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She pushed herself upward instead of remaining sprawled indelicately on the couch.
“How was your day? It sounded as though you were busy and you look tired, Drake. You don’t get enough rest.”
He smiled. “My angel worries about me and wants to take care of me. No one has ever taken care of me, or wanted to, for that matter.”
His smile was faint, followed by a brief shadow of pain and . . . need. No matter that this man enjoyed taking care of her, it was obvious that he too needed that same care, whether or not he would ever admit to something he’d likely construe as a shortcoming in himself.
He would just have to get over it because she had no intention of taking without reciprocating in any way she could. His happiness had become important to her, and she couldn’t even pinpoint when it had become so. But just as he pampered her, cherished her and lavished his loving care upon her, she would return the favor in full measure.
She frowned. “You have someone now who wants to and will take care of you in every way I can. I want to make you happy, Drake, and not just because I cede power to you and submit to you. I intend to make you feel as loved as you make me feel.”
He looked shaken by her straightforward statement, as if he had never come across such a situation before and wasn’t at all certain how to react. But his eyes said it all. They glowed with warm pleasure and contentment. He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world—his world.
He extended his hand to help her from the couch and pulled her up and against him so she was molded to his body. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lingeringly, taking his time and tasting every inch of her mouth, inside and out.
“I have something for you,” he said in a husky, passion-laced voice.
The warm glow that had surrounded her, drowning her in the silent exchange between them and the look of wonder in his eyes, evaporated instantly. Dread and disappointment replaced her excitement over his coming home, and she immediately tensed.
He frowned at her reaction but didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled a small box from his pocket and placed it into her hand.
“Open it,” he said.
Her fingers were trembling, something he might construe as excitement or anticipation, but it was neither. She didn’t want to open the damn box. It somehow cheapened what she considered a deep emotional bond established with the few words they’d exchanged and turned the entire evening into something else entirely.
She didn’t want to see what was inside. All she wanted was him, for him to take her to bed so she could do exactly as she’d vowed and for once take care of him after a long day of work. Was that so hard for him to understand? Had no one ever wanted him, the man, Drake Donovan? And not what he possessed and the cavalier way he tossed trinkets her way on a daily basis?
But she dutifully opened the box and discovered a necklace to match the huge earrings he’d given her already. The very thing she’d predicted, though at the time it had been a sarcastic thought. She hadn’t really thought he’d go that far. But she should have known better.
She gasped when she caught a full view of the diamond necklace. It was huge. Bigger than both earrings put together! It was a teardrop diamond pendant the size of his thumb!
Something inside her snapped and she lashed out, her disappointment too keen to hide.
“This has to stop, Drake! Enough! Every day you give me some outrageously expensive gift, and today this makes the second. I don’t want your gifts. I want you. Can’t you understand that? Don’t you know me better than that by now?”
Tears gathered in her eyes and she was shaking with anger and disappointment.
“I don’t want them,” she raged. “I don’t even know what to do with the first couple you bought me. What on earth am I supposed to do with the rest?”
Drake’s expression turned to one of fury, but she was too angry to recognize the line she’d just crossed.
He swore violently and colorfully, turning away for a long moment, his back to her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Then he whirled back around, his eyes nearly black with rage.
“Why the hell do you have to make such a fucking big deal out of everything I give you?” he snapped. “It’s not just the jewelry. You looked like you were on your way to death row when I bought you clothing. You’ve objected at every turn when I buy you anything, and you damn well knew the rules going in, so you can’t plead ignorance. Do you even consider how that makes me feel? It’s not just a rejection of a physical object. It’s a rejection of me and my desire to spoil and pamper you and make you feel like the very special woman you are.”
