaking her head, she stepped back.
Needing space, distance, she hurried into the living room and perched on the edge of a chair.
Without an invitation, he followed her.
His legs spread wide, he dominated her space, devastating in his black shirt, black trousers with the outline of the engagement ring meant for her in his pocket.
A thin strip of leather cinched his hair at his nape.
Her memories of him were so vibrant, but they were nothing compared to the reality of his powerfully honed body and outdoorsy scent.
Slowly, he took a seat on the couch. “You do care.”
“So?” A sob caught in her throat. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” he echoed, shock and demand vibrating in his voice. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Look…” Her word, fraught with meaning, hung between them. “I think you’re in love with a woman who doesn’t exist.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head to one side.
She was breaking her own heart all over again.
If she were smarter, she wouldn’t have allowed him in the house.
Walking away from him had almost destroyed her…so much so that she was still picking up the pieces over a month later.
Trying to project a calm at odds with the turbulence inside her, she brought her chin up.
“Catrina…” His voice was raw, like her own. “My life is empty without you. I want to share my days and nights with you. I want you to share your dreams and fears with me. We’re good together.” He raked his hair back from his forehead. “I told you once that I didn’t believe in love. I didn’t. Until you. What I feel for you, I’ve never experienced before. I want you. I need you.”
He stood to pace, but he stopped across from her, honoring her request not to be crowded.
“I respect who you are.”
And who is that? A woman who’s terrified to risk being hurt.
“BDSM isn’t only what our relationship has been about. Not even close.”
But it had provided a beautiful foundation…the way he’d taken over in the bedroom, choosing her clothing, taking such exquisite care of her.
She ached from missing it.
“We’re compatible, good together. We enjoy our evenings together, working near each other, going out to eat, talking while I cook, grocery shopping, sitting on the balcony, showering together, sleeping in the same bed, you snuggled in my arms…”
The way you made hot chocolate for me.
She held her breath.
Yes. She missed all those things, desperately.
“When I asked you to marry me, I didn’t do it with the expectation that you’ll be on your knees for me anytime I want. Or ever.”
Could he truly mean this? “How do we work this out?”
“Catrina, you never have to submit to me. We can have the same kind of sex that millions of people around the world share.”
Studying him intently, she asked, “But…”
“You are enough for me.”
Catrina pinched herself to be sure this wasn’t a dream that she’d wake up from.
In that moment, her thoughts became clear.
She’d loved everything they’d shared.
“I won’t be sceneing with anyone else. But if it matters to you to have occasional scenes with your boys, I understand.”
That he had made that offer nearly made her swoon.
“I wouldn’t necessarily like it,” he added. “But if it’s something you need…”
She shook her head. “I don’t.”
“You…?”
Being a Domme had protected her emotions, but subbing for Damien and being with him had filled the awful hole she’d had in her heart. With him, she’d been safe, and he had never made her feel less than a total equal.
Handing over control had liberated her in ways she hadn’t imagined possible, and she’d enjoyed sex in ways she never had before.
Damien’s caring attention had transformed her life.
“I love you,” he said again, voice hoarse, reaching a place deep inside her that she’d thought was hardened forever. “I want to spend my life making you happy.” Very deliberately, he stood and extended a hand to her. “Please tell me you’ll have me.”
Tension thumping in the air, her heart racing, he waited.
A hundred emotions collided inside her soul.
Closing the distance scared her. But the idea of a future without him was bleak and dark. Did she dare risk what he was offering?
Trembling, she rose and took a single, symbolic step toward him.
And he was there, meeting her, capturing her, holding her, kissing her.
“I will protect, honor, cherish you, Catrina.”
“And give me dozens of orgasms?”
“That seems like a good place to begin.” He smiled.
“Begin?”
“Tell me you love me, Catrina. As long as we’re together, as long as we talk, sort through our fears, we can sort the rest out.”
“I…” She shook, but he soothed her. “Yes. I love you, Damien.”
“Every day, I will treasure you.”
She lifted onto her tiptoes to brush a kiss against his lips.
“Be mine?” he asked.
“Yes, Damien. Yes…”
Once more, he pulled out the ring box and lowered himself to one knee. “Catrina, light of my life, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes…”
He pulled out her ring, with its beautiful, enormous oval-cut diamond.
In the overhead light, her gemstone winked, with the promise of their commitment.
Gently, he slid it into place.
Then he stood and fisted her hair, pulling back her head.
His kiss consumed her.
“Forever, Catrina.”
She nodded. “Forever.”
“I have to have you.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She knelt, because she wanted to and because it felt right, and reached for his belt buckle.
With a growl, he swept her from the floor and carried her, laughing and crying, to the bedroom.
“Let’s get started on our future…”