Chapter 42

"How are you?" Colette asked, leaning over the bed to peer at Landon, who lay on his back, arm over his face.

"I'll survive."

"Was she yelling at you in multiple languages?"

"Yep."

Colette picked up Landon's arms to get a better look at his face. "How many languages does your grandmother speak?"

"At least seven. Or she did at one point. She worked as a translator, back in Pakistan." He groaned and sat up. "They only moved here after my mother got sick."

"You don't have to answer this, but what was your mother ill from?"

"Heart disease. Rare, in a young woman. And they only discovered it when she was pregnant with me. She came to England for university, and that's where she met my father. At Warwick University."

"I'm sorry."

"I only remember small things, and what I do remember isn't the woman she was before she was ill. But I have these clips, built from stories my grandparents tell. While she was sick, my father built this house. Half for himself, my mother, and me, half for my grandparents, who left everything behind to come help take care of her and raise me."

"That's real love," she said softly. "Both your father's love for you and your mother, and your grandparents' love for their daughter and grandchild."

"Come here, Colette." Landon scooted up to put his back against the headboard. She crawled onto the bed beside him, curling up. Being in his arms felt so good. Right.

He took a breath. "I love you, Colette."

Colette jerked up, putting her fingers over his lips. "Non, Landon. You shouldn't."

He kissed her fingertips, then pulled her hand away from his mouth. "You aren't surprised."

"No," she admitted. "You called me the woman you loved."

"And you are."

"You shouldn't love me, surely you see that." She was kneeling on the bed, both hands pressed to his chest. As if she could force reason and sense into him.

"Why not?"

"I'm a thief!"

"Hypothetically."

"No, I am. You were never wrong about that. I took eight hundred and forty-nine items out of the British Museum."

Landon's eye twitched. "Eight hundred and forty-nine?"

She fought not to smile. "Yes. There's at least thirty things the museum still doesn't know are missing."

"Fuck, Colette."

"Honestly, it wasn't even fun. It was depressing how easy it was. And philosophically, I do think they should return items to their home countries."

"I remember that conversation. Really should have fucking figured out it was you at that point."

"I'm a thief, you're police."

"Not anymore. Which is why I just spent an hour getting yelled at by my grandparents."

"Exactly. I caused that. I'm the reason you had to quit."

"You think I care more about my job than you? Or that I'd want to continue working for an organization that fucked up?"

"Not now," she agreed. "But what's next, Landon? You are good at what you do. You'll miss it."

His jaw clenched.

"What happens when you become a detective again? What will they do when they find out you're with me and I'm a thief?"

"Stop being a thief. Problem solved."

Colette sat back, stomach in knots.

"I'm not saying that because I want you to change, or because I'm worried about how being with you will affect a career that I don't currently have." He gripped her hands in his. "What you do is dangerous, Colette. You keep saying it's not, but it is."

Unexpected anger gripped her, and she yanked her hands out of his. "It's all I know."

"That's bullshit. You're brilliant, and plenty capable of doing any fucking thing you want to."

"I was seven the first time I walked out of a jewelry store with diamonds in my pocket. Seven." She shoved off the bed. "If you lost everything tomorrow, you'd still have this. Have them. I have nothing."

Landon rose, towering over her. "You have me."

"Don't say that!"

"It's true.

She backed up, but he matched her step for step. "Can't you see I'm ruining you?"

"You're not."

"You quit your job. You were going to murder someone. That's not you."

"Is that why you did it? Took my knife and baited Damien into coming after you, so you could kill him first?"

"So you wouldn't have to! Murder would have broken something inside you."

"And have you killed before, Colette?" he snapped.

"No," she admitted, "But?—"

"It wasn't your decision?—"

"I told you, I'm not worth the stain on your soul!"

They were both breathing hard, Landon continuing to stalk forward each step she retreated.

"I saw you pray," Colette said. "I'm not sure to what god, but I don't think any of them condone murder."

"My grandparents are Zoroastrian. Murder would upset the balance, but I'm not worried."

"Then I will worry for you. Worry that you'll lose everything you have, and everything you are, if you love me."

"There's no ‘if,' Colette. I love you."

Her traitorous heart leapt with joy every time he said those words.

They'd done a semi-circle around the bed, and the next backwards step she took had her smacking against a wall.

They were in an upstairs bedroom of the old farmhouse, and the privacy it afforded them was the only reason she was comfortable saying these things and having this fight.

Landon grinned, bracing his hands on either side of her. "We keep ending up like this."

Part of her wanted to shake him until he accepted just how doomed they were.

"I have a question for you, Colette."

"I won't answer it." It was stupid and petulant, but having him this close made her stupid. It was hard to remember that they were doomed when he was smiling down at her.

Hard to believe that she couldn't have him, because she was bad for him.

"Yes, you will."

She smacked her hands against his chest, intending to push him away. Instead she curled her fingers into the soft fabric of his knit shirt.

"Do you love me, Colette?"

She squeezed her eyes closed.

"No," he scolded softly, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Look at me."

Her body heated, then melted at his words, at the way he touched her.

"Do you love me?"

Colette couldn't fight both him, and her own heart, and more. "Yes. Desperately."

"Say it."

"I love you, Landon."

"Then nothing else matters."

* * *

Landon kissed her gently, needing to taste her, but mindful of her abused lip.

This was the first time he'd touched her with clear romantic, sexual intent since she'd been kidnapped. He'd kissed her to comfort her, kissed her because he needed to feel close to her, but hadn't yet kissed her as foreplay.

Landon told his cock to calm the fuck down, because it was very possible she didn't want this right now. He was going to go slow, and check in with her every step of the way, but it might be way too soon for even this kiss.

Her fingers kneaded his shirt, like one of the farm cats any time they found a forgotten towel or sweater to curl up on, and she made a pleased, needy noise.

Kissing was a go.

He licked the uninjured corner of her mouth, and nipped her upper lip.

She leaned into the kiss, trying to increase the pressure, so he raised his head. "Careful."

"And what if this is broken?" Her eyes were worried, almost haunted.

"What's broken?"

"Our sexual relationship." Her gaze dropped. "What if I can't…take…things the same way?"

"Then we'll find other ways for you to take it." He couldn't stop the small smirk that slid into his voice.

Colette looked up, brow raised. "Really?"

"Oh yes. I can think of lots of ways you could take it," he murmured.

She groaned, but arched towards him a little. It was a bad joke, but she was into it.

"I don't think our sexual relationship is broken," he assured her. "But tonight, you take the lead, and we'll go slow."

"And what if I don't want to take the lead? What if I need you to make me feel…" She ducked her head, pressing her forehead to his chest.

He massaged her scalp. "What is it, love? You can say anything to me."

"I need to feel like…" She made a frustrated sound. "If you had a collar, I'd beg you to put it on me." Her face crumpled. "That's insane, and stupid, after what he?—"

"It's not. No one has the right to tell you that the way you process or deal with what was done to you is wrong."

She didn't look like she believed him.

He touched her chin, forcing her face up.

Then he gently circled her neck with his fingers.

Colette's eyes fluttered closed. He'd watched Damien choke her against that tree, and in that minute vowed that if she survived he'd never touch her like this again. Stupid of him to start mentally crossing things off his list without waiting to see what she needed.

"Does a collar make you feel safe?" he asked softly.

"It's like a wedding ring," she breathed, "but better. When you wear it, you belong to someone."

And Colette had never really belonged to anyone. Even the way she spoke about her first Master, the one who'd trained her when she was barely a legal adult, seemed almost clinical.

"It means there's someone out there who wants to pleasure you, and protect you," she went on.

"I want to pleasure you," he growled, pressing his hips to hers so she could feel his cock, while keeping space between their upper bodies.

"And you protected me."

"Not well enough."

"You did," she countered. "You came for me."

"I'll always find you." He watched her carefully as he said the next words. "Because you're mine."

Colette shivered, eyes half-closed.

"That doesn't scare you?" He needed to be sure. "My being possessive."

"Will you honor my safeword?"

"Of course."

"Do you expect me to be submissive to you all the time?"

"You?" He snorted. "No, definitely not." Then Landon pursed his lips. "Though keeping you collared, aroused, and naked in my bedroom for days on end is appealing."

Colette licked her lower lip, leaving it glossy and wet.

"Sometimes, possessiveness is a prison," she murmured. "And sometimes belonging to someone is the only time you're safe enough to be free."

He understood, though for him it was the other side of that coin. Knowing she was his relaxed something inside him, made the world feel perfectly balanced.

"But I'm still worried," she whispered. "What if there are things now that will make me…" She shrugged, hands balled up in his shirt.

"Then let's find your new limits. We won't wait to be surprised, we'll figure it out together, and then you won't have to worry, and I won't be afraid that you'll look at me like I'm a monster."

Her gaze leapt to his. "Never, Landon."

"It would kill me," he admitted. "And if you decided you can't or don't want any part of BDSM, we won't do it."

"You'd just…stop being a Dom?"

"Yes."

Her mouth opened and closed several times. "We'd have vanilla sex?"

"Yes."

"Us?" Her brows were approaching her hairline.

"Yes," he insisted, then cleared his throat. "Or we'd find some other fetish or kink we were both into."

A surprise laugh sputtered out of Colette. "That sounds more realistic. But I don't want to lose what we have."

"I don't want to lose you." He released her neck, needing both hands for what came next. "Ready?"

Colette took a deep breath. "Yes."