Page 48 of No Going Back

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Did you dress as I asked?”

He hadn’t asked, he’d ordered, but Maddie wasn’t about to draw that to his attention. After all, she had agreed to his terms. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache between them. “Yes, Sire.”

Over a decade since she’d last used the honorific, yet it might have been yesterday. The first time had been a joke on her part, a way of differentiating her Dominant from the man who’d been knighted for services to defence, but Guy had liked it, so it stuck.

It was no joke now.

The last few days had been empty without his physical presence, yet he’d filled her thoughts. What she’d felt when he walked out on her after her deception came to light was nothing compared to the black void of the days since. The only ray of light had been that one email from him, with its bullet-point list of instructions and his initial at the foot.

The last instruction had been that if she agreed to what he proposed, all she needed to do was respond with a single word. Without hesitation, she’d hit reply and typed Yes.

Since sending that reply, if she’d read Guy’s email once, she’d read it a hundred times. Every attempt to read between the lines had drawn a blank. It was what it was.

In response to her acknowledgement, he gave a curt nod. The movement was small, verging on insignificant, but the authority it represented made need, hot and heavy, pool low in her abdomen. The hunger was so fierce, she had to stuff her hands under her thighs to save her from folding her arms. When that didn’t work, she bent forward and rocked to and fro to ease the ache.

“Don’t look at the floor, look at me.”

His voice alone was all it took to trigger that squirming sensation in her belly. Memories of being with the man flooded her mind. Her mouth became desert-dry in anticipation. A decade’s worth of maturity and harsh experience had only intensified all the qualities that had drawn her to Guy back then. Her nipples were already-hard buds scraping against the lace of her bra, and her matching thong was soaked.

Maddie lifted her gaze to meet his. There was no softness in the metallic glitter of those harsh, grey eyes, no loving curve to the mouth that had once returned the all-consuming passion in her kisses. Guy was all Dom, seasoned with even more sadist than she remembered.

Good.Because tonight, she needed the sadist more than the Dom.

“Ten minutes from now, you will join me in the playroom. At the top of the stairs, turn left and go to the end of the hall. At the door straight ahead of you, you will remove all your clothes, apart from the bra, thong, and heels. You will fold each garment neatly, and leave it on the table by the door. You will then knock on the door, and wait for permission to enter. On entering, you will kneel and await further instructions. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Ten minutes precisely. If you’re early or late, you will bear the consequences.”

A curious combination of fear and impatience writhed in her belly.

His overwhelmingly confident stride took him to the library door, where he paused. “And don’t touch yourself—I’ll know if you have.”

The implicit threat of more punishment added the heated spice of excitement to the melting pot of needs and feelings he’d created within her. Maddie watched the broad shoulders disappear through the door, leaving behind only the subtle scent of his masculine cologne to accompany the echoes of his presence.

Unleashed by the promise of what was about to take place, a further barrage of more detailed memories assaulted her. The visuals would have sent her crashing to her trembling knees if she hadn’t already been seated. Before she’d ever met Guy, she’d played with Doms who went in for the stereotype of black leather. With them, she’d never felt much beyond mild arousal, even when she’d seen them practising with a whip before using it on her. No matter how skilled they were, she hadn’t been able to shake the belief they were rank amateurs. She’d always imagined them going back home to their vanilla lives, where they’d be greeted by their even more vanilla wives.

Her first night at the club where she met Guy had changed all that. Through the evening she’d watched other Doms, but repeatedly gravitated back to him. He’d caught her eye when she’d watched him scene with three different subs. Careful, discreet observation had led her to believe none of them were attached to him. The epiphany had come when she’d witnessed him stripped to the waist, wearing trousers that clearly belonged to an elegant, tailored suit. He’d been wielding a whip with the skill of an undoubted master in the art. She’d set her sights on him and never wavered.

Maddie dragged her thoughts back to the present. Living in the past was futile. She checked the time. Her watch and earrings would also have to come off before she entered the playroom. Her instructions had been very specific. Rather than sit there, counting down the minutes, she’d take her mind off what awaited her by exploring the library.

Every volume spoke to her of Guy. Tome after serious tome on history and politics, the art of warfare and the science of intelligence. If the man were transformed into books, he’d be the contents of these shelves—even the thrillers, ranked like soldiers, ordered by author’s surname. Some things about him would never change.

Moving past the crammed shelves, Maddie arrived at the chimney breast. The mantelpiece almost matched her in height, an impressive feature in keeping with the magnificent house. The hearth showed signs of use, conjuring up the lure of cosy winter evenings in front of a log fire.

Her imagination took the idea and ran with it—Guy seated in the leather armchair, a glass of Dalmore on the side table. In one hand he’d be holding a book, the latest novel by his favourite author maybe. The other would stroke her hair as she sat on a cushion at his feet, wearing nothing but his collar. In spite of everything, he was still her go-to fantasy, when the loneliness overwhelmed her and she admitted to herself exactly how much she missed him.

The sigh came from deep in her soul. What they’d had then… it had been special, something she’d never hoped or sought to replicate. There was no going back to those halcyon days of their relationship. Too much water had gone under too many bridges for that to happen. But did she truly want to go back after the catharsis that awaited both of them one floor up? Going forward—together—was infinitely preferable.

Though she hadn’t worn such high, spike-heeled shoes for years, Maddie ascended the staircase with barely a wobble, one hand on the solid oak rail for balance. In all the time they’d been together before, she’d never visited him here—they’d played at the club, or in his apartment in town. The house was centuries old—as she reached the top, she wondered how many other women had made this journey to meet their man. Guy’s mother, perhaps? In the photos Guy had shared with her, his parents had looked happy together, but what had gone on behind closed doors?

Her footsteps clicked along the polished wooden floor. With the lights dimmed, her imagination worked overtime. So many thrilling possibilities. The most fitting, though, was a dark, Gothic romance, in which she was the female lead, on her way to meeting the scarred hero for the first time.

Guy’s scars were on the inside. Recent and fresh, they were the scars of her betrayal. He wasn’t perfect, he’d never claimed to be, but he hadn’t allowed her to believe he was dead. In his own clumsy way, he’d tried to protect her from the pain of losing him on that mission. What she’d done, on the other hand…

Item by item, she removed and folded her clothes as instructed. Cool air whispered over her skin, to be heated by a heart pounding with a combination of tension and expectation. As she completed her task by setting down her watch and earrings, Maddie spared a look at her reflection in the mirror over the table.

One of Guy’s instructions had been to leave her face free of cosmetics. The symbolism of it didn’t escape her—there was to be nothing between them. With a trembling finger, Maddie traced a line from her temple to her jaw, where make-up usually concealed the last remaining evidence of the surgery that had saved her life and given her this face. While the accident accounted for the scars there and on her leg, the ones on her back had come home with her from Russia. How would Guy react when he found out what had caused them? Could their relationship withstand the impact of more secrets?

More to the point, what would he do when he discovered the greatest secret of all?

The second hand on her watch counted down her last moments of freedom. Her time was up. Maddie knocked on the door and waited.