Chapter Ninety-Two

Ghost

I wrapped the leather straps around her sexy legs for a second time and tied them.

Like a gladiatrix, like a submissive, like the woman who had fucking robbed me of all sanity, she looked stunning in the sandals I'd bought for her so I could do this very thing.

Ease her into my dominance.

It wasn't about physically binding her. I didn't give a fuck about tying her down or bondage. I didn't need props. I could and would dominate the hell out of her without it. But this was another introduction. More conditioning. Not that she needed it. She was naturally submissive, and I already knew the emotions she held for me.

I wouldn't manipulate her.

But I also wouldn't not use the tools at my disposal.

Running my hands up both her legs as I stood, hiking her dress up to her thighs, I fed off the flush on her face and increase of her pulse. "Do I need to check?"

She sucked in a quick breath before licking that bottom lip I wanted to bite. "Check?"

"My instructions." Squeezing her thighs, I drew my thumbs across the soft skin with almost enough pressure to leave marks. "Did you follow them?"

Her cheeks bloomed. "No, you do not need to check."

"And if I want to?" Test.

She drew in a deep breath. "Then I would desire your want."

Bolder, more assured. I got off on the sentiment, but I loved the way my hayatim spoke. The accent she'd never lost, the softness to her voice, the formality.

With firm pressure, I held her thighs another beat, then I dropped my hands. "Ready?"

She exhaled an unsteady breath. "Yes."

Fighting a raging hard-on, I took her hand and led her to the G63.

She managed to last until I opened her door before asking about my approach. "Why did you knock today?"

Silently lifting her into the SUV, I took my time buckling her in. Then I met her gaze. "Because this is a date." Last night I'd fucked up. After lunch, I'd be her husband. Right now, she'd get the remainder of my control. "Gentlemen knock." I closed her door, and my current burner vibrated. A number only three people had. The first was sitting in the passenger seat, and I'd already spoken to Christensen today.

I glanced at the blocked number as I rounded the Mercedes, then answered. "Busy, Rhys."

"Not Rhys," Alpha's man, Blade, clipped. "Need a favor."

"How'd you get this number?" I wasn't in the favor business. "You don't hack." The former SEAL's specialty didn't involve screen time.

"I do what I have to. I need a contact."

"Ask your boss." Scanning the front drive, I got behind the wheel.

"It's not that kind of contact."

I knew what he wanted. "Can't help you." I started up the SUV and threw it in Drive.

"You didn't handle your shit solo, and that coordinated hit on Baccalaureate's operation took more than some strike teams outfitted with guys from the Unit."

"Conversation's over. I'm retired." I hung up and powered down the burner before I pulled onto the street and turned south.

My hayatim looked at me with surprise. "You are retired?"

"Yes." I held my hand out, palm up.

She laced her fingers with mine. "What will you do now?"

Her. Bringing the back of her hand to my mouth, I grazed my teeth against her soft skin, then sucked. "Take you to eat." I tested the waters. "Be your husband."

Goose bumps ran up her arm. "That is not what I meant."

I knew it wasn't. Heading east, I turned toward the bridge that'd take us off the island. "Not in the market for a husband?"

"Grayson," she quietly chided.

"Safiya."

"You are playing chess again."

I wasn't playing anything. Yet. Stopped at a light, I drank her in. "You look beautiful."

She dipped her head, and her voice went shy. "Thank you."

Every time this woman thanked me for something, it was a reminder of how she'd wound up in my three-foot world. I fucking hated it. But this one I gave her. "Welcome. Hungry?"

Her fingers shifted in mine. "I… am curious."

"About?"

"Where did you shower?"

I smiled. Internally. "Construction trailer at the new house site." Christensen had tricked-out trailers on all his jobsites. I'd utilized more than a few of them over the years.

She nodded. "Do you think your mother will move into the home you are building?"

Already seeing the arc of where this was going, I bypassed the center angle and aimed for tactical questioning. "What are your two biggest fears, Safiya?"

She glanced at me and frowned. "Why are you asking?"

"Answer." I glanced my thumb across the back of her hand to soften the command as I turned onto NE 2 nd Avenue.

She looked out her window, then gave me the two I'd predicted. "Losing you and being in complete darkness."

"You're not going to lose me." Not now. "Your two biggest hopes?"

She watched Miami's midday traffic, but she didn't reply.

"Don't try to come up with a sanitized or curated response," I warned. "Two hopes or dreams. Give me the first ones you think of."

"I want you to have a heart that is full and peace with your sister."

Thrown, I pulled up to the restaurant and took the minute to park.

Then I turned toward a woman I didn't deserve but who I was going to take anyway—same as I'd taken her eight years ago—and I leaned in. "I'm not going to knock again, Safiya."

She whispered. "No more gentleman?"

"No." I kissed my wife, then gave her fair warning. "I'm moving into the house." I killed the engine and issued a command. "Wait."