Caught Up in You (10 page)

“Hold on for me, Kelsey,” Wyatt ground out. “I want you to go over with me.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”

“Good girl. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“God, yes,” she moaned, her control slipping.

His pace increased and he fucked into her with abandon. Now she knew she’d have bruises
on her hips. She didn’t care. Bruise her. Brand her. Fuck her. He could do whatever
he wanted right now. Her fingers had to be white against the shower wall as she pushed
back against the onslaught of his erotic assault. Her nipples tingled in a constant
state of arousal from the water, and every inch of her seemed to be glittering with
bright need. Her body rocked against the shower spray, his cock pistoning into her,
and her every molecule seemed to whirl and tighten. She wasn’t going to be able to
wait . . .

“Wyatt!” she cried out, her orgasm an unstoppable train of sensation and brute force.

A loud, rumbling groan tumbled out of him as he went over the edge with her, his cock
swelling inside her and pulsing with his release. He rode the rocket launch with her,
pumping inside her as unintelligible sounds passed her lips and her muscles began
to shake with the power of it all. The feel of him, the water, the heat. Her head
swam.

He banded an arm around her waist and swiveled her over and away from the jets, as
if he’d known the exact moment when it all became too much for her. He held her against
him, her back to his chest, his cock still inside her as she sucked in deep breaths,
slowly finding her way down from all that intensity.

“Shh,” he soothed. “You’re okay, beautiful. Just take your time. I’ve got you.”

The words were like warm balm to her twitching body. He slipped out of her, while
still holding her upright, and tossed the condom to the shower floor. Then he led
her back to the bench on the far side of the shower. He sat down and pulled her onto
his lap, the steam wafting around them and the lightning still flashing through the
skylights.

She curled into him, glad for the water and the dark. At least he wouldn’t see that
she was crying. Crying from relief, from physical exhaustion, and from the fact that
she now knew there was no way she’d walk away from this unscathed.

This man could undo her.

This was gonna hurt.

TEN

Wyatt carried the bags of groceries they’d left in the car
into the kitchen. He’d lit a few candles and put them on the island, but they barely
provided enough light to work by. He peeked into the bags, confused as to why Kelsey
had brought groceries with her. It wasn’t like they could bring them on the trip.
But maybe it had worked out after all because there was no option for going out to
dinner now, and his cabinets were pretty bare. After their interlude in the shower,
they needed more than granola bars and bananas to refuel.

The shower. He released a breath as he loaded the items into the darkened fridge.
The night had not gone at all as planned. He’d promised himself he was going to handle
this in a very calm and controlled manner. This kind of relationship, even if only
for a week, was something that needed discussion, knowledge of individual limits,
and negotiation. It had been irresponsible of him to just go after her like some overeager
frat boy. But when he’d seen that haze of submissiveness fill her eyes, that doorway
to subspace peeking open, he’d gone into conquering mode.

And she’d let him take over, given him leave to use her in exactly the way he desired.
His own psyche’s response to it had been potent and impossible to quell, the dominant
needs in him no longer content staying buried. It had been so long since he’d allowed
that horse out of the stable that everything had surged at once. Instead of easing
her into it, taking it slow and letting them get used to each other, he’d charged
forward like she’d been wearing his collar for months.

Physically, she’d responded beautifully to it, her body surrendering to him fully.
But afterward, he’d sensed her closing in on herself. When he’d dried her off and
wrapped a robe around her, her words had been lighthearted, but her expression had
been shuttered. He’d pushed too hard too quickly, and she was retreating. He didn’t
like it. It was like a bright flag of challenge waving in front of him, taunting him.
He wouldn’t accept her shutting herself off from him. The training they were going
to do had a big physical component, but the real heart of any D/s relationship was
the psychological aspect. Without that, it was just playacting.

But this was partly his fault. He’d been the one to move too fast, sending her back
behind her shields. So he wasn’t going to push anymore tonight. They had things to
discuss and plans to make anyway. He had seven days with her and possibly three additional
weeks if they decided to continue the training when they returned from the trip. There’d
be time to peel back those layers and find out what lay beneath.

A clicking sound from behind him dragged his attention from the refrigerator. Kelsey
stood in the entryway of the kitchen in a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt,
the flashlight he’d given her in her hand. “There you are. I think I took a wrong
turn at the bottom of the stairs. This is a big-ass house.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve put some candles in the living room to guide your way. Did
you find everything you needed upstairs?”

“Yeah, thanks for bringing my bag up,” she said, stepping inside and giving him a
once-over with the flashlight, sliding the orb of light down over his T-shirt and
pajama bottoms and pausing at his bare feet. “Wow, you look different.”

He started on the other bag of groceries, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I don’t
sleep in suits, you know.”

“Well, one wonders.”

He placed a block of cheese inside the fridge, then heard the electric whoosh of the
power kicking back in. Lights blinked on above him, and the refrigerator hummed back
to life. “Excellent.”

He adjusted a few things on the shelf now that he could see where he was placing everything,
but spun back around when he heard the gasp. Kelsey was still in the arched doorway,
but her blue eyes were wide.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ho-lee shit.” She stepped inside, her bright pink top in sharp contrast to the all
white room, and ran a hand along the granite countertops. “This is . . .”

“A kitchen?”

She gave him a don’t-be-stupid look, and he lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t get
that
look too often.

“I hate you so much right now,” she declared.

“Okay . . .”

She walked over to the range and petted it like it was something precious. “Fuck,
you have a
Viking
.” Her head dropped forward as if she were praying at the altar of appliances. “And
let me guess, you don’t even cook.”

“I’m . . . sorry?” Her accusatory tone seemed to indicate an apology was necessary.
“I have a cook, does that count?”

“No.” She raised her hand at her side, keeping her back to him, but silencing him
all the same. “Give me a second. I think I’m sporting girl wood.”

The laugh burst out of him, echoing up the vaulted ceilings. “Over my stove?”

“Shh.”

But he couldn’t help himself. “So if I ever need to get you in the mood, I should
have kitchen catalogs on hand?”

She spun around with a smirk, but he couldn’t help but notice the sharp little points
now pressing against that fitted top.

He chuckled even harder.

“What?” she asked, pressing her lips together, obviously on the verge of a laugh herself.

He waved a hand in her direction, trying to keep his eyes from straying downward again,
to no avail. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Oh, come on. What?” Then she followed his glance and saw what was impossible to miss.
She crossed her arms over her chest, mock offense on her face. “Hey, it’s cold in
here. And my hair’s still a little wet.”

He nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. Or you just got turned on by a range.”

She harrumphed and snagged a bag of oranges he’d taken out of one of the grocery sacks,
turning to the opposite counter and keeping those perky nipples out of view. “Hey,
we all have our kinks, right?”

“Clearly. Makes mental note to bring a spatula and a wooden spoon on our trip to satisfy
your kitchen fetish.”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
God, sexy and so fucking cute on top of
it.

“So what’s with the groceries?” he asked.

She turned around and shrugged. “I had heard the weather was supposed to get bad and
thought we’d eat here instead. Plus, considering the things we have to discuss, I
figured a private setting may be better.”

He leaned against the island. “You could’ve mentioned it to me. I would’ve have Ms.
Murel prepare something for us before she left for the day.”

The side of her mouth lifted. “I thought I’d cook for you. You know, as a thank you.
And because I enjoy it and rarely get to do it for someone outside of the cafe.”

“Oh.” The idea warmed him in a surprising way, that she’d want to prepare something
for him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone not on his payroll had made a
home-cooked meal for him. Even growing up, meals were always cooked by staff. “Well,
I’d like that.”

The smile that crossed her face brightened the whole room. “Good. You sit down then,
and we can work out the stuff for the trip while I get things prepared. I’m going
for simple since I’m starved and don’t have the patience to wait for anything slow-cooked.”

“Simple sounds great.” He sat down on one of the stools at the island and pointed
out where everything was as she set up her prep area.

Once she had the tools she needed and started chopping some of the vegetables for
the pasta dish she was making, she got right down to business. “I know you want to
talk about negotiating limits and such. But I don’t think we need to spend a lot of
time on that. I’m not a novice, so I know what those checklists look like. My main
hard limit is that I’m not into verbal humiliation. I’ve been called enough names
in my life. I don’t want my lover doing it. Also, I don’t want to be shared.”

He frowned. “I would never do that, Kelsey. That’s not my style.”

She expertly sliced through an onion, her movements sure and efficient. “Good.”

“How do you feel about pain play?” he asked, fascinated as she scooped the diced onion
to the side and ran the knife through a pile of mushrooms with delicate precision.

Something flickered across her features.
Fear?
But she quickly covered it. “I can’t handle canes, single-tailed whips, knife play,
or face slapping. And nothing that would require me to take something stronger than
aspirin the next day. I try to stay away from medications.”

He nodded. He suspected there was much more behind those limits than she was letting
on. The medication one was a pretty obvious tell—she was running from a drug dealer
after all. But the expression that had crossed her face at the mention of pain play
had a cold feeling gripping his gut. He wanted to ask her more about it, but promised
himself he wouldn’t push her anymore tonight. “Fine. Any other hard limits?”

“No. And I’m on the pill and have my medical reports with me. I also got yours this
week. So if you want to skip condoms, I’m okay with that.”

He steepled his fingers in front of him, considering her. He didn’t go without condoms.
Ever. He trusted that Kelsey was telling the truth about her birth control, but he
couldn’t take even the slightest risk that she wasn’t. He’d seen how pregnancy could
be used as a weapon, especially when one person was from a certain lot in life and
the other wasn’t. The thought was ugly, but he wasn’t going to let the wildly enticing
thought of being inside Kelsey bare make him stupid. “I prefer to use condoms regardless.”

She glanced up at him, her gaze knowing and a little wry. She shrugged. “No problem.
The safe words at The Ranch are
yellow
for a pause and a check-in and
Texas
for everything to stop. Are you okay with me using those?”

“Whatever is easiest for you to remember.” He couldn’t help but notice how she’d taken
control of the negotiation. What had happened tonight had obviously sent her back
to her comfort zone of calling the shots. He let it slide. For now.

She gathered all the veggies in a bowl and brought them over to the stove where she
heated a pan and drizzled some olive oil in it. “So let’s get to the important stuff.
Do I need a fake name? Like are people going to expect me to have some recognizable
well-to-do family name?”

He frowned. “Not an awful idea. We have to use your real passport, but no one at the
retreat should have to see that. How about we use Kelsey Adams? It’s common enough
to blend in and easy to remember.”

“All right. I can work with that. So how did we meet?”

“Through mutual friends.” He watched her there, looking so at home by the stove, her
movements efficient, second nature, and came up with an off-the-cuff backstory. “You
were looking for an investor for a restaurant you want to open.”

She peeked over her shoulder. “Why would I have come to you for that?”

“I do some venture capitalist stuff on the side, invest in local startups on occasion.
Or help businesses expand like I did with Jace’s store. I’m a silent partner in that
now.”

“Wow, that must be fun to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Giving someone money to help their dream business get up and running. It’s got to
feel like being a fairy godmother or something.”

He smirked, amused by the notion. “You make it sound quite romantic, but it’s not
an emotional decision. It’s simply business. If I believe something will make money,
it’s a good use of my funds.”

“I want a bakery.”

“Hmm?” he said, dragging the cutting board to his side of the island and taking it
upon himself to slice the French baguette she’d bought.

“Let’s make the story that I wanted to open a bakery. If I get to create a faux life,
I may as well use my real pie-in-the-sky goals to fill it.”

“You want a bakery?”

She tossed some minced garlic into the sizzling oil. “I love to cook anything and
everything, but my first love is pastry.”

“Then a bakery you shall have,” he said resolutely. “We can say that you’ve put those
plans on hold for now since you want to refine your natural skills by going to culinary
school.”

She gave a quick nod of agreement. “How long have we been seeing each other?”

He sliced another piece of bread, failing in his effort to make each slice the same
size. “Let’s say two months. I was seen out at events with someone else before that,
so that would make the most sense.”

“Someone else?” Kelsey asked, adding the rest of the vegetables, all except the mushrooms.
“A girlfriend?”

“A colleague.”

She stirred the contents of the pan. “Who you were sleeping with.”

“Yes,” he said, not liking where this conversation was going.

“And why isn’t she around anymore?”

He sent her a warning glance when she peeked his way again. “Is that so important
to know?”

“I’m exceptionally nosy. You should know that about me.” She flashed him an unapologetic
smile. “My sister always joked that I should’ve become a therapist like her since
I’m so fascinated by other people’s personal lives.”

He shook his head. Usually he was as private and tight-lipped about his life as anyone
could be, even his brother had to drag things out of him. But Wyatt was having trouble
mustering up the will to dodge Kelsey’s questioning. “She knew what she was getting
into when we started seeing each other. Her feelings changed over time, and she wanted
more. I didn’t.”

She added the mushrooms, then poured cream into the mix and added a few pats of butter.
“Sounds complicated.”

“It wasn’t. At least not on my end.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, her back to him. Then she dipped a spoon
into the simmering sauce and turned around, blowing gently across the steaming sauce
she’d captured. “Are all the things in your life always that cut and dried? That neat?”

He looked down at the uneven slices of bread, the imperfection annoying him more than
it should. “I try to keep it that way. Yes.”