“I’d like that.” She rose and bowed her head. “Thank you, Master, for your care.”

He made a noise as if she’d slapped him instead of thanking him. Then he sighed and stroked her hair. “Go, sumisita.”

Chapter Eight

On Tuesday, muggy evening air formed a damp cloak over Raoul’s skin as he took a seat on the patio. The outdoor lights flickered on, and the pool turned a clear blue around the young woman swimming laps. Kimberly looked strong and healthy. And she was never happier than when near the water. That was why he’d created erotic pool tag for her, and why their protracted make-out time last night had been on the beach.

He stretched his legs out. Aside from scenes in the club, how long had it been since he’d kissed and fondled a woman without making love to her later? Years? Even longer since he’d been so uncomfortable he had to jerk off in the shower. But his gatita had a stronger effect on him than any woman before.

She’d become nicely hot last night. He’d concentrated on her breasts, venturing lower at times. Over the past weeks, she’d become accustomed to his hands, but not to having him deliberately arousing her. When she’d started to panic, he’d stopped and held her, and she’d quieted. She looked to him for comfort now, and that pleased him…perhaps too much. He shouldn’t get attached to this woman. When the slavers were no longer a threat, she’d return to her own life.

It would be difficult to let her go. He liked having her curled in his arms, showering with her, teaching her weight lifting and fighting. She was as affectionate and fun as the kitten he called her, and her need to give was spiced with a delightful temper.

She’d changed in her time with him. As she’d grown comfortable with his commands, she’d also acquired a submissive’s trait of always being aware of her master, as he was aware of her. He’d forgotten the beauty of the constant perception between a dominant and his submissive.

Because of Alicia. His mouth flattened at the bitter taste brought by the memory of his marriage. He and Alicia had been happy at first, master and slave. Things had changed. Much was his fault. Having had a slave before, he knew—thought he knew—what a relationship required. Too in love to be cautious, he’d yielded to Alicia’s pleas and jumped right in. Husband and master.

But he hadn’t married a slave.

With one hand on the edge of the pool, Kimberly stopped to catch her breath. She saw him watching, waited a second in case he wanted her, then launched into another lap. Determined little submissive.

Alicia hadn’t been submissive at all. New to BDSM, she hadn’t realized that submission didn’t punch her buttons; pain did. After they figured it out, he hadn’t tried to continue as her master, but had hoped they could still have a good life together. Foolish Sandoval.

And when she’d betrayed him, she’d changed his memories of what had been good into something ugly. Then she’d gone one step further and turned his family against him by revealing his lifestyle.

Raoul tilted his head back. The setting sun was a red gleam along the horizon, disappearing as if washed away by the waves. A shame that memories didn’t disappear so easily. Eventually…someday…he’d get into a Dominant/submissive relationship, would love someone again. But, like a ripped muscle, his desire to launch into a new relationship had been weakened, wasn’t ready to bear the burden. Until then, he was content with the casual relationships he had with various submissives.

The streak of light slowly disappeared, leaving only gray ocean meeting the dark sky.

A splash drew his gaze to where Kimberly had climbed out of the pool. She dried herself off and came over to kneel at his feet, cleverly bringing the towel to protect her knees from the concrete. Smart gatita. Her eyes were down, her body relaxed.

He smiled in satisfaction. Her first week she’d been constantly braced for a blow. Now her fears appeared in response to something new he proposed, but not until then. She trusted him.

Yes, he would miss her. It was good she wouldn’t be with him much longer.

“There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator,” he said. “Why don’t you bring it into the living room? Two glasses. We’ll watch a movie.”

“Yes, Master.”

When had her stutter disappeared? As she rose smoothly and headed for the kitchen, he remembered he wanted to add dance back to her day’s routines. He’d enjoy watching her.

In the living room, he checked the end table drawer—no, the little minx hadn’t found the toys he’d left there—and flipped off the lights except for the wall sconces.

Kimberly walked in a minute later. She set the tray on the coffee table, poured a glass of wine, then knelt and offered up the drink.

“Thank you, chiquita. That’s beautifully done.” He smoothed her hair, the ends damp from the pool, although she’d had it pinned on top of her head. Her skin was still glowing from her exercise. Her breasts were filling out, and her abs and thighs showed muscle definition. Pretty sumisa, now comfortable with her nakedness in his presence. “You may pour yourself a glass as well.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.” She started to say something and hesitated.

“Go on. This is our room to relax together, so you may speak freely. Although respectfully would be in your best interests.” He touched her nose, and she wrinkled it at him. “What were you going to say?”

“I haven’t had wine since—since before.”

“Well, I hope you like this one then.” He took a sip and approved. “One of the Shadowlands’ submissives became engaged last month, and her mother brought out a crate of California wines as a present for her son-in-law-to-be.” A bribe to delay the wedding a month so she could help plan it. Nolan had been kind enough to share a couple of bottles.

Kimberly tried the wine, and a pleased smile lit her face. “It’s really good.”

Raoul walked over to the dark walnut entertainment center to decide on a movie. Just to get a reaction, he pulled out a World War II film. “Maybe some battles?”

“Ugh. How about Runaway Bride?” She burst into laughter at his expression. “Miss Congeniality? She’s an FBI agent. You should like that.”

When he shook his head in disgust, her giggles bubbled over like champagne. Was this what she had been like before her trauma? What kind of people would damage someone so bright? So sparkling with energy. He should have been there to protect her.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should watch a Chuck Norris film. You can take notes and learn something of fighting?”

Fighting? Such a typical man . “Well, maybe we should watch chick flicks. You can learn more about women.” Kim grinned. That should get him.

Master R raised his eyebrows and stepped close enough that her bare breasts rubbed on his shirt. Her nipples bunched in reaction.

“Do you feel my knowledge of women is lacking, gatita?” he asked softly. His dark eyes caught hers and held…held as every bone in her body turned into melted butter, and the promise in his gaze blanked her mind. When he cupped her chin and kissed her, so gently, lingering for a second before he retreated, her nerves started to fire in random bursts. “Kimberly? I asked you a question.”

“Mmm?” Question: Did she think he needed to know anything more about women? If he did, God help them all. “Um.” She shook her head, trying to throw off the sensual haze. Her nipples throbbed. “Perhaps not.”

He chuckled and handed her a DVD. “How about this one? Chocolat.”

That was a strange choice. She blinked and nodded.

“Very good.” He inserted the DVD, took his place on the leather sofa, and patted the cushion beside him.

Snuggling against him, as he liked—and she’d started to really like—she sipped her wine and watched the film.

“I know women go crazy over chocolate,” Master R said after a bit, “almost as much as men obsess about sex.” He pulled her onto his lap, leaning her back against his left arm. She stiffened, then relaxed. “Since you’ll enjoy a chocolate movie more than me, I should get a treat for every time they eat candy.”

“Your logic isn’t—”

He cupped her face with his free hand, and his lips took hers, lightly in the way she’d grown used to. Then his tongue stroked insistently. He tasted of wine and of himself. Her hands curled around his forearm as heat rose inside her.

Lifting his head, he smiled down in her eyes. When he tried to move his hand, she realized she still clung to his arm and had to force her fingers open.

Shifting slightly, making her fully aware of the erection pressing against her bare bottom, he refilled her glass. She tried to check his, but it was behind her, on the end table. After handing over her drink, he resumed watching the movie. Jerk.

Before Kim had more than a few sips, the heroine talked someone into sampling her wares, and Master R kissed her again.

How much chocolate do they eat in this movie?

A lot. Each kiss grew more drugging, wetter, deeper. No longer teasing, he took her mouth hard, ravaging until her toes curled and heat flushed her skin.

She felt the wetness growing between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his black hair; her other hand pressed against his chest and the iron muscles that flexed as he lifted her closer.