“YOU ARE WHAT?” FREYA PEALS as she follows me to the foyer.
I bend down to grab my brown ankle boots up off the floor. “I said I’m going to be spending the night at Gareth Harris’ house tonight, so I won’t be home until tomorrow.”
“I need to sit down.” Freya drops down on the staircase and cradles her head in her hands. “You haven’t told me a word since we made that suit for him, and I’ve been cheated some very delicious details.”
“Freya, you knew something was happening between us.” I slip my feet into my shoes and slide the inside zippers up, my eyes narrowing on her. “You even encouraged it!”
“I know! But to be spending the night with him must mean it is getting serious!” She looks up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
“It’s not getting serious,” I correct.
“You’ve been out every night this week,” she states like it’s a confirmation that what I’m saying isn’t true.
“That doesn’t mean it’s getting serious,” I scoff. Yes, I’ve been back out to Gareth’s. Yes, I rode him reverse cowgirl when we fucked in his media room last night during reruns of Shameless. That doesn’t mean anything has changed. I’m just insatiable. I’m in the middle of a sexual awakening I didn’t even know I needed, and I can’t seem to stay away. And I’ll be blowing him off for another week straight when Sophia comes home, so I’m trying to get it while I can.
“So, why are you spending the night?”
“Because we’re having sex.”
It’s as if I electrocuted her. “You’re finally shagging him?”
I want to laugh at her innocence. If she knew the full truth, she’d probably pass out from shock. “Yes, Frey. You didn’t assume?”
“Well, I don’t know. You said he held out on you that one time you wore the skimpy knickers, so I thought maybe he was impotent or something.”
“No,” I groan. “We’re sleeping together, but it’s just a friends with benefits thing.” I shrug. The description doesn’t do it justice, but it’s the best I can do.
Her face crumples. “Friends with benefits is something kids in Uni do. Not nearly thirty-something-year-olds with children.”
“Gareth doesn’t have children.”
“You do!”
“Only for fifty percent of my life!” I exclaim, my hands fisting at my sides. The notion of missing part of Sophia’s life every other week still makes me crazy. I don’t need it shoved in my face. “You are the one who wanted me to do something with my time when Sophia is with Callum.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think it meant friends with benefits and putting yourself at risk of having your heart broken. Sloan, Gareth Harris is like a steel vault. Even the media can’t get a personal detail out of him.”
“What do you mean? I thought he is only private about the women he dates?”
She shakes her head. “It’s so much more than that. His dad used to play for Man U, and if the media ask a question about him, Gareth shuts down the interview straight away. On top of that, he’s never seen with mates. Only his family. Now you’re telling me that you’ve been sleeping with him on a regular basis. I just think that has to mean something.” Her green eyes are intense on me.
“It doesn’t,” I reply sharply and ignore the pit in my belly that forms over the fact that Gareth has opened up to me about his dad. Feeling anxious, I move to sit beside Freya on the steps and try to explain this in a way that won’t freak either of us out completely. “What Gareth and I are doing is so different from traditional. He even held off in the beginning to ensure that our lines didn’t get blurred. I’m totally detached and living in the moment.”
“In the moment,” Freya tuts, clearly disbelieving.
“It’s just sex.”
“It’s just sex.”
I pull one leg up to my chest and turn to face her. “Stop repeating what I’m saying and trust me when I tell you that this is the perfect arrangement. More importantly, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Her eyes fly wide with excitement. “Well, it’s no wonder. You’re shagging England’s sexiest footballer, Sloan. Do you have any idea how many women would kill to take your place?”
This makes me frown. “I try not to think about the fact that Gareth is an athlete. He always just felt like more of a client to me. Now he’s just…Gareth.”
Freya erupts into laughter, holding her belly as the fit overtakes her body. “And Tom Hardy is just Tom Hardy!”
I sigh heavily and roll my eyes at her hysterics. “I know he’s famous, but we’re different people when we’re together.”
She wipes an errant tear from her eye and asks, “How do you mean?”
My lips thin as I ponder her question. I know why I love our arrangement, but I’m not one hundred percent sure why Gareth loves to give up the control. He’s given me some ideas, but it seems deeper than his daddy issues. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s like we’re both working through a problem and what we do with each other helps us deal.”
Freya leans in and cups her mouth to whisper, “Is it kinky? Does he have a sex dungeon?”
“No,” I groan and pick at my black tights, my mind drifting off to the sense of empowerment I get when I’m with him. “It’s above all that. It’s like Gareth’s home has become my refuge from life. When I go there, it’s like shutting off the WiFi and not allowing myself to scroll Instagram. I don’t worry about what Sophia is doing or how much she’s changing. And Gareth doesn’t know me or my life, so I get to be a different person when I’m with him. Someone who is strong, and brave, and sexy, and desired.”
Freya’s eyes are fierce on mine. “So he doesn’t know about Sophia?”
“No,” I answer, swallowing slowly. After he opened up about his father the other night, I started feeling guilty about this significant part of my life that I’ve yet to mention. “He knows I’m divorced, but that’s pretty much it. I feel like I need to keep it that way. So much of my identity the past few years has revolved around Sophia. The weeks I spend with Gareth are a chance for me to reclaim the person I lost when I stayed married to Cal for so long. I need this fourth wall to feel like I can keep doing this arrangement we have.”
“Wow.” Freya looks forward, her head shaking back and forth in amazement. “I’m here binge-watching Netflix, and you’re out there having mind-blowing sex and really living life.”
“I’m trying.” I shrug because that’s all I can do at this point.
“What does he think you’re doing when you have Sophia?”
“Well, it’s new, so I’m just going to keep telling him I’m travelling for work or too busy to drive out there. So far he hasn’t noticed because I more than make up for it when I’m free.” I shoot her a lascivious smile and she covers her mouth with a snicker.
“This is properly more exciting than Zumba!” She giggles.
I give her a huge grin and reply, “That is an understatement.”
“Well, you’re a tart! And I’m positively green with jealousy, so don’t take it personal when I hate you for the rest of our lives.”
I smile broadly. “I love you.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Mean it.”
My drive out to Astbury has become one of my favourite pasttimes. It’s the one hour I need every day to meditate, self-reflect, and prepare myself to let go of my stress and embrace this new, stronger version of myself. It’s also a great time to fantasise about all the things I want to do with Gareth.
Like experimenting with hot wax!
Along with all the groceries I bought for Thanksgiving, I included a couple of candles to help set the mood for our meal and my plans for after dinner. I am practically panting from the anticipation of drizzling hot wax over Gareth’s ridiculously amazing body. I tested it out on myself last night, and the heat it stirred inside of me made it nearly impossible to stay away for twenty-four hours.
My how far I’ve come.
When Gareth first proposed this control idea, I took to the internet for information and was really intimidated by what I found. True BDSM is intense and a big commitment. I knew I couldn’t do the majority of what I saw. But when we spent the night texting back and forth, he assured me that it wasn’t whips and chains he was looking for. He didn’t want me to turn him into a sex slave or have us join some underground club where people in this lifestyle go for pleasure. It was a simple power exchange that he sought. He didn’t want to be in charge of my pleasure. He wanted to be the answer for it.
Most of our nights together thus far have simply been me directing the scene. Telling him I need to sit on his face. Or telling him he can’t touch me with his hands, only his lips. Sometimes it’s me shoving him down on the bed and climbing on top of him just to see his eyes flash wide with lust and awe. When I’m confident, he looks at me with complete reverence. It’s a glorious stamp of approval I didn’t even know I was missing in my life.
Callum was always one to thrive on his control. On his power. His wealth. He prided himself on all the things Gareth seems to ignore in his life.
I mean, I’m not blind. I know Gareth hasn’t surrendered all of his power. He manages to find a way to top from the bottom quite often, but it always starts with my control. My planning. My set-up. My terms. And our time together is completely at my discretion.
There’s a whole new level of anxiety over actually spending a full night with him, though. At first, I regretted agreeing to it. What if Sophia got sick in the middle of the night and Cal called me to come? How awful would it be if I couldn’t get to her in an instant?
Logically, I know that’s my anxiety talking. She’s not a sick baby anymore. She’s become a healthy little human before my very eyes. Just last week when I took her to the dentist, I couldn’t believe how big she looked in the exam chair. At some point, when I wasn’t noticing, she stopped being a toddler. And every time she comes back to me after a week of being with Cal, I swear she’s grown taller and more mature.
I need to recognise that, and spending time with Gareth has helped me find some new perspective. I’m a divorced woman who is co-parenting with her ex. It isn’t a death sentence. It’s actually quite liberating. I get to live a double life, and I get to reclaim the sense of individuality that Callum siphoned from me during our marriage.
Now I find myself in a place with Gareth where I want to be bold. I want to be surprising. Hell, I want to bring a little kink into our lives! Candle wax and all.
I pull into Gareth’s driveway and type in the code to his gate. He’s still at practice, but he said I could come over whenever I needed to today since the turkey will take a few hours to cook.
When I finish hauling the groceries inside, I marvel over how only a year ago I was lusting after this house and imagining what it would be like to live in it. Now I’m cooking a freaking Thanksgiving dinner in the kitchen and I’ve been naked in nearly every room. Life can really be surprising sometimes.
When I step through the front door of my house eager to lay eyes on Sloan, my nose is instantly assaulted with the pungent scent of burnt flesh. I drop my football kit on the floor as a foggy cloud of smoke billows out the door behind me, surprised my smoke alarm isn’t going off yet. Waving my hand in front of my face, I quickly make my way to the kitchen where the source of the smoke seems to be coming from.
My eyes instantly land on Sloan’s backside. She’s hunched over the kitchen island wearing nothing but a tiny string bikini. I have to fight the urge to ogle her body because, from the looks of her, she’s not in a good state. Her head is bowed, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking. I look to the left and see a charred turkey in a large roasting pan sitting on the counter. It’s black. Really black. The legs have fallen off the sides and the heat wafting from it looks practically toxic.
“Hiya?” I state like a question because I’m terrified of the emotional scene I’ve just walked in to.
Sloan’s head snaps up. She sniffs in a deep breath and wipes away tears as she turns to face me. “Oh my God, you’re home already?” she groans and awkwardly crosses her arms over her stomach.
“Yes…Sorry,” I reply slowly, then tilt my head. “Are you crying?”
“No!” she bellows defensively. “Yes!”
“Tre,” I coo and move straight to her, my arms reaching out and pulling her against my body. “What’s the matter?”
“Are you joking?” she mumbles with a garbled hiccup as she hides her face in my chest. She pulls back and gestures to the turkey. “I freaking ruined it.”
I pull my lips into my mouth to conceal my smile. “What happened?”
She looks up at me with wide, watery eyes. “I thought I could go for a swim while the turkey cooked because the package said it would take two hours. But I must have screwed up the temperature on the oven because as soon as I finished my swim and stepped out of the pool room, I could smell something burning.”
“Bugger,” I murmur and hold her head against my chest. “It sucks, but it’s not a big deal.”
“It is too!” she snaps, pulling out of my arms and swiping at her cheeks. “I had plans, Gareth! I worked so hard on a fancy herb rub I found on Pinterest. It took me an hour to dress that damn bird. Now the one thing I was most excited about for today is ruined.”
“So we’ll go out to eat,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
She blinks a few times, her pouty lip so damn sexy, I’m finding it really hard to be sympathetic. “But…I mean, is that okay? We don’t do dinner dates. And, I mean, can you just go out in public like that? Aren’t you famous or something?”
I brush the comment off. “There’s a pub that does a great fish and chips, and it’s local so no one ever bothers me.”
She nods and swallows. “I suppose that works. God, I’m such an idiot.”
“No you’re not.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Now, command me to take these tears away.” The playful waggle of my brows brings a small smile to her face.
She looks through the doorway and replies, “Come swim with me. It’s the only room in the house that doesn’t stink.”
The corners of my mouth pull back into a smile. “With pleasure, Treacle.”
Sloan leads me into the pool room and tells me to strip down to nothing for our swim. Watching her loosen the strings of her bikini and drop the tiny slips of fabric on the concrete flooring enables me to finally learn how to enjoy my pool.
It has been mesmerising to watch Sloan embrace this control the past couple of weeks. She’s not the most composed, but there’s always a moment when that spark ignites in her eyes. The one when I know she’s finally letting go of all the baggage and stress in her life and living in the present with me. It’s fucking captivating because I feel the same. When she tells me to shag her from behind on the pool steps and begs me to pull her hair, it’s like I’m finally fucking free. She frees me of my complicated, stressful thoughts and gives me a sense of lightness I’ve never experienced in my life.
It’s dark out by the time we hop in my car and Gareth directs me to the Horseshoe Inn in the nearby village of Congleton. We’re both ravenous and grateful to get away from the stench of burnt turkey still wafting through the house.
When we pull up to an extremely old looking pub nestled in the English countryside, I can’t hide the smile on my face. “This place is so British, I could die.”
It’s an adorable white, stucco building that looks more like a house than a restaurant. It has a welcoming red front door and hanging baskets and window boxes overflowing with fall flowers. It’s exactly what any English country pub should be.
Gareth smiles back at me and hops out of the car, quickly jogging over to my door and opening it for me. “I’ve known the owners, Charles and Mary, for years. They were some of the first friends I made when I moved out here.”
He ushers me into the dimly lit pub, and an elderly hostess doesn’t even smile at us when we come in. She grabs a couple of menus and walks us over to a dark corner booth near an open log fire. The place is mostly empty, and no one gives us a second look as we take our seats.
“Drinks?” the woman asks.
Gareth orders a water and I ask for a wine. She returns a few minutes later with our drinks, then puts in our food orders.
“This feels different,” I say, sipping my white wine thoughtfully and eyeing Gareth from across the table. “Being out of your house and around society together. I’m not sure how to act.”
He gives me a confused look. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “Well, like, did you want me to order for you just now? Am I still in control?”
My question has his brow furrowing. Before he has a chance to reply, light from the entrance blasts in and Hobo’s loud voice booms into our quiet sanctuary.
“Hullo, neighbour! Fancy seeing you here!” I turn to see Hobo stepping back and gesturing for Brandi to walk inside ahead of him. The two make their way over to our table.
My cheeks feel flaming hot as Gareth gives Hobo a forced sort of smile. “Hiya, Hobo. Brandi.”
“Gareth.” Brandi smiles and flicks her curious eyes to me, her blonde ponytail swinging as she adds, “Hi, Sloan.”
“How are you guys?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and attempting to appear casual.
“We’re super!” Hobo looks straight at me with a beaming smile. “Thought we’d nip in for a bite since neither of us could cook if our lives depended on it. This is great, though! Now we can have a double date!”
“Oh, this isn’t a date.” I look nervously at Brandi, who feels like she’s inspecting me. I glance at Gareth for some help, but he remains silent, waiting for what I’m about to say next. “Gareth and I are just having a work-related dinner.”
“A work-related dinner?” Hobo repeats, clearly not convinced. “That’s interesting. What are you discussing?”
“Oh, erm…” I wrack my brain for an excuse, but I’m seriously blanking. My job is not the kind that requires me to wine and dine my current customers. I wine and dine prospective clients occasionally, but not people like Gareth.
“We’re just friends having dinner.” Gareth’s deep voice saves me from my misery. His eyes are trained on mine in such a serious manner that I struggle to know what he’s thinking. “Sloan was delivering some clothes and mentioned she was hungry. I told her this place has the best fish and chips around, so I brought her here.”
Brandi doesn’t look at all convinced, but Hobo smiles brightly and says, “Super! You won’t mind if we join you then.”
Hobo shoves into the booth, forcing Gareth around the corner next to me so that our knees are touching. Brandi slides in next to Hobo, and the four of us begin what I can only describe as the most awkward non-double date I’ve ever experienced.
They all instantly begin talking soccer. Brandi chimes in like one of the guys, equally as passionate about the sport as the men. I listen intently, actually really intrigued because I’ve never taken an interest in Gareth’s career up until this point. The majority of my clients are wealthy athletes or business moguls, and I find the less I know, the better. And I never want to come off like a fan. My clients get that enough. They don’t need it from me, too.
I also think I was resistant to the sport of soccer when I came to England because Callum loved it so much. It represented one of the British customs I was resentful of at a time when I missed our life in Chicago. But hearing these guys speak so passionately has me kind of warming up to the sport.
“So, Sloan, when did you say those dresses of mine are coming in again?” Brandi’s blue eyes are wide and friendly.
“They are in already!” I waggle my eyebrows in excitement. “And they are so fierce. There’s one that I think is going to look fantastic on you, but I’m not saying a word until you try them all on. I think I have you scheduled for Monday, right?”
She nods with a secret twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, that’s what I remember. The event feels like it will be a bit of a Cinderella moment. I’m not really a girly girl, but the idea of getting dressed up for a proper night out is hard not to get butterflies over.”
“I don’t know much about the event, except that I think almost every single one of my clients is attending,” I state with a huff. “Any time there’s a black tie and red carpet event, it’s like my company’s Super Bowl. My business partner and I have been swamped getting everyone’s samples in and final decisions altered.”
“So, is that why you’re wining and dining our honouree here?” Hobo teases, clapping Gareth on the shoulder.
I look over at Gareth in confusion. “Honouree? What do you mean?”
Gareth’s jaw tightens as he narrows a steely look at Hobo. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Hobo jeers, not the least bit intimidated by Gareth’s glower. “Our captain here is receiving the big award that night. He’s been named Player of the Year on behalf of the Football Press Association.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
Gareth shrugs like he’s in pain as Hobo answers for him. “Seriously. He’s a super stud. I can’t believe he hasn’t been bragging to you about it. Our coach is over the moon.”
“W—wow,” I stammer, then my face falls as realisation hits. Gareth hasn’t requested styling for this event. I didn’t even know he is attending. Did he hire someone else because we’re sleeping together? “Gareth, why haven’t you requested styling from me?”
He finally makes eye contact with me, and I can see that he’s registering the hurt look on my face. His hand reaches under the table and squeezes my knee. “Because I already have a suit.”
“Which one?” I ask, nervous that he’s going to wear something he’s worn before. I know it’s crazy, but he should not be re-wearing a suit for a red carpet event. The press will notice and call him out on it. He pays me to prevent that from happening.
It has to be what we’re doing together that’s making him feel like he can’t ask me for anything. This is deeply upsetting because he swore our working relationship would remain the same.
His hand moves up to my inner thigh as he states firmly, “I’m wearing the one you made.”
“Made?” Brandi and Hobo echo each other.
I can feel their surprised eyes on me, but I can’t look at them. Instead, my eyes are locked on Gareth’s, who’s looking annoyingly indifferent. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice sounding far away for some reason.
“The suit you made me a couple weeks ago. I haven’t worn it anywhere yet. I figured it’d be perfect for the event.”
“I didn’t know you are a designer, too,” Brandi states, clearly impressed.
I continue to ignore her. “Gareth, you should wear designer. Not mine.”
“I don’t need designer,” he scoffs, tightening his grip on my leg. “I love the suit you made. I tried it on and it fits perfectly. I want to wear it. End of.”
“Not end of,” I bark and shove his hand off my leg. “This is a big deal. There will be press, a red carpet, media asking who you’re wearing.”
“Just tell me what to say then.” He flinches as a thought pops in his head. “In fact, you can go with me and tell them yourself.”
“Go with you as what?” I am so shocked, I don’t know what end is up. I just found out a famous athlete is going to wear my suit on a red carpet. This is the kind of thing that aspiring designers only dream of, but it’s a dream that I’ve locked away inside a vault of pre-Sophia life goals. Not to mention Gareth Harris is never seen with women!
“My date, of course.” Gareth turns his eyes from me and faces Hobo and Brandi while taking a sip of water.
“I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” I grind out through clenched teeth. What’s he trying to do here?
I swear I see Hobo and Brandi eating popcorn from the other side of the table as Gareth and I have this non-fight right in front of them.
“Fuck what’s appropriate,” Gareth scoffs. “If I don’t take you, I’ll have to take someone else. I’d rather have a friendly face as my date.”
Anger simmers in my veins. Anger spliced with a dash of jealousy. Would I be okay with Gareth taking someone else? It would bother me for sure. Especially after Freya said every woman in England wants to have sex with him. But what is he trying to do? Our arrangement doesn’t include dating. It’s fucking. And him putting me on the spot in front of his friends is really maddening.
Gareth’s eyes are firm on mine, flaming with a look of determination that I’ve never seen on him. “It’s a great opportunity for you to get your name out there as both a designer and a stylist. You can network. It would be excellent publicity.”
“Gareth,” I state in a warning tone, my hands itching to strangle the smug look off his face.
“Sloan.” He says my name so deliberately, I know this is about a hell of a lot more than networking and publicity.
Hobo interjects. “It’s going to be a fun party at the very least. Come have a laugh with us. Brandi will be there with me and could use the support. She always hates the women my teammates bring to these events.”
Brandi groans her approval. “Oh my God, yes. You’d be a welcome breath of fresh air for all of us.”
I force a smile and silently agree to their insane request. I’m not about to fight with Gareth in front of his friends, but we’re certainly having words when we’re done here.
We finish our dinner with much more comfortable small talk. Then Gareth and I trail behind Hobo and Brandi as we all make our way out of the pub. We wave our goodbyes and part ways.
When we get to my car, Gareth snatches the keys from my hand.
“Um, excuse you, those are my keys.” I begin to argue and reach for the keys in his hand.
“You had wine, Sloan. I had water. I’m driving.”
With a frown, I slowly cross my arms over my chest and hold my place in front of the driver’s side door. “I had two small glasses of wine in two hours. I’m fine.”
Gareth’s gaze is serious as he looms over me, forcing me back against the door. “I’m not letting you put either of us in unnecessary danger. I’ll drive.”
I grind my teeth together with annoyance. I know he’s right. Him driving makes the most sense, but I don’t like that he didn’t ask. He’s just telling me. He’s commanding me. He’s kind of been commanding me all night, and it’s really getting on my nerves.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I bite my tongue and walk over to the other side of the car. Gareth tries to open the door for me, but I push him away and do it myself.
As soon as both our doors are closed and we’re concealed in the silence of the dark vehicle, I turn on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, adjusting the driver’s seat and putting the key in the ignition.
“In there…In front of Hobo and Brandi. Were you trying to show off?”
“Show off?” he barks, one hand resting on the wheel even though he hasn’t started the car yet.
I turn in my seat to face him more fully. “Yeah, you manipulated the whole scene to get me to go to the awards gala with you.”
“I wasn’t being manipulative. I just think it’ll be a great opportunity for you.”
“But it’s my decision. Not yours!” I exclaim, leaning in closer to him. Even in my state of frustration, I can’t help but want to be close to him. He smells too damn good. “What is this, Gareth? You want me to be in control, but the minute we’re caught in public together, you fucking flip on me like a switch.”
His eyes are severe on mine. “I didn’t flip on you.”
“The hell you didn’t!” I peal. “What’s going on? Am I still in control here or not?”
“In the bedroom, yes,” he grinds through clenched teeth and reaches down to turn over the key.
“But not in front of your friends,” I bark unattractively and face forward with a laugh. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. You’re not surrendering your control. You’re topping from the bottom. You’ve been topping me this whole time!”
“That’s utter bollocks!” he roars and hits the heel of his hand on the wheel. “When we get back to my place, I’ll let you do whatever the bloody hell you want to me. You can fucking whip me if you think that’s what I deserve, and it will turn you on because that’s what turns me on. But when we are out in public, I absolutely refuse to let you miss opportunities because we agreed to fuck each other a certain way.”
“Well, it would have been nice if you had warned me.”
“Why?” he asks. “Because then you wouldn’t go out in public with me? That’s bullshit, Sloan, and you know it.”
“I don’t know what I know,” I growl. I feel like a petulant child, but I also feel a bit out of whack because of what’s happening between us.
Gareth’s warm hand grips my arm. When I refuse to look at him, he reaches over the centre console and clasps my face in his hands, forcing me to do so. “Sloan, in case you need reminding, I get off on surrendering to you.” He pauses and stares down at my lips, his nostrils flaring as he husks out, “I even get off on pissing you off because I know it’s only going to add to what you do to me later. Fuck me, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
I have to fight back a moan that’s traitorously clawing its way up my throat over the heated, turned-on look in his eyes. God, I want him underneath me so badly, but he’s not done.
“But you need to know that there’s a whole other side to me. A side that doesn’t submit. I’m not just one thing.”
My eyes flick back and forth between his, curiously trying to decipher him like a complicated puzzle. “So, what else are you?”
He licks his lips. “I’m my own fucking man out on the streets. That means I get pushy and assertive and I claim what I want, when I want. But behind closed doors with you in front of me, I fucking give myself to you because, bloody hell, it feels right. I can be two things. Understood?”
I fight back a gasp just as he releases me and puts the car in gear. He looks over his shoulder to back out of the parking stall as confusion envelops my entire body. Why is this so hot? Him all angry and demanding. This isn’t what I want from Gareth. I want control. I want power. I want to say when and where. I’ve been thriving on it! Finding myself with it! It has changed my life in such an elemental way. But right now, the steely firmness in his gaze is making my body hum to life.
Instead of admitting all of that—instead of apologising for yelling at him and making a scene—I purse my lips and reply, “That’s fine, but you’re going to pay for it when we get back to your place.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle with a frown, anger still ticking in his jaw muscle as he says, “I’m rock fucking hard just thinking about it.”
Gareth is spread out naked on his bed. The blue lighting from his closet casts sexy shadows on his erection, which is already at full salute from the slow strip-tease I just tortured him with.
An orange flame glows brightly against my bare breasts as I hold a pillar candle inside a clear jar. “Are you scared?” I ask, my voice revealing how turned on I am by the anticipation on his face.
His eyes rake over my naked body. “Completely.”
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, cautiously staring back at him.
His face is resolute. “Never.”
I kneel down next to him on the bed, tucking my feet underneath me. I considered wearing sexy lingerie again, but this is something quite different for us, so I thought it would help him feel comfortable if I am naked, too. Plus, the way he looks at me when I’m naked makes me feel like I can conquer the damn world.
I look up at him, brandishing the white candle in my hand. “The wax is vanilla scented because you said before you like how I smell so sweet all the time.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up. “I love how you smell.”
“Well, it’s vanilla,” I say, swirling the wax building up inside the jar. “I use vanilla essential oil as a perfume. I make it myself with almond oil and water because it has lots of health benefits. I read somewhere once that it has an aphrodisiac quality to it as well.”
Gareth’s abs flex with a low chuckle. “I was doomed from the beginning.” He looks up at me fondly, our earlier argument forgotten.
“Completely,” I reply with a smirk and hold the candle over his stomach. “I want you to lay your hands out flat beside you and try not to move too much.” His muscles tighten and outline his beautiful six-pack as he braces himself for what’s about to come. “I want you to really feel this. Not only on the surface, but inside yourself. Absorb it, then tell me what goes through your mind as you do.”
He nods, looking equally nervous and excited.
I tilt the jar and drip a few dots of wax on his broad furry pecs. He hisses a sharp intake of air from the initial shock of the heat, but he relaxes and closes his eyes as soon as the wax dries.
My fingers move to touch the pools of dried wax, relishing in the smooth texture over the coarseness of his hairy chest. “How does it feel?”
“Hot,” he states with a half-smile.
“Anything else?” I drizzle a little more. This time it runs down the valley between his pecs and over the ridges of his abs.
“It’s creating a burning inside of me.”
“Like what?”
“Like I was already hard when we started, and now I feel like I’m going to explode.”
“What would ease the pain?”
“You.” His answer is instant as he opens his eyes, his expression deathly serious.
I run my hands over the drops again, digging my nails into the design of the wax I’ve created. “Are you having any texture issues with this?”
He shakes his head. “Not with you.”
“What do you mean?”
He swallows and watches the jar tilt as I drip more wax on him. With a groan, he answers, “I trust you I guess. I don’t have any texture issues with you anymore because I always want what’s coming.”
“Even hot wax?” I tease, gazing down at my masterpiece.
When he doesn’t respond, I look up to see his eyes completely hooded. “If you could see what I’m seeing, you would understand.”
With a pleased smile, I throw one leg over his groin and position his tip between my folds. In one swift move, I pour more wax on his chest and sink down onto him, pulling him inside me completely.
“Jesus Christ, Tre,” Gareth moans, clearly on sensory overload. His eyes are pinched together in pain as I sit completely still on his cock, allowing my body to stretch and adjust to his girth.
“How do you feel now?” I ask, switching hands with the candle.
“Like I want to fuck you until you scream.” His stern eyes open to me.
“But I’m in charge,” I warn.
He swallows slowly and looks almost forlorn as he nods. “You’re in charge.”
“And tonight you tried to take that from me,” I state, making slow, small circles with my hips and trying not to get too carried away yet.
“It was for your own good,” he husks, fisting the sheets in his hands.
“I decide what’s good for me, Gareth,” I reply, then drip more wax on him.
He groans in pain and pleasure—a heady mix of confusing emotions.
“I make my own life decisions,” I add firmly.
He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry.”
His apology is surprising. I thought he’d fight me on this more. I thought I’d get to continue torturing him, and punishing him, and making him remember what we’re about. Instead, he’s submitting. He’s apologising, and it is really freaking sexy.
I blow out the candle and stretch over Gareth’s body to set it on the nightstand. My hair and breasts brush against his face, and his hands reach up and caress my back.
I pull back and smack his chest. “I didn’t say you can touch me.”
His lips form a thin line. “I’m sorry, Treacle.”
“Good,” I reply and sit upright on his cock. I press my hands to his chest and rake my nails through the wax coating on his trimmed chest hair. It’s messy, and flaky, and animalistic, and I find myself grinding down on him even harder. “Now, let me remind you why we do this.”
It took nearly an hour to scrape all the dried wax off of Gareth’s body, and it’s almost ten o’clock before we’re showered and back in his bed. Both still naked per my command, and both still gloriously satisfied. I watch Gareth’s muscled back as he stretches to flick off the bedside light.
He lies on his back next to me as I turn on my side to face him. “Did you like the wax?”
I can see his profile nodding in the darkness. “I like pretty much everything you do. Especially if you’re really into it.”
“Yeah?” I purse my lips to prevent the excited butterflies from escaping.
He nods and props a hand behind his head so his face is tilting down toward mine. “Although, I have the most fun when you mess up, which means that sex with you is always bloody fantastic.”
I can’t help the Cheshire Cat grin that spreads across my face. “That is so crazy to hear.”
“Why?” he asks, eyeing me with a frown. “Didn’t you have great sex with your ex? I mean, you married him. It couldn’t have been that bad, right?”
I’m grateful for the darkness because he can’t see the guilty look flashing over my face. “It was never like this,” I reply, giving only a smidge away. “It was pretty basic. Traditional. Maybe if I had tried something different, it would have saved our marriage.”
Silence stretches between us. I think Gareth is looking at me, but it’s too dark to know for sure. His voice is soft when he asks, “Do you wish you would have saved your marriage?”
I frown at the thought. A few months ago, I might have said yes because not having Sophia every other week was killing me slowly. The dark days weren’t worth leaving a loveless marriage. My response is different now, though. I have found a life outside of Sophia and I’m learning to appreciate it.
“No, I think divorce was meant to be for us. I married him for all the wrong reasons.”
“What do you mean?”
I exhale at his heavy question. I can’t exactly tell him I got pregnant. And even though that was a large part of why we got married, it wasn’t the only reason. “I was young when I met Callum. Fresh out of college and a bit of a dreamer. My friends and I were talking about opening up our own boutique, but it seemed impossible to actually accomplish. I didn’t really grow up watching dreams come true.”
Gareth turns on his side to face me, his twinkling eyes smouldering on me when he asks, “How did you grow up?”
“We were broke,” I reply with a simple shrug of the shoulders. “Our dad took off when my sisters and I were little, so our mom raised us on her own. She worked two jobs only to still be a month behind on the bills. Even groceries were hard to afford. I remember she brought home chicken strips that were left in the fryer at the restaurant where she worked nights. She only got a couple at a time, so she froze them until we had enough for a meal. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t easy. Then I met Callum, and he was the opposite of poor. He was the epitome of wealth and responsibility. He was older than me, really established, really stable. I remember he always wore custom tailored suits. He had a good business, a good family. I met him at a bar, and he looked like he had it all together. I was still trying to figure out how I was going to pay my student loans once I got out of the grace period.”
I pause my retelling and think back to the child I was when I met Cal. I was a baby having a baby. Marrying him seemed like the only responsible decision.
Gareth continues watching me quietly, not feeling the need to fill the silence. Just instinctively knowing I need a moment.
Sighing heavily, I continue, “When he asked me to marry him, I saw myself being more responsible with someone like him. Less of a dreamer and more of a provider. I wanted stability. But we never really had that lustful attraction. We sort of skipped the fun stuff and went right to the grown-up stuff. Everything else was sort of forgotten about.”
“So you were attracted to his stability?” Gareth’s voice sounds disappointed, and I know what he’s thinking.
“I wasn’t a gold digger if that’s what you’re thinking—”
“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Gareth cuts me off, grabbing my arm urgently. “I’m just trying to figure out how a beautiful, strong woman like you could think she needed a man to make her feel stable.”
“I wasn’t strong back then,” I defend. “I was young, and weak, and scared. I wasn’t who I am when I’m with you. You bring it out in me.” I sit up on my elbows, propping my head in my hands and looking down at him. “Being with you like this is really helping me find a strength that I never gave myself the chance to find before. That’s why I got so mad earlier tonight when you were trying to interfere with my business. I should be able to figure those things out for myself.”
“I really was just trying to help,” he replies, his other hand coming out and playing with a damp strand of hair draped over my shoulder.
“I know, Gareth. I really do understand. And I’m not mad. I’m…grateful.” The word is hard to find, but it’s the right one for the moment. “You were just being a friend. I should have accepted that and not put you in the ex category.”
His eyes widen. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that wanker.”
This makes me giggle. “How do you know he’s a wanker?”
Gareth runs his thumb across my lower lip. “Because he didn’t see you the way I see you.”
My mouth falls open as tears prick the backs of my eyes. “How do you see me?” I ask, my voice thick with fear.
He sighs heavily like he’s been sitting on his answer for ages. “Like a fucking lioness. And any rightful king would be a fool not to bow to his queen.”