Purgatory Masters(71)

Maggie moved closer to the portrait and studied it. He’d captured the stark sensuality of their scene exactly as she remembered it. Her facial expression managed to convey intense lust with a hint of fear. His art skills were amazing. Not a detail had been missed. It didn’t take much to be transported back to that first day as she stood there watching him draw. Her body quivered at the memory. She’d interviewed submissives who talked a lot about how hard their Doms made them come. That day she’d learned exactly what that meant. With his attention everywhere on her body she’d experienced firsthand that mind blowing, mind altering orgasms were hard to forget.

What did it mean that he’d brought this here? Did he want to see her again? Or was he simply removing all trace of her from his life?

Maggie sighed. Would the physical and mental ache for her Master ever go away?

Too tired to make dinner or do more than change her clothes, Maggie left the painting behind and went to bed. Tomorrow her new life would start and this one would end forever.

Unfortunately, after hours of tossing and turning, sleep continued to elude her. She grabbed her pillow and a blanket and returned to the living room. Here the faint scent of Tucker’s playroom filled her senses and made it easier to relax. She had to stop thinking like this. The longer she allowed him to dominate her thoughts the longer it would take for her to move on.

She eased onto the pillow and snuggled under the blanket. Tomorrow for certain she’d let it go. Maggie wondered if Tucker missed her as much as she missed him. He’d been planning to give her—

Maggie bolted upright. The collar! Oh crap. She’d forgotten all about it. She had to get it back to him. Her gaze shot to the clock above the couch. Only 9:30. Still early enough. She slumped. What if he didn’t want to see her? Nina’s assurance that Tucker deserved a second chance pushed at her brain.

It’s now or never, idiot.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she got dressed, grabbed the jewelry box from her desk and headed out the door.



*



When the doorbell rang and Tucker checked the security camera a sense of Déjà vu overcame him. She’d come.

He opened the front door and had a small box thrust in his face.

“Here, I wanted to make sure I got this back to you before I left.”

She stood before him dressed in form-fitting pants that hugged the curves of her legs with a parka zipped up to her chin and the hood pulled over her hair. Her eyes were wide and she refused to look at him directly.

One glance at her and the tumble of emotions he’d been fighting for the last several days overtook him. Guilt, anger, love… They were all there and driving him insane. He’d spent the first two days obsessed with her painting, making small subtle changes that brought her to life on canvas. That had only made things worse.

“Take it, Tucker. I don’t know what else to do with it.” The soft plead in her voice unraveled the last of his reservations. How she conveyed so much sorrow in a few words he’d never know.

“I don’t want the damn necklace. I want the sub that comes with it.” He growled the words, making them sound far harsher than he’d intended.

Her hand dropped to her side and tears shimmered in her eyes, the look on her face breaking his heart in two. Tucker grabbed her jacket and pulled her to him. He had to make her forget the vile shit that had come from his mouth. She deserved so much better. If she ever decided to write a book so be it. He’d have Mason buy the fucking publishing house and make sure it never saw the light of day.

“I’m sorry.” Two words were all he could get out before he had to kiss her. He wound his hand behind her head and jacket, tugged her close and crushed his mouth against hers. He poured everything he felt into the one kiss. He couldn’t help it. His world had gone dark the moment he’d walked away from her, making it damned difficult to think or act straight.

Heated lust flooded through him. He’d already gone hard the minute he opened the door and now his erection pressing against her soft body made his head spin. With need riding him harder than the devil at a church revival, he dragged her into the house and against the wall.

His head screamed conquer while his tongue delved into the sweet heat of his Maggie.

Mine. The word repeated in his head on an endless loop.

First, he had to get this jacket off of her. He wanted her skin touching his. Without tearing from her mouth, his fingers made quick work of getting the infernal puffy jacket that hid her from him, off her body. To his surprise she pushed against him, squashing her breasts into his chest. Can’t breathe.

He tore from her mouth and gulped for air. Besides the lack of oxygen, it felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his groin. “Need. Oh God, Maggie. Baby.” He stroked her face. “I really fucked up, but I need you so bad I can barely breathe. I have to have you.”