Five Weeks In December Read online

  Something must have given her away, whether her breath coming quicker or some other subtle tell, but whatever the cause, Harry smiled – the first one she’d seen on him and lord, it took her breath away – and his gaze raked her head to toe again.

  “Figured it out, did you, December?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What is it you think you’ve figured out?”

  Her heart pounded as the room filled with heavy, almost physically thick tension, sexual and otherwise. “I asked you to show me what you liked. You showed me. You like to display. Maybe show a woman off, too? Do I give you pleasure, Sir?”

  “Yes, you do. It’s been a long time since I had such a beautiful bit of decoration in my home.”

  December’s cheeks flushed, breath quickening. “I’m glad.”

  Another moment passed before Harry sat up straighter in his chair. “Put your hands down.”

  The tension broke, deflating between them like a balloon suddenly pricked and December’s brows knit. “Is something wrong?”

  Harry shook his head. “No. What do you like, December?”

  She blinked. “I… Right now, I like whatever you like.”

  He pushed to his feet and came around the desk, giving her a sideways look. “That’s a cop out.”

  “You don’t want to keep going, Harry?” Most men liked to…get right down to it, so to speak. And yet somehow she wasn’t surprised Harry tread a bit more lightly.

  He looked as if he didn’t know how to answer that at first. “I do. But I want other things first.” Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, heavy brows knitting. “Obviously I’ve never been in quite this situation, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t follow the protocol. Is there a protocol?”

  December shook her head. “No. There are norms…but you don’t fall into the norms, do you, Harry?” She smiled when she said it, so he knew she liked that.

  As she’d hoped, Harry’s frown eased and he looked faintly amused. “No, I don’t.” His gaze dropped a bit, lingering on her breasts and his jaw clenched slightly. December loved that, the subtle little signs she made a man a little bit off-kilter. She suspected Harry didn’t often find himself anything close to off-kilter. “Do you not want to tell me what you like, December?”

  Truthfully, she normally didn’t. But then again, she’d been breaking her own rules from minute one with this job, so why stop now? She dropped down into the chair, one leg stretching out over the arm to nudge Harry’s thigh with her bare toes, smiling at the sideways look he threw her. She would enjoy flustering him…and the repercussions of doing so.

  “Well, not to be a copycat, but I like you, Harry. But since I know that’s not what you mean…” She tilted her head back, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Do you have a playroom here, Harry?”

  “Yes.”

  She grinned as their eyes met again. “Really? I’m glad. I like playrooms. I like that designated space for living out a fantasy and I also like closing the door after it’s done and being…just me.”

  She’d surprised herself. December didn’t think she’d ever told anyone that. Not that it was such a profound epiphany, but it was on the more personal side. “The first time I submitted to anyone, when it was over he led me out of the playroom, shut the door behind us and the rest of the night was just kind of a normal date. I guess that sort of set the tone for things for me – playrooms are for playing, the rest of the world is for other things.”

  “I don’t use my playroom much anymore.”

  December wasn’t bothered by that. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To change that.”

  He moved around behind the chair, crossing his arms on the tall back and looking down at her over it. “What else do you like, besides compartmentalizing your kinks?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way. I like knowing there’s a…there’s an end point. I can’t live that 24/7 lifestyle.” Just the thought made her feel claustrophobic. She respected subs who not only could do it, but enjoyed it. She couldn’t live that way. She needed a life beyond who she belonged to. Maybe because she belonged to no one, really.

  “Is that why you…” Harry cut off, and December filled in the banks.

  “Is that why I don’t belong to only one Master?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  December pondered the question. “Maybe. I think why I am the way I am, or why you are the way you are is all a little deep for first night conversation.” Certainly it wasn’t what she was used to. Besides, Harry was a client, he had no right to her beyond what she’d agreed to give him. That did not include her past and her motivation in life.

  Harry’s mouth drew her attention. He had a perfect mouth, in her opinion. Firm and full but not too much so. Just right. “Maybe it is. Well, at least now I know one thing you like without you having to say a word.”

  Her brows lifted. “What’s that?”

  “You like being in control. An odd trait for a submissive.” His voice was unreadable, smile gone, and she couldn’t tell what he thought about that statement as he said it. “Then again, maybe not so odd.”

  “No?” She sat up, insides jittering for reasons she couldn’t really put her finger on. Maybe because Harry was a bit more observant than she found comfortable. Usually she pegged people into their nice, neat categories, not the other way around. It was part of the job, because how could she give them what they needed when sometimes – most times – they really didn’t know themselves?

  Harry reached out across the back of the chair to touch her shoulder, and she let him ease her back so she reclined across the chair like she’d been. He apparently liked the view. That made her insides flush with warmth and she forgot to be bothered by his easy reading of her.

  “Why isn’t it odd, Harry?”

  “That you like control?” She nodded. He lifted his brows in amusement. “Because any Dom knows the submissive is the one in control. He might wield the crop or the candle wax or the rope, but she holds the reins. Nothing happens without her consent.” Harry’s fingers trailed a light path across her collarbone and she looked up at him, letting him see how his touch affected her. Because oh, it did.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips, heart racing. “You have my consent, Harry.”

  He came around to crouch down in front of the chair, putting them at eye level and her body within full reach. Her skin tingled at his closeness. “I know.”

  And yet he didn’t make any move to do anything. He just looked. Oh, he was going to drive her mad. But in a good way, she thought. December shifted restlessly against the soft fabric of the chair, head tilting back against the arm of it, toes working in the plush material on the other arm.

  The longer he looked, the warmer she got. The faster her breath came. His gaze swept over her body possessively, like a touch. Worshipfully. She wanted to turn and wrap herself around him, but didn’t. He hadn’t said a word, there wasn’t a rope or chain in sight and yet he had her bound in breathless anticipation with nothing more than his silent, wordless gaze.

  Then he did touch her, his big hands reaching up to close on her wrists and he pulled her to her feet, propelling her backward so fast she gasped, back arching when she found herself pinned to the door by over six feet of solid man. Hot and hard and oh god she wanted to touch him. Harry rang her bells so damn hard she could hardly breathe and had the fleeting thought for the first time she might be in over her head.

  As quickly as he’d snatched her from the chair, his hands were gone, though she didn’t move her arms from where he’d pinned them above her head against the door. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath and the way he looked at her, the way he crowded in on her personal space as though he had every right to be there… December closed her eyes.

  “Open your eyes, December.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the note of command in it made her knees tremble. Hadn’t she just been saying she wasn’t some fragile little sub who’d crawl at the drop of a hat? Harry seemed intent on
proving her very, very wrong.

  It took her a second or two before she managed to obey his command, lashes lifting and his eyes were right there to capture her gaze and refuse to let go. She’d never played with a man into objectification before. She couldn’t have suspected it’d make her feel this way. Not like an object, as the word suggested, but more like…like he couldn’t look away – mesmerized by her. Like she was the only thing in the room, the only thing that mattered. A beautiful sculpture he longed to study until he understood every curve, every flow of muscle beneath skin.

  Harry brought his hand up, fingertips starting at her hairline and drifting slowly down the center of her forehead, along the slope of her nose, past the soft give of her lips…like a blind man mapping her face, memorizing her. Her stomach clenched tightly and she panted softly as his fingers drifted to a stop at the base of her throat, where her pulse pounded. He had to feel it, had to know exactly what he did to her.

  Why didn’t he really touch her?

  His fingers on her neck barely touched, and yet she felt them as if he left a physical imprint. Like she could look in the mirror later and she’d see his marks there. Just the thought of this man leaving marks on her made her knees tremble and December arched, trying to get closer.

  “You’re impatient.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  He chuckled softly, eyes wandering over her the whole time. “So I’ve been told.” Then, like a cloud passing a shadow across the perfect patch of summer sunshine, his smile faded and his eyes went dark. That amused light and sexy teasing flash disappeared and Harry took a step back. Just one step but it might as well have been the Grand Canyon suddenly popping up between them.

  December’s breath hitched and she frowned slightly, confused. “Harry?”

  Harry shook his head, taking another step back. Then another. Each one raised the tension in the room – not the good tension of moments ago, but an uncomfortable, ugly tension that made her palms sweat.

  She lowered her arms slowly, disappointed and a little worried. Suddenly standing there nearly naked in front of him made her feel exposed, and again, not in the good way. She brought one arm across her breasts. “Is everything all right, Harry?”

  And then he shoved his hands into his pockets and lied to her. “Everything is fine. It’s late, we can continue this tomorrow.”

  December narrowed her eyes and shook her head, going over to snatch up her bra and then turned to meet his eyes. “No, we won’t. Not unless you decide at some point between now and then that you’ll be honest with me. I don’t need your life story, Harry, but I do need to be able to trust you. So whatever happened just now,” she waved toward the door where they’d been, “I expect to either get an explanation or we’re going to have to discuss whether or not I can even be here. I don’t give myself to men I don’t trust. Your choice.”

  She swept past him, then, and yanked the door open. When she glanced back, just as it swung closed, December didn’t think she’d ever seen a man who looked more lost than Harry did.

  What was he hiding? Would he tell her?

  Did she even want to know?

  Chapter Three

  “My fiancée used to say that to me all the time.”

  December startled awake, for a few long heartbeats unsure where she was or who the silky, low voice coming from the doorway belonged to. She sat up, shoving back the now-floppy bun she’d yanked her hair up into the night before. Her gaze landed on the broad-shouldered shadow and she let out a sigh. “Harry.”

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting you at…” she glanced at the clock. “…two am. What are you doing?” She felt a little like someone who’d missed the punch line. Lost.

  “You wanted an explanation. I gave it.” He paused, then stepped into the bedroom. “I don’t want you to leave, December.”

  Understanding dawned and she reached one hand out, the other coming up to tug her bun loose and let her hair down so it wouldn’t be flopping atop her head while they tried to have what she suspected would be a serious conversation. “Come here, Harry.”

  He came, and her eyes adjusted to the shadows with every second, revealing that he wore a pair of pale blue and white striped pajama bottoms…and nothing else.

  Whatever she’d been planning to say whisked right out of her head and her mouth went dry. Sweet mother Mary, he was beautiful. But she tried very hard not to focus on that. He wanted to talk. There’d be time for ogling later.

  December took his hand as he sat down, smiling at how large it was, swallowing her own completely. She had such a fetish for large men, and Harry fit that perfectly. “Tell me about her.”

  He shook his head, brows knit in a perpetual scowl. “I would really rather not.”

  “How long ago did you break up?”

  Harry cut her a look through the dark, his expression saying clearly ‘you don’t listen very well, do you?’ No, she didn’t, not when it was important. Then he sighed as if in defeat. “We didn’t break up.”

  December’s heart dropped and she pulled her hand away, frowning sharply. “Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought because I do not deal with taken men, Harry.”

  He shook his head, reaching for her hand. “Stop. We didn’t break up. She died. Two years ago this past June.”

  Oh god. She let him take her hand, squeezing his gently. “I’m so sorry. She was your submissive, too?”

  He nodded. Oh, that explained so much. December was more glad than ever she’d taken this particular job, because if ever there a man needed her, it was Harry.

  “So she…she used to call you infuriating?” December needed to tread lightly. Trauma of this kind could be a field full of landmines and her with no way to detect them.

  Harry took a deep breath. “Yes.” He didn’t expand on that, and December didn’t ask him to.

  “All right. I apologize for bringing that up for you. Thank you for telling me. But I need to ask one more thing of you, for us to be able to go forward.”

  He looked wary, and rightly so. It wasn’t going to be easy. “What?”

  “Next time that happens – because it is going to happen, Harry – I want you to tell me. Don’t push me away or just leave the situation. I can’t help you if all you do is hide from me and from what hurts.”

  His jaw clenched and she wondered how such a strong man could look so vulnerable. He made her want to wrap herself around him and take every blow life threw at him. It was absurd, she’d never felt so protective of a client. But then, she’d never had one like Harry.

  “I’ll try. I will.”

  And somehow December knew that from Harry, a ‘try’ was only a shade off from ‘will’. She reached out her free hand to smooth back his hair, all rumpled curls just a tad too long. “Thank you.”

  He let out a rough laugh that held little humor. “You’re thanking me. I’m the one who’s about to dump all my fucking baggage all over you.”

  December met his gaze steadily through the deep shadows that surrounded them. “I might look fragile, Harry, but don’t be fooled. I can carry whatever you’ve got to give me. I don’t break.”

  Harry didn’t doubt that. In the short time he’d known her, she’d shown him several times over that she was no pushover and could handle herself. He supposed in her line of work it was required. Another stab of guilt hit him over the way he’d behaved earlier.

  “I really am sorry I basically called you a whore.”

  December waved his apology away. “It’s fine. Don’t even think about it.”

  December didn’t say anything else for a minute. It was so quiet he could hear the faint, distant rumble of delivery trucks on the streets, making their way through the maze of DC’s predawn emptiness bringing the pastries and coffee and newspapers the city lived on.

  Then she met his eyes. “I understand why you didn’t tell me initially. I need you to be honest. Even if that’s just you saying you c
an’t do something. That something affected you negatively.”

  Harry snorted. “Shall I pick a safeword next?”

  “You tease, but it’s not so different, is it? We get safewords so our Doms know when we’ve reached a limit. No, I’m not going to give you a safeword, I’m going to trust you to tell me when you reach a limit, not just shove me away and disengage like you did downstairs. You can’t do that in another, more intense scene. You know that.”

  He did. If things had been heavier, if the scene had involved bondage or risky things like caging or pain, he would have put her in danger with the way he’d behaved. “I know. I apologize. I’ll tell you if it happens…when it happens again.” Because it would. He knew it and she probably knew it now, too.

  At his promise, the tension visibly drained from her. It was a beautiful thing, to see her relax the way she had been before he’d fucked it up. She was a beautiful thing.

  “How do you trust someone who hasn’t earned it?” It was the nature of her work, he supposed, but how did she do it? He wouldn’t mind learning that trick himself. Trust was…difficult. More so when it’d been broken.

  December took his hand, urging him over beside her and they stretched out facing each other. It felt…cozy. Intimate yet not sexual. Nice. “I guess I think of it in the way that even people you think have earned it sometimes break your trust. There are no guarantees, that’s not what trust is about. It’s not someone giving you some iron-clad assurance you’ll never get hurt. Trust is all about not knowing. It’s faith. In people, in just that one person if that’s all you can muster. In yourself, even.”

  Harry couldn’t help but think about Katie. She’d been his world, he’d trusted her with everything in him and she’d betrayed that, in the most intimate way possible. She hadn’t gone out and found herself another man. No, she’d found herself another Dom. And now here December sat with her honest smile…with her entire life built on secrets. Her clients’ secrets, the secret of her profession, who knew what else. And yet he wanted to trust her. To decide to trust her, like she said.