The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries #1)(25)

Perfect skin. He wondered if Grace had really looked at his back as he’d walked off. He soaped his shoulders. He could feel scars there though he couldn’t feel the ones that went lower. After he’d come out of the hospital in Germany, he’d forced himself to look at it. His back had been an angry river of scars with multiple tributaries running off the long, deep scar that ran down his spine. Sean knew he’d been lucky. He’d survived the IED that took out his Humvee, but he didn’t like to think about it. Now he had to. Grace would have questions. He doubted she would accept his usual comment. He usually mentioned that if they thought he was bad, they should see his brother. Sean doubted there was a single piece of his brother that had been left unmarred.

Sean felt infinitely more in control as he dried off. He shut off the water and stepped into Grace’s delicate little bathroom. It was a confection of feminine frivolity. He was surprised by it since Grace always dressed so austerely. This was a little peek into her soul, like those hot shoes she wore. Sean smiled at the neatly organized bath salts and bubble bath oils she kept in an antique bin next to the clawfoot tub. There was a stack of paperbacks on the window sill. He could tell from the flowery-looking covers that Grace enjoyed lying in her tub reading romance novels. He looked through the covers and quickly figured out they mostly featured BDSM. She would be very interested in what he could teach her. He looked at that tub and pictured her there.

Of course, a tub that big was really built for two.

Not going there. He didn’t need to get his brain caught on the image of lying back in that tub with Grace cuddled up between his legs. He could wash her hair and then allow her to bathe him. Nope. He wasn’t going there.

He wished he had been smarter. He needed the barrier of clothes between them. He would have to dry his clothes before he could get back in them. He checked in her big walk-in closet. All she had was her own pink fluffy robe that he doubted would cover his chest. He was stuck with the towel. It was only thirty minutes or so. He would sit down with Grace and tell her he wanted to slow down, maybe go out a few times before they had actual sex. Maybe if he didn’t have sexual contact with her again before the job was over, she wouldn’t hate him. Maybe he could keep some piece of himself apart from her.

Sean wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. He’d ask Grace if maybe one of her sons had left behind something he could wear. Anything would be easier than sitting around her kitchen almost naked trying to explain that he didn’t want to have sex with her when his cock so obviously did.

The sight that met him when he opened the door made him stop in his tracks. Suddenly, every single thought of leaving Grace further untouched fled as his cock firmly took command.

Grace sat in the middle of her queen-sized bed. She was completely naked and on her knees. Her palms were up, lying on her thighs, and her lovely head gazed to someplace on the floor in front of her. Her eyes were submissively down, and long auburn locks flowed around her shoulders like a silky waterfall. It was the graceful position of a sub waiting for her dominant partner’s command. Everything inside Sean responded to it. He’d seen submissives waiting for him in this position countless times, but his heart leapt at the sight of Grace. This wasn’t some nameless sub looking for a good time. This was Grace. She’d never sat in this position for anyone else. Just for him.

“Not on the bed, Grace,” he heard himself saying. “When you greet me, you do it on the floor.”

She moved quickly and found the position again. She never looked up at him, merely followed his command. Her red hair flowed freely down her back. It was wild and wavy from the humidity. It went well with her nude body, making her seem primitive and tempting. He took in every inch of her lovely, feminine form. She was petite, but curved in all the right places. Her breasts were large and natural. Her waist flowed gracefully into full hips he could grip while he f*cked her. She was the most desirable woman he had ever seen. As though he hadn’t just had an orgasm, his cock fought the cotton of the towel, trying to break free.

He placed a hand on her head and gave up the fight. He would regret it. He knew he would. And he also knew he couldn’t walk away from her. He let the towel drop. “Your form is next to perfect. Straighten your spine a little. Those novels you’ve read seem to have the right idea. Look up at me.”

Her chin came up. Her lovely face was placid. Those big hazel eyes were perfectly calm, but the slight curve of her lips gave her away. She was thrilled with his response. She’d known what she was doing. His little one was going to try to top from the bottom. It would be an intricate dance between them for power. He was looking forward to many, many years of such a struggle. This was what you didn’t get from a slave, this fire and passion. She would always surprise him. Perhaps it was time to surprise his little sub, too.

“Did you do as I asked?”

She nodded, though a little wariness entered her expression now. “I opened the wine, Sir. It’s on the table.”

Sure enough, she’d followed the letter of his command, but not the intent. The bottle was chilling in a little silver bucket with two wine glasses beside it on the bedside table. “Grace, I told you I wanted to talk. Did you have any intention of talking to me?”

“Oh, yes.” Her response was bouncy as though she was happy he’d phrased it in a way she didn’t have to lie about. “I think we should talk.”