Out of Control (31 page)

He was asking, not ordering, so she nodded. “That would be great.”

Another awkward silence, which Drake broke by saying, “The food’s getting cold. It was…all right to bring you food, I hope.”

She nodded. On one hand, it made her feel strange. Indebted. Awkward.

On the other hand, it was genius to bring busy, broke artists food, yet none of her other friends, or Sean’s or Ryoko’s, had ever thought to do so. Not even Ryoko’s husband, and Stan could certainly afford take-out.

Then again, Drake might be the only actual genius she knew.

“May I share it with you?”

“Sharing’s better. Then you bought us both lunch. Or dinner. Or whatever meal it is.”

“Some strange hobbit meal, I think. It’s not a standard mealtime, but I figured you could use to actually sit down and take a break. Hope that was all right.”

She smiled. He was trying so hard now to be good, to make sure he didn’t cross any more boundaries. “Oddly, I kind of miss you arrogantly assuming you know best. Not much, mind you, but humble and self-doubting doesn’t suit you.”

Drake surprised her by bursting into bitter laughter. “If only you knew how much self-doubt there is under my arrogance!”

“How could I? You don’t let it show.” She touched his face, and he leaned into her palm.

But he had let it show, she realized, all the times he’d backed off or retreated into following a rigid checklist of how a dom should behave when a situation got out of his control, or when he got too passionate. He must harbor fears as deep and strange as her own terror of being dependent, or being pushed away from her art to become more pleasing to another, or being caught out as a failure at a basic rite of passage to adulthood.

Still leaning into her hand, Drake said, almost in a whisper, “I told you my mom died of cancer, but that’s not quite true.”

While Jen tried to process that, Drake straightened up, moved just far away enough he could look at her as he said, “She killed herself when the cancer reached the point she felt she couldn’t take care of my father properly anymore and didn’t want him to need to take care of her. She said she wanted to go before she became too much of a burden. I found her suicide note in my father’s things when I was fourteen. I looked back and realized he’d resented her illness, hadn’t done as much to help her as seemed right to me. I vowed then that I’d take care of any woman I loved and protect her with the last breath in my body. Not long after I found the note, my father’s girlfriend took out the restraining order. That was when I moved here, to be with people who knew how to love, and I never looked back.”

Jen felt like a thousand glass shards had penetrated her heart. “Oh, Drake!” There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t have the words, only the colors for the compassion and love and need to understand that overwhelmed her. Maybe it was best not to talk now even if she could find the words. Words weren’t always his friends any more than they were hers.

Instead of trying to talk, she kissed him, trying to put everything she felt, everything she sensed, everything she glimpsed without fully understanding, into the kiss. Something broke open inside her. Everything wasn’t right yet, still confused and fragile, but they could afford to take it hour by hour, minute by minute, until the show was over and they could take the time to hash it out properly. A cloud of pink reached out from inside her to surround them both.

When they finally broke apart, Drake blinked a few times. “You said there was a couch in here. We should test its strength.”

Jen hadn’t forgotten the couch. Had calculated how many steps it would take to stumble over to it. Her aching cunt and sensitive nipples were of the opinion the couch was a great idea. But it wasn’t, and not because she was still angry but because their bodies communicated so well they could easily convince themselves a quickie had solved all their problems. Which it wouldn’t.

They’d need to talk even more. Then they’d need sex that would be anything but quick. Dammit, that beautiful rose shade couldn’t be wrong.

They’d get through this. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy. No doubt he’d be arrogant and demanding and annoy her again, and no doubt she’d be spacey and careless and annoy him, but they’d end up together.

But first she needed to get ready for the show.

“The food’s getting cold,” she reminded him gently. “And I think we need to wait before testing the couch.”

“I thought you were the impatient, impulsive one.” Even as he spoke, though, Drake was opening the bag and taking out napkins, cutlery and the first container of food.

“I am. But in case you haven’t noticed, I can be incredibly focused about what matters to me.”

“Your work.” He gestured around the studio with a packet of chopsticks. “I guess this isn’t the best time.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s not just my work.” She captured his hand, slipped the chopsticks out of his grasp, and raised it to her lips. “You matter, even more than I’d realized. This would have been a minor argument, not a real fight, if you didn’t matter. We deserve time and attention, and I can’t spare it until after Sunday. After that, I’m going to focus on you and this relationship and the mess we made and how to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She grinned. “And of course, there’s the makeup sex.”

Drake leaned in close. He gripped her shoulders hard. “Makeup sex with me might just hurt.” The air shivered with menace. Then he added, “But only in good ways.” He kissed the end of her nose and released her.

“Can’t wait for that! Now what did you bring me? Ooh, lemongrass chicken wings!” She took a healthy bite of chicken wing. It was slightly cool but flavorful, and juice and sauce ran down her chin. Drake leaned in and licked it away.

“And a banh mi and some noodle dish I won’t attempt to pronounce still in the bag. Is there any place to sit that’s more comfortable than in here?”

“There’s a picnic table by the loading dock out back. Not exactly scenic but it doesn’t smell like a glass furnace. And you can see the inlet, so we can pretend it’s scenic.” She sighed. “But I can’t stay long. Too much to do.”

Drake swept everything he’d just unloaded back into the bag. “While we’re eating, let’s figure out if there’s anything I can do to help you out.” He smiled. “If I just start doing something without asking, it’s bound to be wrong.”

“Maybe. Not if you bring me Vietnamese takeout. Or packing boxes. Or an extra body and car for schlepping. At this point, Sean and I are planning to put everything into his truck and make about fifteen trips.” She grabbed her water bottle and filled a mug for Drake. “But seriously, I bet there are things you can to do that would be useful. I just…never thought about it before. I’ve always done everything for this business on my own. Even setting up my Web site.” She snorted ruefully. “Which is why the site kind of sucks.”

Drake opened the door for Jen, who led the way out. “Pretty colors, though.”

“Just guessing?”

“I’ve checked it out.”

Jen didn’t know what to say to that, so she said, simply, “Thank you. I’m not good at HTML, but I know how to make something attractive. Just, in this case, not attractive
and
functional.”

“Some of the links don’t work,” he admitted. “And once you figure out the organization, it makes sense, but it’s not obvious.” They sat at the picnic table and spread out the food. “It’s not bad overall, but it doesn’t look like you update it a lot, and it’s kind of…”

“Boring,” she filled in. “Other than the colors.”

Drake savored a few bites of noodles and sipped water before saying anything else. Jen thought he was just busy eating, but when he spoke, she thought he might have been hesitating in order to find the right words. “One of my grad students is a Web designer.”

Jen shook her head without even thinking about it. “Can’t pay anyone right now, and before you ask, I’m not letting you pay him or her either. Or bully the poor student into doing it for free.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Please. I wouldn’t do that. He’d mentioned he wanted to get something nice for his mom’s birthday, but his budget’s tight. Maybe you guys could barter.”

“That’s an idea.” She smiled broadly. “That’s a good idea, in fact. Especially if he can show me how to do my own updates.”

“He’s my best TA. If he can explain advanced math to undergraduate history majors, he can explain HTML to you. Do you want me to ask him, or do you think I’d bully him too much?”

“Why don’t you put out the initial feeler, then I’ll take it from there if he’s interested. Just because I know what I need done, not because I really think you’d bully him,” she added quickly, “though you can be pretty intimidating.”

“Haven’t noticed you being particularly intimidated.”

“You don’t need to intimidate me. You can just melt me.” At some later date, after the show, when she had more brain space, she might talk to him about just how he intimidated her, she was pretty sure without meaning to. How he made her feel weak and childlike until she had to fight back, fight for her heart and mind and freedom. How his advanced degrees made it hard to tell him about her own history. But right now, she didn’t want to disturb their lovely, tenuous accord.

“I like melting you. I think I’ll melt you right now.” He stood, stalked around the table and grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back. “Outdoors. Where anyone could see.” Not that there was anyone around to be an audience at the moment, but public exposure made Jen all quivery. Firmly gripping her hair, he bent for a kiss. His free hand came to rest on her rib cage, just under the curve of her breast. Not quite outside the bounds of good taste but close to it, considering the setting. Close enough to feel taboo and thus incredibly erotic.

When he was still safely on the other side of the table, she’d told herself she’d play with him, pretend to be unaffected, at least for a few seconds. He’d sounded too damn confident, and it would be fun to tweak him. But as soon as he touched her, she knew she couldn’t manage it.

Melting, just as Drake predicted. Melting in public, down by the inlet. She sighed, set down her fork and gave herself over to the kiss. To the firm hand in her hair and the other teasing just below her breast. To Drake’s control and the sensual freedom she found within that control. She’d never thought of herself as inhibited, but with Drake, she was able to relax and let go even more. Experiment.

She could even not worry—too much—about lunch getting cold, or about the ten million things she still had to do. Could be in the moment in a way she could normally be only when color and form came together, when both the glass and her inspiration were fever hot.

He slid his hand up and cupped her breast. Long fingers brushed the nipple, then closed on it, pinching hard. She hissed with surprised bliss into Drake’s mouth as sensation jolted through her.

It had been only a few days, but God, she’d missed this. Missed that place where pain bled into ecstasy, where desire became raging need, where boundaries blurred.

Missed Drake.

He released her mouth long enough to whisper, “Touch me, Jen.” His voice was harsh, throaty. Commanding, but at the same time full of need. Full of lust.

Emboldened by the command, Jen reached around, found his cock where it swelled against his shorts. It wasn’t the best angle for a handjob, but she could manage a teasing caress, awkward but, based on his reaction, pleasurable. He groaned and leaned forward into her hand, shifting his stance to allow her better access. She stroked, gripping as best she could, as Drake alternately caressed and twisted her nipple.

He bit down hard where her neck curved into her shoulder, teeth worrying at the muscle ridge. “Mine,” he snarled. “Mine.”

The word reverberated through Jen’s body, thrilling her, arousing her. A breath later, her heart caught up, puzzled, dubious, but still excited.

Then he added, “Mine…and you wouldn’t be mine if you weren’t very much your own woman,” and her heart decided it made sense after all.

“There’s a bee in your food,” a dry voice remarked. “And I’m amazed Jen isn’t inside eating with one hand and working with another, instead of allowing herself to have fun with a hot guy.”

“Sean, go away.” Jen brandished a chopstick at him.

To her surprise, Drake laughed, still holding her close, his hand still cupping her breast, though no longer right on the nipple. He always seemed to have a proper streak, an odd flip side to his kinkiness, but this time it didn’t seem like he minded being caught. “Some things are more important than food,” he said, “or even work.”

“You got Jen not to work for a while?” Sean did a slow golf clap. “Well played, Professor. Well played. Now eat…lunch, that is. Otherwise I’m going to steal the food out from under your noses. My lunch wasn’t nearly as good as that looks. I’m getting back to packing.”

As soon as Sean headed inside, Jen and Drake dissolved into giggles. “I’m sorry,” Drake said, still cracking up. “I didn’t think anyone would come back here, but still, I knew it was a possibility, and then I didn’t stop myself. Of course, you didn’t stop me either. And I know you remember your safeword.”

Jen turned in his arms. “No apologies needed. I knew people come down by the inlet sometimes. There are a couple of artists’ studios in this building and a salsa company next door, and we all keep weird hours.”

“And you didn’t care.”