Eric cleared his throat. “Back over the bench, Marie. Flat on your feet this time.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck a duck.
• • •
LENNOX FORCED HIMSELF not to look back, even after he heard Eric tell Marie to bend over the bench. He told himself he had to keep going to prove to her that she could not control him. Nor could she goad him into getting her own way.
He made it to the aftercare room, but just as he was getting ready to open the door, a manicured hand stopped him.
“Wait a minute,” Rachel said. “Not so fast.”
It had shocked the hell out of him when he saw Rachel and her new fiancé at the club. From the look on her expression, she had been just as shocked as he was. He had assumed, incorrectly, that because her husband-to-be didn’t want her operating her house of submissives, that he wasn’t into kink. On the contrary, Lennox had learned that he was a well-known Dominant.
“Rachel,” he said.
She stood with her head tilted and her arms crossed. “Who was that?”
“I’m sure you heard. She’s my employee.”
“You might have fooled some of the people here with that line—I doubt it, but it’s possible. But you sure as hell didn’t fool me.”
He sighed. He really didn’t want to discuss Marie with her. He really didn’t. “Our relationship is . . . complicated.”
She laughed softly, and it pissed him off a bit. “Why is that funny?” he asked.
“You want complicated? I’ll give you complicated. My fiancé?” At his nod, she continued. “Is also my brother-in-law.”
Lennox wasn’t sure if she had any siblings or she meant that . . . holy hell.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “You guessed correctly. He’s my husband’s older brother.”
“I bet that makes Thanksgiving interesting,” he said dryly.
She, of course, didn’t back down from the conversation. “It was strange at first, but everyone’s actually been really nice about it. I mean, we obviously never would have gotten together if Steven hadn’t died. But he did and through that pain and grief, Dean and I found each other and fell in love.”
He wasn’t able to formulate a response or any sort of question before she asked, “Marie is somehow connected to the woman you lost, isn’t she?”
He was so shocked, all he could do was nod.
“Sister?” she asked.
“No.” He coughed. “But she may as well have been. They were best friends.”
“I think in some ways that’s worse than a sibling.”
He thought about that. “Perhaps, but in a lot of ways it’s better.”
She reached out, as if to touch him, but at the last minute stopped. Probably she remembered where she was and that her Dom would not want her touching other men without his permission, and though he’d agreed to the hug earlier, that didn’t mean she could touch Lennox whenever she wanted. After all, this was a BDSM club, not her place of business.
“Either way you look at it, your shared past, the grief, all of it, it can either make you stronger together or it can drive you apart. I saw the way you looked at each other. More than that, I saw her watching you before we all went downstairs. It’s probably why she agreed to scene with Matt in the first place.”
Marie had been watching him? That meant she probably saw him hug Rachel. Hell.
Rachel nodded. “Eric’s bringing her this way. Be kind.” She hesitated and then added, “I’m inviting you to the wedding. Bring her as your plus one.”
She left right as Eric brought Marie to him. From her expression, she’d witnessed his exchange with Rachel. Lennox opened the door and thanked Eric.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said before turning to Marie. “Come on inside.”
She desperately wanted to ask about Rachel, he could see it in her eyes. But she’d just been caned, so she probably didn’t want to speak out of turn.
“Rachel is an old friend,” he said, deciding not to share exactly how he knew her. What would it do other than to bring her more heartache? “She’s here with her fiancé. I was unaware they’d be here tonight.” He chuckled. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting you either.”
She didn’t say anything. He took her hand and led her to a nearby couch and pulled her into his lap. He buried his face in her hair.
“I’ll take care of the cane marks in a minute. Right now, I just want to hold you,” he whispered.
She sobbed lightly, holding him tightly while she cried. And while he hated her tears, he knew she needed to let them out and that they couldn’t move on until she did.
He lost track of time as he sat there, holding her. He breathed her in like she was the air he needed to survive and, at the same time, marveled that he never felt that way about Winnie. He wasn’t sure how long it was before she stopped crying, but in that time, he had categorized every detail he could about her—the various colors in her hair, the shape of her ear and the adorable swirl it had that he wanted to run his tongue around. So many small details he’d never taken notice of, even on their one night together.
Had he ever studied Winnie’s ear? He didn’t think so. Of course, Winnie was never one who could stand to be held for any length of time. Odds were, he never had the chance to study her ear.
Marie had stilled in his arms. Worse, she’d become tense, as if she was putting up with him holding her only because she had to.
“Marie?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound at all convincing. “I think I’m ready for you to take care of the marks now.”
He wasn’t sure if that was what she really wanted or if she just wanted off his lap. Whichever it was, he did need to care for the welts. He shifted her and told her to bend over his lap.
She shot him a look that told him in no uncertain terms what she thought about his request, but she did it anyway.
Eric had only given her six strokes, a bit lighter than what he would have administered, but understandable since the other Dom was a stand-in. Besides, he’d much rather Eric have erred on the side of caution than to have gone in the other direction and given her too many.
She was quiet as he applied cream to the welts. She didn’t move a single part of her body. In fact, she was so compliant, he wondered what she was thinking. He wanted to ask her, but he realized he had not earned either her complete trust or the right to her thoughts.
Since he had no right to her thoughts, he felt it appropriate to include her in his. Even though he couldn’t predict how she would react to the information he was getting ready to share. Was it cowardly to tell her while she was bent over his lap? He wouldn’t be able to see her face. While she might not always voice her thoughts, he was typically able to get a feel for them by her expression.
He would wait then until he finished her aftercare before he told her. Not only would he be able to see her face, but it would prevent her from taking off immediately after he finished caring for her.
She tried, though. As soon as he indicated she could get up, she tried to leave the room.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be going.”
He held out a hand to stop her. “Don’t leave just yet.”
The indecision on what to do played across her face. “I need to get back.” She glanced around the room. “It’s late. . . . I . . .”
He reached out a hand to stop her. “Marie, wait.”
She hesitated and bit her bottom lip. Still undecided.
“Please,” he added.
It was the please that did it. Maybe it was a cheap and dirty trick, but he would have done a lot more and played a lot dirtier to keep her from leaving.
She nodded and gingerly took her seat, folding her hands and placing them in her lap, as if sitting down to a formal dinner. He admired the fact that she did so; he knew it was difficult for her to sit down at the moment.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m making some changes in my life, and I wante