His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (2 page)

The first set of lights flicked on, giving the room a soft glow. Though the couch didn’t face the door, the whole opposite wall was mirrored, giving her an open view of Gabe’s every move.

She scanned the room’s reflection, anything to take her mind off the broad shoulders so protectively blocking the door. This was the “office playroom”, complete with a large oak desk, filing cabinets and whiteboard. Oh, and hooks galore to hang rope, floggers, crops… Her heartbeat rose.

Gabe flipped on the rest of the lights and Hope forgot to breathe. Fully illuminated, he looked even more delicious than he had before, and she was only getting his reflection. A full-on view might give her a heart attack.

Gabe’s head poked out the door and into the hall once again, allowing her to peruse his reflection at her temporary leisure. He’d shaved his head, but the hair was making a stubbly comeback. Hope would have rued the loss of his soft black hair but—damn. He looked fierce, and the goatee he sported only added to the look. Hope had never been one to like the facial-hair, shaved-head combo, but Gabe wore it like a pro. He had on black slacks and a tight black T-shirt that hugged the muscles he’d earned from hours of leather working and welding. His black motorcycle boots showed wear from being well used, but had been recently shined.

Gabe radiated power and control. The clothes were just window dressing, but oh hell did they dress him nicely. He’d either gained more muscle since she’d last seen him or her memories were shoddy, because he looked more ripped than before. She wouldn’t put it past her subconscious to downplay how fit he’d been in order to protect her tender post-breakup heart.

One arm propped him up from the doorframe as he leaned out of the room, and that position made his muscled torso bulge. God, she wanted to trace with her tongue along every muscle-cut line she could see and all the ones she couldn’t. Arms and back and abs and thighs were corded with muscle, and he still had an ass made for fantasizing.

He’d always made her feel so petite and delicate. And protected, at least until the end.

His gaze flicked to the mirror, and she looked down at her shoes to avoid meeting his reflected eyes, sneaking glances the whole time.

“Why are you meeting with Mistress Melina?”

Nosy. Demanding. She answered anyway. “She hired me to redecorate the club, top to bottom.”

His back straightened and he cocked his head in curiosity, an inquisitive look he’d given her over and over during their short time together. “Interior designer?”

“Just started my own company.” She really didn’t want to be dropping clues about herself, but her control—as always in Gabe’s presence—was consumed by his desires. And he wanted answers.

“Congratulations. Tough stuff, starting your own company. I’m actually in the same boat. Leather goods, not décor.” He gave a little smile then turned to look at her in the mirror once more with a studious wrinkle in his brow.

He shook his head, then turned and left without another word.

She paced the room in his absence, trying to decide whether to leave or stay when a voice cleared behind her. She straightened and turned, shoulders tight.

Their eyes met and his face went hard. “What the holy hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Two

Gabe’s lips thinned and his dark brown eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, somewhere mysterious where no one from your prior life knows your location?”

That kind of snark had been her territory, not his.
You have no clue where he’s been or what he’s done or who he is now.
The idea stabbed her heart with little spikes of sadness.

“I’m back.” She paused, crossing her arms and legs as she leaned against the mirrored wall. The words seemed inadequate but she was so not prepared to have
The Talk
with Gabe.

“Gabe, I really am fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing. Thank you for the save.” Hope looked down and repressed a grimace, not liking the thought of him being at the club to top some chick. Or, even worse, being there with his submissive.

His boots filled her vision. Guess he wasn’t leaving as she’d wanted. His insistence on doing things his way hadn’t changed.

She trailed her eyes upward, enjoying the sight even as her heart and head warred over how damnably vulnerable this situation could leave her. And that damn scent, so purely Gabe. It had haunted her for weeks after she’d left and would do the same now that she’d smelled him again.

“Hope, what were you thinking, getting involved with those men?”

She flicked her attention to his face. His jaw was tight and lines of anger radiated from his eyes.

“With
them? No. They decided in the hall that I was too uppity for a ‘slave’ and wanted to teach me a lesson.” She shuddered, too overwhelmed by the evening’s events to suppress it.

Gabe snorted. “Sounds like the Hope I knew, full of fire and rebellion.”

Her spine straightened at the frustration in his voice.

He turned, and she half hoped Gabe would leave. Instead, he grabbed a chair from against the mirror and plopped it in front of her. He straddled its hardwood seat, leaning his muscled forearms on the short metal back.

“Hey, don’t lay this shit on me. The jackass is a Super-Uber-Dom. Even called me ‘slave’. What a douche.”

“I see your mouth hasn’t improved at all,” he said. “I’m surprised your Dom hasn’t disciplined it out of you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What Dom? I haven’t even been to a club in years, and you know how much I hate stupid Tops.” She scoffed. “Little boys playing king of the castle. It’s pathetic, really.” She jutted her chin at him. “And my mouth is more than fine, as you damn well recall.”

He smirked. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten that, baby. But you seem to have trouble recalling that all work and no play makes Hope a very stressed-out girl.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been just lovely.”

In a flash, he had her pressed against the mirror, one hand pinning her wrists against the cool surface. She’d not realized just how close he was sitting until that point.

Her heart kicked into overdrive and her mouth went dry. Wetness trickled from between her thighs. Damn him for knowing how to push her hot buttons.

“Don’t you lie to me, Hope O’Shea.” His voice held a familiar warning. “You need a good topping, I can see it in your eyes. And don’t get me started on what your hard nipples say you need,
cara.
”

Gabe had a big Italian family from his mother’s side, and that word had become his sole term of endearment for her. Damn him. He always managed to croon that word, his deep, rumbling voice caressing her heart into almost melting for him.

She struggled against his hands, wanting to hurt him, wanting to hold him. “You…you asshole, you have no right telling me what I need.”

He pressed his body to hers until she had no way of moving. His words tickled her sensitive earlobe. “You know I’m right. I can still read you.” He rubbed against her. “Can you read me?”

The thickness of his erection burned through her slacks, and even as her mind rebelled against it, arousal primed her body.

“So you have a cock. Big fucking deal.”

He nibbled her earlobe and laughed, the vibrations tingling through her body. “Nice try, pussycat. All growl, no claws because you want me too.”

Eyelids heavy, she fought against the tempting lust. “I made that mistake once. Never again. No more Doms, no more kink.”

His brow crinkled and he rubbed a hand across his chest as if he’d pulled a muscle or something. He lifted her from the floor, pulling her legs around his waist, opening her to him. She should have stopped him, but it felt so
good
after years of celibacy. “As I recall, it was far more than ‘once’. And it wasn’t all bad,
cara
.” He brushed his cheek against hers, the rough hairs of his goatee a sensual abrasion against her skin. “You left me with so many unanswered questions.”

She needed to find a way out of this, and soon, before lust hogtied her logic and she did something she’d really regret. That soothing blankness, of knowing she’d turned over all control to someone else, someone she trusted, beckoned her.

But she didn’t trust him anymore.

Hope pulled on every bit of anger toward Gabe that she could still muster at the moment. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Not my problem anymore.”

Though part of her wanted it to be. She’d come to terms with her role in the downfall of their budding relationship, learned from her mistakes, but that didn’t mean it would be wise to let him in again.

“Again with the language. Maybe you need something else to occupy your dirty mouth.”

He kissed her, their lips meeting as if it had been two minutes, not two years since their last kiss. His mouth, warm and wet, tasted of peppermint and that flavor uniquely Gabe’s. She’d been addicted to it once upon a time. They say just one taste can pull an addict back from abstinence and Hope couldn’t risk it. She tore her mouth away and struggled until he set her down and took a step back.

“That was bad, very bad. You had no right.” Pacing to clear her head and put some space between them, she walked the length of the mirror and back, feeling Gabe’s eyes on her the whole time.

He interrupted her whirring thoughts. “So Jax—you met him a few times, here actually—has invited me to go to Maison Domine this weekend. First month back in Cali, and he’s got me socializing once again.”

She froze and stared at him, thrown by the change of topic. But she shed her confusion when his words registered. “
The
Maison Domine? And yes, I remember Jaxon. And his Lara.”

He’d resumed his seat in the chair, looking casual and relaxed. But she recognized the tension in his eyes, the pupils dilated from lust.

“Yes,
cara
, that one.” Heat rippled through her at the nickname. “And I seem to be in a bit of a pickle.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And I think you can help me. I’ll be helping you in return.”

Wary, she nodded for him to continue. He patted the back of the chair. “Come stand here and we can talk.”

Step by anxious step, she drew closer, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood.
My, what a big cock you have.

“Tell me about this trade you have in mind.” She reached him and he wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping her in close to him. With her heels, she managed to have a couple inches on his sitting form. Not much, and without them, he’d be within perfect kissing height.

“You’ve lost weight.” His voice sounded accusing. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

She shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t be content with her explanation. Knowing him, he’d take her to the nearest smoothie place and make her drink a protein shake. His controlling, caring ways had driven her nuts even as they made her feel cherished.

Part of her knew this little interlude could tear through her hard-won centeredness, but that voice of responsibility was shouted down by her hormones. Though her relationship with Gabe had been a failure, the sex had always been spectacular.

She ran a hand through the stubble on his scalp. “Why’d you cut your hair? And where have you been the past two years?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She nailed him with a glare and refused to answer.

He rolled his eyes. “It kept falling into my face while I was working.”

He ignored her second question. Alrighty then. His hands traveled up and down her thighs, sensitizing her flesh. Her fingers, with a mind of their own, continued their tactile exploration of his scalp.

Having his strong hands touch her again calmed her soul. Oh fuck.

Laughter in the hall made her jump back from his embrace just before Melina slinked in, pout on her bright red lips. Her hair was red this week and she wore her trademark white leather minidress and thigh-high gladiator heels.

“Hope, my dear, I’m so sorry for those brutes. I keep telling my boy that we need better screening of clients, but he’s the business brains behind the operation, so when he says that it would be a bad idea, I listen. After this, maybe he’ll be singing another tune.” Her lively face shifted to glee. “Oh, maybe I can punish him for the decision, and then punish him for changing his mind and being fickle!”

Her wicked laugh had Hope split between compassion and jealousy for Melina’s subbie boy.

Melina shifted her gaze to Gabe, who had stood to face the door. “Well hello, Gabe. And why aren’t you at the booth you’re renting from me? Go, sell your wares! Your new shop won’t advertise itself. Oh hell, your creations are so divine they very well could.”

“I didn’t get to congratulate you on your new business earlier,” Hope said, trying to keep her tone light.

“Yeah, you and I hadn’t quite gotten to all the formalities.” His voice held a mocking edge. “Melina was kind enough to let me set up a small showcase in the main room.” He turned to Mel. “And I have my assistant running it. She’s completely capable, I assure you.”

Hope wondered how much this bimbo assisted him with before she reminded herself that Gabe meant nothing to her anymore.
Must be the hormones. And the stress.
Even she didn’t believe herself on that one, which meant she stood in dangerous territory.

“Well, Melina, are you available now to go over your design plans? It’ll be a welcome respite from tonight’s excitement.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Now is just fine. The bouncers can keep those men on ice in the laundry room—cramped and hot is what they deserve, I’d say. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be your first client!” She turned to Gabe. “Darling, if you will escort Hope to my office, I’ll be right along. Thank you for watching after her for me.” She gave him a coy smile.

“You know I live to serve, Mistress Melina,” Gabe deadpanned.

“You, my dear, are ever the charmer. Now scoot along. And give my love to that beautiful assistant of yours.” With that, she breezed out, leaving things more awkward than they had been when she entered.

The evening’s frustration, coupled with hearing about Gabe’s “beautiful” assistant, had Hope struggling to keep the ire from her voice. “So why don’t you just take your lovely assistant with you to Maison Domine? I’m sure you’d have a lovely weekend.”