Obsessive Compulsion (19 page)

“I’ll help,” she replies with blissful
laziness.

I love seeing her like this and knowing I’m
the one that helped her reach the sensations buzzing through her.
It’s tempting to stand here and stare at her. I tear my gaze away
from her stunning body and begin the search for my pants as she
makes an effort to sit upright.

Her effort ends in a flop back against the
mattress and a sputtered exhale. “If you see my undies hidin’ out
with your pants, toss ‘em my way, will you?”

“But that would mean you’d be getting
dressed,” I tease, picking her panties up and dangling them. “I’m
not sure I can support such a proposition.”

“Well, I ‘spose I could go downstairs in
nothin’ but skin,” she teases back. “It’s allowed, after all.”

“Sure,” I shrug, exchanging my briefs for a
clean pair from my dresser then do the same with her panties from
her overnight bag. “Just give me a few minutes to go down and
blindfold everyone, first.”

“Awe, not jealous, are you sweetie?” she
crawls closer to the edge as I approach with a clean pair of blue
lace underwear for her.

I stand in front of her, butt naked, with
her panties in one hand and my underwear in the other. With a
twitch stuttering beyond my control, I speak before thinking.
“Mine.”

Her eyes widen as she raises up on her knees
and I immediately try to correct the slip. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, I
didn’t…” my words end when her lips crash against mine.

I drop the underwear and grab her hair, our
kiss becoming mutually possessive. It’s so dangerous, what I’m
allowing to happen. My mind is forming a strong, demanding urge to
claim and keep, but the kiss takes away my ability to fight it.

She pulls away with a hard nip on my bottom
lip, stares straight into my eyes and claims me right back.
“Mine.”

Holy. Fuck. “I love you, Charlotte.”

“Show me,” she whispers, pulling me with her
back into bed by a tug on my reawakened dick.

Forty minutes and a long shower later, we
finally make our way downstairs to help with breakfast. Luckily,
sleeping-in is a common theme on Saturday mornings at The Stables.
It’s nine-thirty and only a handful of members are in the large
sunroom that’s been converted into a dining hall. A few glance up
from their coffee, including Cam and Joey. Joey lets out a bubbly
giggle behind her hand and Cam winks at us from over the page of
her newspaper.

We’re all back in street wear – jeans,
shirts, and some in regular pajamas. Well, most of us.

Bull is still in full bondage, nonchalantly
stirring his tea and staring out the sunroom windows. We all have
running bets that he wears the studded leather chest and jock
harnesses underneath his business suits. Shuffling in on her footed
pajamas, Rabbit sneaks up behind him, kisses his bald head then
scurries away, leaving him chuckling into his teacup.

Charlotte lets out a quiet laugh and I
remember that this is her first time seeing the members in the
morning. The casual, playful atmosphere is typical right alongside
scrambled eggs and toast. We aren’t just a BDSM club with nicknamed
members. We’re a family who share a lifestyle and openly care about
one another. They’ve become a support group for me over the years,
and I want Charlotte to be a permanent part of it.

Mrs. Kitty exits the kitchen carrying a tray
of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Her husband, Checkers, follows
with a tray of freshly cut fruit. The couple is in their fifties,
but they have no lack of love between them and no qualms about
their sexuality. They stop, catching sight of Charlotte and I, and
Mrs. Kitty lets out a motherly, smiling sigh of relief.

“Good morning!” she says cheerily.

“Morn’n,” Checkers tips his head as if he
were wearing a hat over his grey hair. “Mighty fine sight, see’n
you two together this morn’n.”

“Oh, let the poor young’ns alone,” Kitty
giggles as Charlotte leans against my arm and I blush.

I nod towards the trays they’re carrying.
“Thank you for helping with breakfast.”

“Never you mind,” Checkers winks. “Was a
rough night for a few of us, but pitchin’ in is what family’s
for.”

“Looks like that fat lady aint sung yet,
either,” Kitty sighs and nods towards the kitchen then lowers her
voice to a soft whisper. “Austin just got back, and he’s all a
mess. Saul aint with him, either, which might be a good thing
considering the state of Kyle’s face.”

I mirror Mrs. Kitty’s worried frown as she
and Checkers head into the dining room. Checkers and Mrs. Kitty are
some of the few members, along with Rabbit, Bull, Cam and Crow who
know us outside of the club. They’ve become as close as non-blood
family can get, thanks mostly to Emma. If Kitty’s motherly worry is
any indication, I’m preparing myself for some bad news as Charlotte
and I head into the kitchen.

Brandon looks up from the griddle
mid-pancake flip. He eyes me, then Charlotte, then our clasped
glove-free hands. With a heavy exhale, he raises his eyes to the
ceiling like he’s sending a thanks skywards. “Thank God. At least
one thing last night went right.”

“Mornin’,” Kyle’s gruff, unenthusiastic
greeting from the dining room table draws my attention. He’s
leaning back in a chair with a bag of frozen peas over both eyes.
Last night, he looked like shit through my whisky goggles. Today,
he looks like Saul tied him to a truck and drug him through a briar
patch before beating him with a baseball bat.

“Charlie!” Emma bounces into the kitchen
from the pantry carrying a bag of flour. Austin follows her with
sugar and coffee beans, his eyes lowered.

“Mornin’, sweetie,” Charlotte gives Emma a
one armed hug. Charlotte hasn’t let go of my hand since we left the
bedroom, and that’s perfectly fine with me. She nods to Austin who
has finally raised his eyes to the room.

A look passes between them, and I have to
remind myself who Austin is to keep the jealousy at bay. I’m
kicking myself in the ass for being stupid when Austin glances at
our joined hands, smiles for a split second then looks back down at
the floor. “I’m gonna go check the coffee,” he mumbles and heads
into the dining hall.

After he leaves, I look to Brandon for an
explanation. Brandon ladles three circles of batter onto the
griddle then sighs. “Saul was already gone from lockup by the time
Austin got there. Randy let Saul out despite James leaving a
‘pick-up only’ order, and we have no idea where that boy’s
disappeared to.”

“He’s not at Sarah’s,” Kyle tosses the peas
onto the table and manages to open one eye halfway. “Or his place.
Vic’s been out searching, but I think he’s headed south.”

“To his mom’s?” That shocks me. He must been
in a majorly fucked-up mindset if he’s willing to head out there.
“Shit,” my free hand twitches so I run it through my hair while
Charlotte tightens her grip on my other hand. She doesn’t know that
lovely story, and I don’t think it’s my place to explain it
further.

A ringtone chiming from Charlotte’s back
pocket ends the uneasy silence along with her curious glance to me
seeking more info on why Saul’s mom is a problem. She looks at her
phone, raises an eyebrow then answers as she walks out onto the
back porch. “Hello? Yes, this is Miss McLeod…”

My eyes follow her, the new obsessive urges
pushing me not to let her out of my sight. With a deep inhale, I
fist my empty hand in an attempt to get over how wrong it feels not
having Charlotte holding it and standing right next to me. I know
what I need to do and that it’s best for me and Charlotte, but that
doesn’t make doing it any easier.

“I need you to give me a job for the rest of
today, tomorrow and possibly Monday,” I say to Brandon through
clenched teeth as my heart angrily tries to shut me up.

Brandon’s one eyebrow, the only one he’s
got, raises high. Before he can ask why, Emma touches my sleeve and
replies. “I’ll keep her busy, but I don’t think distance is the
answer.”

Just like that, Emma completely understands
what’s going on. She really
can
see people inside out. She’s
frowning at me though, and I hate seeing her unsmiling. “It’s all I
can think of right now,” I sigh. “At least until I can talk to
Michelle.”

Emma skews her brow and scrunches her nose
then relents with a nod. “Okay.” She puts on her beaming smile
again and skips out the screen door to join Charlotte on the
porch.

Brandon flips the last pancakes onto the
platter. “Want to tell me why you’re stealing my wife to keep
Charlie busy ‘til Monday?”

Unable to take my eyes off the screen door,
I allow my OCD that little indulgence as I respond. “I can touch
her, but now I can’t touch her enough. I want to be with her every
second, and I don’t know how to manage that without smothering her.
My damn OCD has locked onto her and it’s getting worse the more I’m
near her.”

“That aint your OCD.” Kyle gets up and
tosses the defrosted bag of peas into the sink. He stares at me
through barely open eyes, but I get the feeling he can
see
me just fine. “That’s just love,” he finally says, and the word
love
comes out as a loathing hiss. “It fucks you up, makes
you do stupid fucking shit and then leaves you out to hang.”

He glares at Brandon who was about to
object. “Save it, Peters. You got lucky with Emma and we all know
it. It works out like that once in a fucking fairytale. The rest of
us,” he looks back to me, “don’t get some princess in glass
slippers who just magically accepts all our fucked-up crap. Don’t
be stupid, Ian. Keep your heart out of it, and you’ll be happier
for it.”

Half of me, the part that fears getting hurt
or hurting Charlotte, wants to agree with what he’s saying. I’ve
had a front row seat to Kyle’s reality for almost a decade, slowly
watching him unravel as the years pass and he remains stuck. I know
precisely where his spite for the ‘L’ word is coming from.

The other half of me wants to grab the
skillet off the counter and finish what Saul started, because I
finally get it. It’s now clear as day why Kyle and Sarah continue
to go in pointless, exhausting circles. I may fear getting hurt,
but I’m more afraid that Charlotte and I will end up like them if I
follow Kyle’s advice.

I match his glare and lower my voice to a
whispered warning. “Charlotte deserves nothing less than
everything
I have to give her. Your inability to understand
that is why Sarah will
never
let you all the way into her
life.”

My words stun him for half a second and I
expect him to come at me with fists raised. Even Brandon steps in
between us, ready for a fight. I see the pain come across Kyle’s
face, then he’s marching out the screen door with a mumbled
‘
fuck you, Rider’
under his breath.

“Dammit,” I take in several deep breaths. “I
shouldn’t have said that.”

“He needed to hear it,” Brandon tries to
lighten my guilt.

“Where’s Kyle headed?” Charlotte asks as she
and Emma step back into the kitchen. “He looked even worse, if
that’s at all possible.”

“Out to Sarah’s to begin the cleanup,”
Brandon replies with an easy smile. “I’m gonna need to borrow Ian
for a bit to look into this Forester bullshit.” He looks back to
me. “I need you to hit up Vincent and see if we can figure out
exactly what, and how much, Forester knows.”

Charlotte takes my hand again. “Emma and I
need to go Christmas shopping anyway. Was hoping you could drive,
since my car’s D.O.A., but I understand how Forester could be a
problem.”

“Any word from Emanuel about your car?”
Shit
. I don’t want my damn issues leaving her stranded.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That was him calling me.
He can give me five hundred for the body scrap, but he said it’d
take at least three grand and a miracle to get her running again.
The car’s only worth four grand to begin with. So, I told him to
put her outta her misery.”

“You could take my car,” Brandon offers.

I tense because Brandon just overstepped.
That never would have bothered me before, because I know Brandon
only offers out of genuine kindness and his innate need to control
situations. Today, with my own control issues on edge, it pisses me
the fuck off. He tosses me a look, realizes his mistake and
actually takes a step back.

Charlotte’s not looking at my face, thank
God, because I’m sure it’s not pleasant with the way Brandon is
blinking at me. She’s glancing over her shoulder and saving me from
myself. “Thanks, but there aint no way I’m getting behind the wheel
of your pretty Mercedes.”

“I’ll ask Austin!” Emma giggles at her own
solution before zipping out the door in a bouncing flurry of curled
ringlets.

“You could take my car,” I say after cooling
down a notch. “Or I can arrange for a rental.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Charlotte pecks a kiss on
me cheek. “But I think Austin could probably use some time away
from The Stables. I’ll just have him drop me off back home while
we’re in Dallas. It’ll probably be an all-day affair. Emma doesn’t
take crowds all that well, so we’re gonna go to independent stores
instead of the mall. Maybe you could come by later?”

“I’ll try,” and I know I will, but I don’t
think I’ll succeed.

“Chaaaaarlieeeee!” Emma’s voice calls from
across the department store, drawing my attention along with
everyone else’s. I glance up from the jewelry counter and try not
to laugh, but it’s hard with Emma’s curls bouncing as she dashes
through the store and Austin trying to keep up with her. He looks a
little winded and Emma looks like one of the elves who has escaped
from the ‘Santa’s Workshop’ display at the front of the store.

She has on a red dress, red shoes, red
jacket and candy-cane stockings. The jacket and skirt even has
white trim, and it’s as adorable as she is. When she came
downstairs with it on at The Stables, I asked her where her Santa
hat was and Brandon tried to steal her back upstairs. She didn’t
end up having a Santa hat, but she does have earmuffs that look
like snowmen.