HurtMeHealMe Page 7

  The waiter broke the spell by coming over to fill their water glasses. Paul shook his head, slightly bemused. He couldn’t believe the effect this woman had on him.

  Once the waiter was safely out of earshot, he continued talking about his predilections, so as not to get caught up again in her mesmerizing gaze. “I also like playing with toys.” Caitlin’s eyes widened imperceptibly. But since Paul was attuned to every move and every breath she took, he noticed.

  “It’s nothing serious. I just like to use toys to heighten the experience for my partner.”

  Caitlin nodded and Paul’s lips curved into a grin. “I have also been known to get into a bit of spanking. And I do love using my deerskin flogger.”

  Caitlin couldn’t help smiling at Paul. He had such a mischievous look, with his crooked grin and those electric eyes just sparkling with laughter.

  She took a deep, fortifying breath before asking the next question. “Um, what about pain? I mean, do you like to hurt your partner…when you have…sex?” Caitlin cringed with embarrassment and felt like hiding, but she watched Paul’s reaction instead.

  Paul smiled in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner. “No, darlin’, I’d never really hurt a woman. The thought is abhorrent to me. A bit of erotic pain when administered correctly can make a woman feel pleasure far more intensely. And that’s what I’d like to give you—intense, overwhelming pleasure. I’d never, ever hurt you.”

  Caitlin guessed most women would have been extremely happy with Paul’s answer.

  Her? Not so much.

  She could ask him what he would do if a woman really wanted or needed pain. But then he’d probably think she was some messed-up pain whore. She most likely was, however there was no chance she’d admit that to him. “What about whips?” Caitlin asked tentatively.

  The good humor immediately vanished from Paul’s face. “No. Definitely no whips.”

  Caitlin jumped at Paul’s harsh tone. The words were said so vehemently, so different from the relaxed, sensual teasing of a few moments before.

  The abrupt change in Paul’s manner unsettled Caitlin. She liked it when he looked at her with his lopsided grin and eyes that held mischief; when he smiled and little crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes; when he threw his head back and laughed his deep, rumbling laugh. Now his face was austere, his lips pulled into a tight line. Caitlin found it difficult to look at Paul right then, so she focused on the table instead. He obviously had a problem with whips. Maybe he thought people who needed to be whipped were sick.

  People like her.

  The disappointment Caitlin felt threatened to crush her. She stared at the flickering flames of the candles in the middle of the table and struggled not to cry. Why was the universe doing this to her? She’d never felt this kind of attraction to a man before. He could make her pant just by looking at her. And he was apparently attracted to her. She could feel the attraction zinging around between them, like electricity in the air before a storm. And he was a Dom. A gorgeous, sexy, intelligent, funny, incredible man. Who liked a bit of kink.

  And hated whips.

  Damn.

  Ten minutes later, Paul and Caitlin were walking out to the car park. Paul hadn’t volunteered the reason for his anti-whip stance and Caitlin hadn’t asked. She had declined dessert, thinking she would have loved to share some decadent chocolate cake with Paul, since feeding each other was quite a sensual experience—when she didn’t injure him with the cutlery, that is.

  However, there really was no point delaying the inevitable. Nothing could happen between them. She couldn’t let it. And with that realization, she decided she might as well go home and soak in a hot bath and cry all the tears she felt prickling at the backs of her eyelids. Her throat hurt from holding back those tears. God, the thought of not seeing him again—

  No, don’t go there!

  She was not going to break down and cry like a baby in front of him.

  Caitlin stopped next to her car. “This one’s mine,” she said, her voice sounding flat. She had to get out of here before she made a fool of herself in front of this man. This man she had just met, but somehow was already developing strong feelings for.

  She turned and put her hand on the door handle, wondering what to say to him. Thanks for dinner and have a nice life, won’t you? If the mention of whips gets you riled up, you’ll be sickened when I tell you all about me? I can’t see you anymore because when you find out about what kind of person I am, your disappointment will break my heart or make me shrivel up and die or something equally unsavory?

  She didn’t have time to come up with anything appropriate.

  She felt the backs of Paul’s fingers brush gently down the side of her face. The heat of his body seared into her back. She shuddered.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Why you runnin’ from me?”

  His voice sounded deeper, husky. If his voice were a tangible thing, she would lick it. It would taste rich, like chocolate.

  When she didn’t answer, he persisted. “I know you clammed up again back there when I said I won’t use a whip. I know I upset you. I’m sorry if I came across a little harsh, but it’s just…” He sighed heavily. “Sweetheart, it’s just too complicated to explain right now. But what I really want to know is what exactly upset you. Was it the answer to your question, or the way I answered it? Or both?” he added after a pause.

  Caitlin only shook her head in response. He gathered her hair in his hands and pushed it over one shoulder, baring her nape. She shivered as cool air caressed her exposed skin. Then she shivered anew when his warm breath blew over her cool flesh. She felt his lips brush up the side of her neck. She experienced a full-body shudder, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. A high-pitched mewling sound escaped her lips. Clamping her mouth shut, she tried to contain it, to stop the sounds, to control the reactions.

  Paul growled as he put his tongue against her skin and licked—a long, slow lick—all the way up her neck to the vulnerable skin behind her ear. The wet heat scorched her skin, burning even deeper, melting her bones. She closed her eyes and gasped at the sensations wrought by the stroke of his tongue.

  Her body fought her resolve and pressed back of its own volition against his much larger, muscular frame. Paul groaned and wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulling her body into his, while his other arm came over her shoulder, his rough, calloused hand clasping around her neck.

  She didn’t feel afraid, but somehow strangely protected and enveloped, her tiny form surrounded and engulfed by his. She arched, stretching her body like a lazy cat, moaning, feeling the evidence of his arousal rigid against her back. She pressed her head against his chest, exposing more of her throat.

  Leaning forward, he opened his mouth wide over the vulnerable curve where neck meets shoulder and bit down on her flesh. Hard. The sounds issuing from him were possessive and primal. It was as if he were an animal claiming his mate, like a stallion biting the neck of his mare, holding her in place while he claimed her.

  And Caitlin submitted, loved being held down and marked by this man. If he wasn’t holding her so tightly, her knees would have buckled and she would have ended up in a crumpled heap at his feet. It felt so right to be in his arms, as if this were exactly where she was supposed to be. For the first time in her life the planets were aligned, everything was right in her universe.

  “Come home with me,” he growled against her skin.

  Go home with him. Oh god in heaven, did she want to go home with him. Pressed against him, being held like this, she thought if she even stepped away from him for just a moment, something very bad would happen to her. She needed him like she needed to breathe. It was right and good and necessary and oh god, so impossible.

  He would find out. He would ask her questions and she would have to answer truthfully. She knew she could only evade him for so long, and she also knew she could never lie to this man. And even if he didn’t ask, as soon as he took her clothes o
ff, if he looked at her in the light, he would see the scars. The marks etched into her skin, the eternal evidence of Ivan’s brutality. Evidence she would always carry with her.

  Paul would reject her and her used, ravaged body. He would judge her, get angry, call her names. The names Ivan had called her. Cruel, degrading names.

  No. She couldn’t bear it. Not from Paul.

  She couldn’t bear to see his blue eyes—beautiful when lit with mischief and humor—grow cold and flat with contempt and loathing.

  Caitlin gritted her teeth and struggled in Paul’s arms. He released her. Turning around to face him, she looked into his eyes. He was looking at her with a quizzical expression, a little furrow between his brows, as if he didn’t know what to make of her behavior.

  Caitlin bit the inside of her cheeks, determined not to fall apart right there and then. She reached one hand up tentatively and slowly stroked the side of his face. She felt his stubble, rough against her fingers. She gently brushed her thumb over his lips. His eyes closed and he sighed. His massive body trembled.

  Caitlin wanted to howl with despair.

  “I have to go,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

  His eyes snapped opened. He shook his head as if to clear it. “You have to go? Now?”

  She couldn’t help it. Her eyes filled with tears. She struggled to not let them well over. “Yes.”

  “So—when can I see you again?” The frustration was evident in his voice.

  “Paul, I can’t see you.” Her voice cracked “I’m—I’m not right for you. You deserve better than me.” The tears spilled over and ran down her face, blurring her vision. She touched his face once last time. “Goodbye, Paul.”

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

  Caitlin turned woodenly and slid into her car.

  “Caitlin. Just you wait a goddamn minute.”

  She closed the door and started the car like an automaton, surprised she could actually function at all. Her hands were shaking, she could scarcely see through her tears and her brain was screaming at her to get out of the car, wrap herself around Paul and never let him go.

  The last thing Caitlin heard before she drove away was the sound of Paul thumping his fist on the roof of her car while he yelled her name.

  Chapter Seven

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” Paul had smashed his finger with a hammer. For the third time. God, he had to concentrate on the job he was doing or he wasn’t going to have any fingers left.

  Paul threw his hammer down in the dirt. Squeezing his tortured finger with his other hand, he strode to the end of the job site so he could cuss and swear where no one would hear him, or more importantly, question him. The other guys on the landscaping crew had been throwing each other questioning looks all morning.

  To Paul’s relief, they’d all refrained from grilling him. He was giving off enough don’t-fuck-with-me vibes that no one with an ounce of sense would come within ten feet of him. Although the new kid, Mike—the sensitive New Age guy—looked as if he were just about to crack under the strain and come over for a heart-to-heart. And then he’d probably offer Paul a cup of tea and a cookie and expect him to sit down and talk through his feelings like a fucking girl. Yeah, and then maybe they could braid each other’s hair and talk about their menstrual cycles.

  Fuck that.

  Paul had spent one whole day after the Caitlin car park fiasco locked in his office trying to finish some designs for a commercial job he was working on.

  He had achieved a sum total of nothing.

  No matter how arduously he tried to think of anything else, his mind kept going back to that damn exasperating woman. He replayed the evening over and over in his head. He knew exactly when everything had started to fall apart. He also knew exactly what he should have done when she’d tried to run from him. Instead of biting her and grinding his cock against her ass like a horny teenager, he should have gained control of the situation and commanded her to give him the answers.

  And if that didn’t work, he should’ve bent her over the hood of the car and spanked her until she complied. Then he could’ve ground his cock against her ass and bitten her as much as he damn well wanted.

  Thinking maybe a change of scenery would do him good, Paul traded a day in the office for some fresh air and sunshine. After a sleepless night, he thought some physically exhausting manual labor out on the Hansen jobsite, helping his team plant rows of hedging plants and finish off building the deck, would let him spend the day productively without having to think too much. He was wrong. The only thing he was doing productively was injuring himself. And he was still thinking incessantly. Only it wasn’t about work, it was about her.

  What the hell was her problem anyway?

  One minute she was panting and pressing her luscious behind against his erection, making gorgeous, involuntary, purely female sounds that told him she wanted him. Her body had gone weak in his arms and he’d had to support her. She’d been shaking with desire. For him. And then she’d gone and run away. And what kind of excuse was “I’m not right for you. You deserve better than me”? Why did she get to decide if she was right for him or not? Why the hell didn’t he have a say? How did she know what he deserved?

  Fuck it. He didn’t need this kind of hassle. She was probably a high-maintenance woman anyway. He could do without that shit. He’d just go to the club tonight and find some warm body to take his mind off that infernal woman. By this time tomorrow, he’d have forgotten all about her and be able to concentrate again.

  * * * * *

  Paul snagged a barstool alongside Dante and Xavier and sat his ass down. He nodded a greeting to the guys and gestured for Kayla to bring him a beer. She smiled—a flash of white teeth, sparkling green eyes and dimples. She placed the bottle on a coaster and moved away to finish her prep so the bar would be ready for customers when the club opened in thirty minutes.

  Paul watched Kayla as she restocked the shelves. She was pretty, really pretty, and she had that cute girl-next-door look going on. She was funny and sweet and down-to-earth and not complicated. Unless, of course, you counted the fact that she only liked other girls as a complication.

  Dante watched Paul as he sucked down almost half the contents of the bottle in one go. “You’re only drinking that fast because the club’s opening soon, right? Not for any other reason?”

  Since alcohol wasn’t served to club patrons, the guys had a stash of beer they saved for when the club closed for the night, although Paul and Chris were the only beer drinkers. Dante insisted on drinking some pussy stuff with a lemon wedge in it. And Xavier drank diet soda.

  Paul gave Dante a look. Even though he knew Dante was chomping at the bit to extract more information about his disastrous date, Paul wasn’t in the mood to get into it. He’d answered the questions with the bare minimum of information when Dante had called the day before. The poor guy had sounded so let down at the outcome. Either he was devastated that his first gig playing Cupid was a total washout or he was worried that Paul still hadn’t gotten laid. He was constantly warning Paul that not having sex could make any sane man go crazier than a shit-house rat.

  At least for now, though, the guy knew to leave well enough alone. He gave Paul a resigned nod and didn’t make any further comment.

  Paul took another swig of his beer and decided to start up a conversation so no one would have a chance to start dissecting the Caitlin fiasco. “So what do you think of that Tom guy?” Tom was a newbie Dom who had been coming into the club to get some training with the equipment. Paul had been teaching him the proper use of a flogger and some basic bondage stuff and Dante had been training him to work the whip.

  Dante sighed. “He’s coming along all right, I suppose. He’s getting the hang of the strokes, but I just don’t know if he’s really cut out to be a Dom.”

  “I know,” Paul agreed. “Like my momma always says, you can put your boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.”

  Dante chuckled. “You
r momma’s a smart lady.”

  “Yeah—and a little crazy.” He smiled. “But back to Tom, I mean, he’s really committed, he works hard, but I’m just not feeling it. I’ve been trying to get him to top Trixie but she’s not responding to him. He just doesn’t have command of his sub.”

  Dante nodded “Trouble is, Trixie can be a bit of a handful on her best days. Maybe we should try getting him to work with someone else?”

  “Hmm.” Paul tilted his head. “We could give it try.”

  “Maybe he should bring in the girl he’s trying to impress.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Paul.

  “You haven’t heard? The reason he’s doing the training in the first place is because he’s fallen head over heels for a woman who needs to be dominated.”

  Paul grunted and sucked down the last of his beer. “Women. Damn exasperating creatures.”

  Dante smiled. “So you’re going to stay down here tonight, right? You’re not going to find another woman to make you forget her if you stand upstairs observing the whole time.”

  Paul noticed Xavier staring at him and shaking his head slightly. What did that mean? Xavier didn’t think Paul was capable of getting over Caitlin by spending time with another woman? Ah, who the hell knew? He was too tired to do the analysis.

  Paul slid off his stool and slapped Dante on the back. “Yeah, yeah, Dad, I’ll stay down here. Thanks for the advice.”

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Paul was watching Xavier watching Trixie. Both staff members were on a short break and Xavier couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the woman as she chatted with a couple who were club regulars.

  Paul was intrigued. Usually, even while on a break, Xavier always had his eyes on the surroundings, ensuring everyone was keeping out of trouble. Paul wasn’t sure what to make of it, since as per usual, Xavier wasn’t wearing any particular expression on his face. Matter of fact, Paul had seen statues with a wider range of emotions.

  Could old Xave have a hankering for the feisty Miss Trixie?