Nature Of Desire: Worth The Wait Part 8

Des shot her a look and closed the distance between them with two solid steps. She told herself it was her recent trauma, not his imposing demeanor, that had her giving way a step, b.u.mping into the solid bulk of Billie. Christ, he had a buff torso.

She almost drowned in the turmoil of emotions she saw in Des's face. It forced her back to what had nearly happened to her, something she wasn't prepared to handle while she was still so unsteady on her feet.

Maybe he saw that. His jaw relaxed a fraction and he glanced at Billie. "If you don't mind watching after her, I need to get out of here a few minutes. If he says one more stupid thing, I'm going to break his f.u.c.king neck."

"Go, honey-chile. She's safe here. I'll watch over her like a mother hen."

Des gave Julie another searching look. This one was less angry, but held enough other messages to dry up any other fumbling defenses she could launch. He left the stage, but not before he gave every person around them another fierce stare. "You all heard what I said."

The slamming of the stage door rocked the theater. A moment of silence prevailed, then Billie touched her arm with one finger, making a sizzling sound through his teeth.

"What are you doing?" Julie asked, twitching away.

"That was a branding, honey-chile. Sure as my finely tuned nose detects a prime piece of beef."

Pablo cleaned up his mess and cleared out without saying much of anything to anyone, and nothing to her. Billie told her to expect a text from the young rigger, backing out of the show. "He's embarra.s.sed, and he figures you're going to fire him anyway. But if he's a decent human being, and I think that silly boy is, he'll take to heart what Des told him. Once he sets his ego aside and spends more time learning his basics instead of showing off."

Well and good, but it left a hole in her program.

Once she'd a.s.sured Billie she could leave his side without a major critical care incident, Julie went into the bathroom and gratefully closed the door. A renewed wave of shaking took her down to the floor on her backside, and stress tears spilled out. Before it became outright sobbing, she pulled herself together, struggled to her feet and took stock of the damage in the mirror. Des was right. She was going to have some bruising along her neck, a major hickey. From the increasing soreness throughout the rest of her body, she was sure she'd be groaning when she got out of bed tomorrow morning.

As she stood there staring at herself in the mirror, instead of reflective gla.s.s, she saw it all happening again and quaked. It could have been so much worse.

Which was why Des had been so enraged. He'd turned caveman on her, bigtime. During their two brief connections, she'd recognized his protective instincts, a genuine caring for another living being. He also took what he did d.a.m.n seriously, and now she understood why. Risk Aware Consensual Kink, indeed.

None of that was wrong, but something more personal was going on in his reaction to the situation. No. She told herself not to go there. She'd fooled herself about a man's feelings toward her before. She wasn't going to jump into that pool again. Hadn't she told herself only an hour ago that she wasn't even interested in that?

She washed her face, combed her hair, and left the bathroom. Hesitating backstage, she realized she wasn't ready to go back up front and watch them repair things or resume the day's work. Instead, after some waffling, she went out the stage door to get some fresh air. And to find Des.

She'd been almost certain he wouldn't leave the premises until he checked on her again, and she felt an odd tilt in her chest to find she was right. He was sitting on the bay of their one loading dock, eating peanut b.u.t.ter pretzel pillows and sipping from a bottle of water.

He tucked it away in his pack as she sat down next to him, a careful buffer of s.p.a.ce between them. He detailed her physical and mental state with one look, and his gaze flared with anger again as it pa.s.sed over her throat where the abrasions were already showing.

She wanted to apologize, and she steeled herself against that, knowing it was a kneejerk reaction. It might also set him off again and she'd lash back. Normally she'd summon her usual sa.s.s and tell him to stop being a d.i.c.k, but she couldn't say that to the guy who'd made sure she hadn't ended up in an oxygen-deprived coma.

"Are you okay?" he asked. It was his normal voice, which helped settle her nerves.

"Yeah."

"Good. Madison's on her way. She's taking you to the urgent care, since you won't go with me."

So much for relaxing. Her back went up again. "I won't go with anyone. I told you-"

"Julie." His sharp look made her bite back the words, but he tempered it with a brief touch on the top of her hand. "I'm not being a jerk. I told Logan what happened and the first words out of his mouth were why you weren't already on your way to one. I told him it's your call, and it is, but hear me out. I know you're rattled and it's natural to try and regain control by saying you're fine. But if you trust my expertise, believe me when I say there's damage that can occur that you can't feel and I can't see. You don't f.u.c.k with injuries like this just to save face. Go for the people who care about you. It's a few hours of your life."

She stared out into the parking lot, refusing to look at him. He might be right, but she wanted to bristle and spit. Which was probably part of wanting to regain control, too.

She turned her face back toward him. She knew she looked mutinous, but she didn't want to be stupid. She just had too much c.r.a.p happening right now. When he reached out to touch her cheek, his expression softening, she drew back. It was instinct, not planned, but a clear telegraph she was still feeling too fragile. He dropped the hand back to his side. "I'm not going to yell," he said. "I'm not going to say anything. I'm just going to listen. Tell me what's going on in your head."

"I'm not okay," she said after a protracted silence. "I'm freaked out by what could have happened. I'm embarra.s.sed it happened in front of everyone. I'm wondering if I should have known better and I just proved to them I know less than nothing about this stuff. I'm mad at you for yelling at me in front of them. I'm also really, really glad you came when you did."

She blinked back traitorous tears and looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the loading dock. The others had experience in BDSM play, but she remembered the chaos of those first vital seconds. She wasn't sure if any of them would have been level-headed enough to know to do what Des had done. None of the others were riggers.

His hand settled alongside hers. Not covering it, just pressed against it, their smallest fingers aligned with one another.

"I'm glad I did, too."

"I don't know any of this stuff, Des," she said, tracing cracks in the parking lot with her gaze. "That first time with you, you made me feel so safe. I guess it didn't occur to me it could be different, that Pablo wouldn't know what he was doing. Like you said, I was being stupid."

"Hey." When he touched her face this time, she didn't draw away. His expression was serious. "I never said you were stupid, and I never would. You weren't being stupid. I was."

It was then she saw the component of his rage she'd missed-guilt. Her lips parted on a protest, but he held up a hand so she'd let him finish.

"Because it did work so naturally with you, I focused on that and not on your lack of experience. I didn't think about how you'd be exposed to other performers here. Since you're so proactive, I should have realized you might offer to help them in a situation like that, thinking that what happened with us was the way it always goes."

"That's a lot of things to antic.i.p.ate. If you'd put all that together, you'd be G.o.d. No one can antic.i.p.ate everything. Even a Dom."

"There are eastern philosophies that postulate all of us are G.o.d. That the collective unconscious is the true source of Divinity."

She made a face, but she was glad they'd both recovered enough to tease. "How about this? Let's go Dutch on the guilt. I'll take half and you take half, because ultimately we're all responsible for ourselves. Though I didn't care for the way you made your point-patronizing and a.s.sholish-you weren't entirely wrong. I should have thought it through."

"And I shouldn't have been so caught up in how well things worked between us last time that I didn't give you a safety lecture afterwards."

"That would have been a buzzkill," she pointed out practically. "Plus I'm not sure I had the brain cells to process anything afterwards."

"Nice ego stroke, but I would have made it really easy. Tarzan breakdown. 'Des great at this. Everyone else sucks. Only let Des do this to you.'"

She elbowed him, then decided to stay leaning against him. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her forehead.

"You scared me, love. Scared the s.h.i.t out of me. Are you okay, really?"

"Yeah, I really am. Promise. Pablo might be a dumba.s.s, but he wasn't some mean person intending me harm. I think the deal is he's always performed in a club environment, and this is the first time he's really been on stage. He got a little distracted and self-conscious.

"I'm not excusing him," she said as Des's expression became ominous. "I'm just saying it wasn't much different from the tech guys almost braining me with a boom. I've learned to be nimble and duck when needed. But it's hard to duck when you're tied up."

"Yeah." He stroked her hair, held her close with both arms, squeezing her hard. "Don't do that again, all right?"

"I promise to never again let someone tie me to a frame that's going to fall over and make me a theater ghost."

"Smarta.s.s. Say the Tarzan thing. Make me happy."

"Des great at this. Everyone else sucks. Only let Des do this to you." She chuckled into his shirt front. "And Des needs shower."

"Yeah." He sniffed himself ruefully. "It was a particularly nasty job today. I was going to do a quick clean up in the back bathroom and change my shirt before I came to find you, but I wanted a quick glimpse of you first. Fortunate timing."

"That's an understatement." She dropped her head back to give him a speculative look. "So, you become a rage monster when you're p.i.s.sed."

"Pretty much. Might as well put that down on the con side of things about having a relationship with me."

"I don't know, I better hold off. I don't want that side to outweigh the pros too quick."

"Ouch." He winced. "What else have I done?"

"You've left a gap in my program, for one thing." She held up her phone. "Pablo texted me that he's pulling out, just as Billie predicted. So can you recommend any riggers to me that could come up to speed yesterday? I don't want just anyone. You owe me someone who will absolutely wow my audience. Someone who can compete with Billie for top billing."

"n.o.body can compete with Billie."

"So you know him? Her."

"Yeah. Billie's a h.e.l.l of an interesting Dom. Or Dominatrix. Depending on his or her mood."

"You have the same problem I do."

"Billie's told me never to consider p.r.o.nouns a problem. She likes being flexible."

"That's the feeling I've gotten from him, too. And no dodging. I want a fabulous rigger."

He lifted a brow. "I think you've already got someone in mind."

"I'm looking at him." She poked him in the chest. "Billie had some footage of the sessions you've done at shibari conferences. He said you let him record it."

"Under the mandate that it was only for his private use. He wanted to learn about rope bondage."

"We privately viewed it together," she a.s.sured him. "We're not posting it on the Internet. Unless you turn me down. I'm not above blackmail."

"Julie..." He grimaced and she held up a hand.

"I get why you don't like to do it as a performance. But you're creative with it, you like to explore all the possibilities and, if the energy you conveyed to me one-on-one translates to an audience, I think they'd learn a lot from watching you. And be totally mesmerized while doing so."

"Or be put to sleep, because I get so into it with the sub I forget they exist." He put his bill cap back on, and she tapped the brim, dipping her head to look at him beneath its shade. It gave him a more mysterious look and emphasized the curve of his mouth, the glitter of his gaze under the bill's shadowing. All of which confirmed she was dead on right about this. The audience would be enthralled by her Dom-wizard.

"Madison wants people to see how beautiful the mutual give and take we all crave is, and put it in a BDSM context. Show the overlap, that people who are Doms and subs aren't freaks. That does a hundred times more good than beating people with lectures about alternate s.e.xuality and tolerating diversity."

He pressed those fine lips together and leaned back on his palms, a look that stretched his T-shirt across his chest and made her want to trace the sun-warmed denim on his thigh. She was apparently having an I'm alive and I need to jump someone to confirm it moment.

"You know, all of us are freaks," he pointed out. "Vanilla or kink."

"Duh. Most people with any sense know that." She tapped the bill of his hat again and he caught her wrist, tugging her toward him. She resisted, but only to gain capitulation. "Will you do it? If you really don't feel comfortable with it, I'll lay off with a minimal amount of pouting, but I think you'd be brilliant."

He c.o.c.ked his head. "Show me your best pout. Give me something to fantasize about with those soft lips of yours."

She shifted so she was leaning over him, and transformed her face into a sad, longing look, complete with full pursed mouth that she moistened with a sultry pucker.

"d.a.m.n." His brown eyes sparked. "You sure you don't perform?"

"I was a drama major, but I was a mediocre actress at best. I discovered I loved the production end more."

He'd released her wrist to slide his hand under her hair and caress the sensitive point at the base of her neck. She took advantage of her position to put her palm on his chest, fingertips sliding across the T-shirt. Des studied her.

"Okay. I'll do it. But not because you're exercising feminine wiles on me."

She straightened abruptly, eyes widening. "I was doing no such thing."

"Either I'm so irresistible you couldn't keep yourself from touching me, or you were trying to use feminine wiles. Which is it?"

She tucked her tongue in her cheek and examined her nails. "If you put it that way, it was totally feminine wiles."

"Liar. I told you I was irresistible."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Need to Get Over Yourself." She relented, though, slanting a glance at him and smiling. "Thanks, truly. So who will you get to do it with you?"

"Well, if you're not volunteering..."

"No way. First off, I'm Harris's troubleshooter that night. Second, I couldn't do stuff like that in front of people."

"I told you I don't perform on stage, and see where that landed me." But he waved a hand, telling her he understood and wasn't going to push it, though she appreciated being asked. "There's a sub at Logan's club, Missive, who enjoys rope play. She's a knockout, too, a good-looking twenty-something blonde, but she's the real deal, not a poser, so she'll make a good impression on an audience."

In her professional capacity, Julie was pleased to hear it. As the woman sitting next to him, not so much. But she'd just told him she couldn't do it and, beyond that, it was a performance, like watching male and female leads do a love scene, even if their spouses were sitting in the audience.

Only Des didn't have a spouse, or girlfriend. No firm commitments. She wasn't looking for one herself. Hadn't she planned to have a talk about that with him? Don't be stupid. You and he have barely even started...whatever this is. And you haven't even decided in your mind you want to start anything.

Could she be more wishy-washy? She was being a coward and she knew it. She also had never asked him if he was involved with someone, but she was pretty sure he would have been up front about that, or Logan or Madison would have told her.

She rubbed her hand over her throat again unconsciously. He saw it, that ominous flash going through his gaze as he touched her hand there. She drew back, though, and hopped down off the dock, in time to see Madison pulling in. Great. A couple hours of being poked and prodded. She'd do it, but she wouldn't like it.

"There's Madison. Thanks for being willing to fill in for Pablo, okay?"

"Yeah." He was studying her. "You okay?"

"Totally. Touch base with Missive and let Harris know if you guys are a go. He'll coordinate everything with you and pull me in as needed. Tell Madison I'm just going in to grab my purse."

"Julie..."

But she pretended not to hear and went back into the building, letting the door close and trap her in shadows in the back hallway of the theater. You cannot afford this s.h.i.t, she told herself. Time to do the hopefully unnecessary medical check, then get a hot shower to head off the worst of the aches and pains. The physical ones at least.

Maybe afterward she'd use a vibrator until she lost consciousness, so she wouldn't be having nightmares about or dwelling on her near-death experience. No, instead she'd be fantasizing about Desmond Hayes. She'd like to lie to herself and say she could ban him from any masturbation montage, but he was right.

She found him irresistible.

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out. "Speak of the devil," she muttered.

Text me and tell me you're okay after your appointment. Madison says you're staying with her tonight and she's making you take a half day tomorrow. Unless you'd rather sleep in, I'll pick you up at nine to go to a farmers' market. A friendly non-date.

No. Definitely no. They were handling her. She didn't appreciate that.

There's a woman who makes a better-than-s.e.x broccoli ca.s.serole.

There will be peanut b.u.t.ter cookies.