“No more for you, Beautiful. I suspect you aren’t going to feel so frisky in the morning. It’s time to get you home.” He tossed more than enough cash on the table to cover the tab and a generous tip before pulling Bristol to her feet. She swayed, making her mutter a few words he planned to eliminate from her vocabulary. Turning to his family, he cautioned Bronx and Cat to be careful with their investigation.
“Thanks for babysitting me today, Bronx. You’re a sweetheart.”
Israel reminded himself it was his own fault his mate spent the day bonding with his brother. Their friendship was harmless, and the bond was beneficial for several reasons, but her words still sent jealousy rocketing through him.
“Holy hand-painted horny toads, did you just growl at me? It’s not nice to growl at people, Israel. It makes them think they’ve done something wrong when they haven’t.” She hiccupped and had the good sense to appear at least marginally contrite. “I learned that in Psychology 101, and there was a refresher chapter in Social Psychology. Let me guess, you skipped as many humanities classes as possible.”
“Oh, hell, I like her. I like her a lot.” Catalina took a sip of her wine, then lifted the glass into the air, toasting the curvy beauty leaning against him.
Cat had seemed distracted when he picked her up, and Israel caught her checking her phone several times during dinner. She hadn’t spoken to anyone or replied to any messages, so he assumed whoever she was waiting to hear from hadn’t contacted her. Israel presumed Cooper Hicks was the culprit, but he wasn’t going to get involved unless she asked for his help.
“Doms are always preaching, begin as you intend to go, and I say subs need to do the same. If you start tolerating growly behavior, you’ll be stuck putting up with that crap forever. Don’t let him start disappearing in the middle of the night, either.”
Israel was surprised by Cat’s comment. He’d never heard her make any observation—positive or negative—about the lifestyle, but it was her remark about disappearing in the middle of the night he found disturbing. Damn it all to hell, just when he’d vowed to not get involved.
I’ll talk to her. Take your mate home, she needs some serious pampering and rest.
Israel knew Bronx was right. Pampering and rest were on the agenda—right after he introduced her to the joys of erotic spanking. Bristol might appear relaxed, courtesy of Jose Cuervo, but he could feel the spring inside her winding tighter and tighter. He planned to give her a more satisfying way to relieve the stress, he knew would make them both happy.
Chapter Eleven
Bristol took Israel’s outstretched hand, letting him help her from the car. The drive from the steak house to Adler Oil wasn’t long, but the cooler night air sobered her enough, she knew better than to insist on doing everything herself. He no longer appeared angry, but his rigid posture and the tight set of his jaw told her Israel wasn’t in the mood for arguments. He led her into the elevator, tapped in the code giving him access to the private floor where his suite was located, then pinned her against the mirrored wall.
Shackling her wrists above her head with one hand, he used the index finger of his free hand to draw a line along the underside of her jaw. Goosebumps raced up her arms as she felt her nipples draw into tight peaks. Moisture warmed her sex, and someone moaned—it might have been her. He pressed his knee between her thighs, putting enough pressure on her clit to tease, but not enough to push her over.
“You’re so responsive. Seeing the way your body reacts to my touch is so fucking hot.” The elevator door slid open, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to exit. Pressing a button on the control panel, he locked the door open and grinned. “We have two minutes before the alarm sounds. Let’s not waste it.” His lips sealed over hers, firm and demanding with a note of tenderness that touched her soul. Desire moved through her in a rolling wave more devastating than she could have imagined. When she tried to tilt her hips forward, the damned man chuckled.
“As much as I want you, I’m not fucking you until we’ve had a chat about expectations. Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to taking you to the club and showing you off—all in good time, Beautiful.”
Expectations? Good grief. She would be happy to tell him what she’d expected—relief from the fire he’d stoked. Damn, what was the point of getting her all excited, then shutting her down?
The only reason any man will ever want you is for your brain because nobody is going to give two shits about your fat ass, girl.
Bristol heard her mother’s words play in her mind, just as they had any time one of the Doms at the club asked her to play. Taking a deep breath, Bristol nodded, stepping behind the emotional wall she’d learned to erect as a child. The barrier was bulletproof and always protected her from the emotional badgering she’d endured until she’d become so focused on building her medical practice, there hadn’t been any time for other people’s nonsense.
Bristol heard a disembodied voice warning them the elevator would notify the local authorities in thirty seconds, but she was too busy reminding herself, she shouldn’t be surprised to care. The walk down the hall to his suite felt more like a trip to the gallows, and she found herself slowing until Israel finally wrapped his hand around hers to pull her along.
“As soon as the door closes behind us, I want you naked.”
Seriously? What the hell? Shutting me out a couple of minutes ago wasn’t enough, he’s going for round two?
Israel wanted to track down the asshole who’d destroyed his mate’s confidence. He knew she had faith in her professional abilities, but she was fucking clueless about how much he wanted her. Banking his frustration, Israel was determined to give his mate what she needed rather than what she’d wanted in the elevator. If he’d taken her there, she’d have dismissed it as nothing more than lust, and in the process, written him off as a mate.
“Bristol, the door is closed, why aren’t you naked?” Her startled expression told him she hadn’t believed he was serious. She’d soon learn he always meant what he said during a scene. When they were simply enjoying each other’s company in a casual setting, Israel could tease with the best of them. As a Dom, he kept his comments as open and honest as possible. Safe, Sane, and Consensual might be the guiding tenet of the BDSM lifestyle, but trust was the foundation solid D/s relationships were built on.
“Could we turn the lights down?” Or Off? Off would be better.
Israel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a submissive strip slower than Bristol was moving. It had taken her a full thirty seconds to toe-off her shoes, for Goddess’ sake.
“No, Beautiful. I want to be able to see every inch of your lovely body. As your mate and Dom, it’s my right and privilege to look at what belongs to me.” He took a step back, spread his feet shoulder-width apart, crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest. The pose was unmistakably dominant, the shift in body language, sending a message no trained submissive would miss.
“Geez, Louise, I should have had another margarita.”
Israel bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing out loud at Bristol’s muttered words. She might think the extra drink would have given her more courage, but he knew better. Another drink and he’d have had to carry her out of the steakhouse, and they wouldn’t be playing. Bristol’s mind was questioning the sincerity of his attraction, but thankfully, her body was miles ahead of the game.