Theirs to Love, page 16
Behind them, Everett continued, but not with the flogger. Instead, he was using something different. A paddle maybe?
The thought vanished before it was fully formed. At this moment there was nothing but them and her heart. They touched every part of her.
“Orgasm with me, Rylee.” Drake captured her hair and pulled back her head, devouring her mouth, tongue-fucking her.
On and on it went…until she was lost, floating, fracturing from the inside out.
In her bonds, she went limp, her mind no longer connected to her body.
It was…bliss. Pure, swirling, pink bliss. She smiled, the happiest she’d ever been. And she’d do anything to stay here, forever suspended in magic.
Then…
“Rylee. Open your eyes.”
“Uh-uh.”
She was snuggled against a man’s hard chest, and his heart beat comfortingly beneath her ear.
“Come back to us.”
“I’m fine.”
Like he had so many times before, Drake dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I mean it.”
This time there was authority in his tone, and she sighed. “Can you go away?”
“Absolutely not.”
Slowly she lifted her head. When had it become so heavy? And she opened her eyes.
But it wasn’t Drake who held her; it was Everett. And Drake stood in front of them, wearing his trousers and a concerned frown.
She blinked several times. “I’m…” Confused. “What happened?”
Everett stroked her hair. “I’d say you reached subspace.”
The mystical place she hadn’t believed in until now.
Drake uncapped a water and offered it to her.
She managed a sip but nothing more.
“Are you okay?”
More than. “That was amazing.” One by one, thoughts flitted through her. How long had she been out? The music was low, soothing jazz. Lights were soft white, and strobes no longer flashed. Somehow they’d managed to unfasten her bonds and carry her across the room. Well, surely they’d done that because she had no recollection of walking. The vibrator had been removed. Even her clothes were on a cushion next to them.
Her entire back side tingled, and a deep satisfaction was nestled in her womb.
“You slept.”
If that’s what it was.
She took a few breaths as reality sank in, chasing away the bliss, like the wind blowing a fall leaf from a tree, leaving her disoriented. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“We protect what’s ours.”
Theirs.
But was she?
Drake had offered no hints about a future. He seemed content to claim her, then go back to his own life until he wanted her again. But every day, in every way, she fell deeper in love, and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep doing this.
Slowly she moved, gathering her panties and stepping into them.
“Stay the night,” Everett invited.
“I appreciate the invitation.” She continued dressing. “But I’d like to be alone.”
Drake shook his head. “Stay for a while at least. I want to be sure you’re okay.”
Because she knew he’d argue until he won, she relented.
Everett and Drake sanitized the equipment and cross. Then they all went to the main house.
“Drink your water.” Everett prompted.
She did, letting their conversation wash over her, around her while she sorted through events, trying to put her memory back together.
When what she hoped a suitable amount of time passed, she yawned exaggeratedly. “It’s been a long week. Do you mind if I leave now?”
Everett frowned. “I’d rather you not.”
She shook her head.
Drake finally responded. “I’ll take you home.”
In the vehicle, she tipped her head back, drifting off, not to sleep but somewhere on its outer edges.
Being a gentleman, he walked her up to her apartment and remained with her until she opened the door. “Would you like me to come in?”
“I know you have a million things to do. And I’m going to bed.” She raised up onto her toes to give him a quick kiss. “Thank you.” With that, she entered her home and locked the door, sealing him out.
In the bath, fragments of the scene returned, but in a disjointed way. It was as if time and space bent when they’d secured her to the cross.
Tonight she’d been more out of control than at any other time in her life. Afterward they’d been there for her, but still, something in her was shattered. She’d stared into the abyss, and now it chillingly looked like her future if she continued to love Drake—a man who’d sworn he would never love again.
Cold despite the warm water, she pulled the plug, then wrapped herself in a fluffy robe.
She was broken, vulnerable, and more scared than she’d ever been. What was she supposed to do with the broken pieces of herself?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before dinner last night at the Bluewater Bistro, Rylee had told herself that she couldn’t have been making the situation with her bosses any worse. After all, she was already in love with them.
She’d been wrong. Things were much, much worse.
Despite the fact she’d soaked in the bathtub after returning home, sleep had remained elusive. The warmth hadn’t been able to soothe the aches from their play or from the subspace experience that still captivated her mind. Over and over, she replayed the sensation, flying in a swirling pink vortex. Part of her still seemed to be back there in some altered reality. It haunted her like a dream or nightmare she couldn’t shake.
Around midnight, she’d admitted defeat and moved into the living room and curled up on the couch in front of mindless replays of true crime shows she’d seen dozens of times.
At first light, she’d given up the pretense. No matter what she did, thoughts of Drake and Everett haunted her. Frustrated, she brewed a single cup of coffee then dressed in yoga gear and headed for the workout center. Her elliptical training was haphazard at best as she fought off yawns and inertia.
The day promised to be long, and she finally gave in and drove to the coffee shop before going to work. There was always something that needed to be done. And maybe, just maybe, she’d see her bosses. Which might not be a good thing.
After all, she would have no idea how to act, what to say.
To them, they’d shared a scene—one they’d obviously put some prior thought into. But she’d experienced something profound.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel just alone; she was lonely.
Her mom moving and Rylee catching her boyfriend dry humping one of her friends at a party had been difficult, but not like this.
She took her time, even reorganizing the storage room, before admitting that she was stalling, hoping, waiting…
Annoyed at herself, she grabbed her bag and strode out of the office.
This is why I shouldn’t have slept with my damn bosses. Work was no longer the refuge she needed.
She jogged down the steps, and the cloying humidity outside only served to make her mood worse.
The rest of the day, she heard nothing from Drake. Everett sent a text message to check on her. She responded lightly.
His response was all business. I added the candidate vetting to your schedule. You’ll need to be in Dallas on Saturday morning. Take a charter.
A couple of days ago, his text would have rocketed her to the moon. The words would have meant he trusted her and that she was part of the firm’s future.
She wouldn’t have been bothered that he hadn’t asked to see her, take her on a date.
Something that would have elated her at one time now crushed her.
Late afternoon, all her laundry done, the house clean, her entire next week organized, she forced herself to go out to dinner. Without thinking, she ended up at her and Juliana’s favorite tapas restaurant.
Which was another mistake since the Retreat was nearby.
In a few hours, the place would be electrified with excitement and new opportunities. As much as the thought tortured her, she couldn’t help but wonder if Drake and Everett would be in attendance.
Rylee’s appetite vanished, and she pushed her small plate to the side.
She was wrapped up in a workplace affair, and her integrity would not allow her to be with anyone but them. And heaven knew they were more than enough for her to handle.
Except for the vague discussion with Everett at the Austin hotel, there had been no talk of making anything permanent. Neither Dom was committed to her. Which meant they were free to do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted.
And she wasn’t sure she could live with the constant torment of uncertainty.
As much as she hated it, Peter’s awful words were never far away. When she caught him with the other woman, in front of all their friends, he hadn’t apologized. He’d shaken his head and sneered. “You’re the kind of woman men fuck, not marry.”
Juliana and Estella—her loyal roommates at the time—had insisted he was full of shit, being hurtful to cover his bad behavior. Rylee would find the right man and live happily ever after.
Now his words were on loop in her mind. Was he right?
Drake—and Everett, she assumed—was a Titan. They moved in a world she’d only seen from the periphery. How much did she truly know about either of them?
With a smile so fragile it threatened to break, she asked the server for a box so she could take her food to go. Then she paid her bill and strode toward her car.
By Sunday morning, she had her answer.
She could not live like this any longer. If her heart weren’t involved, maybe. But she’d learned—the most difficult way possible—that she wasn’t the type of woman who wanted to have sex without being loved.
And Drake was not capable of offering the one thing she needed.
To save herself, she had to end this.
As exhausted as she was resolved, knowing what needed to be done, even though it was the last thing she wanted, she dressed for the task at hand: a long-sleeve T-shirt, leggings, and tennis shoes. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, then donned a Houston Astros ball cap. Resolved, she drove to work.
Surprising her, the coffee kiosk was open. She needed the sugariness of caramel and the pop of caffeine more today than she ever had.
She made a beeline for the counter. “Didn’t expect you to be open.”
“Had to turn an order in,” Kevin told her. “Do some cleaning, take inventory. Figured I’d try to make a pretty lady happy.”
“You did.” Maybe the only bright spot in her day.
Whistling, he made her beverage. When he slid it in her direction, he grinned. “What are you going to do today, Rylee?”
Rip out my own heart? “Work, I guess.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You’re going to make good choices.”
She smiled. Kevin was always so friendly, reliable. “You got me.”
As she took the stairs at a jog, she realized she was going to do just that.
Because it was easier and closer to the industrial size printer, Rylee took a seat at her old desk in the reception area. Linda’s desk now. As of tomorrow morning, she’d be running the office by herself. At least she was better prepared than Rylee had been.
After powering up the computer, she updated her resume, her heart breaking after double-checking grammar and spelling. Then, fingers shaking, she sent it to Francesca.
Which meant the only thing left to do was write her resignation letter.
Rylee placed her hands on the keyboard, but the words wouldn’t come. Then the computer screen turned blurry. She realized it was from her unshed tears.
Blinking, she forced herself to focus. She needed to go home and heal.
Gentlemen,
The cursor sat there, blinking in mute mockery.
Quickly she googled resignation letters hoping for inspiration. Then she tried again.
It’s with regret…
She deleted that. Regret? Devastation was more like it.
Professionalism was a cloak she needed to hide behind.
I’d like to inform you…
She hit the delete button. An absolute lie. She didn’t like anything about this.
The note had to be short, to the point.
Thank you for the opportunities for professional development. This is to inform you that Friday was my last official day working for K and G and Associates.
The relentless tears now stung her eyes.
I wish the firm well in the future.
Then she paused again.
Sincerely? Regards? Warmly?
Despite her attempts to control them, tears spilled from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. With the back of her hand, she swiped them away. But her efforts were futile.
Having lost her composure, she pushed back from the desk and headed to the bathroom to give into the sobs that had lodged in her throat.
Get it together, Rylee.
Drake’s lovely nickname for her—sweet Rylee—played in her mind, bringing another round of tears.
Giving into the bubbling upheaval, she leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around herself but providing no comfort.
Minutes later, spent, she straightened and splashed water on her face. After using a towel to blot the mess she’d made of her mascara, she momentarily removed her ball cap to redo her ponytail.
Then with a shaky exhalation, as composed as she could be, she returned to the reception area.
“What the fuck is this?”
Drake.
Her knees weakened. In his black shirt and tie, wearing a black suit, he was devastating, overwhelming her senses. But fury crackled around him.
In his hand was a damning piece of paper. “Your fucking resume?”
His eyes blazed, turning amber to fire.
“This was nothing more than a steppingstone to you?” Accusation dripped from each word. “You goddamn well used us?”
“No.” Frantically she shook her head. It wasn’t like that at all. “You’re wrong. Please…” What? Let me explain? The evidence spoke for itself.
He sat in the chair she’d vacated. After looking at the computer screen, he glanced at her. “Thank you for the opportunities for professional development?”
This time, there was no reasoning with Drake. He was feral, and he would go for the jugular.
Holding her gaze, he picked up the phone.
She wanted to flee but couldn’t move.
A moment later, he spoke. “It’s Griffin. Revoke Rylee D’Angelo’s access to the server.”
Her stomach plummeted. But what else had she expected?
“Forward her email to mine along with instructions on how to reset the password.
“I would never—”
He slammed the phone down. “Give me your credit card.”
Through her hurt and upset, fighting new tears, she grabbed her bag and dug out her wallet. Because her fingers were shaking so hard, it took two attempts to extract the piece of plastic.
She placed it on the desk, then took an awkward step back.
“Your badge?”
Her brain was scrambled, and her thoughts short-circuited.
Then, controlled in a way that was more frightening than anger would have been, he crumpled her resume and threw it at the wall. “You want out, Rylee?” A flash of heat lightning seared his voice. “Then get the fuck out. Unless you’d like me to call security to show you the way?”
Everything they’d had, shared, was destroyed, turned to ashes around them.
Now that she’d had it, she knew what she’d lost.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”
Drake met the stormy turbulence in Parker’s gray eyes. After Rylee had left—before he’d thrown her out—Drake had worked out. His fury hadn’t diminished. Instead it had become stone-cold hard.
Once he was more controlled, he called Parker and told him to meet at the Braes in the bar—where Drake had been for half an hour, a bottle of fine whiskey in front of him. It was a high-end brand.
He planned to get smashed. And it wouldn’t be on cheap shit that would give him a hangover.
Parker dragged a hand through his hair. “You let her go? Without an explanation? After what happened Friday night?”
Parker was much less skeptical than Drake, which made him likeable, but it also meant the man had difficulty discerning the truth. “We’ll be fine. We’ve got Linda.”
“We’ll be fine? That’s all you’re thinking about? Business? Jesus Christ. You’re seriously fucked up.”
Not responding, Drake refilled his glass, then sat back in the leather chair. Thank God it was comfortable. He was going to be there a while.
“Did you ask how she was? What was going on? Give her a chance to explain?” Parker grabbed a glass of his own and filled it. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
He didn’t answer.
“Especially after Friday night.”
“What the hell does that scene have to do with anything?”
“You didn’t call her, did you? Text? Ask how she was?”
He didn’t owe Parker any explanations. Drake had been in Altair’s lair on the private second floor of the Retreat. Despite what Altair had said in the beginning, the scope of his plans had expanded, necessitating the inclusion of other potential investors. There’d been thirty people in the room, arguing, formulating plans, discussing financing, and the best way to structure the deal—or deals—to mitigate financial risk. Since there had been numerous members of the Zeta Society in attendance—some of whom surprised him—egos flared as each jockeyed for position and defended their point of view. They’d been there the entire day and most of the night. Despite that, only a couple of people had left. And all the time, thoughts of Rylee hadn’t been far away. He’d fantasized about going home to her, seeing her smile, pleasing her, then fucking her hard to release his tensions.
“Didn’t you notice anything different about her after the scene?” Parker dropped into a chair. “She was shaken. As if the experience had changed her.”
“I offered to go inside with her.”
