Bound to Please(62)
She shuddered, and he wasn’t in control anymore, not of her, not of himself. He slid in one final time, losing himself totally in his own climax.
He caught his breath and pulled out of her. His hands shook as he stripped the condom off and threw it into the trash can. Yanking up his boxers and his jeans, he turned to her.
“Ruby, I’m sorry.”
She was still hanging over the sink, her skirt pulled up to reveal her smooth ass. Grinning, she glanced back at him, a glossy, satisfied look in her eyes. “What are you sorry for?”
He removed his glasses and rubbed them with the hem of his T-shirt. “I rushed things… I just couldn’t hold back.”
Straightening, she turned to face him and pulled down her skirt. “I don’t want you to hold back.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
Reaching out, she touched his shoulder. “I do. You don’t have to be in control every second, all the time.”
He met her gaze. “What are you talking about?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now it’s my turn to give you the psychological profile. This control thing of yours? It’s how you stay disconnected.”
“I’m not disconnected.” How could she say that? He’d never felt so connected to anyone in his life.
She laughed wryly. “Are you kidding? Ever since that day you opened up in my kitchen, you’ve been distant. I asked you about the future and it scared you.”
He just stared at her, knowing she was right. Because when he saw Ruby, he saw a future, and it made everything inside him clench whenever he thought about it.
She went on. “You say this controlling dom persona is who you are, but I’m wondering if it’s just a pretense.”
“I know a few girls who can vouch that this dom persona is no act, doll.”
“See? You can’t even settle on an endearment. ‘Baby, sweetheart, doll.’ It’s all the same.”
His body stiff, he took a step closer to her. “I’ve never claimed to be some kind of saint.”
She met him head-on. “Oh, that’s for sure. And isn’t that the beauty of being a dom? It’s the perfect excuse to love ’em and leave ’em. Shit, you even have a verbal contract before you do the deed, don’t you? It’s called negotiating, and you’re damn good at it.”
“You’re wrong.” But her words hit home. Because the thing was, when he was with her, it was easy to let go. There were no parents to pacify, no music to write, no manager pushing for a better hook.
And Ruby. She was different. For the first time in a long time, he could let his guard down. Be himself. She didn’t care if he was in control or not. She didn’t care if he was in a band. She just seemed to like him for who he was: Mark St. Crow, a band geek from Akron with a fetish for spanking women.
Which meant he could really fall for her.
He felt his cell phone vibrating in his back pocket. Glad for the distraction, he pulled it out and flipped it open.
“Yeah,” he said into the phone.
“Where the fuck are you?” Yvette demanded.
He turned away from Ruby’s vulnerable eyes. “Out. What’s up?”
“Oh, I’m just kicking back with a reporter from the San Francisco Review. You know? The biggest entertainment paper in northern California? The one who’s supposed to be interviewing us right fucking now?”
“Shit!” Mark hit the wall with the side of his fist. “What time am I supposed to be there?”
“An hour ago.”
“Goddamn it. Okay, stall him. Tell him I hit traffic, anything.”
“I did. But you have fifteen minutes to get here, so move your ass. Now.”
He clicked his phone shut and faced Ruby, who was looking at him as if she’d expected this all along. The disappointment in her gaze made his entire chest ache. And yet, something in him was glad for the reason to bolt. “Listen,” he said. “Can we finish this conversation later? Right now I need to get over to the studio.”
She nodded. “Go. It’s your job. I understand.” He knew she wasn’t just saying the words; she was a businesswoman, who did understand.
He tucked in his T-shirt. “I’ll get you a cab.”
“It’s okay.” She waved away his protest. “Seriously,” she said, pulling a hairbrush out of her purse. “I’d rather not leave the bathroom with you anyway. Who knows who might see us?”
“Crap.” He hadn’t even thought of that. She’d turned to the mirror, and he kissed the back of her head. “I’ll call you later.”
Meeting his eyes in their reflection, she smiled. But it was a shaky smile, and her eyes looked closed off. She was shutting him out. “It’s probably best if you don’t, actually.”