His To Master and Own (Miami Masters 5)

When he’d still received no answer by noon, Sean did something he’d never done before; he asked Barbara to reschedule the two afternoon appointments and left work to check up on her. Disregarding the fact keeping tabs on her wasn’t what he’d agreed to, or what she’d asked for, he drove to her house first. When he spotted her car in the drive, anger replaced worry and he strode up to the door intending to set her straight and show her what to expect when she ignored him.

Sean changed his mind the minute Alessa opened the door and he saw her pale face and pinched mouth. “Why the hell are you pounding on my door? Go away.” The quick thrust of his foot prevented her from shutting the door on him, so she turned in a cute huff and left him standing there.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” Stepping inside, he watched her lie down on the small sofa and bury herself under a throw.

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone,” she grumbled from beneath the soft blanket.

“No, now talk to me.” Lifting the end of the blanket, he peered down into the angry glare from her whiskey eyes.

“If you must know, I have cramps, bad cramps, and with them comes… oh, shit! Move!” She barreled up and pushed past him to flee down the hall. The bathroom door slammed shut but he could still detect the sound of retching.

Relief washed through Sean as he rummaged in her hall linen closet for a washcloth. At least this affliction wasn’t serious and would pass soon. Entering the bathroom without knocking earned him another glare, this one from her position crouched over the commode. “Save it. I’m not going anywhere for a while,” he said. Her chalk-white face flushed when he dampened the cloth and wiped her face and mouth with it. “Is that it for now?”

Alessa rose on shaky legs. “For now,” she returned darkly, snatching the cup of mouthwash he held out. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Only your ass, sweetheart. Come on, you’ll be more comfortable in your bed.”

“Says who?” she bit out but didn’t balk when he escorted her to her room.

“Me. Where’s your heating pad? That should help.” He yanked back the covers and urged her down.

“I thought you had a PhD, not an MD. It’s in my closet.”

She was a cranky patient, but kind of cute regardless, Sean mused as he located the heating pad. Her bedroom matched the rest of the little bungalow with its wide window view of the canal and tropical colors in her bedspread and coordinating drapes. “You could’ve taken a minute to return my call,” he admonished, plugging in the pad then shoving her hands away when she muttered, “I can do it.”

“What’s your point?” He could tell she liked his reply about as much as she cared for the way he pulled up her tee shirt and tugged down the waistband of her loose gym shorts far enough to nestle the heat against her lower abdomen. “Do you have any tea bags?”

“Why?” Yanking on the cover, she burrowed under again in another valiant attempt to ignore his presence.

Fisting his hands on his hips, Sean frowned down at her belligerent, half-covered face. “I’d hate to add to your misery by hauling you over my lap, but make no mistake, Alessa, I will if you keep up with this attitude. Is there something other than your physical discomfort we need to discuss?”

“No.”

Translation in the quick denial and flare of panic in her eyes: yes. “First, I’ll fix you some tea with honey and lemon. My mother always drank that when she suffered with cramps. Then you can tell me what else is bothering you.”

ALESSA STUCK her tongue out at Sean’s retreating back. She didn’t want him here even if his insistence on taking care of her made her feel better than she had all day. Other than Krista, he was the only person to exhibit such concern over her welfare, and the warm fuzzy enveloping her chest warned her she was allowing herself to get in too deep with him, to read too much into a kind gesture. It didn’t help he’d read her sour mood correctly. As she’d lain around in misery, all she seemed capable of thinking about was Sean’s refusal to fuck her the two nights he’d devised scenes for her. From her friends, she’d known the bondage and domination lifestyle wasn’t always about sex, but she found it difficult not to take his restraint personally. She’d never been naked in front of a man unless his main interest in her was sex. What she didn’t need was one more damn thing preying on her mind.

He returned carrying a steaming mug and with a gesture from his free hand, issued a silent order to sit up. Since the look on his face indicated it would do no good to argue like she wanted to, Alessa shifted and leaned against the headboard before taking the cup without offering a thank you. Just because he’d pushed his way into her home and a part of her relished his pampering, didn’t mean she had to like it or be nice in return.

“You’re welcome,” he drawled before asking, “Have you tried oral contraceptives? They should help.”

“I’m on the pill. Without it, I’d be much worse.” Alessa took several sips of the steaming brew, trying not to fidget under his steady regard. “Look,” she stated, setting the half-empty cup on the nightstand. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was seventeen and walked out of my last foster home. You don’t need to be here.”

“Yes, I do,” he returned in that implacable tone he always used when giving orders. “As long you’re with me, it’s my job to see to all your needs. Roll over.”

“Why?” Her heart stuttered when he frowned and his jaw tightened. She knew that look. With a huff, she flipped over, making sure the pleasant warmth from the heating pad still lay against her stomach. The bed dipped when he knelt behind her then shoved the cover down and straddled her thighs. “What are you doing?” she asked without looking back at him.

“Close your eyes and go to sleep, Alessa.”

Shutting her eyes, a low moan sneaked past her compressed lips when Sean began kneading her lower back with those talented hands. He worked his thumbs into the taut muscles, easing the soreness within minutes, the soothing massage lulling her into obeying his command to sleep.

From the illuminated time on the small bedside clock, Alessa saw an hour had elapsed since Sean interrupted her pity party by showing up at her house. Sliding out from under the cover, her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day. Shoving her hair back, she padded down the hall then stopped when she reached the living room and her gaze collided with Sean’s across the kitchen counter.

“Why are you still here?” was the only thing she could think of to say as she sought the hangnail she’d been worrying earlier and frowned at him. His large domineering presence could be either comforting or annoying, and right now both those responses were trembling inside her.

“Boy, you can make for a cranky patient. I’ll bet you don’t like it when your patients get so testy.”

Leave it to him to make her feel guilty. Shuffling her bare feet, Alessa winced when she yanked on the hangnail and felt how deep it went. Averting her eyes, she replied, “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you still here.” Moving toward him, she spotted the leftover pulled pork sitting on the counter. Now, why did thinking about him eating something she’d cooked turn her gooey inside? That stupid reaction wasn’t good if she meant to keep her feelings from getting trampled on yet again. She had to remember Sean had only offered to do her a favor, as his refusal to fuck her emphasized. Waving her arm toward the dish, she muttered with blatant sarcasm, “Help yourself.”

“Thank you, I did, and enjoyed it very much.” Reaching across the counter, he swatted her hand. “Leave that alone, sit down and I’ll heat some up for you. I put the salad back in the refrigerator, but I’ll get it.” He came around the counter and yanked out a stool. When she just stood there glaring at him, he lifted her at the waist and plopped her down himself. “You’re racking them up, sweetheart.”

Alessa bit back the immediate retort that sprang to her lips. This was what she’d said she wanted, what she’d agreed to, she reminded herself. “Be nice, I’m sick,” she quipped in a light-hearted stab at getting he

r conflicting emotions under control. It was difficult enough to resist yearning for more from him when she was naked; she didn’t want to push her luck now when she felt so wretched. If there was one thing she’d learned about the man, it was Sean meant what he said. “Thank you. I am hungry.”

Sean nodded then repeated the two words sure to rein in the final tentacles of her resistance. “Good girl.”

He stuck around for another two hours and they watched a Bruce Willis sci-fi movie on television, which she hated but sat through because he insisted she rest some more. And because he kept her snuggled against his side, and his arm wrapped around her felt too good to dislodge. When at last he walked to the front door and left her with a deep, tongue-probing kiss that curled her toes, Alessa realized she felt better than she had all day.

STRIDING up the walk to his father’s front door, Sean’s pleasant mood lasted until he stepped inside and saw Paul sitting at the kitchen table looking grey and drawn. His chest tightened with concern as he strode over to him.

“Dad? Everything okay?” Sean placed a hand on his father’s narrow shoulder.

“What?” Paul looked up at him, blinked then tried to smile. “Fine, son. Just tired, is all.”

Blowing out an exasperated sigh, he asked sharply, “When was the last time you ate something?”