She’d baked chocolate chip cookies on Monday, made carrot cake on Tuesday—Bronx wasn’t the only male being spoiled around here.
He grinned. This morning, she’d insisted on jogging an additional mile, complaining that she was gaining weight because of his sweets addiction.
But, far as he was concerned, an extra inch or two on her hips or breasts would be a total turn-on. More to hold; more to play with.
Speaking of playing, he was looking forward to the next few days. This was Ghost’s weekend as security guard at the Shadowlands, and Anne was free of dungeon monitor duties. Since Raoul was out of town, Ben had arranged to borrow his sailboat. Hopefully, Anne would be interested in spending a long, leisurely weekend on the water.
The phone rang as he pulled a bottled water from the fridge. “Anne—phone.”
“Coming. Answer it, please.”
He knew how she answered her phone, never saying her own name. But hearing a man’s voice, the caller might think they had the wrong number. So he picked up the receiver and said, “I’m answering for the resident. Please hold.”
“What?” After a hesitation, the man demanded, “Let me speak to Anne.” Was this one of her brothers? The voice seemed familiar.
“Hold, please.”
Followed by Bronx, Anne strode in and accepted the phone with a mouthed thank you. “Hello?”
After a pause, she said, “I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business.” Her brows drew together in irritation.
Someone was going to catch hell. Ben grabbed three cookies and headed out to the deck, whistling for Bronx as he went.
As he stepped outside, he heard her say, “No. I’m not taking you back, Joey.”
Ben stopped dead. Fuck. It took a second to get himself moving again. He set the cookies on the dark brown wicker end table, dropped into a chair, and put his feet up on the railing.
Like a cockroach, a nasty feeling was crawling into his gut. Joey’d been Anne’s last “boy.”
Joey got off on being whipped, beaten, his nuts smashed. Her slave had waited on her hand and foot. The young man was slender, ripped, and looked as if he should be modeling men’s briefs.
Totally Anne’s type. Totally the complete opposite of Ben.
The bottle started to crumple in his grip.
Joey wanted to be her slave again—she could have her pretty boy back.
But she’d said no. Only…she was still talking to the little shit on the phone. How persuasive was he?
How much did she want to have a slave again?
Ben’s back teeth ground together. Should he let her know she had an alternate ready and willing to serve?
But he wasn’t a slave, dammit. Yeah, he’d pretty much accepted that he fucking loved handing over the reins in the sex arena. The rest of the time? That was negotiable.
He scowled at a soaring frigatebird, its sharp black wings stark against the blue sky.
If she wanted 24/7, then… Shit. Could he?
But could he give her up? Go back to empty evenings with no Anne to argue over martial arts tactics or firearms, to wrestle with on the living room floor, to listen to the latest stupid stunt her cousin pulled.
Ben wanted her opinions when he worked on a photograph, wanted to eat the cookies she saved for him, wanted to see her sneaking Bronx the forbidden tidbits.
He wanted to watch the sunlight on her face in the mornings, to jog beside her on the beach, to enjoy her disapproving frown when he sugared his coffee.
No, he couldn’t give her up, not without a fight.
And he wouldn’t know if he liked being a “slave” if he didn’t try it. Fuck knew, if she went back to Joey, he’d never get that chance.
Anne came out and dropped down in the chair next to him. After a second, she leaned forward and hugged Bronx.
Ben frowned at her unsettled expression. Now that just wouldn’t do. He rose, scooped her up, and sat with her in his lap. Soft and warm. Her hip pressed against a part of his body that was rapidly wakening.
“Ben,” she said, giving her usual warning when he grabbed her, but she didn’t really sound upset.
He inhaled her light, spicy fragrance. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla—as edible as one of her cookies. “I can’t have my mutt getting all the love. You’re going to make me jealous.”
Immediately, he regretted the words—coming so close after Joey’s call. To divert her, he nuzzled the curve between her neck and shoulder and nipped her lightly.
Her squirm made his cock stand at attention. Reporting for duty, yes, ma’am.
“What’s going on, Ben?” She turned, her hands bracketing his face as she stared into his eyes. “You’re different today.”