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Given the number of kids they had, Ash wasn’t one of those kinksters who’d showed up at Mclean every weekend. Far from it. But I could admit they’d left an impression. It was actually Nathan who’d opened my eyes to bondage. I’d eventually discovered it wasn’t a big kink of mine, but when done right, it was so beautiful. I loved to watch rope sessions, and Nathan was one of the best riggers ever.
“Cam!” Master called.
“Yes, Owner!” I responded.
“I’m bored!”
I gigglesnorted and poured him a cup of decaf.
Safe to say, Lucian did not always know how to relax. This week alone, he’d started and given up on four projects. Planting tomatoes was not happening. Neither were crossword puzzles, gardening, or washing our cars. And he was irritated because he couldn’t get cracking on home renovations. We’d picked out colors and materials for a revamped kitchen, dining room, and living room, and he’d booked meetings with contractors, painters, and whatnot. But we were leaving for our vacation in a week, so everything had to wait till after we got home.
I found him in the living room and noticed he’d opened up the pool area to let some sun in.
He sighed and tossed his book onto the coffee table. “I’m restless.”
“I figured.” I handed him his coffee, doing my best not to laugh. He was just so…slumped. In KC’s chair, to boot. A very comfortable chair that you sort of sank into, and you needed the mechanical shove to get out of it. “Anything I can do, Sir?”
He hummed and eyed the remote that was out of his reach. “When did you have your Zoom thing?”
I checked the clock in the entertainment center. “In twenty minutes. Do you want me to make you a snack?”
Was he…was he pouting to himself?
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh.
“No, thank you,” he muttered. Then he reached for my hand. “Cuddle with me?”
Always.
I set his mug on Daddy’s side table, and then I sank down on Lucian’s lap and propped my legs over the armrest.
One might think he’d indulge in sweats and tees around the house, but something had happened the other day when he’d decided to buy a polo shirt. Now it was all he wore if he didn’t put on a suit.
My man could be endearingly strange sometimes.
“Why aren’t you in comfier clothes, Sir?”
He peered down at his polo. “Compared to a suit, this is flannel pajamas in a mountain cabin in front of a fire. With cocoa and marshmallows.”
I grinned.
His own smile was a bit chagrined. “Sweatpants are too addictive, and I’ve come to realize it’s a slippery slope for me. One second, I’m just walking around the house—no harm, no foul—but the next, I’m driving across town to wage war on Noa’s mother.”
I snickered and brushed my knuckles over his stubbly jaw. I really liked the stubble.
He let out a sigh and leaned back some more. “Is this my life now?”
I shook my head in amusement. “No, Master. It’s phase one in your recovery—and please let it last a month or four.”
“What’s phase two?”
I shrugged slightly. “Maybe finding something new to do that doesn’t put you in the hospital?” I suggested. “A part-time job?”
He hummed. “It has to be a new field. You can’t work part time in finance.”
Understandable. He’d always been so busy staying up-to-date with what was going on in the world. Talk about a field in which you had to know the ripple effect. A tsunami in Asia, an Ebola epidemic in Africa, war—everything left a mark on the economy. And it didn’t have to be natural disasters, of course. Master had seemingly known about every political bailout, every major bank merger, and every shifty Wall Street guy.
“Unless I become a lowly day trader…” he muttered to himself.
