Chapter 21

PIPER LIFTED HER FACE into the breeze. It held a welcome hint of coolness from the shade of the trees and the dampness of the forest. Sunlight filtered in through the branches heavy with leaves above her head, enough to reflect off the water of the gently flowing creek she strolled next to. The gentle burbling was so relaxing compared to the constant city noises, she stopped, closed her eyes, and just listened.

A beeping like a truck backing up interrupted the tranquil moment. It also confused her. What was a truck doing in the middle of the forest? But, wait. The burble was more like water spraying. She opened her eyes, seeing a white ceiling instead of trees above her as the shade and the breeze vanished, the babbling brook nothing more than the shower running.

Filled with disappointment, Piper rolled over, hopeful of catching a few more minutes of sleep and returning to her dream. Except her nightgown tangled around her body. She rolled again, tugging at the hem twisted around her waist then rolled back only to feel a lump of bunched-up fabric beneath her ribs. With a grunt of annoyance, she sat up to set her nightgown and the tangled covers to rights.

A fresh wave of confusion washed over her. Something was way off because a nightgown wasn’t her usual choice of sleepwear. She preferred shorts and a fitted tank, both less apt to tangle. Looking down, she saw it wasn’t a nightgown at all, but an oversized T-shirt at least three sizes too big. A terrible thought occurred to her, and she frantically pulled up the hem, relaxing when she confirmed she wore panties underneath it.

Groggy and heavy-headed, like she’d drunk too much wine, she rubbed her temples as she tried to piece together how she ended up here and where exactly “here” was. The shower, clearly the source of the water, and the smell of masculine body wash, the same as on the sheets, brought it all back.

Or most of it.

Piper recalled the break-in and sitting on Tristan’s couch at 4 a.m. trying to make sense of what the detective was saying, but nothing after that. Not how she got to bed or into Tristan’s shirt, or anything else that happened in his enormous bed with tangled sheets. The image of him carrying her up the stairs, like in a romantic movie, then tending to her, replaced the heaviness in her mind and limbs, leaving her with the warm and fuzzies.

The shower shut off, and, not long after, Tristan emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips with beads of water still on his shoulders. Piper watched the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin as he moved, a mesmerizing display of strength and grace.

Seeing her awake, he stopped. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

No way could she do that until she figured this out, much less with him in the room half naked. “The last thing I remember is sitting on your couch.”

“You fell asleep midsentence,” he said, walking toward her. “You looked so peaceful—and exhausted—I carried you up.”

“Why are you awake already?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

“I have to get to work.”

He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, in only the towel. The warmth of the shower emanated from him, and the scent of him and his body wash filled her senses—both freaking delicious.

“Christian will be here any minute to relieve me.”

She frowned, not knowing anyone by that name. “Who’s that?”

“He’s been with Rossi longer than I have. He’s also a former Navy SEAL. You can trust him to keep you safe.”

“Why can’t you stay? Or Axyl?” Her heavy head returned, along with a wave of anxiety. She didn’t want someone she didn’t know following her around.

“I have several loose ends to tie up on a case I’ve been working. After that, you’ve got me at night and Axyl during the day. He’ll take over starting tomorrow, but it was almost 5 a.m. when he left, and he needed to get some shut-eye.”

He couldn’t have slept more than two hours. “You don’t need sleep?”

“I’ve never needed much, but I’ll try to grab a couple of hours this afternoon after I get stuff done.”

Piper nodded, looking down at her hands, still unhappy with the situation. She had worried she was falling for him, but that wasn’t true. Like the old oak behind their house during a thunderstorm when she was two, she’d already fallen—roots and all—and didn’t want him to leave.

He caught her chin and tipped her face up to his. “I know this is a stressful time, but we’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe while we track down this mother fu–Uh, whack job.”

He’d mistaken her dour mood for worry. Lucky for her. Especially after the ballsy claims she’d made about being a big girl and knowing what she was doing.

“You don’t have to hold back when it comes to this creep,” she assured him. “I know I haven’t.”

“You dropped an F-bomb?” he asked, clearly skeptical.

“I’ve dropped it lots of times,” she confessed. “In my head.”

His enigmatic eyes turned a truer shade of blue with his amusement. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Before Piper could say more, Tristan leaned in and kissed her. The spark between them instantly ignited. She melted into him, her head falling back as she clung to his still-damp shoulders. At the same time, his fingers sank into her sleep-tousled hair, and he deepened the kiss.

He had just lowered her onto the pillows when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t go,” she whispered when he pulled away.

“That’s Christian. I have to let him in. Go back to sleep. It’s just past seven, and you don’t have to be at the studio until later, right?”

Like a disappointed child denied the lollipop she wanted, she was the grumpy one for a change. “There’s a table read today, but it isn’t until one o’clock.”

“Perfect. You have the morning to catch up on your sleep.”

He leaned forward again, but instead of reclaiming her lips, he kissed her forehead. Then he was up and striding to his dresser. He dropped his towel, revealing an ass and thighs as muscular as the rest of him, before pulling on snug boxer briefs and stepping into a pair of faded jeans.

The bell rang again and bare chested and barefoot, he headed out the door.

“Tristan,” she called, stopping him. “Thanks for last night. If you hadn’t set up the security system that scared him off, I could have walked in on him.”

“Don’t think about what-ifs. We’re gonna get this guy, and you’ll be able to sleep easy again. And don’t thank me for doing my job.”

That stung a bit. She was hoping by now, after all the intimate times they’d had together, and the non-job things they’d done, he would think of her as more than that.

“Which you’re very good at,” she said, fussing with the covers so he wouldn’t see the tears stinging her eyes. “Rossi is lucky to have you.”

“I didn’t mean as a PI.”

The bell rang again. He turned and shouted down the stairs, “Coming!” More softly, he said to her, “Sleep, Piper. We’ll talk more tonight.”

She lay back in his extra-long king-sized bed, listening to his feet on the hardwood stairs, wondering what other job he meant. Neighbor with benefits? Or, as her temporary dom and rigger? All the above, perhaps? That’s what she’d signed on for.

Too bad she wasn’t the big girl she brazenly claimed to be. He’d completely captured her heart, and she wanted to be so much more.

UNBELIEVABLY, PIPER slept after he was gone, not waking until 11 a.m. when her phone alarm went off. Instead of rested, she still felt heavy-headed and sluggish, like she’d slept too hard. It was going to be one of those days.

After dragging herself from his bed, she sorted through the clothes Tristan had gathered for her. She selected a sundress—appropriate for the ongoing oppressive heat—and matching sandals. He’d included underwear, and everything he’d chosen coordinated well together. Wasn’t he full of surprises ?

She felt slightly more human once she’d showered but wouldn’t be fully so without coffee. Axyl’s replacement must have heard her moving around because he had a full-to-the-brim Yeti waiting.

Grateful, she grabbed it, flipped open the lid, and inhaled deeply. Her human-o-meter ticked up another degree. “Thanks for this. I’m Piper.”

“Christian Ashworth,” he said, watching her sip carefully. “Tristan told you I’m filling in while Axyl gets his beauty sleep?”

“Yes. But he hardly needs it,” she quipped, having to force herself not to gawk at the 6’4”, swarthy-skinned, midnight hair pulled back in a sexy ponytail, muscular ex-SEAL who looked like something off the cover of a romance novel. “None of you Rossi men do. Is a minimum of six feet tall, zero body fat, and handsome as sin built into the job description?”

“Yeah. It’s listed right below badass.”

She hadn’t expected him to be funny and spewed coffee as she laughed.

A flash of bright white teeth accompanied his wide grin as he twisted, grabbed a handful of paper towels from the freestanding holder, and passed them to her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, carefully dabbing her chin and then wiping off the counter.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded then sipped on her way to the door. As soon as she stepped outside, her eyes were drawn to the yellow police tape across her front steps. It was chilling knowing someone had been in her home, rummaging through her belongings and touching them—especially things she wore next to her body. Worse than chilling, it left her feeling violated.

Her unnerved state didn’t ease as she walked through the courtyard past Hunter’s place. It got worse when she arrived at the studio, and the chances of running into him rose exponentially. What should she say? How should she act?

Having Christian with her—a big, hulking shadow following her everywhere—was the only thing that prevented a complete and utter freak-out. He drew curious stares, but, as he’d emphasized during the car ride in, the necessary people were informed of his presence, and it wasn’t anyone else’s business.

As everyone gathered, she watched the door for Hunter. It was standing room only with no sign of him. As casually as possible, she commented to the woman seated beside her, “I thought the director attended table reads.”

“They usually do,” the forty-something actress cast as the corrupt police chief on the show informed her. “I heard Hunter is out of town and won’t return until tomorrow. Joanna, one of the associate producers, is here though. And the writers always sit in for last-minute script changes.”

She wanted to ask for more details but didn’t want to seem overly curious and cause suspicion. Knowing she was safe for today at least allowed Piper to relax a bit. Before they got started, she texted Tristan.

Piper: I just learned Hunter is away. He may have an alibi for last night.

He answered within minutes.

Tristan: I’ll check it out. Try to focus on work.

He asked the impossible. She quickly shot off a response.

Piper: I’ll try, but you might as well ask me to juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle.

He hadn’t replied when someone shut the door and the room quieted. She dashed off another text to justify the first.

Piper: I saw that at the circus when I was a kid and tried it. Epic fail! The unicycle part—not the torches.

She added a flame and screaming emoji before sending. Then she immediately regretted the emojis. He already thought she was too young for him. No sense proving it. And for land’s sake, why had she mentioned unicycles and torches?

She pulled up the menu to delete the message, but it was too late. His next message came through.

Tristan: Relax, Piper. Christian has your back.

She was trying to think how to respond without embarrassing herself further. But the last woman in had moved to the head of the table and took a seat.

“Welcome all. I’m Melanie Stansbury, supervising producer on our little project. I’ll be running the read-through today in Hunter’s absence. Let’s take it from the top of episode one.”

Piper put her phone away. Any response and attempts to un-dork herself would have to wait. She flipped to page seven in the script with everyone else.

Despite her inner turmoil, she tried to act confident and read her lines like a professional who had done this before instead of the newbie she was. Everyone in the cast was not only friendly but also incredibly supportive, making her feel welcomed and putting her at ease. As the story unfolded, she found herself captivated by the cast’s interpretation of the characters, their passion shining through in every scene.

All except her costar and love interest in the story. Dirk Henderson—a fake name if she’d ever heard one—was as demanding as he was annoying. He came in an hour late and, while reading, stopped after every other line for direction.

What’s his motivation? How is he feeling? Shouldn’t he react this way instead of that?

It became immediately apparent to her and everyone else as he tripped over his lines that he’d never cracked open the script. He brought down the mood of the entire room.

Inhaling deeply, Piper reminded herself to be patient; it was all part of the job.

She was glad she didn’t have to drive home—the trying afternoon made longer than it had to be, thanks to Dirk. Christian got the privilege of battling rush hour traffic while she dozed beside him.

Although the heat wave had lost some of its punch, it hadn’t completely gone away. As a result, the air-conditioning in the studio struggled to do the job. Or it could have been because of Dirk constantly spouting hot air. Regardless, she refused to be frizzy and sweaty when Tristan arrived. She headed upstairs to shower and change as soon as Christian completed his security sweep of her condo.

Standing beneath the spray, Piper let the cool water cascade down her body, washing away the stress of the day.

Dressing casually in shorts and a cap-sleeve T-shirt, her still-damp hair caught up in a ponytail, she listened for sounds from downstairs. Once giving the all clear, Christian had turned the TV on low in the living room. But she heard nothing now.

Piper moisturized with Gingham, a blend of freesia, white peach, and clementines from B they’d have to discuss fixing that soon.

“Hurry, Tristan,” she urged, her body writhing as she rubbed her bare tits against his chest. He sat up, pulling his shirt off over his head because even a thin barrier between them was too much.

His hands encircled her waist and, lifting her again, he set her down on his achingly erect cock. They both moaned at the long, slow glide as he filled her. Then they stilled, savoring the moment of joining. She felt amazing surrounding him, velvety softness and incredible heat, but he simply had to move. He palmed her ass, guiding her as she balanced on her knees. The way she gasped with every thrust, her hips grinding against his, driving him wild, he couldn’t get enough of her.

But, too soon, tension coiled tight in his stomach, signaling his impending release. He slid a hand between them, his thumb finding her clit so he didn’t leave her behind. The sexy whimpers in her throat told him she was close, too. With a final, upward plunge, they both shattered, crying out as they reached their peak together. As they came down from their high and caught their breath, Tristan held her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling a rush of emotion he wasn’t prepared to admit. Neither was he ready to push her away.

“I was thinking,” he said, as he devised a plan to keep her close and also solve her little problem.

“Uh-oh,” she teased.

“Smart-ass.” He gave the aforementioned part of her anatomy a teasing swat and returned to his idea. “I believe I can help you desensitize.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you confront your fears directly and repeatedly, they lose their power and decrease your anxiety.”

“How?”

“More scenes in the playroom. Before long, you won’t notice the audience unless you find you’re into being watched.”

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a skeptical grunt and then muttered, “Doubtful.”

“You’d be surprised how many people feed off voyeuristic energy.”

“You’ll be with me?”

“How did you put it before?” he mused aloud. “Ah yes, how many doms do you know?”

“Let’s see. There’s Axyl and Christian—”

Her list of names abruptly ended when his fingers flexed on her behind. “Starting a competition among your bodyguards is a bad idea. Doing so when your hands are still tied and mine aren’t is worse.”

She quickly changed the subject. “I think desensitization is an excellent idea. When do we begin?”

“Mm,” he grunted, appeased somewhat by her use of we .

“When is your love scene with Dirk?” He couldn’t hide his aversion. His name alone rankled him.

“On Thursday, possibly sooner. They change up the schedule at the drop of a hat sometimes.”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t give us much time. We’re closed on Sundays, and Mondays are reserved for swingers and group activities.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Don’t judge. Different strokes, remember?”

“But... I wasn’t! I wouldn’t...ever!” She ended her stammered response with pink cheeks and a whispered, “I was just surprised, is all. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, since it’s just me. But you’ll need to be more careful at the club. That leaves Tuesday. It’s one of the slower nights, but I have a demo scheduled, and they always bring in a crowd. It will ease you into Wednesday.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what happens on Wednesday?”

“No panties, under a spotlight. That will be perfect.”

“For who?”

He gave her another swat, adding a little more zing, enough for her to sit up. “I thought you were just Tristan here.”

“I am, except when it comes to the bedroom.” He glanced down the hall to where their first passionate encounter had started and ended up. “And the wall, counter, and couch.” He looked up at her as he disclosed more of his plans. “Perhaps the balcony, with you bent over the railing.”

“You’re Master Tristan in my entire condo, then. And yours most likely.”

He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her down, kissing her hard. “I’m saying I’m in control at the club and during sex, wherever we may have it. Also, what I say goes where your safety is concerned—until we get your situation resolved.”

Piper studied him for a moment then shrugged. “I can live with that.”

He meant to see that she did. He didn’t say that, however.

“Would you like me to untie you?”

She wiggled to get comfortable, draped over his chest with her face in his neck, then murmured, “I’m good.”

“Some subs enjoy sleeping while bound, but you need to work up to that. Behind your back will strain your shoulders.” He lifted her and set her on her feet. From her disappointed pout, she wasn’t ready for their intimacy to end. “I need to get rid of this condom.”

“Yeah, and I need to use the, uh, you know.”

“Reentering reality sucks, huh?” He twirled a finger in the air, and she turned her back to him. Once undone, she stretched, yawning, and he admired the view.

“It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.” She grabbed his hand and pulled. “Come with me?”

He glanced at the clock. It was only 8 pm. He hadn’t been to bed this early since he was 5 years old.

“No way could I sleep. It’s not even fully dark. Besides, I’m here to protect you.”

“I have blackout shades, or we can—not sleep.” Although visibly tired, her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I’m not here to do that, either. You’ve already distracted me once.”

“The security system is on, we’re locked up tight, and you’re armed. Can’t you make it twice?”

“No.” But, man oh man was he tempted.

“Would you keep me company until I drift off?” Piper ran her hands over his shoulders and leaned in, her still-taut nipples lightly grazing his chest as she added playfully, “It would be right neighborly of you, sir.”

“Naughty imp,” he accused as he bent at the waist, put his shoulder in her belly, and tossed her up and over. He clamped his hand over her ass to keep her there as he trotted up the stairs while she giggled and squealed. And, unbeknownst to her, he did it grinning from ear to ear.

TRISTAN JOLTED AWAKE , his heart racing. Instead of a harsh battlefield in war-torn Afghanistan, he found himself in a soft bed with a warm body nestled against him.

“Tristan?” Piper’s sleep-husky voice pulled him back to the present.

With his back to the headboard and her snuggled up beside him, he had intended to wait until she fell asleep then make another security sweep and stay on guard—basically his job. But he must have dozed off.

“Everything is fine,” he assured her. “Go back to sleep.”

Piper snuggled closer and, in a matter of seconds, her soft, even breathing signaled that she slept. Tristan watched and waited a few minutes longer to ensure she was out then carefully extricated himself from her arms and the bed.

He quickly descended the stairs, checked the alarm system, then paced. Each step echoed in the silent hallway, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Tonight had been a sample of what normalcy might be like, of coming home to Piper after work and sleeping with her wrapped around him. A flicker of hope ignited within him. Could her light truly chase away the shadows?

“Of course not, idiot.” After that small taste, the nightmare returned—disturbing as ever—a gut-punch reminder of the darkness that haunted him even when he slept with her in his arms.

Torn between pursuing a future with Piper that he now so badly wanted and the cold, stark fear of losing someone he cared about again, he raised his hands to his head, fists balled tight in frustration. As his inner turmoil threatened to bubble over, he resisted the urge to put his fist through her wall and instead resumed pacing with a long night ahead of him.