Truly Helpless: A Nature of Desire Series Novel Page 19

  She sobered. “I want you to stop worrying about screwing up this date. I’m not going to let you do it, okay? Whether you realize it or not, I know that would hurt you as much as it would disappoint me.”

  “So you think you know what I want and need.” He made it a flat statement.

  “No. Not everything. But some things, yes. Whether you accept that, or go in an opposite direction just to prove me wrong, is up to you. But I’m having a good time. I hope you’ll decide to have one with me.”

  He hadn’t let go of her wrist, but his grip wasn’t antagonistic. She wondered if he might need the connection, and so she left herself stay there. Myriad emotions brewed behind his eyes.

  He stroked her pulse, and then he let go. “Okay,” he said.

  “Good.” She let out the mental breath she’d been holding and gestured with her fork. “Now finish your meal, because you have to get me to my concert on time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nathan Morris had taken Michael McCary’s place with Boys II Men, and he held his own, even if it wasn’t the same voice as the one from her youthful fantasies. Regina noticed there were quite a few women her age here, as well as younger ones. Some had patient boyfriends or husbands in tow, though most had come in female packs to fully immerse themselves in the sensual crooning that wove its spell over the darkened arena. The notes vibrated in the heated air, increasing the sense of insulation from the outside world so the audience could cut themselves adrift in the experience.

  Their seats were ten rows from the front. Close enough for Nathan to amble right by her aisle seat when, just before his solo monologue in “On Bended Knee,” he left the stage.

  A ring of security prevented him from being swallowed by a mob of enthusiastic women. But as he met her eyes through his tinted glasses and held out his hand, the guards adjusted into a cone formation to give him access to her. When she put her hand in his and he dropped to a knee, her own almost gave out. All the women started screaming.

  Regina laughed out loud, tears dotting her eyes for some crazy reason as he grinned up at her. She was as fluttery as the teen she’d once been. After he concluded his entreaty for her to come back to him, with the far-too-tempting words “I’m begging you,” he rose to his feet, leaned in and brushed her cheek with warm lips, his trim goatee rasping against her jaw. Her heart pounded right up into her throat.

  He gave Marius a “what’s up, man, all’s cool” nod before he let her go and wandered back to the stage, the rest of the band kicking in as the monologue gave way to syncopated singing once more.

  She’d drifted back to her seat, only realizing after the fact she’d done it with the help of Marius’s hands on her waist. Turning in his arms, she planted a hard, fierce kiss on his mouth. “Best date ever,” she shouted, since it was the only way to be heard.

  She liked the smile on his face, the grip of his hands on her hips, the shape of his mouth and heat in his eyes that said he wanted her to keep kissing him. She wanted that, too.

  She also wanted to climb onto and take him in every conceivable way. She’d use every ounce of his considerable strength to satisfy her lust, which was boundless. In her ebullience, the desire came not just from her body, but from the crimson swirl of heat inside her heart and soul.

  Fortunately, she restrained herself so she could enjoy the rest of the concert rather than being arrested. She channeled her energy into clapping, whistling and seat dancing, until everyone stood up on the final song and danced in the aisles as much as security would allow. Marius didn’t dance, but he stayed in his seat and watched the enthusiastic shaking of her ass with a man’s unabashed appreciation, until she tugged him to his feet and made him at least do some hip bumping and swaying to the music next to her.

  She was still riding that high when he drove her to Tampa’s Riverwalk. She gushed about the history of the band, everything she knew about the members, what she loved about their songs…and he simply listened. Not like he was tuned out and waiting for the topic to change to something he found more interesting. He was really listening, with a peculiar look on his face, like he was experiencing something unfamiliar and wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. She didn’t want to see it turn to the latter, so she slowed herself down and sat back, giving him a shrewd and droll look.

  “So the whole Nathan singing to me thing? Within budget or not, I said I didn’t want any grand gestures. That surely broke that rule, if the tickets themselves didn’t do it. The Amalie guy apparently owed you the mother of all favors.”

  “Yeah.” He parked the car. When he turned to look at her, his practiced smile had returned, which she expected he’d follow with some feigned modesty that would skirt the borders of that charm she kept discouraging. Then abruptly the smile disappeared, with no prompting or warning from her. Instead, he stared out the windshield.

  “I didn’t do that,” he said.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “That was spontaneous. Well, in a way. When you’re doing the Mistress thing, you realize what you do to a man’s senses. Like to the waiter at KeBob’s. But other times, you don’t seem to realize it. There was no one else who shone the way you did in the first few rows. He saw you right off. You’re impossible to miss.”

  Without another word, he exited the car and circled around the front, leaving her startled by the candid observation. When he reached her door, his expression was back to being the same, that unreadable cocktail that could go in any direction. As he handed her out of the car, she held on, making it clear she didn’t want him to drop the contact, unless that was his choice. He laced his fingers with hers, glancing at their link. But he didn’t let her go.

  The Riverwalk was a good place to meander with a date, stretching along the Hillsborough River and following the bend to Garrison Channel. While it did have more crowded tourist spots, it was long enough that residents like the two of them knew some of the quieter areas, where the mix of tourists and local transplants enjoying the views of the water and passing boats weren’t elbow to elbow.

  Regina liked all the lights at dark. The blue tinted glow of the bridge over to Harbour Island, the dotting of lights on the cylindrical Rivergate Tower—fondly known as the Tampa “beer can” building—and the warm yellow lights marking the railings along this section of the Riverwalk. There was a mix of hotels, restaurants, and clusters of shops. While the restaurants and bars were still open, she had no interest in any of those when Marius asked if she wanted a drink.

  “Let’s just walk,” she said.

  There were other couples on dates, walking hand-in-hand like them. More sat on benches or hung out in groups, laughing and chatting. After walking them a little farther down from the noisier ones, Marius drew her to the rail at the water’s edge. “Ever stood on the other side of it, on that ledge?”

  “No. I’m a proper citizen who obeys all laws.”

  “I don’t think you’re proper in any way, Mistress. One of the most likeable things about you.” He nodded. “I bet way back when, they didn’t have railings at all.”

  “They also didn’t have to protect themselves from lawsuits, because people took responsibility for their own stupidity,” she added dryly.

  “I try to accept responsibility for my own stupidity, even if it’s way past due. It’s the one thing that’s all mine, after all.” Flashing a smile at her, he put his hands on the rail, hoisted his hips onto the top piece and swung his legs over in one swift, athletic move that had her biting back a sound of alarm. He brought his feet down on the narrow concrete ledge on the other side.

  “It can’t be okay to do that,” she observed. As he leaned against the rail in a standing position, nothing was between him and the water below but a breeze ruffling his hair.

  “If a cop sees you, he just tells you to get back on the other side. They won’t arrest you or anything.” He looked over his shoulder at the other people strolling along the Riverwalk. “And everyone thinks you’re a badass for doing what they�
��d like to do.”

  “Or they think you’re an idiot who’s going to show up on tomorrow’s news as a drowning, swept away by the current.” But after a moment of pondering her sanity, she emulated him, though more carefully. She straddled the rail and sat down on it, swinging the other leg over from a sitting position before easing down to stand next to him. As she came down, he put his arms around her in a loose hold until she was settled. It was surprisingly respectful, a steadying gesture only. When he took it away, she was tempted to hold onto him, keep her hands curled around the arm that had been braced in front of her waist and then above her chest as she slid off the rail onto her feet. Maybe later. She didn’t want the gesture to be construed as her being girly and needing support.

  The ledge was narrow, not more than a few inches, but she felt secure enough with the rail supporting her from behind. She braced her hands on either side, which allowed her to brush her knuckles against his back. Looking down, she studied the dark water, frothing up phosphorescent white foam where it lapped against the wall.

  “Be pretty easy to give your date a nudge and be done with her.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have enough money to buy two scoops of Dreamy Time ice cream.” He pointed to the cart, within a stone’s throw from their position. “But to get the two-for-one scoop special, all you have to do is tell the ice cream guy I’m dreamy. If I push you into the water, I don’t have anyone to do that.”

  “What if the girl’s buying the ice cream?”

  “Then her guy has to say it to her. They’re equal opportunity at Dreamy Time.”

  She shot him an imperious look. “What if I refuse to say it? Going to push me?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll still buy you the one scoop. And hope you’ll share a bite with me.”

  She’d pressed the point of her chin to her shoulder to check out the ice cream cart. As she brushed her locs out of her line of sight, her weight shifted and her balance teetered. She told herself she wasn’t in danger of falling, but it made her realize how easy it really might be to fall off such a narrow ledge, her grip on the rail notwithstanding. Unless her date suddenly had his arm around her waist, fingers wrapped over her hip and caught in her belt loops, his other hand firmly locked on the rail.

  “You know what?” he said. “Let’s be badass on that bench over there.”

  “Tired of breaking the rules?” she asked, a glint in her eyes.

  His lips twisted. “You know the answer to that better than I ever could, Mistress,” he said. “Hold onto the rail with both hands until I’m back over and then I’ll help you. You can do it on your own, I know, but humor me.”

  Common sense told her he was right, so she waited until he was ready before she climbed the rail. She swung one leg back over and then the other so she was sitting on top of it again, only this time facing the Riverwalk. It wasn’t a big hop to the ground, but he set his hands to her waist and lifted her down, a stirring sense of non-gravity she didn’t get to experience that often. The man was breathtakingly strong.

  When he set her on her feet, he let her go, though she could feel the reluctance in the loosening of his grip. She would have been fine with prolonged contact. He gestured to the bench, and they strolled over, taking a seat. Fortunately, he stretched out his arm behind her, giving her a comfortable rest for her back, instead of the top edge digging into her shoulder blades. Not necessarily a come-on, but decidedly a gallant gesture.

  “You treat me like a girl.”

  He gifted her with a warm look that swept over her. “You are a girl. Woman. Female, from head to toe. Is that a problem?”

  “No. I’m tall and strong, and I put off a don’t-fuck-with- me vibe that seems to neutralize the chivalrous, protective side a man automatically shows to a daintier woman. Then there’s the Mistress thing.”

  “Does it bug you?”

  “No. I don’t think about it as a pro or con. It pleases me, though, that you treat me with that kind of care and respect. Even as it makes me curious. I’ve watched you DM and work security. You watch out for everyone and keep them safe, with an unflappable courtesy that gives them confidence you’ll protect them. Yet when a Mistress crosses the line you don’t want her to cross, it all disappears. She becomes prey. The enemy.”

  “Thanks for the recap. We covered that in Tyler’s office, didn’t we?” He removed his arm and leaned forward, linking his hands to dangle loosely between his spread knees as he stared out at the water. “Maybe you’re right and I’m not all that cut out to be a sub. But you said you wanted a normal date. I know what you said about the Dom/sub stuff still being part of this, but first dates don’t usually delve into that other shit.” He shot her a look, remote and closed-down. “Right?”

  “No, they don’t. I’ll leave it alone, but I am going to say one thing. Come back up here.” She met his gaze with an unflinching one of her own and tapped his shoulder, a reinforcement of the command. Barely suppressing a sigh, he sat up.

  “You know a great deal about women, Marius. There are Masters like Tyler who have that gift. Because he watches a sub so carefully on the Dom side of the equation, he can pick up any change in her mood or thinking. He works with that to connect with her, both as a woman and a submissive.”

  She let a faint smile touch her lips. “Now all that artistry is directed toward one woman. But my point is that it happens because he’s a man who loves and adores women. There’s another kind of man like that. One who worships a woman, drinking in every detail, learning all he can so he can be what she needs. That’s a male sub. Add an alpha personality to it, and there’s a protectiveness over and above what a normal male sub shows, and even a beta can be pretty damn protective, like Rob.”

  He grimaced. He obviously didn’t want her mentioning Rob. She propped her head on her hand, her elbow on the back of the bench as she turned onto her hip toward him. Since he was still leaning forward some, she smoothed her hand down his back, curling her hand so she stroked his spine with her knuckles. He tilted his head toward his shoulder, watching her out of his peripheral vision. She drew a circle and feather-caressed everything in the center of it.

  “A good man is a good man, and that is an innate part of him, whether alpha, beta, or something else entirely. So, tell me a story of how my boy learned how to see a woman as a woman, no matter her physical appearance or how tough she seems. I know it won’t be just one story that helped you get there, but tell me the first one that comes to mind.”

  “Does it matter?” He turned his face back toward the water so only his voice revealed his state of mind. “You said I use it the wrong way.”

  “Do you think you use it the right way?”

  “I think they want too much.”

  “Well, you could tell them that. Negotiate it so everyone knows you just want a light, fluffy fuck, a little Yes, ma’am, No, ma’am role play. Then no one would ever cross the lines. All it takes is clear communication. But you keep getting yourself in situations where you say you want one thing, but you go after another, and something goes wrong.”

  His fist curled on his knee, but she kept stroking his back, another calming circle. “You figure out what’s going on in your head, you’ll be able to be what you’ve always wanted to be for a woman.” You might be everything she wants, too. But she kept that to herself.

  “I don’t need a therapist.”

  “No. You probably need a team of them.” She tempered it with a smile and a friendly nudge of her shoulder that seemed to take him off balance as he glanced back at her again. “So sit back up, put your arm around me like a proper, normal date and tell me a story.”

  “Does it have to be true?”

  “I’ll leave that up to you.”

  When he sat up and stretched his arm behind her again, she put her back against his side and her boot soles on the seat, her knees bent. Dropping her head on his shoulder, she looked up at the sky. She brought his arm across her chest, curling her hands around his forearm as his pal
m molded against her shoulder. Then she waited on him. As she did, she felt the rise and fall of his body from his breath, the heat of his flesh penetrating her thin shirt. His jaw brushed the top of her head as he adjusted. She closed her eyes, enjoying the position, and his cautious acceptance of it.

  “There was this girl in middle school,” he said at last. “Eloise. She weighed about two hundred pounds and was tall. Short hair, and average-looking. Not pretty. She was mean. She got suspended a lot for fighting, bullying. I hadn’t really hit a growth spurt, so she tried to take my lunch money one day. I didn’t have any, but I didn’t tell her that. I busted her nose instead, set her down on her ass, hard.”

  “You were already honing your fighting skills.”

  “Yeah.” But there was no humor in his voice. “Later that day, I went to the place I hung out at lunch, this spot between two of the buildings where they had a bunch of old desks stacked up. It was quiet. A lot of times I took a nap beneath them instead of going back to class. It was like a tree fort. Eloise was there. I’d never seen her there before, so I figured she must have found it when looking for a place to be by herself. She was crying.”

  Regina played with his fingers, stroking the rough knuckles, her gaze still on the stars. “What did you do, tough guy?”

  He paused, and his lips were closer to her head, breath moist on her scalp. She thought he was inhaling her scent and wondered if he was looking at the stars, the Riverwalk, or if he had his eyes closed. He was still, no fidgeting now.

  “I sat down next to her. She was sitting on this pallet, and I was on an old chair, so it made me taller than her. Maybe that’s why I did what I did. I felt bigger, like I could protect her and make her feel better, so I hugged her. Held her. Said I was sorry and it was going to be okay.”

  Regina could see it, a gawky adolescent boy and a hulking, overweight girl, giving and receiving comfort. One of those not-so-Hallmark moments.