He held himself completely still so he wouldn’t wake her. When she’d fallen fully into slumber, her hand lost its grip on his shoulder and slid down little by little. It only stopped when it came to rest against the thumping beat of his heart.
*** *** ***
Valentina awakened to the sun shining on her face. Who had opened the shades? She fluttered her lashes and blinked, and then she remembered. Mr. Lemaitre. He stood beside her window, gazing through it without expression.
“You said you would sleep with me all night,” she said.
He turned toward her with a frown. “I did sleep with you all night. Now the night’s gone. It’s broad daylight.”
“But...I thought...” She winced at the whining weakness in her voice. She’d wanted to wake up in his arms the same way she’d drifted to sleep in them. Maybe some morning sex? He’d already gotten dressed. He looked like he was ready to go to work.
She sat up in bed, holding the sheets against her chest. “Why are you up so early?”
“Why are you lying in bed so late?”
“You lied to me. You don’t snore.”
He gave a sharp laugh. “How would you know? You fell asleep in thirty seconds flat.”
That annoyed her too, that after all her excitement to sleep beside him, she could remember precious few moments of it. “I tried to stay awake but you’re very comfortable to sleep with.”
“Merci,” he said, looking back out the window.
She lay down, clinging to her scant memories of the night before. She remembered his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek, his strong thighs nestled against hers. And the smell of him—sandalwood and cologne and his own masculine scent. She didn’t want to forget any of it.
“I suppose you’re going to go now.” Some part of her wanted him to go because he made her feel so agitated and needy. And rejected. Why couldn’t he have just held her until she woke up? Why get up and stand across the room like some hovering specter?
“I was going to go into the office, yes,” he said. “And you have a practice later.” He came to the bed, reached down and ruffled her tangled hair. This was the time at his house when he used to unlock her cage and demand his morning blowjob.
He obviously had no intention of doing that today.
“I’m going to take the painting now,” he said instead. “Thank you for giving it to me. Thank you for giving yourself to me for a month, Valentina. I know I didn’t make things easy for you.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
He gave a soft breath of a laugh. “Well, I enjoyed our time together.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It lasted a mere second, not long enough. He let go of her and started for the bedroom door. “You needn’t get up. I’ll see you at work, mignonne.”
Just like that, he was gone. She tilted her head back, blinking at the sun again, and then collapsed into her pillow. Somehow, she had to go on in life without him. It was a good thing she was so strong.
She peeled herself out of bed and brushed her teeth and showered, and puttered around her kitchen in her bathrobe, trying to find something to make for breakfast. The loaf of bread she’d bought weeks ago was disgusting and moldy. She threw it away, along with some other long-spoiled items. She would have coffee then, and boxed cereal with lots of sugar. Mr. Lemaitre hadn’t allowed any sugary cereal at his house. See, there was a bright lining to everything. Now she could once again eat all the sugary cereal she liked. She filled her bowl almost to the top, and then stopped when she heard a sharp knock at the door.
She knew immediately who it was.
Maybe he’d forgotten the portrait. But no, it was gone. She opened the door and there he stood, distant and haughty and handsome as ever. She didn’t say anything, only stared at him.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“You just left.”
“I came back. May I come in?”
He asked the second time in bitten-off syllables, so she stood back and let him enter. He paced across her living room. She watched him, puzzled. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No.” He turned back to her. “Would you be interested in...extending?”
“Extending?”
“Extending our association. Our power exchange.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Extending our Master/slave relationship.”
“But just last night you said I was not for you, and you were not for me. You said our dance was over.”
He looked up at her ceiling and let out a long, ragged breath. “Yes, I did. Yes, all of that is true. Forget what I just said.”
“Forget what you said about our dance being over, or what you said about extending?”
“Just...” He waved an arm at her, heading for the door. “I’m going to be late.” He reached for the knob, then turned back again. “One more month? We were making such progress.”
Valentina’s heart hammered in her chest. He wanted her back. More slavery. More pain. Part of her felt elated that he wanted her. Part of her felt flattered. Part of her felt scared.
Part of her felt really, really pissed off.
“You made me cry,” she said. “You pushed me away and made me cry, and now you want me back?”
“I tend to be very capricious in my desires.”
“That’s not something to be proud of.” She took a step back as he advanced.
“I know. That’s why you should say no to me. ‘No, I don’t want to be your slave anymore.’ Say it.”
She put her hands out to stop him. “You always want me to do what will please you. You. I always have to be what you want, when you want it. Lover, slave, pet, whatever you’re in the mood for, but I only ever get what you give me. I never get to choose who you are, what you do.”
“Yes, that is the lot of the submissive partner.”
“It’s not fair though, is it? It’s not fair that I must always meet your needs and you never meet mine.”
He took her in his arms, circling her waist in an unyielding grip. “Are you sure I don’t meet your needs?”
Just like that, her anger and resistance fled. His touch alone had the power to melt her. Add in his artfully sensual lips and his piercing light blue gaze and she was burnt to a crisp.
“I want you, but you hurt me,” she whispered.
“You like to be hurt,” he whispered back. “You like to be excited and endangered. You like ever
ything I do to you. Let’s be clear about that.”
She pushed against his chest, pulled at his arms until she extracted herself. Well, until he decided to let her go.
“One more month,” he said, following as she tried to put distance between them. “It will be nearly time for the premiere then, a more natural stopping point. I can’t explain why, but right now things feel unfinished. Do you know what I mean?”
She did know what he meant, but another month? Thirty more days to fall in love with him and then lose him? How could she protect herself?
“I can’t,” she said, suffering at the look he gave her. “I just can’t.”
“What if we negotiated?”
She regarded him suspiciously. “People warned me at the beginning that you were not the negotiating type.”
He shrugged, his lips pursed in an impatient line. “Even when we don’t negotiate, that is a negotiation.” He reached for her again.
She skittered away, flustered. “No, I don’t...” But she did know what he meant. Everything, always, was by choice. Even giving up choices.
“I can’t give you as much as I gave you before,” she said as his arms once again trapped her. “I can’t give you all of me all the time.”
“And I can’t be manipulated with retreats and safewords every time you’re not in the mood.”
“Then how can things work? What is there to negotiate?”
Her frustrated outburst didn’t seem to rattle him in the slightest. “I want two hours a night,” he said. “Two hours of devoted service, and the rest of the time is your time.” He thought a moment. “But you still have to sleep in the cage.”
“If you only want two hours a night, why can’t I sleep at home?”
“Because I want you in my cage. I like you there.”
Him and his damn cage. “I want Sundays off.” It was difficult but she held his gaze. “No service at all on Sunday, and I get to sleep that night in your bed.”
“Valentina,” he said, as if she were ridiculous. “Where would I sleep?”