Mine (4 page)

“Oh, that's nice for you,” was all her mother said, to Presley's great relief—she wouldn't have to go into the details. “And Dmitri, how is he?”

“He's fine.”

“Just fine?”

Presley stared out at the French doors, looking at the fluffy clouds in the sky. Her heart hurt thinking about it all. Things didn't feel right between them; in fact, they had never felt so wrong. All of her friends had their Dominants at home, comforting them, wrapping their arms around them. Why wasn't Dmitri holding her?

She tried telling herself he needed space. That this was a blow to him. That his club was falling apart. But she hated that distance.

She wanted him here—with her.

“He's busy,” she finally replied.

“Being responsible for a casino will do that, I'm sure.” her mother said. Presley could hear the television on in the background—probably some gushy soap opera. “Your father and I were talking the other day and we're hoping you two could come for dinner one night soon. I'll make Dmitri's favorite, roast beef.”

Presley couldn't stop smiling. Her mother adored Dmitri. But of course she would. Dmitri was insanely successful and poised. He was respectful and well mannered—he brought her mother flowers each time he visited. He looked completely at ease having a family dinner with them. He was equally comfortable sitting on the porch with her father and chugging a beer.

Being loved by her family was never the problem.

Her loving him wasn't the problem.

But a sharp ache in Presley's chest couldn't be ignored. Dmitri wasn't being the man he'd always been with her. He was being something else altogether: Cold, distant to her feelings. “That would be wonderful,” she said, stifling her sigh. “I know Dmitri has a lot going on right now, but maybe we can take a drive down to Apple Valley in a couple of weeks.”

“Perfect. I'll let your father know.” Her mother hesitated. “All right, baby girl, I need to get to my knitting group. Call me once you pick a day, okay?”

“Will do. Bye, Mom.”

Presley hung up the phone and dropped her head into her hands, consumed by thoughts of what her family would do if they found out about Club Sin. They would still love her, she was sure, but she didn't want them to know such things about her private life. Or have to explain to her mother what a BDSM club was.

Fuck.

A sudden knock on the door made her jerk her head up. Her heart tripped as she pushed off the couch, hurrying to the door, hoping that Dmitri had sent someone to let her know that he was thinking of her.

Maybe he sent flowers…

She whisked the door open, and her already weakened soul took a harder hit. Ella, Kenzie, and Cora stood in the hallway.

Kenzie gave a sassy smile. “This is the new pad for a while, hmmm?” Being her usual pushy self, Kenzie stepped into the room without being invited.

“It is until this is over.” Presley shut the door once everyone was inside.

She turned, facing her best friends, and something inside her broke.
Shattered.
She was standing in front of women who had all started dating their Doms after she'd met Dmitri. Each of them wore a diamond necklace, which in their world was a sign that they were owned by a Dom. And all three of her friends were married. Presley reached up, touching the collar Dmitri had given her two years ago, and her heart clenched, as somehow that seemed not as important as a wedding ring.

She felt a sudden and most unexpected flare of jealousy. The other three women's Doms were there for them, wanted them to share in their lives, but where was her Dom? Since Steven, Presley hadn't consciously thought much about being married, but suddenly, and for the first time in a long time, she realized that was the life she wanted.

Why did I forget that?

Her heart banged against her ribs as she followed the girls into the living room, returning to her spot on the couch. Cora sat next to her, and Ella and Kenzie took a seat in wingback chairs. Doing her best to be strong, Presley swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “Have you heard anything more about the pictures?”

Eyes huge, Cora sputtered, “Has Dmitri not told you anything?”

Embarrassment warmed Presley's cheeks as she fiddled her hands in her lap. “I haven't seen him since he brought me to the casino yesterday.”

“That's weird,” Kenzie said, unconsciously placing her hands on her pregnant belly. “What happened?”

“His phone started ringing the second we entered the room.” Presley tucked her legs beneath her. “He was gone by the time I woke up.”

The sun beaming through the French doors cast a glow over the side of Ella's face. “That doesn't sound like him.”

Presley noticed the beautiful diamond ring on Ella's finger, reminding her of her own bare finger. “I know,” she admitted. “He's not being himself.”

“He's going through a lot with the club,” Cora offered. “I would imagine that must be hard on him. He probably has a lot on his mind. And I'm sure he feels like he's failed to keep his members safe.”

“I'm trying to tell myself that,” Presley muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for making it all about her. “Okay, so update me. What's going on?”

Kenzie crossed her legs and answered, “Kyler is trying to get fingerprints off Miles's picture and then Porter can start to investigate things on his end.” She adjusted the small square pillow behind her, then leaned back against it. “I'm sure they'll have answers soon, and will bury whoever is trying to sell the pictures.”

“Let's hope,” Cora added. “I can't even begin to think about what will happen if this story is released.”

“Horrifying things, that's what,” Ella interjected in a high voice. “Kyler is worried because of his dad being the police chief and all.”

Cora snorted. “I hear you. Aidan will leave the company to ensure that his practice doesn't go under. It's a scandal that no one wants.”

“He'll give up his job?” Kenzie asked, alarmed.

Cora nodded, lips pressed into a tight line. “That's what he said. To protect the company.” She slid her glance to Presley. “But isn't that kind of like them, always worried about everyone else?”

Presley understood what Cora was implying. Dmitri had a lot on his plate. Somehow it didn't comfort her. The scandal should bring her and Dmitri closer together, as it apparently had done with everyone else. They were dealing with it as a
team.
She hated more than she wanted to admit that she'd had to hear about Club Sin's updated status from the girls rather than from Dmitri himself.

Their relationship wasn't like this, or it hadn't been—until now.

Things between them had been based on trust, honesty, and a deep connection. Her heart bled as doubts about her and Dmitri flooded her. In the room with all her married and pregnant friends, one question swirled on her mind:
Why hasn't Dmitri proposed?
She'd never wondered about that before, but a nagging thought now made her wonder if there was a good reason he hadn't taken that next step.

Maybe he didn't want to.

Perhaps he didn't share all this with her, because he, as the Dominant in the relationship, didn't think of her on the same level as him. And possibly he hadn't proposed because deep down all he felt for her was a Dominant/submissive relationship, not a relationship that would lead to marriage.

Not a partnership.

“Presley?”

She blinked, realizing all eyes were on her. “Sorry. Spaced out there.”

“Nah, really?” Kenzie said with a grin. “As I was saying, we're going for lunch. Wanna come?”

Sit in this hotel room alone? Think about all the shit I don't want to think about and worry over Dmitri?
Presley pushed up off the couch. “Only if it includes wine.”

“A girl after my own heart.” Kenzie mused, placing a hand on her chest. “You always were my favorite.”

“Hey,” Ella and Cora protested in unison.

Presley laughed, easing the tension she felt inside. Maybe she was thinking too much, worrying too much, and not understanding Dmitri's stress. Though a lingering thought reminded her:
You would understand if he told you what he was going through.
“Let me grab my things.” She moved to the table by the front door, and as she reached for her phone and purse, she couldn't help but look.

No new messages.

Shoving away her nearly shattered heart, she tucked her phone in her purse. “Ready.”

Ready to leave the depressing thoughts behind, to stop worrying about Club Sin, and to quit thinking about Dmitri.

Ready for a damn glass of wine.

Presley awoke with a jolt, opening an eye.
10:00
glowed bright green in the dark room. She lifted her head off the pillow, noticing that Dmitri wasn't beside her—
again
. Having no idea if he'd even come home, she sighed and pushed off the duvet. Earlier at lunch with the Club Sin girls, she'd had three glasses of wine. By seven o'clock, she'd hit the bed and fallen fast asleep.

As she exited the bed, the warm air brushed across her naked flesh. In her tipsy state she had apparently stripped off her clothes, leaving them on the floor by the bed. She heard soft piano music coming from the living room, so she grabbed a robe from the closet and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Two steps away from the door she realized it had been closed to only a crack, indicating Dmitri had been in the bedroom at some point. Her feet dragged against the carpet as she pulled open the door. The warm light from the table lamp in the living room spilled into the bedroom. Then she saw him.

Shadowed in the dark corner, Dmitri sat with his ankle crossed over his knee. He held a glass of scotch against the armrest; his head bowed to his lap.

“Dmitri,” she said softly.

He didn't lift his head or show any other sign he knew she was there. All day her aggravation at being ignored had built and built, and now her anger at the situation boiled over. She asked with a bite to her voice, “Why are you shutting me out?”

“I need to deal with this, Presley. There is a lot going on. You
must
understand.”

“I do understand. What I don't get is why won't you talk to me about it.” She moved closer toward him, pulled by the desperate need to reconnect. She craved for them to return to some level of what they once had only days ago, something that was unexplainable, perfect. “Let me be here for you.”

“No.”

His curt voice stopped her in her tracks. Then when he added, “I don't want to
talk
about this. I want to
fix
it,” the remaining strands holding her together snapped.

Yes, she expected a Dom answer. But deep in her heart she thought there was more to their love than a D/s relationship. Still, his answers, his actions, were making her believe that he wanted a submissive both in the dungeon and out of it.

And that's not want she wanted.

Also, it wasn't what she had agreed to.

Betrayal slid through her like a disease, and she trembled with the force of it. She loved submission and found freedom in letting go, but only in the bedroom or in the dungeon. Her parents had shown her what true love was—a relationship built on strong trust, communication, and respect—and that's what she wanted for herself. Not this distance where Dmitri kept his pain to himself instead of sharing it with her.

Tears welled, and she barely managed, “You're breaking my heart, Dmitri.”

His head finally lifted. Desolate eyes stared back at her. “Right now, doll, we don't have the luxury to think of ourselves.”

She cringed at those words. Yet somehow it was exactly what she needed to hear. He spoke the truth. And it was sad. Dmitri always put everyone else first, and Presley knew all his strain was because he was thinking of Charles, of what the club symbolized, and of the members who now feared being exposed.

Her mind raced to think of a way to help him. “What do you need me to do? I want to be there for you. I don't want you to shut me out.”

His expression tightened. “You want to help me?”

“Yes, of course.”

She shivered against the power blazing in his eyes. Not only because he looked lost and desperate, but because he was a Dominant. Dmitri was a man who believed he'd failed all the people he'd vowed to protect. His club meant everything to him, yet Club Sin was slipping through his fingers. She craved for him to lean on her now, not push her away. To share what this was doing to him.

So that, just maybe, she could help
him.

Looking at his expression, she realized there was one thing she could do for him. Maybe it was part desperation on her part, too, but she needed him close. She couldn't stand this distance any longer. Doing the only thing she could do for him now, she dropped the robe from around her shoulders, exposing her naked body to her Dom. She offered her warmth in hopes that it would envelop him and ease the coldness in his soul.

Concern knitted his eyebrows. His shoulders lowered when she reached him and she inhaled his musky scent, sliding her hands around his strong neck. To her utter relief, he leaned into her, resting his head against her chest. She tightened her arms around him, hoping to clear away his despair.

She racked her mind trying to find the right thing to say, finally deciding on, “It's only a club, Dmitri.”

His glass clanked against the table, and he rose so fast she had to take a step back. Eyes blazing, he growled, “What did you just say to me?”

She blinked at the wrath he exuded, an emotion she had never experienced coming from her lover. Presley's trembling hands came up to his chest, and she could feel his heart pumping beneath her fingers. “It's not the club that makes Club Sin, it's the people in it. We still have all of them. I know you think this is the end of what you created in Charles's honor, but it's not.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I've let my members down.”

“Maybe, but it's not your fault,” she said, much more loudly and angrily than she intended. “I'm sick of you taking the blame.”

Dmitri's brow arched, his scotch-laden breath brushing across her face. “Whose fault would it be then, doll?”

“The damn person who took the pictures,” she shouted.

She wasn't even sure whom she was shouting at: Dmitri or the person behind this scandal. She despised all of it—the photos, the distance between them, the anger Dmitri was suffering, and the blame he'd taken on. “You need to stop letting it fuck with your head. I know this is terrible, but we'll deal with it—whatever happens.”

Darkness crossed Dmitri's expression, an expression so icy it might scare a woman. That was, if she didn't know that Dmitri, while Dominant, was insanely respectful and loving. He closed the distance between them as fast as she could draw in a breath. His chin dipped, those stony eyes coming level with hers. “While life at the moment is uncertain, Presley, it would do you good to remember that I am
your Dom.
A Dom who doesn't appreciate the tone you just took.”

Red-hot fury stirred in her veins, possibly because life was so uncertain, leaving her wondering where they would end up. “Well, I am your submissive
only
in the dungeon and in the bedroom.” The cool air in the room rushed across her flustered skin. “I don't appreciate being ignored and left out of everything.”
What about me?
she wanted to yell at him.

Her voice became louder, splintering with the anger that all the things he'd promised were now being forgotten. “Stop pushing me away. I am your
partner—
your
best friend
. And yet you are talking to everyone else instead of sharing all this with me.” She poked his chest, glaring up into his face. “You are being a real jerk, Dmitri.”

Brows raised, his gaze turned darker, smokier. “Do. Not. Raise. Your. Voice. At. Me.”

“Do. Not. Ignore. Me,” she retorted in the same deadly calm tone.

Sure, she knew she was poking the beast, but she had more than enough. While there were a hundred excuses for the way he was acting, none mattered to her.

He had made promises to her. Promises that he would never hurt her. And he was breaking them all.

A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, and those eyes…oh, how they burned.

One second she was standing there, almost nose to nose with him. The next he was slamming her against the wall and his lips were crushing hers.

Raw.

Primal.

Heartbreaking.

Not because his kiss wasn't passionate, but because his touch was desperate.

And Dmitri never leaked that emotion.

The power play was there, burning like wildfire. The loss of control was nearly dripping into the air. The insecurity of the future sizzled around them; it was an emotion they both understood, yet both despised.

His breath roughly brushed across her face as his tongue thrust into her mouth, as if to clear away the words she'd spoken. A fierce kiss to steal the anger in her body and replace it with heat. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, grinding himself against her. Not in a sensual way—no, this was pure unadulterated lust.

He nudged her head to the side, nipping at her neck, but not to mark her as
his.
It was almost as if he was fighting to remind himself of his love for her, searching for the man he used to be. Her eyes pinched shut against the sadness of it all, and she battled to find the Dmitri she knew. The Dmitri she loved. She prayed that him touching her now would help him find his way back to her.

So out of control and so rough in his advances, the man devouring her neck with vicious kisses was a man she had never met before. Some might think it was just hot, spontaneous sex, but to her, Dmitri seemed like a stranger.

He
never
lost control.

A squeak escaped her mouth and her eyes shot open, tears prickling her eyes. He had both of her wrists in one hand, and seemed to be unaware she was on the verge of crying as he hastily removed his pants. When he grabbed her thigh painfully tight, yanking it over his hip, she gasped.

Who are you?

His cock pressed against her entrance, and her eyes widened in surprise as he thrust inside her, not caring or acknowledging the fact that she wasn't entirely prepared for him. His skin slid against her dry inner walls, and he bit her lip, as if telling her the state she was in was unacceptable. But emotions were raging, and she was tumbling into confusion. She wanted to help him, free him from his demons, and ground him again.

He loved her. He respected her. He protected her.

But this wasn't
her
Dmitri.

Her mind battled to make sense out of what was happening now. He had never touched her without care or without thought of her emotional state. It all left her so shocked she couldn't move, couldn't talk, and couldn't even breathe. She thought the moment he touched her, he'd return to her. But that wasn't what happened.

When he grasped her breast firmly, she parted her lips, prepared to tell him to
stop.
Never before had Dmitri made her feel used or unappreciated, but that sensation engulfed her now. Tears ran down her face. Her body betrayed her and moistened for him. He growled a feral sound, thrusting easier, moving fast, and pumping into her.

Yet her mind recoiled. Part of her knew he needed to shed his demons and that this was a way to do it. The other part of her realized if she allowed this to happen, they could never go back. Things would be forever changed between them.

He wasn't thinking of
her;
he was thinking only of himself and
his
needs. The moment she realized he wasn't coming back to her, instead remaining so far away, it sickened her, sending a cold bite washing through her. He thrust only for his orgasm and only to shed the tension inside of him. Her breath caught on a sob, and her mind snapped back.

This was
wrong.

“Dmitri,” she managed, attempting to yank her wrists away. This would break their special bond. It wouldn't save him from his hell. It would send him into a different type of hell, where he'd hate himself.

His hold tightened. She pulled harder, demanding to break free, nearly hoping it would snap him out of this dark state. She wanted
her
Dmitri. The man she loved, not this man crumbling to pieces.

He kissed her mouth, stealing her objections. Rough and filled with tension, his affections lacked the passion Dmitri usually held for her. Tears soaked her face as she stilled beneath him, feeling lost in his complete breakdown. His thrusts were frantic and her world unraveled.

Stop.

If she didn't stop this now, they would never recover. He'd never forgive himself for losing control with her. And she would never trust him again. He might be breaking down, but Presley wasn't.

As he thrust savagely against her, her heart crashed and burned. What happened next would be something she could never take back. He'd also given her no other choice. She began to say Club Sin's safe word: “Drag—”

His primal growl cut her off as he crushed his mouth against hers. So drawn into himself, he was unaware of anything around him. Digging her fingernails into his hands, she screamed, “Dragon.” Then she bit his lip
hard.
He cursed, and the second he released her wrists she pushed him away.

The shove sent him two steps back.

Breathless, his chest rose and fell. Her arousal glistened against his hard cock, with veins protruding the sides. Tears continued down her cheeks, and Dmitri blinked once…then again…before his eyes widened. Shock, disappointment, and a dark emotion were reflected in their depths.

“Jesus Christ,” he spat out. His face haunted, he took a step toward her, and then stopped himself. His empty expression met hers, and it was in that second, she became aware of how far away Dmitri was from her. How far away he was from himself.

His breakdown ran deeper than the loss of his club. This was a man who was broken, and even now, even after what had just happened, her heart only ached for him. Because tonight Dmitri wasn't with her; a darker part of him was. Her Dmitri, the other part of him, was sickened by what had happened between them just now, as the tears welling in his eyes suggested.

“I'm so sorry, Presley.” His hands shook as he pulled up his pants.

“Come back to me,” she begged.

He refastened his belt, head bowed. “I can't do this.” His voice was empty, flat. “I…” He finally lifted his head, and she nearly wept at the pain that lay present in his eyes. So much passed through his expression—the horror at what he'd done to her and the acknowledgment that he had now failed her even more. “That loss of control can never happen again.”