CHAPTER 13 #3
Experiences. What sort of experiences? If the bus billboard was a clue …
An image of Nick posed like the guy on the bus drifted across her mind. “Do you …?” she began, then stopped herself.
How could she phrase it? What did she even mean to ask?
Do you get on your knees and let people whip you? Or are you the one doing it to others?
“Do I …?”
Her stomach flipped. He was going to make her spell it out. She searched his face for any trace of discomfort but found none as he patiently waited for her to ask the question.
She wet her lips. “Do you … participate?”
He smirked. “That was partially the reason for setting up the club, Jannie.”
“Partially?”
“Yes. I also wanted to earn enough money to buy my own plane. Remember when I told you I’d quit my job to fly an air ambulance?”
Now that he mentioned it, she did. “And this makes so much money that you’ll be able to do that?”
He nodded. “More profit than predicted.”
“What about other ways to raise capital?”
“I wanted to raise it fast.”
OK, an admirable goal.
But … Just how far did his club participation go? And why did it bother her to think of him with other women in that sort of scenario? Or maybe … men?
Oh my God.
This was crazy; she had zero claim on this man. And yet, imagining him under someone else’s hands, female or male, made something unpleasant churn inside her.
For what felt like an endless moment, he stared into her eyes, and Jannie had the strange feeling that he was trying to delve into her mind. The sensation was so strong that a shiver ran down her spine. Finally, he looked away, pressing his lips together as if trying to hold back a laugh.
Shit.
He must think her a prude. Or boring.
His gaze returned to her, and to her horror, a flush crept hotly up her neck. Jannie shifted in her seat, wishing Wendy would return to take their food order so she wouldn’t have to endure his unrelenting scrutiny.
“People think they know what’s involved, but they don’t. Most have a very one-dimensional and clichéd view of BDSM,” he said. “It can go far beyond what’s pictured on the bus.”
How far? Her sexual experience didn’t involve anything like that. Moreover, she thought what was pictured on the bus was pretty far.
She raised the glass to her lips and realized it was empty.
“Would you like to see it, Jannie?” he quietly asked.
“You mean, like a tour?” She did her best to sound cool, calm, and collected, even as nervousness swirled inside her.
“There are demonstrations. And I can answer any questions. If it’s of any interest to you.”
Did she want to go there? One part of her was curious; the other part didn’t want to uncover that side of his life.
What if she was put off by it? Would she then be put off by him?
God. She had married the wrong man, and now she had become hopelessly attracted to someone who may be even more wrong for her.
The tiny devil on her shoulder snickered.
You still want to fuck him.
God help her, she did.
But would that even be something he would enjoy? Normal sex?
Jump him, and you’ll find out. You know you want to.
She swallowed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Just say the word,” he said and casually picked up his menu. “Now, what were you thinking for your main course?”
·
She couldn’t sleep.
Again.
Jannie rolled onto her back and glanced at the glowing numbers on the nightstand clock.
She groaned.
Three o’clock in the morning, and she was still wide awake, her mind filled with thoughts and worries, despite her efforts to clear it. She had tried deep breathing, meditating, and in her desperation, even attempted the method that never worked: counting sheep.
Nothing had lulled her into slumber. Instead, she worried, as she had for several nights this week.
She worried about abandoning her colleagues and patients. She worried about her family finding out what she was doing. She worried about her upcoming checkride. She worried about moving away from Florida and making a life-changing career switch, only to regret it later.
Worry, worry, worry.
Ugh.
Then again, giving up medicine might be what she needed to do. She had been so unhappy for so long, and now she looked forward to getting out of bed and facing each new day.
Because each new day brought excitement, fun, a sense of accomplishment … and Nick.
With him in the cockpit beside her, Jannie let go of any lingering doubts and gained all the confidence in the world, progressing so quickly under his patient, calm guidance that she even surprised herself. He made her feel as if she could do anything. And the way he looked at her …
The memory of the scorching heat in his eyes this afternoon, after she executed yet another perfect landing, sent butterflies through her belly.
As he showed her the ropes of flying using only instruments, the atmosphere in the cockpit became so charged that she could practically feel the air crackle between them.
And the more he demonstrated his competence as a teacher, the more aroused she became, sitting there with him close enough to reach out and touch.
Nick being effective got her nerves firing and her heart racing, making the already exciting act of flying become exhilarating.
And when he took over the yoke with practiced ease, forearms on full display, he looked so damn hot that she had to shift in her seat.
She had given up denying that she wanted him.
But … but … the club.
The man was into things she couldn’t wrap her brain around. Her idea of sex and his were so far apart; she wasn’t sure they could ever meet.
What was his idea of sex?
Since the discussion at Steak, they hadn’t broached the subject again, not even a hint. And now she understood why, despite the scorching chemistry between them, he hadn’t made a move.
If he was into BDSM deeply enough to open an actual club where he could practice it, he surely wasn’t into normal sex.
Then again, who was she to judge what was normal? What did they call everyday sex? Ah, yes, vanilla.
Nick surely wouldn’t be satisfied with vanilla sex. And getting together with him and seeing him disappointed with her performance would crush her.
“Damn, Jannica. You suck at sucking dick.”
Blake’s mocking laugh rang in her ears unbidden.
When she’d finally attempted what she felt was the most intimate act a woman could perform on a man, he’d criticized her so much during it, giving instructions she wasn’t experienced enough to follow, that she’d burst into tears with him in her mouth.
She’d never tried again, despite Blake’s begging and pleading. Over time, he gave up, and their sex life had been fine without it.
He’d always claimed it was, and she believed he proved it by returning even after the divorce was finalized. Yet, deep down, she’d often questioned whether she truly satisfied him or if he just got off on controlling her.
He hired more than one escort in Vegas.
Her stomach churned. Ugh, she needed to shove Blake out of her mind.
Jannie threw off the covers and got up, slipping her feet into her slides and fixing the blanket before heading to the bathroom. She nearly reached the door when she sensed something was amiss and cast a glance toward the dog bed.
Empty.
What the hell?
Rolf always slept in the corner of her bedroom. When she looked to the left, she noticed her door was partly open.
She clucked her tongue three times in her usual quiet call.
Nothing.
Jannie frowned. Could she have forgotten to let her dog back in after his final pee break? She’d only done that once; she was sure she remembered opening the sliding door for him tonight.
Quickly using the bathroom, she washed her hands, not bothering to dry them. Kicking off her slippers for stealth, she crossed her bedroom and tiptoed out, the hardwood smooth and cool under her feet.
She stopped in the middle of the darkened hallway and clucked her tongue repeatedly. No response. She tipped her head, listening intently.
And then, she heard it: the unmistakable sound of her dog’s soft snore, coming from the direction of …
No way.
Nick’s bedroom.
Quickening her step, she headed toward the noise, thankful for the glow of the mini night sconces lighting the way.
She never ventured to this side of the hallway. Every night since they arrived, they had said good night and gone to their own rooms.
Heart hammering, Jannie stepped forward, and as she drew closer and closer, she saw that his door was ajar. Her nostrils flared at his intoxicating scent, which had been driving her crazy all week long.
My God. What was that cologne? She normally wasn’t a perfume person. On the contrary, she detested most fragrances. But whatever it was he wore, plus his unique scent, was sex on jet fuel, and it affected her to the point of loss of balance.
Or reason.
A wave of lightheadedness swept over her, and she steadied herself against the doorframe, trying to calm down.
It didn’t work. Her anticipation and excitement only grew as she stood there.
Calm was impossible, knowing Nick slept on the other side.
She nudged the door with one finger, pulled by a force she couldn’t resist.
Nick was sprawled across the bed in the soft glow of several night lights.
Jannie’s gaze fixed on his bare chest, and her breath caught.
He lay there, legs spread wide, both arms raised, the sheets gathered at his narrow waist, and it was clear from the V of his partially exposed pelvis that he was naked. One forearm partially shielded his face, his beautiful chest rising and falling as he slept.
A powerful electric shock surged from the top of her head down to her heels.
If she had to teach a lesson in male anatomy, he would be the perfect model. Her gaze homed in on the prominent tent below his waist.
Oh.
Nick was packing. And his body was performing a … systems check.
She swallowed. All week long in the cockpit, she had repeatedly caught sight of the evidence along his muscular thigh. Long being the keyword.
Her body heated slowly, like a glowing electric coil. She wanted him so badly that her entire being thrummed.