Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
ICE
N ormally, watching Beckett work over a willing little subbie was one of Ice’s favorite pastimes. But even though the girl on the cross was putting on a hell of a show, his attention was elsewhere. Namely, upstairs with the love of his goddamn life, wondering what kind of mischief she was getting herself into.
Not your problem .
It didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself of that fact. Every few minutes he found himself scanning the second floor, looking for any sign of her.
Which was how he caught sight of Braden heading down the stairs, and making a beeline straight for him.
Uh-oh.
To look at him, most people wouldn’t be able to tell anything was wrong. Braden’s easy, relaxed smile gave nothing away as he maneuvered himself to stand beside Ice. But there was a tension in his shoulders that told Ice something was up.
“I need you upstairs,” Braden murmured as he positioned himself beside Ice, looking up at the scene on the podium.
“Why?” Ice whispered back, reluctant to insert himself in anything that might have to do with a certain rainbow-haired brat.
“Lottie and Frankie made a new friend, and they’ve all had a little too much to drink.”
Ice sighed, letting the irritation pricking at his skull fill the sound. “She’s not my problem, Braden.”
“I understand. But she’s in my club which makes her my responsibility. So consider this a favor for a friend.”
Goddammit. It wasn’t often Braden asked anyone for a favor, and he’d done plenty for Ice during his time in Charleston. “Fine. I’ll help you get her in an Uber and then I’m going home.”
“Appreciate it.”
The crowd parted easily for them, though Ice couldn’t have said whether it was Braden’s influence or his own annoyance, which he was making absolutely no effort to hide.
That annoyance was mitigated somewhat when Lottie lit up at the sight of them. It was hard to be mad at someone when they were looking at you like you were holding an armful of puppies. Sometimes he wondered how Braden managed to discipline her at all when she smiled like that. “Daddy! Did you come to ask me to dance?”
Covering his mouth with his hand, Ice did his best to hide his laugh. Considering the closest thing to a dance floor Club BDE had was the pit, the question was as ridiculous as it was sweet.
“I’ll dance with you at home if you want, Lottie-bug,” Braden answered with an indulgent chuckle as he held out a hand for his sloshed babygirl. “Come on. Time to say goodnight to your friends.”
“Aw, but Daddy. I can’t leave my new bestie. Look how sad she is.”
Up until that point, Ice had been doing everything in his power to avoid looking at the woman still seated right where he’d left her nearly an hour ago. But now his gaze was drawn to Silver, and he nearly snorted. She didn’t look sad to him. If anything, she looked downright amused by her new friend’s drunken state.
“I’m fine, Lottie,” Silver assured her, sliding gracefully from the booth.
But her graceful state only lasted until she took her first step. Then she stumbled, straight into Braden, who just barely caught her, thanks to having his hands full with his own babygirl.
Ice had come upstairs with every intention of pouring Silver into a car and sending her on her merry way, perhaps with a very strongly worded suggestion that she take her ass back to California where she belonged. But one look at her unfocused eyes and sloppy smile and he knew he wasn’t going to do that.
“Come on, Silver.” Stepping forward with a sigh, he grabbed her wrist, looping her arm around his shoulder as he slid his other arm around her waist. “You’re coming with me.”
“Shhh,” Lottie admonished, the sound dissolving into a giggle at the end. “Nobody’s supposed to know your secret identities.”
Beside him, Silver gasped. “You knew ?”
“Of course I knew, silly. Deviant Whispers is my favorite band of all time. I just didn’t want to fangirl all over you if you were trying to be in-incog-incognee—if it was ‘posed to be a secret.”
“You’re such a good friend. Isn’t she a good friend, Ice? A way better friend than me. I’m such a fucking bitch.”
Ice tightened his grip on her, ducking his head to whisper in her ear. “You may be too drunk for me to paddle your ass for that tonight, but keep talking shit and I will make sure you start your morning over my knee.”
She didn’t look the least bit fazed by his threat. In fact, she was grinning widely when her head fell back so she could look up at him. “You’re such a Daddy. Always have been. Guess this place suits you.”
There was probably some truth to that, but it wasn’t something he was keen on unpacking in the middle of a crowded club with her barely able to take two steps without tripping over her own feet.
Or with her at all, if he was being honest.
“I’m taking you home,” he said instead, earning him a vigorous shake of her head.
A move she obviously regretted as she immediately slapped a hand over her eyes and let out a pained groan. “Oh, god. Shouldn’t have done that. Make it stop spinning, Ice.”
Not even bothering to sigh, he turned and guided her toward the hidden elevator in the back of the club. No way was he taking a chance on her stumbling her way down the stairs.
Braden followed him, Lottie and Frankie in tow, the latter thankfully not nearly as drunk as her friends and able to walk on her own. They parted ways when the valet brought his and Braden’s cars around, with Braden retaining custody of Frankie, most likely to save his own ass. If he sent her home without making sure she was safe, Holden’s wrath would be… unpleasant. The giant Daddy Dom didn’t give two fucks that Frankie had dumped his ass months ago, and though he more or less kept his distance it was clear to everyone in the club that Frankie was still his. Much to Frankie’s continued annoyance.
Which left Ice to figure out what to do with Silver. The smart, sane thing to do would be to figure out where she was staying, drop her drunk ass off at the hotel, and head back to his rental house.
But what if she passed out? What if she got sick in the middle of the night? What if he wasn’t there, and something happened and she got hurt? Or worse.
Cursing himself silently, he navigated through downtown with her snoring softly from the passenger seat of his car, and headed toward his rental on the coast. It was a bit of a drive from ‘his’ house to the club and everything else in the city, but once he’d decided to stay for a bit, he’d wanted the ocean. The stretch of beach where he’d camped out was a good bit quieter and less crowded than back in California, but the ocean was the ocean. Waking up to the sound of waves and the smell of salt in the air soothed his soul no matter which side of the country he was on.
Silver, who had passed out cold the second he’d buckled her seatbelt, sat up when he killed the engine, blinking owlishly at the house in front of them. “Where are we?”
“My place. Sit tight and wait for me to come and get you.”
A grin split her face as she relaxed against the seat. “Lookit you, playing the gentleman.”
“Just stay there, brat.”
He climbed out of the car, slamming the door on her giggles before jogging around to open her door. They managed to make it up to his front door and into the house without any mishaps.
“I’m starving,” she whined, sounding so unlike herself he almost did a double take to make sure he’d brought the right brat home with him. “Feed me, Daddy.”
Daddy . Before he’d come to Charleston, he wouldn’t have considered himself the Daddy Dom type, though he’d had a couple of his submissives use the term playfully in the past, much like Silver was doing now.
But with those women, he’d never felt his heart trip in his chest. Or his cock jerk painfully against his jeans. Even when Silver had teased him about being a Daddy in the past, he’d never had this reaction.
Maybe it was just the fact he’d spent the last few months surrounded by Daddies and their babygirls, and he’d found himself wanting someone to care for, someone to pamper and coddle—and someone to punish as often as he pleased.
Or maybe it was because now he knew what it could be like, having all those things with the only woman who’d ever really mattered.
Shaking off those uncomfortable thoughts, he guided her into the kitchen. “Sit at the table, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said with another of those sloppy grins that made his chest ache just to look at her.
“Careful with that word.” The order came out harsh and gravelly, and he watched her eyes go wide as she dropped rather ungracefully onto a chair. “You’re asking for things Drunk Silver has no business asking for.”
“God, I love it when you get all growly. Especially when you’re being all… that-word-I’m-not-supposed-to-say about stuff.”
Deliberately ignoring her, he turned away and began pulling out what he’d need for sandwiches. He’d eaten at the club, but Silver had a bit of a hangup about eating when nobody else was. If he didn’t make himself a sandwich, she’d end up just picking at hers and not actually eating it, and he needed to get something in her stomach to hopefully soak up some of that alcohol so she wouldn’t completely hate herself in the morning.
So he made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—her favorite—and carried them to the table.
“Mmmm. These look delicious.” Picking up half her sandwich, she bit into the bread and made a low sound in her throat that sounded so much like the noises she made when she came, he nearly tripped over his own feet on his way to get them each a glass of water. “Oh man, this hits the spot. Wait.”
Brows knitting together, she took another bite, this time chewing more slowly. “Is that grape jelly?”
“Yeah. What about it?” He placed a glass of water in front of her before taking the seat across the table and picking up his own sandwich.
“You hate grape jelly.”
“I don’t hate grape jelly. It’s just not my favorite.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“Maybe it came with the house.”
Her head tilted to the side, and despite her drunken state her eyes were sharp enough to have him fighting the urge to shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Did it?”
It could have. It was a rental, after all. But the fridge and pantry had both been completely bare when he’d moved in. No, he’d bought the goddamn grape jelly all on his own, because it was her favorite. He hadn’t even made the conscious decision to do so, but now that he thought about it, his kitchen was chock-full of her favorite foods.
God, he was pathetic.
“Just eat.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She grinned, the gesture a bit too knowing for his comfort, and took another bite of her sandwich.
They ate in silence, which he was grateful for. His emotions were a little too raw to handle too many more of her questions. And as they ate, that silence stretched into something familiar. Comfortable, unlike the tension-filled silence they’d shared back at the club. By the time he popped the last bite of sandwich in his mouth, he could almost convince himself it was just another night on the road, no different than the hundreds of others they’d shared over the past decade.
“I’ll clean up,” she said when they were done, rising from her chair on unsteady legs.
“Stop.” The command came easily, too easily, but it worked. She froze in the act of reaching for her plate and glass, swaying slightly on her feet. “Sit. I’ll get the dishes.”
“You cooked, I’ll clean. It’s only fair.”
“Silver, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit your ass down and wait until I give you permission to move.”
Thankfully, she didn’t argue, though she did pout when she dropped back onto her chair. “Bossy asshole.”
“Stubborn brat,” he shot back as he cleared the table.
“I’m not that drunk. I coulda washed the dishes.”
“Uh-huh.” With the dishes rinsed and stacked in the dishwasher, he crossed the kitchen once more, holding his hand out to help her up.
Luckily for him, there was a bedroom on the first floor of the house. He’d claimed it as his own just for the ease of access, but giving it up for one night was a small price to pay if it meant not maneuvering her up the stairs. And his luck continued when she didn’t fight him as he untied her boots and slid them from her feet.
Need, as hot and fierce as it was unwanted, slammed into him at the sight of her long bare legs, left completely exposed by the short skirt she’d worn to the club tonight. Even though it wasn’t what she would normally wear to play in—thank fuck, because he wasn’t sure he could have controlled his reaction if he’d thought she’d been there to play—the outfit still had his mouth watering at the memory of how she’d tasted the one and only time he’d had his mouth on her.
Shoving the memories and the troublesome lust that came with them to the side, he grabbed her ankles, lifting her legs a bit so he could slide them under the duvet. She was half asleep by the time he pulled the covers up around her, but she stirred when he couldn’t resist the urge to brush a stray curl away from her face.
“Ice?” she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Those two words were like an arrow straight to his heart. Not just the words, but the sadness in her voice as she said them.
They both had their reasons to be sorry, him most of all. He should have walked away from her that night at Roulette, the moment he’d spun her name. Should have kept his fucking mouth shut, should have kept those old feelings bottled up the way he had for sixteen goddamn years, and they wouldn’t be in this situation.
But she wasn’t in any condition to have that conversation and, frankly, neither was he. “Go to sleep, Sil.”
“Mmm. Yes, Daddy.”
Fuck, she was killing him. It took everything he had in him to step away from the bed instead of sliding in next to her.
He grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from the linen closet in the primary bathroom and made himself a bed on the couch. And told himself it was just so he could be nearby if she needed him, and not because he couldn’t stomach the thought of putting any more distance between them than absolutely necessary.