His thoughts returned to the best way to introduce her to the BDSM lifestyle. Slow was best. If he was patient, built on their flourishing trust and allowed Lacey to know him on a personal level, they had a shot at making things work. They had similar interests and were more than compatible sexually, which was more than he could say for most couples. Not to mention he’d discovered he didn’t want to spend a single minute without her—something that would have his friends snickering in glee.
Michael the pussy whipped, he mused and grinned, already hearing their friendly taunts resonating in his head. And fuck it to hell if he cared. His father always told him all a man needed was a good woman. It was time to prove the old man right.
He had time to do things right with Lacey. He just had to make sure he used it wisely.
How would she react if he invited her to the Christmas party at Fantasia? Would she decline his invitation outright? Or would she venture outside her comfort zone? Although his tastes didn’t require the full measure of D/s play in public, he still enjoyed mingling with his friends at the club and considered them his second family in many ways. If there was going to be a future between him and Lacey there had to be an understanding. As attracted and drawn to her as he was, he wasn’t going to let her go easily.
All good things were worth fighting for.
His broad grin and beginnings of a plan obliterated when he came around the garage and saw the car parked in front of his home. Aly’s sky-blue Honda Civic was situated along the left side of the stairs, leaving plenty of room for his truck, and she wasn’t inside the vehicle.
Fuck.
So much for starting things off on the right foot with Lacey.
Chapter Six
Michael cursed as he drove into his driveway, threw the truck into park and killed the motor.
Once he’d climbed down from the rig and stepped around, he rushed to the stairs and took them two at a time. The minute he opened the door his eyes went to the coatrack.
Lacey’s coat was gone, as was the purse she’d left on the floor.
Shit.
Striding into the living room, he found Aly on her knees, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. He couldn’t mask the anger in his voice and didn’t attempt to.
“What are you doing here?”
She kept her head bowed, although she shifted her weight as she was prone to do when she was nervous. “I wanted to speak to you, Master.”
It wasn’t necessary for her to elaborate. He knew why she wanted to speak with him. For weeks she’d hinted at wanting a second chance. Although their meetings in town appeared random, he was well aware they were orchestrated by Aly. Since he’d made a very clean and painful break from the relationship, he refused to give the woman what she wanted. He couldn’t live with a submissive who needed to be told how to dress, what to prepare for dinner or how to react to situations. Some Dominants didn’t mind that level of control. In fact, some wanted it for themselves. He wasn’t one of them. It was too much responsibility and delved into an entirely different, full-time lifestyle.
Not to mention, Aly was subservient to the core. She didn’t get jealous, angry or bitter and submitted entirely to the will of her Master. He’d heard rumors at the club when she got his attention, was aware that she was left in a free fall by a worthless Dom. It wasn’t common but it did happen.
He hadn’t realized just how deeply the scars went, however, until she revealed her needs after a few short weeks. By then she’d been all but hanging by a thread, desperate to hand the reins of her life over to someone else. He’d arrived home to find her in his playroom one afternoon, entirely naked, sobbing as if someone had died. It was then that he knew she needed far more than he could ever give her. As much as he cared for her, it wasn’t enough and never would be.
“I’m not your Master,” he reminded her in a firm and level tone, his heart going soft as it always did when he remembered her circumstances. “I told you from the beginning I wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship or that level of commitment. I’m not a full-time Dom and I never will be.”
“But…” She lifted her head and her large, doelike eyes were brimming with tears.
He didn’t move closer, well aware that the waterworks, while sincere, would only make things worse. “I told you when we met that I’m not the type of Dom who wants a slave. It’s not personal.
You’re a beautiful woman and will make some lucky bastard a very happy man, but not me. I can’t be what you need. You never should have gotten involved with me knowing that. Trust and honesty are the two most important things in a D/s relationship, and you broke that when you failed to tell me what you required in a commitment.”
“I thought I could make you understand. I thought that—”
“That you could make me fall in love with you before you revealed the truth?”
It was something he’d suspected, of course, after she decided to be honest with him. Aly was beautiful and sweet enough to have men the world over falling in love with her. The problem was adoration came with a price. While a man might fall in love with her, she would never reciprocate the emotion. Scars from her past prevented it. Even without the compulsion to have a full-time submissive, the cost of coveting a prize he could never hope to win was something he had no interest in.
She started to answer but stopped, nodding instead.
“You should know better than anyone that it takes more than love to cement a permanent bond in your type of situation. You have to find someone who can accept your terms as well as take on that level of responsibility.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t suppose you bumped into a woman when you got here?”
Aly nodded again. “She was coming upstairs from the playroom when I used the spare key to come inside.”
He felt anger returning, hard and fast. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly, peering up at him in alarm. “I offered to make her breakfast while we waited for you but she only wanted to leave. I would never make a guest feel unwelcome in your home, Master.”
His stomach churned and his mouth went dry. “How did you refer to me when you spoke with her?”
The blush that stained her cheeks gave him his answer.
Goddamn it. No wonder Lacey had split. He could only imagine what she thought.
“Aly, I want you to listen to me carefully.” By the grace of some inner control, he was able to keep his temper in check. “You are not welcome in my home. I want you to place the spare key on my kitchen table and leave. After I sort through the shit you’ve caused, I’m going to contact Trevor and ask him to consider taking you on.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, horrified eyes practically pleading. “Please, Michael.
Don’t.”
“I warned you that if you didn’t take care of yourself, I’d do it for you. You trespassed into my home and possibly ruined something very special to me in the process. While I’m sure you didn’t intend to cause any harm, you’ve done so nonetheless.”
“Trevor has Brian.” She stared at the floor, a beautiful yet pitiful wreck at his feet. “I promise I won’t do this again. I’ll ask around the club. I’ll find someone else.”
“Aly.” When she looked at him, he ordered, “Come here.”
Her misery was apparent in the way her shoulders slumped as she rose to her feet and did as he asked. A part of him felt like an asshole for putting his foot down, but he knew if he didn’t, this would continue until she did something truly foolish.