Under His Care (4 page)

“I know what you mean,” Nicole said. “But I’ve also seen both sides of it. I’ve been where you’re standing now, and I’ve seen how a man can change and become his very best self under the right circumstances.”

“I can’t believe Red would ever treat you that way.”

Nicole hesitated. “I don’t really like to think of our worst moments, but there were a few that were incredibly devastating.”

Kennedy didn’t want to pressure Nicole into talking about something that made her uncomfortable. But it was comforting to know that Nicole had been through a similar situation in the past. And just having her sister’s voice in her ear was so new to Kennedy, she didn’t want this time on the phone to end.

“What do you think? Was I wrong to walk away from Easton?” Kennedy asked, after Nicole didn’t follow up on her statement.

“I can’t say,” Nicole replied. “I don’t really know your situation well enough, and besides—I’m not you. Only you can decide what’s right for you.”

“That’s true,” Kennedy said, pulling on her lower lip.

“But I can tell you that I think it’s important you demand to be treated with respect. These men—people like Kane Wright and Red and Easton—they’re very powerful, intimidating and charismatic. They’re used to getting their own way, and having women fall all over them.”

“I pretty much fell at Easton’s feet,” Kennedy admitted.

“I was the same with Red,” Nicole told her. “In the beginning, anyway. But then I eventually realized that if I wanted to be worth more to him, I had to start seeing myself as having value, and demanding that he see me that way too.”

“And it worked?”

“I can’t promise anything for you, Kennedy. I’m just telling you my experience.”

Kennedy thought about it, her brow furrowing. “It hurts being away from him. My stomach is in knots and I keep thinking about him, missing him. Wishing he’d call me.”

“If he truly cares, he’ll come for you again,” Nicole told her. “Don’t imagine that Easton can find another woman as amazing as you so easily. He’ll be missing you too.”

“You really think so?” Kennedy asked, smiling, her cheeks burning.

“I really do,” Nicole laughed. “I’ll be checking back in to see how you’re holding up tomorrow,” Nicole added.

“Thanks for being there for me,” Kennedy told her.

“Always,” Nicole said.

***

Kennedy felt good enough to go out for groceries and then she spent the rest of the day on the couch again.

When Blake got home from work, he invited her to his apartment for dinner, and she said yes. At first, she was unsure about giving Blake the wrong idea again—but she was lonely and bored and didn’t want to keep checking her cell phone another two hundred times.

In any case, Blake let her into his apartment with a quick, friendly but platonic feeling hug that put her at ease. “Want anything to drink?” he asked, walking into the kitchen. “I’ve got soda, juice, wine, water…”

“God, definitely not wine,” Kennedy said, as she followed him in.

Blake was putting on an apron and tying it, which made her smile. He put out his arms and spun around. “Do I look good or what?”

“Very,” she laughed. “Now you just need the hat to go with it.”

He snapped his fingers. “I knew I forgot something,” Blake said, and then went to the stove where he was sautéing vegetables. “You like stir fry?” he asked, holding up a bottle of soy sauce with a questioning but hopeful look.

Kennedy stared blankly at him, her mind going back in time to when Easton had been cooking for her in the townhouse. In some ways, this was a very similar scene, except the kitchen was small and a little dingy, and Blake was…well, Blake was Blake.

He wasn’t Easton, and it hurt her heart. She missed Easton so much at that moment that she wanted to scream.

“Shit, you hate it,” Blake said, looking accusingly at the soy sauce in his hand.

“No, no,” Kennedy reassured him. “I’m fine with the stir fry.”

“Fine with it?” Blake cocked his head at her. “Is something going on? Something you want to talk about?”

“Just make the darn food already,” she said, and playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay.” He started making the food, humming and then finally singing at full volume while he cooked.

Kennedy was entertained by his antics, and he was managing to distract her from her loneliness—at least, a little bit.

They sat down to eat and Kennedy took her first bite with Blake watching anxiously. “It’s really good,” she assured him, but the truth was that his stir-fry was on the bland side. It was edible, and she was happy and thankful he’d made it for her, but it was just another reminder of what she was missing.

Easton’s food had been absolutely scrumptious, delicious and hearty. And then on top of that great food Easton had made for her, he’d sat down and she’d gotten to stare into his eyes during the meal.

Blake seemed to sense her dissatisfaction, but he accepted it gracefully. “You might not want any wine, but I’m in the mood,” he told her, opening a bottle and pouring himself a glass. He took a few sips and then sat back, appraising her. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy, Kennedy.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, stirring rice around on her plate.

“I mean, it’s obvious that you’re heartbroken. Why don’t you just call the guy?”

“Because,” she said. “It doesn’t work that way. And I thought we’d agreed not to mention him anymore.”

“You said I wasn’t allowed to speak his name. And I didn’t.” Blake flashed a smile.

Kennedy sighed. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

“Why don’t you let me help you figure it out? Now that we’re friends and all.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “How can I trust you?”

“Look, I learned my lesson,” Blake told her. “I understand that you don’t have those kinds of feelings for me and I accept it completely. We’re just friends and nothing more.”

Kennedy took a bite of rice and bland chicken and swallowed it down, nodding. “Okay, then.” She twirled her fork back and forth thoughtfully. “I know that I love Easton, but I’m not sure he respects me. And I don’t think I should be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t respect you?”

She put her fork down and gave him a look. “You don’t think he respects me, either. That’s why you were so insistent that I should stop seeing him.”

Blake shook his head. “I told you, that’s in the past. I’m turning the book to a clean page, and I’m not making any assumptions about Easton Rather or your relationship with him.”

“Well…” Kennedy said, trying to think about the question.

The thing of it was, she needed to talk her feelings through with someone. She couldn’t get Easton out of her head, and Blake was one of the very few people she could discuss it with.

As crazy as it might have been, she decided to open up to him.

“Easton and I had a certain type of relationship,” she began, speaking hesitantly, watching Blake’s reaction.

“What type of relationship is that?”

“I guess you’d call it, like a master slave kind of deal,” she said.

Blake started to laugh, then saw the look on her face and stopped laughing immediately. “You’re serious,” he said.

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “If you pass judgment on me about this, Blake—so help me—“

“Jeez, I’m not doing anything, Kennedy. You’re so testy, so ready to jump down my throat at the first sign of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have good reason after the way you acted.” She gave him another frown and then relented. “I’m sorry, Blake. I’m being overly sensitive.”

Blake took a long sip of wine. “So this master slave deal,” he said, smacking his lips. “It’s like some kind of sexual fetish, right?”

She sighed. “I don’t know what it is. I just know that it’s more than a sexual preference. It affects the whole way he interacts with me. I have to follow his orders, basically. He’s in charge and I do what he says, and if I don’t do what he tells me to do than he pulls away.”

Blake made a face. “I can see why you’re trying to stay away from him,” he told her. “And I get that you two care about each other, but if there’s that kind of power imbalance, I don’t see how the relationship can work.”

“Exactly,” Kennedy replied.

“But then again, maybe you like it this way?” he said.

She turned her eyes toward him, staring. “I like it this way?”

“Maybe you like being his…you know…slave.”

“I don’t want to be anybody’s slave, Blake.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, seeming innocent.

“Don’t be a jerk.”

He continued to look at her. “No judgment, Kennedy.”

Suddenly, she was furious. “You’re just being an asshole now,” she said, pushing her chair back and starting for the door.

“Kennedy!” Blake cried out, as she pushed past him and opened the door.

“Leave me alone,” she yelled back at him.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean, Kennedy,” he said, but it was too late. She left Blake’s apartment and went back into her own, tears of anger and sadness streaming down her cheeks.

She slammed her door shut and then looked around the room for something to throw, something to break. There was nothing that seemed to serve her purposes. Kennedy grabbed a book and threw it on the floor but it didn’t make her feel any better.

Everything inside her was wound so tightly, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Why had Blake’s question upset her so much?

Had he truly hit a nerve?

No. He was just being a jerk, attempting to get me upset because he’s jealous of my feelings for Easton.

Kennedy began pacing around her apartment, fists clenched, looking for something to do, anything to take her mind off of the churning in her belly and the coursing blood in her veins.

“Dammit,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

Everything felt so slow. Every second that ticked by was moving at a snail’s pace, and she had nothing but time in front of her, nothing to beat back the dreary emptiness without Easton Rather in her life.

She hated Easton for ever having existed, and she hated herself for having pursued him, because now she’d never be able to forget him.

He was going to haunt her for the rest of eternity. At that moment, she realized that her temper tantrum had absolutely nothing to do with Blake or his comments, and everything to do with her own fears and wants and needs.

There was a barely audible knock on her apartment door. “Kennedy?” Blake called from the hallway.

She turned, feeling slightly guilty and childish for having stomped out of dinner, and opened her door to find Blake standing there with a sad look on his face.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“I really didn’t mean to offend you,” he told her.

She smiled at him. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” she told him. “I just got angry because you said some stuff I didn’t really want to hear.”

“If I was being judgmental—“

“No,” she said. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’m just emotional and tired and I probably need to go to bed.”

Blake nodded. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Not at all. We’ll get together again soon when I feel more myself. And next time, I’ll cook you dinner. Deal?”

“Deal,” Blake said, and then gave her a slight wave as he walked away. She closed the door and locked it, and then let out a slow breath.

Unfortunately, despite having apologized to Blake, she felt no relief from the building pressure inside her.

Kennedy went into the bathroom and started running the bath.

You need to calm down
, she told herself.
Take a breath, slow down, things will feel better.

But things weren’t feeling better. In fact, she was getting more and more tense, more and more frustrated, with nowhere to go and nothing to do to vent her anxiety.

She stripped off her clothes and got in the tub before it was even halfway full. Kennedy tried to close her eyes and breathe slowly, but Easton’s face was so vivid with her eyes shut, which made things that much worse.

Blake’s words from earlier rang in her ears.

But then again, maybe you like it this way?

Maybe you like being his slave.

Images began flashing through Kennedy’s mind, in quick succession. Easton, pushing Kennedy against the wall of the restaurant bathroom, his lips whispering into her ear.

Easton inserting the ball gag into her mouth, handcuffing her to the chair in his hotel room.

Kennedy’s breathing was growing faster as her heart started to race.

Finally, she recalled how Easton had made her strip naked and grab her own ankles, while he’d spanked her bare ass with a paddle.

But as these images and moments played out again and again in Kennedy’s mind, she slowly realized that the way Easton had treated her in the past wasn’t actually so dismaying. What was dismaying to her now, was the realization that she was turned on by it—she liked every last bit of it—and the punishment Easton doled out was something she craved.