Make Me, Sir

“Anyway, I volunteered to help, and halfway through, I got enthused. When I smeared blue on my hair, well, she started to laugh and…” When Gabi’s fingers tightened on his, he knew the girl had talked and shared undoubtedly horrific memories with his compassionate woman. “We had a nice chat, and I discovered I rather like the blue. I went back last month to have her put some more in.”

Yeah, he definitely loved this woman. He wanted to pull her into his arms; he settled for running a finger down her cheek.

She gave him a suspicious frown. “What?”

“You please me more than I can say, Gabi,” he said softly. A pretty pink colored in her cheeks. That first day he’d seen her, he’d known it would be a delight to watch her flush.

“Um. Thank you.”

Smiling, he handed her a piece of the traditional naan bread. She scooped up some hummus and took a bite. When she closed her eyes in pleasure, he remembered she’d had the same expression when sucking his cock, when he kissed her, when he bent her over… He shifted in his chair, needing to drag her to the hotel room he’d rented. Right now.

Across the table, his grandfather exchanged amused smiles with Nana. Totally obvious, was he? He found he didn’t care in the least. But he had work to do here, and he might as well start off by killing two birds with one stone. “Gramps, do you remember the woman I introduced y’all to at the beginning of the summer? Celine?”

Beside him, Gabi stiffened, her face turning poker bland as she sipped her drink. Nana, in contrast, appeared appalled at his rudeness at talking about a previous girlfriend.

“I remember her,” Gramps answered. “Sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Spineless.”

“Good description.” Marcus glanced at his little sub. Open shock. The first crack in her believing what Celine had said. Excellent. Now to confront it head-on. “She has a problem with honesty as well. Apparently she’s telling people we’re in a relationship and that I love her.”

Gabi choked on her drink.

“Ah, a witness? What did she tell you, Darlin’?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not on the stand, so watch it, Mr. Lawyer.”

A snort of appreciation from Gramps.

Marcus put a finger under her chin. “Tell me, Gabrielle.”

“She told me you love her because she never gives you any back talk. Whatever you want is what she wants.”

“You fancy a biddable woman?” his grandfather said in disbelief.

Nana tsk-tsked at him. “Of course he doesn’t, dear. Now hush.”

“Do you really think I’d enjoy someone I can walk all over?” Marcus asked, running a finger down her cheek. “Do you realize how boring that would be?”

“But…” From her confused expression, that’s exactly what she believed.

“I see. We’ll discuss that later then.” He let his anger with her show. “Do you think so little of me you believe I would”—the memory of his grandparent’s presence made him revise his language—“ah, take you home if I was involved with someone?”

“No.” Her gaze dropped. “Not at first. But she said, straight out…”

“She lied, Gabi.” Marcus leaned an elbow on the table. “A few dates doesn’t make a relationship, and aside from occasional scenes, I’d stopped seeing her well before you. She didn’t take the hint, so I told her, rather bluntly, a couple of weeks ago that I had no intention of doing…anything…with her again.”

Brown eyes met his, and he saw her temper spark. “She lied to me? Out-and-out lied?”

Marcus smothered his smile. “I’m afraid so, sugar.”

Her growl sounded like a higher version of Nolan’s.

Gramps slapped his hand on the table. “So what are you going to do about this woman?”

“You have any suggestions, Gabi?”

She thought for a moment, and her lips curved. “Whatever you want is what she wants…so what if you wanted her to spend an evening with Ma—” She cut the word off and flushed slightly. “With Sam?”

Marcus stared at her, then roared with laughter. “You possess an evil mind, little brat.”

“Is Sam ugly or something?” Nana asked.

“No. Actually Sam’s a very nice guy, but he has a rather well-known kinky side.” Marcus winked at Gramps. “He’s a hard-core sadist, Nana, and he has a fondness for whips.”

Gramps barked a laugh.

Nana’s eyes widened. “My goodness, how do you meet such interesting people?” She tapped a finger against her lips, then nodded, shocking him—and Gabi—completely. “That would be a fine predicament to put her in, bless her heart, and an appropriate consequence for her lying.”

Marcus smiled at Gabi. “Means you’ll need to come to Tampa for the show, Darlin’.”

“I…I…” She averted her eyes. “You know, we should eat while the food is still warm, don’t you think?”

Well, he might have won a battle, but obviously the war was not yet won.

* * *

The time with Marcus’s grandparents had been wonderful, Gabi thought, as Marcus opened the door to his hotel room. Damn, they were fun.

His grandmother volunteered at various Tampa wildlife rescue groups, had tried to draft Gabi into helping, and been disappointed to hear she lived in Miami.

In contrast, his opinionated, pushy grandfather had deliberately prodded Gabi with idiotic statements, rather like poking a stick at a caged monkey. Finally when he’d complained about the money going to health insurance for children, she’d lost her temper and ripped his logic to shreds. He had a roaring laugh almost as wonderful as Marcus’s. After he caught his breath, he’d told Marcus, “She’ll do.”

They liked me. Yes, most people did, but she’d never expected approval from Marcus’s family.

And Marcus hadn’t acted stuffy at all. He’d held his own with his grandfather, bantered with his grandmother, and every time he laughed, heat streaked down her spine.

“C’mon in, sugar,” Marcus said, holding the door open for her.

“I can’t believe you took a room in a Disney resort.” The African decor continued in the room, with warmly golden tones, wood carvings, and bright patterns on the bed—the very big bed. She looked away.

“Since you like the panthers at that cat rescue place so much, I thought you’d enjoy this.”

He’d remembered. Warm fuzzies edged aside some of her nerves.

After pouring two glasses of wine, he walked onto the balcony. “Come here, Darlin’. Let’s talk.”

Just like that, she felt as if someone had wrapped a big hand around her throat, cutting off her voice. Her feet wouldn’t move until he curled his finger up in a “come here” motion.

Fine. They really did need to get this over with. She joined him on the balcony, sipped the smooth pinot noir, and pretended to watch the animals on the grassland. Talk. How could she make him understand? Even if he thought he wanted her, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She mustn’t let him push her into something he’d regret.

“What are we talking about?” she asked lightly. The low murmur of conversation came from other balconies, a little boy yelled in frustration, someone had their music turned to a loud rock station.

Marcus frowned and shook his head. “This isn’t going to work.”

Her hopes that should never have arisen drained away when he pushed her back into the room and closed the balcony door. “Okay.” Her voice didn’t shake. Much. “I didn’t think it would.” She set her glass on the small table in the sitting area.

He tilted his head in puzzlement and then smiled, grabbing her hand as she headed for the door. “No, Darlin’, I mean we can’t talk on the balcony. There’s too many people around. And you don’t appear capable of rational discussion at this point.”

“What?”

“We’ll try irrational first.” He grasped the bottom of her blouse and pulled it over her head. Before she got past “Marcus!” her bra followed the top onto the floor. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled, ignoring her attempts to keep him from yanking down her jeans zipper. “What do you think?”

“This…this isn’t talking.”

“Sure it is. Now just stand right there, sugar.”

When she stepped back instead, his frown and the stern set of his jaw stopped her cold. She’d learned to obey the trainer far too well. Before she collected her resolve, he’d removed her jeans and thong.

“Marcus…” She forced the words out. How had she let this go so far? “This isn’t a good idea.”

He stepped closer, touching her cheek lightly with his fingertips. “I missed you, Gabi.”

The open emotion in his low voice shook her, the pull toward him as hard to fight as a riptide. “No,” she whispered.

“You are appallingly stubborn,” he said under his breath. He tugged her hair and stepped back.

She hauled in a breath.

“So let’s have a look at you.” His gaze ran down her body, leaving a wake of heat in its path; then his eyes darkened. He brushed a finger over the black bruise on her left breast. “How did this happen?”