Dangerous Obsession (Dark Refuge #4)

Prologue

The air smelled of wood smoke and charred meat from the outdoor grill just off the patio.

Beneath it lingered the faint hint of sulfur and the promise of fireworks.

Couples and small groups had claimed their patches of ground, blankets spread, low conversations drifting with that anticipatory hum of excitement before something begins.

Giggles to her right caught Julia’s attention. When she looked, a skimpy top sailed across the yard.

Things were turning amorous. No big surprise. Devil’s Pointe’s playground was romantic under the moonlight, and some club members were already leaning into it.

Not her, though.

She was alone, with no prospects for the night. There was only one dom she wanted anyway, and he wasn’t an option. Not for her or for anyone. He’d made that clear from the start.

Julia took a distracted sip of her wine and grimaced. Her chardonnay matched the air temperature—warm and awful. She emptied it into the grass where the stone path met the lawn then resumed crowd-watching.

She’d spent the past two weeks constructing shields around her heart. She thought they were solid. Believed it, mostly. Until something changed behind her.

Not sound or footsteps but a distinct shift in the air.

Recognition washed over her, and her stomach fluttered with nerves. She’d felt it twice before, but she didn’t move, giving him the chance to approach first.

“Are you waiting for someone?” His deep voice rumbled from her left, raising goose bumps on her arms.

You. Always you, she thought before turning to face him.

Leland Hale stood nearby, close enough to signal intent, far enough that the choice was hers.

He wore black, his collar open at the throat, a hint of ink visible on his chest. His eyes were what she noticed first: pale gray, still as standing water, but taking in everything.

When they settled on her, heat coiled in her belly.

He observed her with the same deliberate attention he gave everything. A man who did nothing by accident.

“No, Master Leland.” Her voice came out surprisingly steady, sparking a quick rush of pride. “I’m on my own tonight.”

His mouth twitched at the corners. Not quite a smile, more like the idea of one. He extended his hand, palm up. An invitation, not a command.

“Then we should watch the fireworks together.”

He led her away from the patio lights, guiding her around the people already settled in.

They found a less crowded spot at the edge of the yard, near the tree line.

Overhead, the first shell burst open, releasing a shower of trailing orange sparks.

Gold sizzled next followed by a cascade of blue that held for a breath before it fell.

The percussion followed a split-second later.

He stood solid behind her, not touching except for the occasional brush of his chest against her back, but she was acutely conscious of his nearness.

She’d been with him twice before, including once here on the playground.

He’d suspended her from the lowest branch of a nearby tree, and she’d slowly revolved on her tiptoes as he did decadent things to her body with his mouth and a soft suede flogger.

Beyond that, she knew the quality of his silence: focused, but never empty.

Two weeks ago, she had told herself firmly that she was not falling in love with him. Unfortunately, she’d lied.

Another volley rattled the riverbank. He absorbed it then leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. “The fireworks are impressive tonight,” he murmured. “Still not the most interesting thing here.”

She turned before she could stop herself. His face was right there, angled down toward hers. She could see the faint tan lines at the corners of his eyes, the shadow of his closely cropped hair, his gaze steady on her.

“Here?” Her voice barely carried.

He glanced once over the lawn. “It’s not as though anyone will notice.”

She looked, too. He wasn’t wrong. The others were intent on the sky, faces tilted upward, absorbed in the dazzling display.

He moved her closer, his fingers curving around the nape of her neck, possessive enough to make her pulse jump. Not gripping, only the lightest suggestion of positioning as his mouth drifted to the corner of hers and hovered a breath away.

“I need something from you first,” he said quietly.

She surfaced through the wanting and understood what he meant. Consent.

“You have it, Master Leland.”

He didn’t move immediately. The pause felt less like hesitancy than restraint. When he stepped behind her, her anticipation soared. His forearm crossed her chest, a steady, muscular bar keeping her still, and he said, low and controlled in her ear, “Hands at your sides.”

When they dropped, she noticed the wineglass was gone, forgotten somewhere behind them.

“Good girl,” he praised.

The words did what they always did, her body responding before she could think. He lifted the hem of her skirt with the same unhurried cool he brought to everything. The night air brushed her thighs an instant before his touch did.

She flinched ever so slightly, expecting it, wanting it, but not quite ready for it, either.

“Be still,” he murmured, not so much firm as compelling.

His caresses grew more deliberate, tracing a path up her inner thighs. Her hands twitched, reflexively seeking something to hold onto.

“I don’t have cuffs with me. You’ll have to be good for me. Can you?”

She wanted to. Submitting to him was unlike anything she’d experienced before. Not because he demanded more, but because she wanted to give it. But this was a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.

“I’ll try, sir,” she breathed out, pressing her palms to her sides.

His fingers slipped into the front of her panties. They glided through her wetness and found her clit. Circling and rolling, patient and exacting. His forearm between her breasts kept her upright and anchored her in place.

Above them, the fireworks kept building, the percussion swallowing every smaller sound except, “Let it happen,” whispered in her ear.

He offered encouragement, reassurance, and permission. Julia responded to all three.

Her head dropped onto his shoulder. She couldn’t help it, fighting the urge to reach for him. A sound escaped her, lost instantly to the booming sky. Nothing else mattered as she unraveled under his relentless attention.

His arms tightened around her, giving her time to recover. She grabbed hold of his forearms, needing to cling to something, and this time, he let her.

Once she could breathe normally again, she felt the tension in him. The hard nudge against her backside made her aware of how firmly he was reining himself in.

She didn’t want that and turned to face him. “May I?”

He considered her request for a moment then nodded. Without hesitating, she sank to her knees.

The grass was cool and slightly damp beneath her. She trembled as she unzipped him. But steadied when she fisted him, softness over steel, and took him eagerly into her mouth.

She didn’t rush, wanting to give him even a small fraction of the pleasure he’d given her. Listening intently, she tried to discern what he liked by the subtle shifts in his breathing. Not easy with the fireworks cracking and booming above them.

His stillness was absolute, a testament to his iron control, though the slight tremble in his thighs revealed the effort it took. She wanted him to lose it and let go, as she had, and took him deeper.

Suddenly, he brought her to her feet and turned her around.

He lowered himself onto the grass behind her, guiding her back until she stood straddling his lap.

A firm hand between her shoulder blades bent her forward.

She hesitated, not quite sure what he wanted, until she felt him gather her skirt again.

His thumbs parted her gently before his mouth found her.

Sensation slammed into her, and she nearly lost her balance, but she steadied herself on his thighs.

With the hard length of him right there, she got the message and resumed, trying to keep pace with her lips and tongue while breathing around him.

But she failed because his tongue was devastating her concentration.

She moaned as desire surged again, faster now.

The vibration pulled a groan from him. The finale cracked open in a barrage of cascading light as Julia came apart again, her mouth full of him.

His grip on her hips held her steady as her knees threatened to give way.

She felt him follow the next instant, his body drawing taut as he found release.

The world around them burned bright one last time before it went dark.

When she finally lifted her head and gasped for breath, “Wow,” slipped out. She meant their fireworks.

“Fucking beautiful,” he said, his lips brushing her inner thigh.

He settled her into his lap, facing away, his arms around her. Her dress askew, his fly undone, neither of them making any move toward order. Smoke drifted across the sky as others stirred, voices rising, the night deepening around them.

She covered his arm with both hands. When he didn’t pull away, she allowed herself the smallest, most reckless flash of hope. Just this once. In the dark, with smoke in the air and his heartbeat at her back.

***

Long after the fireworks ended, Leland stood alone on the lawn. He’d said good night and watched her walk up the slope until the house swallowed her. This was the last time. He’d told himself that before. Tonight, it had to hold.

She was dangerous. An attachment that could easily get out of control.

It had come close tonight, when he’d broken another rule. Aftercare that had lasted longer than it should have. But, knowing it would be the last time he held her, he’d lingered, for himself as much as for her.

In nearly four years at Devil’s Pointe, he’d engaged with many submissives, women who understood what he offered and wanted only that. None of them stayed in his head afterward. Julia did.

More than a decade ago, a phone call that changed his life had taught him why he didn’t do attachments. He’d never forgotten. And yet, beneath the rules, the determination, the hard outer shell he’d built, he was still human. And Julia was different.

Warm in a way that wasn’t forced. Funny in ways that caught him off guard.

Competent without trying to be. When she submitted, she wasn’t playing a game.

It came from somewhere genuine and unguarded.

It mattered more than he cared to admit that she trusted him with it.

That was the most dangerous thing about her.

After three times, there was no clean path out for either of them.

He would have to make one. But he wasn’t a man who manufactured excuses.

He’d made himself clear during their first negotiation.

He would handle her carefully, make sure Julia understood, without making it larger than it needed to be, that there wouldn’t be a fourth time.

What they had ended tonight between one burst of light and the next. It had to.

Turning, he followed her path up the slope. At the stone patio, he paused and looked back. The fireworks were gone, but the grass still held the impression of what had passed.

He thought of the risks he took when he forgot himself. Then he thought of Julia. He’d seen the beginnings of affection in her blue eyes. Continuing when there was no chance of permanence wasn’t fair to her.

He chose distance; that was the price of his past.

Decision made, he walked inside. But the wanting didn’t ease. And neither did the nagging suspicion that he’d made a mistake.