Chapter 15 #2
Gaby, still bound at the center of it all, chest rising too quickly, skin flushed and luminous beneath the lights. Hair loose, lips parted, eyes half-lidded in that hazy, open state that came from deep responsiveness.
The sight of her stole his breath.
Not just her beauty, though that alone was enough, but the way she had moved for him. Followed him. How instinctively her body had answered his commands, how readily she had leaned into sensation, trusted his hands, his voice, his control.
As if she had been made for this. For him.
The thought struck with a force that startled him. Not possession. Recognition.
She was everything he wanted in a woman and everything he never believed he’d find again in a submissive. Responsive without fragility. Open without surrendering herself. Strong enough to choose, soft enough to yield.
Perfect.
And then her eyes opened fully. Warm brown, a little dazed, not lost.
Something twisted in his chest.
Because suddenly it wasn’t just a scene anymore. It wasn’t just a body in his hands. It was a woman who trusted him. Who had proven herself repeatedly—in danger, under pressure, in the field, and here, beneath his dominance.
The questions rose, uninvited. Why can’t I let go of this? Why am I still measuring her against a betrayal that isn’t hers?
The answer was ugly in its simplicity. Because part of him was still holding on to the bitterness of being deceived and using it as armor, long after the wound itself should have healed.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of it settling where moments before had been heat and pleasure. That was when he moved into aftercare. Not because the scene required it but because, suddenly, he needed the distance.
Rhys forced his breathing into something steady, something neutral, and stepped back into the role he knew how to wear without risk. Without exposure.
He zipped himself and slung her dress over his shoulder. Once he released her, his hands would be busy with her. He unhooked her ankle first, then her wrists, supporting her weight as her arms dropped. With an arm around her waist, he guided her down from the platform. Someone tossed him a blanket.
“Easy,” he murmured this time more for himself as he wrapped it around her.
He could have swept her up and carried her easily, but he couldn’t risk a chink in his armor.
Instead, he tucked her securely under his arm and exited the playroom, moving down the hall to the indoor lounge that would be more private.
In fact, it was practically empty with everyone outside waiting for the fireworks to begin. That suited him perfectly.
He led her to one of the couches. After she sat, he pressed a bottle of water from a nearby cooler into her hand.
“Drink,” he urged.
She obeyed, taking small, careful sips.
To anyone looking on, it would appear efficient, responsible, as it should be. But as the moment stretched, Rhys became acutely aware of what was missing. Connection. There was no holding, no talking, no softness. It all seemed… procedural. Some doms liked that, but it wasn’t him.
Then he saw it. Not the hazy, distant look that often followed a well-played scene. Her eyes were too clear. She was watching him. Trying to understand the deliberate space he’d put between them.
His chest tightened. He recognized that look from the field. From safe houses and hospital rooms, from people who had just realized someone they trusted to hold them steady—hadn’t.
He’d taken her all the way there then retreated as if he’d never been part of it. What should have been affirming and powerful, connecting them, had instead fractured under his restraint. Could he come back from this? Did he want to?
Bloody hell!
He crouched in front of her, lowering himself to her level, keeping his voice calm and steady. “You did great, Gaby.”. His words of praise sounded like an afterthought, even to him, because they were. He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” she said, hesitating just long enough to confirm what he already knew.
But she wasn’t good. The words were right, not the tone. This was hurt wrapped in careful composure.
Though he knew he shouldn’t, that it would just add to the confusion, he reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into the touch either. The difference was subtle but devastating.
Rhys swallowed, jaw tightening. He would not want this for any submissive, this sense of being held and then set aside without rhyme or reason. But the truth he refused to face pressed in all the same.
He hadn’t withdrawn because the scene demanded it. He’d retreated because real closeness risked exposure, and vulnerability.
Gaby’s eyes lifted to his. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said softly.
He thought he knew what she meant, but he needed to hear it. “What can’t you do?”
“This,” she repeated. “The emotional whiplash. You push me away with one hand but pull me close with the other. I don’t know where I stand.”
No matter the truth, the words landed like a slap. “Gaby, I—”
She cut him off gently. “I don’t know what happened in your past. You won’t tell me. But I deserve better. After the mission, we go back to being strictly professionals. No practice, no exploration, no more scenes.”
When she turned to leave, Rhys couldn’t breathe.
“Wait.” He gripped her hand tighter, keeping her there.
Why had he stopped her when making a clean break from a forty-year-old man who didn’t have his head on straight was the best thing for her? Because this was the opposite of what he wanted her to feel after being with him. And because deep down, he didn’t want her to walk away.
But he released her, not crowding her or turning instinct into pressure. Instead, he forced himself to be the dom he should have been from the start. “How are you getting home?”
If his practical concern surprised her, she didn’t show it. Her mouth curved faintly, almost sadly. “Emily and Alec are here,” she said. “I’ll ride with them.”
Relief flickered through him. “Right,” he said awkwardly. “I’m glad you won’t be alone.”
She studied his face for a long moment, as though committing something to memory. Or letting it go. Then she nodded.
“Good night, Rhys.”
Not see you later, or we’ll talk. Just… good night.
The words hit him hard. He stayed where he was, watching her walk away without looking back.
A few minutes later, fireworks exploded over the river, red, white, and blue scattering across the sky.
Everyone turned, faces tipped toward the spectacle.
Except Gaby, who threaded through the crowd seemingly unaware.
She reached Emily, who listened in silence.
Her brow creased as she slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Alec appeared at Rhys’s elbow, looking very domestic with his fiancée’s purse tucked under his arm, and a lightweight sweater draped neatly over his forearm.
“We’re leaving. Gaby’s riding with us, not you.” He glanced through the glass at the two women. “It’s funny how the tables have turned.”
“How so?”
“Me being in the position to give you advice.”
Rhys exhaled through his nose. “More like a lecture. Don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
“I can’t decide,” Alec went on, unfazed by his warning, “if you don’t know what you want… or if you’re punishing her for wanting it.”
His head snapped up, the accusation cutting deep. “What the hell, Yarborough? You know I’d never do that.”
The man didn’t flinch. “Not consciously.” He studied him at length, then came the advice he promised. “Gaby’s tough, determined, but she’s been through a lot. She doesn’t deserve to be your collateral damage.”
Deserve. There it was again. First, Gaby, then Alec. He had no defense against either.
Without saying more, Alec stepped past him and onto the patio. God knew his brutal truth had been enough.
Rhys stood there, the pyrotechnics outside washing over him, too loud, too bright, too hollow.
He watched as Alec joined the two women. He leaned in to say something, and they both shook their heads—Gaby vehemently. Then the three of them disappeared on the shadowed pathway beside the house.
For all his experience, for all his conviction that he was one of the good ones, Rhys couldn’t make peace with what he’d done. Whatever he called it, restraint, distance, selfishness, it didn’t sit right. Not as a dom or as a man. Not for himself, and definitely not for Gaby.