gave it a hard squeeze. He had a sudden desire to be balls-deep in his sub. It would remind him that the bond between a Dom and sub could go to depths beyond the complete comprehension of anyone else. Even other Doms or subs.
“Let’s head back in. For tonight, he’s got it. He’s got her.”
Chapter Eight
When Rory closed the door behind him, Daralyn had stopped in the kitchen. She stood there shivering, the muddy robe drawn around her, one hand clutching and unclutching the thick fabric.
His certainty in the yard faltered. He stood witness to a battered soul, a person who’d lived a life directly opposite from what normal meant to him. The idea that he could guide her onto a shared path with him seemed ludicrous. But she couldn’t afford his doubt, so he put it aside.
“Daralyn.”
She turned to him. The aftermath had set in, her gaze filled with misery and regret. Self-flagellation. He wasn’t going to allow that.
“Get me the hand towel by the sink.”
She picked it up and padded across the kitchen to him, moving as if she carried a bag of boulders. After he took the towel from her hand, a whimsical thing with purple flowers printed on it, he draped it over his wheel. Reaching out, he uncurled her hands from the robe, pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a damp weight.
Before she could shiver, he’d reclaimed her hand and brought her into his lap. He spoke softly. “Bring your legs up. Brace your feet against my push rim.”
She did, and she was curled up against him, his arm around her back. He used his other hand to clasp the towel and wipe off her legs. Then he tossed it away and clasped her thigh, the one not pressed against him, to keep her in that folded up position. She’d knotted her hands against his shirt front, tucking her head under his chin. Since he’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt when he took off his tie, he felt her cheek against his skin.
“Hold onto me with both arms.”
She slid them around him, and it freed his hands to push them back into her bedroom. Once there, he stopped by the bed, pulled back the covers. “Come get under the blankets.”
“I had such a nice time tonight. I really did.”
“I did, too. Still am. I’m right where I want to be, Daralyn. Get under the covers. You’re cold, and I don’t like that. Face the back window.”
That last direction won him a puzzled look, but she reluctantly left his lap. She settled under the covers on her side, facing away from him.
“Stay like that. I’m going to get in the bed behind you, help you be warmer.”
He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it. A peculiar stillness came over her, telling him she was aware of what he was doing. He pulled the undershirt over his head. Worked off the slacks and his shoes and socks. He didn’t usually wear underwear, since it was another layer of material that could crease and cause a skin issue. However, since he’d worn the suit tonight, he’d donned dark boxer briefs, which he was glad for now. He’d leave those on, sending the message he wasn’t going to ask for more from her.
He did a quick check with eyes and hands to confirm everything below the waist looked and felt good, no broken skin or blood.
“Can I look over my shoulder at you?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
When she did, concern crossed her expression as she noted a red mark on his thigh. He’d already seen it himself, knew it was probably something he’d hit when he’d fallen out of his chair. “It’s okay,” he said. “The skin’s not broken. It might bruise, but it’s not a big deal. Hey.”
Her face had creased like she was in pain. He leaned forward, bracing himself with one hand on the bed while he cupped her face. “Turn back toward the other way. I want to get you warm.”
“I’m okay.”
“I know that.” He tightened his grip, looked her in the eye. “Do as I say.”
She turned. He normally needed to rearrange his pillows to pad between his knees and other places susceptible to pressure sores, but this was fine for a short period. He didn’t want any barriers between them. When he was finally in the right position to put his arm around her waist, and she scooted her butt into the cradle of his pelvis,