Starting Over Read online

  She served breakfast from eight to ten. I’m sure she arrived earlier than that to get everything ready. I didn’t want to be a hiccup in her day, so I’ve remained out of sight.

  It’s time to make an appearance though. It’s after ten. She’ll probably be prepping for lunch.

  When I step into the kitchen through the back door, she lifts her gaze and frowns. “There you are. I was wondering about you.”

  I love how she fidgets. As I’d approached, seeing her through the windows, she’d been in deep concentration, staring at a piece of paper. Now that I’ve stepped inside, she’s dropped the paper on the counter and is rubbing her hands on her thighs.

  “Sorry. I got a late start today.”

  “I made you a plate. It’s in the warming oven.”

  “Oh. You didn’t have to do that.” The truth is I’m starving, and it was very sweet of her to save me something.

  She shrugs. “It was no big deal. I was serving Leah and Craig. I made you a plate at the same time. I didn’t check with you to see if there’s anything you don’t like or if you have any allergies.”

  She bites her bottom lip adorably.

  “Nope.” I ease closer, fully aware she’s backing up. I want to touch her so badly. I want to cup her face, kiss her lips, make her whimper for me. I know I can accomplish that easily, but I won’t. I told her I wouldn’t touch her until she asks me to, and I need to stick to that.

  She spins around and rushes toward the warmer. I worry she might actually drop the plate as she returns with it. The moment she sets it on the huge island, she backs up as if she needs to keep a good distance from me. She’s probably right.

  I slide onto a stool and take a bite of quiche. “Damn, that’s delicious,” I say as I stab into the muffin next. It’s similar to the one I sampled yesterday, equally fantastic.

  “Thank you.” She beams, but then schools her face and clears her throat as if she hadn’t intended to permit me to see her smile.

  She grabs the piece of paper she was looking at from the counter and pretends to peruse it again. She can’t possibly be actually reading it because she’s shaking too badly.

  That fact shouldn’t make me mentally fist pump, but it does. After I eat several more bites, I glance around. “Where are Leah and Craig this morning?”

  “They went into town,” she tells me without looking at me. “They needed to pick up a few things,” she mumbles.

  She opens cabinets and pulls out bowls and spoons and random ingredients while I finish eating. I’m not sure if any of it has meaning to her or if she’s trying to look busy.

  After I take my plate to the sink, I turn around and lean against the counter. “Amelia.”

  “Hmm?” she asks without glancing over her shoulder at me.

  “Come here, sweet girl.”

  She taps the paper. “I need to get started on dinner.”

  “Dinner’s in eight hours, Amelia. Come here.” I know she’ll obey me eventually. She can’t help herself.

  She turns around while drawing in a deep breath and doesn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “You don’t think what’s a good idea?” I’m tormenting her.

  She wrings her fingers in front of her. “Getting closer to you.”

  “I don’t bite, and I told you I wouldn’t touch you. Do you trust me?”

  She lifts her gaze, eyes wide. “Foster, I don’t trust me.”

  I can’t stop the slow grin. “Come here, sweet girl,” I repeat, my voice softer but still demanding. There’s only six feet between us, but I want her to close that distance.

  Finally, she shuffles closer.

  I grip the edges of the counter at my sides while what I really want to do is stroke my hand down the loose lock of hair at her temple and then tuck it behind her ear. I want to let my fingers linger there and then graze them along her neck until she shivers.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispers once she’s finally in my space.

  “We aren’t doing anything, Amelia. We’re talking.”

  She licks her lips as she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “When we talk, I get confused. Talking to you never feels like talking. It feels like more.”

  “What does it feel like?” I ask in a husky voice, praying she’ll explain herself better so I can listen to her voice some more.

  Her voice is very soft as she responds. “It feels like you’ve stripped me bare and now I’m naked before you. It feels like your fingers dancing over my nipples. It feels like the wetness between my legs.”

  I swallow hard, shocked by her vulnerability and openness. Damn, I want her. “I want all of that, Amelia.”

  She shudders. “We met yesterday,” she points out. “It’s not logical.”

  “We have a connection. You felt it immediately. So did I.”

  She draws in a breath. “You’re so dominant.”

  “You crave it.”

  “Maybe…” She chews on the corner of her bottom lip. “But I shouldn’t. You’re making it hard for me to focus.”

  “That’s why I didn’t come around earlier this morning. I don’t want to disrupt your work.”

  “I appreciate that,” she mutters, “but it didn’t work. I spent the time watching for you and wondering where you were.” She palms her forehead as if she’s disappointed with herself for admitting that.

  My fingers hurt from gripping the edges of the counter. Don’t touch her. “Let’s talk about that and work something out.”

  She points over her shoulder. “I need to start dinner.” She takes a step back and inhales deeply, pulling her shoulders back before meeting my gaze. She stands taller. “This is my dream job, Foster. I won’t fuck it up just because I have some weird attraction to a man who also happens to work here. Please don’t push me on this.”

  “I understand, Amelia. And I’m torn. Part of me wants to fist pump over how affected you are by me. The rest of me feels guilty for putting a wrench in your obviously well-thought-out plans.”

  She nods, but she looks hesitant.

  My heart is pounding. Over a woman. When have I ever been this affected by a woman? Never. Not even Celia.

  The thought makes me stiffen, my jaw tightening. It’s been so long since Celia left. Maybe I don’t remember precisely how I felt with her. Was it like this?

  I clear my throat. “You mentioned dinner. What’s the lunch plan?”

  She licks her full lips. “Craig said not to worry about the two of them. They won’t be back until midafternoon. But I can make something for you.”

  I shake my head. “You just filled me up on breakfast. I’ll be fine. What needs to be done about dinner at this hour?”

  She bites that lip and releases it with a sigh. “Nothing,” she whispers. Her shoulders drop in resignation. I can see she wishes she could have lied to me but she didn’t. I’m glad.

  “Spend some time with me,” I urge.

  “Do you think that’s really a good idea?”

  “I think it’s the only choice we have, sweet girl. Come with me. I promise to have you back here by four to start dinner.”

  She purses her lips and stares at me again. She’s shaking. She’s so damn precious. “A lot can happen between now and four. That’s like five hours.”

  I chuckle. “True, but I promise I’ll return you in one piece.”

  “You have the ability to scramble my brain and make me forget who I am.”

  “I could say the same about you,” I point out.

  She finally nods. “Okay.” She lifts a finger to shake it at me. “But you promised not to touch me, and I’m going to hold you to that.”

  I laugh softly. “I only promised not to touch you until you asked me to. I’m confident you will eventually.”

  “Cocky,” she murmurs.

  I nod over my shoulder. “Come on.”

  Amelia glances around, assessing everything on the counter, probably making sure nothing perishable has been left out or needs a
ttention. Finally, she draws in a deep breath and heads for the door.

  I follow her.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “My place.”

  She glances at me. “You think that’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea. I want you to see where I live. I want you in my space.”

  She sighs. “You’re testing my resolve.”

  I lift both hands innocently. “If it’s that hard for you to keep your hands off me then I think you should consider not fighting the urge.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  Chapter 5

  Foster

  * * *

  We pass her cabin on the end of a row of four and head for mine set off a bit from the others. Mine is larger. I think it housed a family in the old days. Nowadays it’s just me, but I claimed it years ago when I first moved here.

  I could have stayed in the big house, but it was so…big. Kind of eerie when it’s empty. This two-bedroom cabin is perfect for me. Cozy. It’s a place I can relax. I’ve made it mine over the years.

  I open the door and let Amelia pass by me to enter. She spins around slowly in the middle of the room. “I love it.”

  “I’m glad.” I grin.

  She wanders around, taking in my décor. I follow her with my gaze, watching her reactions. My living room is done in dark colors. The walls are rustic.

  Amelia heads straight for the fireplace and runs her hand over the wall next to it. “Is this the other side of the logs I could see outside?”

  “No. When the cabin was redone, the walls were fortified. They’re thicker than the original, but when I moved in and saw pictures of how the cabin looked a hundred years ago, I decided to redo the inside to give the impression you’re looking at the other side of the logs.”

  “That’s amazing. I love it. And the fireplace too.” She palms the stone mantle.

  “The stones are original. I had to move some of them, but I preserved it.”

  She continues to stroll through my space. I love having her here. If someone would have asked me two days ago if I wanted a woman in my cabin, I would have laughed and told them fuck no. I’ve changed a bit in the past thirty hours.

  My sofa is soft brown leather with darker brown pillows tossed at the ends. There’s an oval rug under the coffee table. The coffee table, kitchen table, and chairs are all rustic as if they were made a century ago even though they are less than five years old.

  “Are these the original hardwood floors?” she asks.

  “Unfortunately, I had to redo them. They were too damaged, but I tried to imitate the originals.”

  She moves toward the kitchen. It’s all one room really, same as her cabin. I’ve rearranged the configuration of the appliances and modernized everything so it’s all stainless steel and granite.

  “This is so perfect, Foster.”

  My heart is bounding now. It shouldn’t matter to me so much that she likes my place, but it does. I nod toward the short hallway. “Would you like to see the bathroom and the master bedroom?”

  “Sure.”

  I head that direction and open the first door on the left. “Bathroom. The door on the other side opens into the master bedroom. Nothing special, but hey, there’s plumbing.”

  She chuckles. I love that sound.

  I open the master bedroom next to the bathroom.

  Amelia passes me to enter it.

  It feels so intimate having her in my space. When she strokes my comforter, my cock stiffens. “I love how all the furniture is so rustic as if it were made at the beginning of the twentieth century.”

  “That was the goal.”

  She steps back into the hallway and points at the door across from us. “What’s in there?”

  I glance at the door and stiffen. Most of the time I forget this cabin even has a second bedroom. “Skeletons,” I mutter.

  “Pardon?” She lifts both brows.

  I chuckle, though it’s forced. “Nothing.” I open the door for her to see.

  “Oh, you meant that. Nothing at all. Why? It could be an office or something.”

  I shrug as I pull the door to the empty room closed. “Don’t really need an office. I have a small desk in the living room. I don’t use it much except to check my email or order things.”

  Her mouth opens but then she shuts it quickly, not pressing me on this issue. She wanders back into my living room and sits in the leather recliner that matches my couch.

  I move to sit on the couch, wishing she were closer, but not pressing the issue. There’s no reason to rush her. She’s mine. I have my entire life to prove that to her. I can be patient. At least I hope I can.

  I cross one leg over the other and lean back, trying to appear far calmer than I feel. I want to speed things up. I want to flash forward to a future where Amelia is mine, living in my home, obeying my rules, sleeping in my bed.

  We’re nowhere close to that point yet, so I need to slow the fuck down and start from the beginning. “Tell me about yourself.”

  She fidgets and then sits on her hands. Her toes drag the floor, but she’s too short to get her feet planted flatly. Her hair is up in a ponytail, loose tendrils hanging along the sides of her face. “Uh, okay. What do you want to know?”

  “Favorite color?” Seems like a safe place to start.

  She giggles. Excellent. I want her relaxed. “Purple.”

  “Favorite food?”

  “Oh, that’s hard. I’m a foodie. A nice thick Chicago-style pizza would rank pretty high though.”

  “What’s on it?” I smile.

  “Pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, black olives, and sliced tomatoes.”

  I chuckle. “Sounds delicious. Do you make those yourself?”

  “Yes, but it takes some time. The crust is a serious component.”

  “I bet.” It’s impossible not to grin at her, especially when she’s enthusiastic.

  “What’s your favorite food?” she asks, rocking back and forth.

  “From now on it’s whatever you cook.” I wink at her.

  “That’s not an answer,” she points out.

  “Hmm. I like a perfectly cooked, thick burger with gruyere and sauteed mushrooms.”

  “I’ll have to add that to my menu.” She beams.

  “The way to my heart and all…”

  Her face flushes. “Doesn’t seem like you need me to cook good foods to endear myself to you. You’re pretty persistent.”

  “I am indeed. And you’re pretty resistant.” I lift a brow.

  She shrugs, but her expression becomes serious. “You’re intensely dominant, Foster. I’m not the kind of girl who can submit the way you need.”

  “I think you’re wrong, sweet girl.” I try to keep my words soft but also firm.

  She cocks her head to one side. “Why? What makes you think I can submit to you or that I want to?”

  “You already have, Amelia.”

  “How have I submitted to you?” Her brow furrows.

  “Did you masturbate last night?” I ask bluntly.

  Her face pinkens and she tips her head down to stare at her lap. “No.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Did you think about me making you come?”

  She squirms and then pulls her hands out from under her thighs to twist them in her lap.

  “Amelia, look at me.”

  She lifts her gaze slowly, but her lips are pursed. My cock is so fucking hard. I have to know what she thought about me last night.

  I switch to a different question first. “Did you read your book last night?”

  “No, Sir,” she murmurs. Fuck me. She’s precious.

  “Good girl. I bet you had trouble going to sleep, huh?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice is still barely audible. I don’t mind. It’s sweet. She’s so rattled.

  “What did you think about while you were lying in bed, Amelia?” I encourage.

  “Y
ou spanking me,” she finally murmurs. “Happy?”

  “Yes, but don’t get snarky with me, sweet girl, unless you want me to take you over my knee right now, and it won’t be for pleasure.”

  She shivers.

  I lower my voice. “Did that arouse you? Thinking about me spanking you?”

  She inhales slowly. “You know it did.”

  “Watch your tone,” I warn.

  She swallows. “Sorry, Sir.”

  How does this Little girl not realize she’s submitting to me?

  “You seem surprised. Do you not usually get aroused when you’re spanked?”

  “Never.” She doesn’t hesitate.

  Interesting. I don’t know how to respond to that.

  Luckily, she answers my unasked question on her own. “No one has ever spanked me over their knee.”

  Oh.

  Ohhh.

  “So usually you’re at the club and you’re over a bench or a horse or some other apparatus?”

  “Yes, Sir. Always. I only submit at Surrender. On my terms. It’s not really even submitting because I arrange the scenes ahead of time.”

  “So you use spanking as a form of release, but not sexual.”

  “Right. Or flogging or paddling. Whatever.”

  “Over your clothes?” I’m so damn intrigued, and I want more details.

  “Sometimes. But sometimes the Dom lifts my skirt.”

  “Panties?”

  “I usually wear a thong.”

  I hold my breath. It’s shocking how badly I’d like to see these thongs on her. I’d also like to see them not on her.

  I need to adjust my cock, but I don’t.

  She inhales, her chest rising. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Not yet. I want to understand you, Amelia.”

  “You want to dominate me, Sir.”

  “I already am dominating you, sweet girl,” I point out.

  She sighs. “It’s unnerving.”

  “It’s also a fact.”

  “Maybe you could stop it.” She chews on her bottom lip.

  “That’s not what either of us wants.”

  She wrings her hands again.

  “Have you ever had a relationship with a Dom?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Not a real one anyway.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a relationship with a fake Dom?” Now I’m the one unnerved. I grip the armrest with my fingers.