A_Little_Harmless_Fascination (11 page)

"Depends. I tend to enjoy privacy more, but it isn’t
out of the question that I would go for fun and games at a club, especially
when I was younger and wasn’t in a long-term relationship. Plus, some subs have
fantasies about submitting in public, or if I know it is something that will
break them down…make them mine.”

He saw the flare of interest in her eyes. It sparked something
inside of him he hadn't felt in months, possibly years. He’d had relationships,
and up until the last couple of months he’d had sex regularly, but he had grown
bored with the scene, with the act. When he’d found himself going through the
motions of a submission, he had decided to take a break.

Now, though, he was intrigued. If she had trust issues, she
had probably never really submitted. Thinking of initiating Jillian into the
lifestyle had his palms sweating and his cock standing at attention.

He realized she was staring at him as if trying to read his
mind. "So you say you dabbled?"

She nodded and took a sip of her tea. It was easy to see the
way her eyes had shied away for a moment, then rested back on him.

"A bit, but not with anyone in the lifestyle. I never
took that leap."

"Why not?"

"I told you, trust issues."

Of course. He knew there was more than she was telling him.
A woman with her family background would have some problems, but not to the
extent he was thinking she might have.

"And last night was the first night you were at Rough
‘n Ready?"

"Yeah. Your sister hooked me up because I want to write
a suspense and there needs to be scenes in a BDSM club. I'd never been to one
before."

That gave him pause. "Never?"

She shook her head. "I don't live the life. I do
research, but this one actually has people working at the club, so I thought it
would help. Micah was very accommodating."

"I just bet he was,” he said. Even as he said it, he
heard the irritation in his voice.

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head. He didn't know why he felt the spark of
jealousy toward a man he considered a friend and who Conner knew was completely
in love with his wife.

"I might have to interview that other Dom,
though."

"Rome?"

She shook her head. "Well, wait, he might be good to
interview, being a cop. But I was talking about the other guy."

She was starting to jump from one subject to the other, and
his head was starting to spin. It was hard to keep up with what she was talking
about.

"Who?"

"What? Oh, that Eli guy. And he's a cowboy from what
the other women tell me, so that would be interesting."

"I heard that, but I would check his story again if I
were you."

She gave him a knowing smile. "He lives on the Big
Island. There are ranches there. There are even some here, too. Don't think you
know everything about Hawaii until you've lived here for a while."

"I'm not going to live here."

She shook her head. "Of course not. Anyway, I need to
get back and get some words on the page."

He didn't want to go, wanted to spend more time with her,
but he knew better than to push.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Okay, then, let's blow this joint. If I can get this
stuff written, I get to watch shows tonight."

And he would have to find something to occupy his time
rather than think about the woman who was, at this point, driving him over the
edge.

Jillian couldn't write. The cursor was blinking on the screen,
mocking her. For the first time in five years, she was sitting at her computer
completely freaking out. She had never had a problem with writer's block. Okay,
so at the beginning she sometimes had problems. It would go slowly or she would
worry if she had the right idea about where the plot would go. Sure, she was
more productive at other times than some, but she had always worked through it.
She scoffed at people who said they had problems with it. It was easy to work
through. She could jump onto something else…skip the scene that was giving her
problems. As long as she kept moving forward, she was fine.

Now, she couldn’t think of anything beyond the man upstairs.

The screen mocked her. Two hours. She hadn't written
anything but two words in two hours.
Chapter
One
. It was enough to give a girl a panic attack.

There had only been a couple of times she had issues, but as
she had remembered, she had worked through them. Each time it had been her
family problems getting in the way. She wished that were the case now. That
would be easy enough to deal with. Her family issues were small compared to the
person who was occupying her mind right now.

Just imagining him up there had her blood temperature
soaring. That discussion at lunch had made her little crush even worse. Knowing
for sure he lived in the lifestyle, seeing the way he watched her when they
spoke—it had her insides going all flip-floppy on her. Jillian wasn’t a woman
who went gooey because a guy paid attention to her.

She closed her eyes and sighed. The man was going to kill
her. Being in her house a month, knowing what he liked to do in bed...

Of course, she wondered about his preferences. She knew from
research that Doms all had their own likes and dislikes. Was he a spanker? A
little zing of heat pulsed through her blood at the thought. Did he like to use
a paddle or a cat o’ nine tails? She shifted in her chair and groaned when she
felt her wet panties rub against her clit.

The man was driving her to distraction. What was she going
to do about him? The normal Jillian would go for it and to hell with the
consequences, but she had other concerns here. First and foremost, his sister
was her friend. Maura was one of the few female friends Jillian had. She had
been her best friend for years, and Jillian didn’t want to ruin that. If the
fling ended badly, she didn’t want to lose Maura. And that is all it could be,
a fling. She wasn’t a woman for long relationships. Men tended to get in the
way, and she had those trust issues.

Her other worry was meeting his needs in the bedroom. Would
she be able to do the things he wanted, needed, from her? She wasn't sure she
could, wasn't too sure that she wanted to.

Scratch that. She
did
want to—there was no doubt about that. She had always been intrigued by the lifestyle.
It’s how she’d started to write BDSM themed books. She had spent years
researching, talking to subs and Doms. Sir Samson, the first Dom she'd
interviewed, had told her that she was a submissive, but she wouldn't submit to
just anyone. He claimed her trust issues would make it damned near impossible
for anyone to get her submission. She should email him and tell him just what
she was going through. Lord knew Sir Samson had a sick sense of humor, and he
would surely appreciate her situation.

But she couldn't. This was private. And that told her that
it was more than just a fling. Which scared the hell out of her. She wasn’t
emotionally equipped to handle a true relationship. She had proven that more
than once. This time was different. Never before had she held back from Sir
Samson, but now she was.

Why?

There was only one thing that would have her keep things
from Sir Samson. Her heart was involved—and that scared the living shit out of
her.

She had a healthy sex drive. She didn't sleep around, and
she didn't believe in one-night stands. Still, she did keep her relationships
light and easy. With Conner, there would be no light about it. They were
tangled up in so many ways that she wasn't sure she could deal with it when it
ended. And it would end. She would never move back to the mainland and he would
never move here.

There was a knock at her door. Jillian was thankful and
irritated with the interruption. She needed to stop mooning over Conner, but
she wasn’t quite ready to stop. With a sigh, she walked to the door wondering
what Mick and Adam needed tonight. The two men never seemed to be able to make
it to a grocery store.

She opened the door and found Conner Dillon standing on the
other side of it, one shoulder propped up against the doorjamb. The sun was
setting, slipping behind the mountains that were at his back. Every drop of
moisture in her mouth dried up.

"Did you get your writing done?" he asked.

She sighed. He looked too good to ignore. How could a man
wear a pair of shorts and T-shirt and seem to intrigue her in a way no other
had before? She saw men half naked every day in Hawaii, but she was sure this
one would catch her attention if he were dressed from head to toe. Part of it,
she knew, was that she was accustomed to seeing him in more clothes. Now,
though, he looked like a local…down to the bare feet.

"No."

"Oh, sorry, I guess I should let you get back to
it."

But he didn't move. The sweet air thickened around them, the
tension growing as it had the night before. Jillian knew she should tell him to
go away. Playing the temperamental author was never that hard for her. She was
a temperamental author and had used it to her advantage in the past. Now,
though, she couldn’t. She needed to spend time with him, wanted it with a scary
type of lust that had her worried. Still, she pushed those thoughts aside.

"No, come in. I’m having a bad time writing, so I need
a break."

She turned and walked toward the kitchen. She needed
something cold to drink, and looking at him just made her want to jump his
bones. Instead of gaining relief, she felt his gaze on her back. Shit. The door
shut quietly, and his footsteps followed her.

"Do you normally have issues with writing?" he
asked.

She shook her head as she pulled out a pitcher of strawberry
lemonade she had made earlier. "Want some?"

For a moment, he just looked at her with those solemn eyes
of his, and she felt her heart turn over. God, the man was wicked. Without a
word, he had her. He didn’t have to touch her, and she was ready to be naked.
Now.

After another moment or two, he nodded.

Drawing in a deep breath, she set the pitcher down on the
counter then grabbed a couple of glasses.

"What do you think is causing the issue?" he
asked. His voice had deepened, vibrating over the words.

What the hell was he talking about? He expected her to carry
on a conversation when he was looking at her like he knew what she looked like
naked. She couldn’t remember her last name.

"Issue?" she asked as she turned around and
started to fuss with the drinks.

"With writing."

"Oh, the family crap. I’m sure it has driven me over
the edge."

But even to her own ears it didn't sound believable.

"Really?" He didn't sound like he was buying her
excuse. She wasn't buying it, so there was a good chance he wasn't either. He
stepped behind her, resting his hands on the counter in front of her. He wasn't
touching her, but he surrounded her. She felt the heat of his body, could smell
the clean, crisp scent she always associated with him.

"Put the glasses down, Jillian."

He hadn't raised his voice. If anything, it lowered,
deepening over the vowels. It sent another jolt of lust spiraling through her.
Heat danced over her nerve endings.

"Do it."

For a second, she gripped the glasses tighter. She knew what
he was asking. Part of her rebelled against the idea of doing what he ordered.
Still, there was a part of her that wanted to do it, to please him. It scared
her a bit—a lot. But she did as he ordered and set the glasses down.

"Put your hands on the counter for me."

Again, he didn’t raise his voice. There was a thread of lust
in his tone now, one she had heard last night when he called her. Without a
thought, she did as he commanded. It was as if she couldn’t think for herself,
didn’t want to. Her body was throbbing and he hadn't even touched her yet.

He inched in behind her, his chest against her back, his
groin against her ass. His cock was hard, but he did nothing more than lean
against her. The restraint was a power play. She understood that, and dammit, she
responded to it. Her heart was racing, and she felt her body temperature soar.
He covered her hands with his. When he spoke next, she felt his breath against
her ear.

"You have two choices right now. You can tell me no and
send me on my way. I will accept that. I won't be very happy because I have a
need for you that is about to kill me, but I will accept that."

He would. She knew without a doubt he would walk away and
allow her space. That made her want him even more.

"The second option?"

"I take you in your room and show you exactly what
you're missing in the bedroom. You are a sub down to your toes, Jillian."

She straightened, and he chuckled.

"That doesn't mean anything against you—and you know
that. It doesn't mean you aren't a strong woman. In fact, some of the strongest
women I know are subs. What it means is you need something in the bedroom other
men haven't been giving you. Considering what you write and how smart you are,
you have to know that you’re missing something.”

She knew that, knew it in her heart. Every time she slept
with a man, she was satisfied to a point. There was always something missing in
the relationship. Was it this?

"So, tell me, Jillian, which one do you want? Do you
want me to stay or leave? Understand, if I stay, you will go in that room and
be under my control."

She swallowed. She knew what she wanted, what she yearned
for. The kiss the night before had told her that, had let her know just what
she was missing. His quiet control of things always set her off. He’d turned her
on with the order last night on the phone more than any man who’d touched her.