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"Are we dead?" She managed at last, and his chuckle trembled through her body, shook them both.
"If that's dying, sugar, everyone would line up to self-terminate." His hand touched her face, her hair, seeking, and she managed to lift her head, though she was grateful to lean the weight of her cheek in his palm. "God, you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen," he muttered. His lips pressed against her cheek, and when she closed her eyes, his voice resonated through her head, her heart. "You're so small," he said softly. "And yet, you're the most formidable woman I've ever met."
There was a pause, his voice dropping even lower, and she kept her eyes closed, willing him to open to her, say what was inside his soul.
"I want to hide you somewhere safe, and at the very same time I would give anything to just kneel at your feet, brush my mouth along your thighs, remind you I'm there to service you however you want me." His voice was wondering. "Mouth, tongue, cock." He touched her face, parting them so their eyes were able to meet. "Heart, soul, mind. It seems I've been wanting that for such a long time." He swallowed. "And you're right. It was the job. Sometimes you get so dirty, you don't believe you can have something so fine. I really didn't believe I'd ever find it, a woman who could get past all of that. I didn't even know I'd given up on it." He shook his head. "I can't go further than that. I don't know how to say what I'm trying to say."
Beautiful, she thought. He was perfectly beautiful. Perfect and beautiful.
She kept rolling it through her mind as she laid her head back down on his shoulder, until she was murmuring it like a quiet lullaby. It took her into a post-coital doze she could not stave off with his hand stroking her head, his body rocking her to sleep.
*
When she woke, she was in her bed, still naked, and he was spooned behind her, keeping her warm. His even breathing told her he slept. She was glad for it. For the time to slowly turn over in his embrace, look into his face, etched by the dim buffet lamp light spilling in from the hallway, and lay her palm over his chest.
Everything moved too fast, and this should seem so, but every moment with him felt dipped in molasses, something outside of time, and something she could call back and savor at length whenever, however long she chose to do so.
"Mackenzie Nighthorse," she murmured.
His eyes opened, that beautiful color that was not gray or pale blue, but simply silver. She'd always preferred silver to gold, the clean purity of it, the lack of ostentatious pretension that clung to gold. He lifted his hand to trace her cheek, rub his thumb against her full bottom lip. She bit him gently and he smiled, a slow, sleepy expression that made her heart do a slow roll in her chest.
She settled her cheek on his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart beneath her ear while he stroked her hair from her temple, smoothing it down the side of her skull, curling it over her ear, rubbing her ear between his fingertips as he did so. It was an incredible feeling, that gentle stroking and fondling together, a non-sexual touch that was as intimate as a sexual one, and she felt herself drifting, her weight melting into him, as if she were a snake lying on a sun-baked rock, absorbing the sensations to the point that all of her became liquid, formless, so relaxed were all her muscles.
"You don't like men touching you, do you?" she said softly. "That's a boundary. When Mark had you in his mouth, your cock was responding, but every other part of you was resisting. It helped break you down as fast as anything else. "
It was a long pause, but at last he nodded against the crown of her head.
"Say it for me, Mackenzie," she whispered. "Trust me to want you, no matter what."
"I prefer not to have men touch me, Mistress. If that doesn't offend or displease you."
"Manners. I like that. It doesn't. And I'll let you in on a little secret." She tipped her head up, tapped his chin. "I'm not wild about having other women touch you, either. "
"I'm willing to make the most monumental of sacrifices to keep you happy."
She was beginning to adore the many versions of that smile he possessed. This one had a rakish, teasing quality to it.
"I want something, Mac," she said.
"Anything, Mistress."
"No. I'm...I'm not asking it that way." She hesitated. "It's been a long, long time since I've asked this of anyone. It's like you said. You learn to let the club scene be enough, but even when you get the guts to take it out of the club, it's still... the focus. I want..." She stopped, shook her head. "I'm afraid to tell you what I want."
"Then let me take the risk," he said, lifting up on one elbow and turning her onto her back so she was looking up into his face. "I want to see you, Violet. Enjoy your company. Not just for sex, not just for D/s play. I want to go out to dinner. I want to see movies with you that we'll both like or hate, or argue about it afterwards over coffee. I want to have you over with my friends to watch a football game, and I want to take you and your beagle out for walks on the beach."
"How did you...how'd you know I have a dog?"
His eyes twinkled at her. "The pictures on the bureau. Water bowl and leash in the laundry room gave it away, too, though I had a bad moment thinking they were
for me."
She snorted. "Detective. Forgot."
"Shield, real gun and everything."
The smile died from her eyes, and she reached up to cup his jaw. "You're sure."
He pressed a kiss into her palm. "I'm sure. I like you, Violet. You turn me on in a million different ways, but I want more. Every time I'm around you, I want more. If you're offering the chance of all, I'm game. Let's go for it." He gave a half chuckle. "Though it's a scarier thought than anything I've ever faced on the job."
