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  He touched her face, using just a single finger. “You don’t have to be here. I know this is difficult for you.”

  “Yes, but I realized during that wretched and lonely time at the hanger that I’m falling for you.”

  “You are, huh?” Lifting her chin, he lowered his head. “Lady, I want so much to get to know all of you and just as friends if that’s all you’re capable of. But I learned on this trip, as I was certain I was facing death, I want my life to be fulfilled in other ways. Work is all consuming, but it’s not everything. I never wanted a relationship, not really. I was content being a bachelor.”

  “And now?”

  Hovering his face over hers, he breathed out. “I want more. Much more. But I’m willing to take time and as much as you need. If you can trust me enough.” Want me enough.

  Stasha swallowed before rising onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his. The kiss was gentle, a sweet reminder of their intense connection.

  Electric jolts rushed through his muscles, every cell and he closed his eyes and captured her mouth, thrusting his arm around her and pulling her against his chest. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he could sense she was relaxing, falling into the moment. So heated. So alive. This was exactly what he’d always wanted.

  She wrapped her arm around his neck, clinging to him as the kiss continued, their tongues exploring. Tasting. A single moan pushed past her lips and she shuddered in his arms.

  When he released her, she licked around his mouth, taking her time, the move sensuous as well as inviting. “I want you, Boone Martin. I just want you.”

  Chuckling, he rubbed his fingers down the length of her back, cupping her ass. “You do?”

  “Don’t tease me. I can take anything but teasing tonight. I know you’re weak, but I crave every inch of your body.”

  “What about my heart?”

  She eased back, pressing her hand against his chest. “One step at a time. Okay?”

  Nodding, he kissed her forehead as he held her. Nothing felt so good as to have her in his arms. “When I thought I was going to die. You were my last thought. Your face, your voice and the way you touched me. I don’t know how to express the way I’m feeling.”

  “You just did.”

  “What are you looking for?” Easing back, he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. She was so cold.

  Swallowing, Stasha glanced up at the sky. “When I was a little girl, I used to sneak outside at night to study the stars. I’d make a wish, knowing that one day they would all come true.”

  “What did you wish for?” Boone whispered the question.

  “When I was younger, I used to wish that my parents didn’t argue, that they would simply get along. As I turned into a teenager, I wanted my special hero to take me away from the fighting. We never had much money, so my world was special, created from my imagination. My mother used to tell me that I’d end up an astronomer one day. When I was twelve, my parents gave me a telescope. It was a huge gift at the time. My father could barely put food on the table. I loved it. I would sit for hours searching for another world.” Shaking her head, she inhaled. “I think believing in other worlds kept me sane. Sounds ridiculous, but I realized what kind of a woman I wanted to be during those years.”

  “What happened to the telescope?”

  She dropped her head, a single whimper pushing past her lips. “My father destroyed it in a drunken rage. I was sixteen and turned my back on him after that. I learned to be self-reliant, but do you want to know something very odd?”

  Boone clenched his fist, anger boiling inside. No wonder she couldn’t trust anyone. “What’s that?”

  “I grew up hearing that men ruled the household. My mother obeyed. She was the most obedient woman I’d ever met. My friends would talk about how powerful their mothers were, attorneys and doctors, business owners and real estate agents. My mother stayed home. She took care of the house, had dinner on the table at six every night and made certain my father had clean clothes, a newspaper and his particular brand of whiskey. Disgusting, right?”

  “Not necessarily. There are many people who live a more traditional lifestyle, but one filled with love.”

  “That’s the difference I guess.” Stasha took a step back but kept her hand on his arm. “I knew my mother wanted more, but she used to tell me that she loved my father and accepted the way their marriage was going to be from the minute they started dating. She knew he was going to be the head of the household. She also knew she would marry him one day. Shit, she was fifteen and knew this.” Laughing, she took a sip of her drink. “And I hated every aspect of it. I made fun of her when I got older, screaming at her to get a life. I’ll never forget the day she slapped me. One time. She’d never done it before. I was shocked.”

  Boone leaned in, listening to every word.

  “She was a demure woman with so much grace. Not like me. She told me in her quiet and reserved voice that no one was perfect. No marriage was perfect. But, she knew she’d found her soul mate in my father and her life was complete.”

  “What did you say?”

  Stasha rolled her eyes. “Nothing. I stormed out of the house. Then I came back. Oh, it was a couple of hours, but I wanted to know more. She was very open, very frank with me. I think during the next hour, we had the most honest conversation I’d ever had with her. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. This is important,” he said, this time the tone of his voice more authoritative. She was beginning to open up, to learn he was trustworthy enough.

  “You’re amazing. You almost died and you’re listening to me blab on about my family.”

  “I’m not amazing, Stasha. I’m falling in love with you.” Boone cupped her chin, keeping her face turned toward him. “I’ve never said that before.”

  Her lower lip quivering, she gave him a half smile. “My mother would adore you. I know that in my heart. She admitted something that I think I always knew. My father spanked her, and he had since they were dating. He had rules and when she disobeyed, she was punished. I can look back now and see the various times she must have been disciplined. Closed doors at odd times. Loud music. Car rides on a Saturday afternoon.” Stasha shuddered, the action exaggerated.

  “And you were disciplined?”

  “Yes. Spankings remained in my house until I was sixteen I think. He was fair, and I respected him. Well, until he lost his job and fell into a bottle.” Leaning over the railing, she swirled her glass. “I’m a lot like my father in my actions. Brash. Nasty. Uncontrollable. But… I’m more like my mother in my beliefs.”

  For some reason, his hand was shaking. To think that this feisty and opinionated woman could want the same kind of lifestyle, even consider domestic discipline was almost too difficult to believe. “Meaning?”

  Stasha groaned before turning her head. “Meaning that I know I need discipline. I pushed so hard against the concept for years, but I know. I want a strong man, but I have to be myself too. I won’t sit at home and clean, cook and raise babies. That’s not my thing.” Her laugh was almost bitter.

  He thought about his answer, taking several sips of his drink before finding the courage. The realization hit him hard. She was asking him to share this with her, to give her a safe place to experience a loving heart and a firm hand. “You need a man who will love and adore you always, protect you with his life and provide an environment with strict rules as well as methods of discipline as needed. These kinds of relationships can be incredible and filled with more love, more joy and more truth than any I’ve known. Honor. Respect. Trust. These are vital. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.” The single word was said without hesitation.

  Boone could hear the strangled sounds as he breathed out. If he took this leap of faith, he realized he had to trust himself, his instincts and his needs, as he did of her. Polishing off his drink, he eased his glass down on the outdoor table then took her drink out of her hand, doing the same. He
held out his hand. “Then take my hand. I will be your lover, your protector and the man who keeps you safe. I will also be the man who provides the parameters you need. That is, if you accept.”

  Her entire body trembling, she blinked several times, tears sliding down her face. She remained where she was, her breath skipping.

  In the next few seconds, he’d thought he’d lost her.

  Then she took his hand.

  Chapter 9

  Honor. Respect. Trust. Love.

  My God, the man spoke of love. Stasha gripped his hand and his hold was more like a lifeline, yet a freeing moment for the woman inside. All the ugliness, all the bitter anger she’d kept buried so deep inside clawed at the surface, trying to break free. She’d told him one of her secrets. One. One… Blinking back the tears, she refused to allow the demons to drag her back into the darkened pit. No, she was going to live.

  Boone guided her into the house, his hand never leaving hers, his face glowing with what seemed to be joy, even pride. This seemed to be as important for him as well. She noticed his demeanor changed, as if the concept of almost dying had unlocked his private Pandora’s box. He was all male, commanding in a comforting manner. He was alive with excitement as well as hope. Love. Love! Yes, she loved him. Maybe she was crazy after only knowing him for a few days, but her heart ached, her mind reeling from so many thoughts, ideas for the future.

  Was she crazy?

  After walking into the kitchen, he released his hold. “When I was a boy, my mother took care of all the discipline in our house. And my brother and I were very bad children. Trust me. We’d get into all kinds of mischief. She was not the kind of woman who would allow any infractions to go unpunished. So…” He gave her a look as he opened the kitchen drawer.

  Stasha held her breath. Her pussy was wet, her nipples aching, and she felt like a little girl, ready to be punished for every bad deed.

  Boone sifted through items in the drawer then pulled out a wooden spoon. “One of her favorites. She actually had several that she purchased specifically for the use in spankings.” He eased the spoon onto the counter.

  “My father used them on me.”

  “Really?” He gave her an authoritative look before moving to another drawer, opening it then smiling as he pulled out a ruler.

  Smack!

  Slapping the hard, plastic piece against his hand, even the sound made her jump.

  Was her mouth actually watering as her thoughts drifted to receiving a spanking?

  “Another effective tool,” he said as he gave her a longing look. He gathered the two items. “Follow me.” The tips of the implements brushed against her waist as he walked out of the room.

  Her feet were heavy, and the anticipation was a combination of utter desire and an anxious level she hadn’t experienced in almost three years. She held her breath as he turned on a single light. Even the warm glow made her blink several times.

  Boone placed the spoon and ruler on the dresser then exhaled before opening a drawer, his hand sifting past underwear and socks. As he pulled a wooden brush into his hand, he nodded over and over again. “This was only used when we’d crossed certain lines. I hated being placed over her knee, my naked ass whipped for a solid ten minutes. I remember being unable to sit for a solid day.” He rubbed his hand over the bristles first then the smooth wood on the back. “I don’t know why I purchased this after I moved here.”

  “Wishful thinking?” Stasha blurted out, choking with laughter.

  “Maybe.” The brush was positioned just so next to the other items. “Hold on.”

  She remained where she was as he walked into the bathroom and her gut was churning, her mind reeling. Spank me. Dear God, spank me. This was really happening.

  Returning, he held the bath brush in his hand. “My brother loathed this one. She used to use it on the tops of our thighs. And yes, the spankings were almost weekly. I told you that we were difficult children.”

  A vision of the man she adored being spanked created a rush of heat prickling her skin.

  “Now, let’s see.” After rubbing the tip of his finger down the length of the brush, he eased it beside the other implements then walked to his closet door.

  Creeping further into the room, she leaned over, watching as he moved to a selection of belts. Now, she was on fire, her pussy juice soaking her already damp panties. There was no way she could breathe normally, not as the image of her naked body, draped over a set of pillows rushed into the back of her mind.

  He fiddled with the various leather straps, fingering and touching every belt. “Ah, the perfect one. I’ve had this belt for years. Well-worn leather and very strong.” Holding the piece over his head, he moved closer until he was only a few inches away. “Touch.”

  Every part of her tingling, she reached out, fingering the soft leather, the move cautious. She darted a glance into his eyes and inched even closer, cupping and rubbing her entire hand down the full length. The scent was powerful, creating a haze in her eyes and as she drank in the fragrance, she fell into a place of bliss.

  “The proper implement for very strict discipline. Don’t you agree?” Boone curled the two ends together, tugging then brushing the edge down the length of her arm. “Powerful. Succinct.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, sir.” His voice was alluring, soft yet touched with a quiet demand. She was learning her place and had never been so happy.

  Sliding the belt around her waist, he held it against her ass as he wrapped his other hand around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “This is what I’ve always wanted.” Giving her no time to answer, he crushed her mouth with his, the passion off the charts as he French kissed her open mouth. Every move riddled with desire, he allowed the belt to dangle between her legs.

  Stasha pressed her hand against his chest, her fingers digging in, succumbing to his requirements, to his raw and insatiable yearning. Hunger rustled through every cell, creating wet heat until she was breathless. Their tongues entwining, she moaned and undulated her body against his. His cock was hard, throbbing and submitting was the only choice she ever wanted to make.

  Releasing her, Boone grunted. “Undress for me.”

  The demand authoritative, she nodded before fumbling to remove her boots. Her fingers were numb as she struggled and knew he was watching her every move. She’d never been embarrassed in front of a man but today, she was skittish yet giddy. This was new and fresh in a way she hadn’t anticipated. As she yanked the shirt over her shoulders, she folded it slowly then placed it on the dresser beside the implements. Everything had to be perfect.

  Boone didn’t say a word, but his breathing was ragged, inhaling and exhaling several times.

  She dropped her head as she unfastened her jeans, shimmying to lower the tight material past her hips. The fold was difficult given her stiff fingers, but she managed then looked at the floor when she removed her panties and bra. Could he smell her almost desperate hunger?

  When she was naked, she held her breath, her arms in front of her groin. Flashes from the past, from a man who’d done nothing but take advantage of her created uncertainty. This wasn’t that asshole. This wasn’t torture. This was exactly what she needed.

  “Beautiful. You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with urgency. “Lie down on your back on the bed.

  “Yes, sir.” The request surprising, she did as she was told and issued a single moan. Her heart was beating, thumping against her chest. My God, she was wild with excitement. Boone understood her. He’d seen through her. As she stared up at the ceiling, she heard him as he walked to the dresser.

  When he returned, he peered down, rubbing her arm, her leg. “Lift your legs for me.”

  “What?”

  Smiling, he lifted a single eyebrow as he helped her into position, her legs straight, bent at her groin. “Hold them for me.”

  She’d never felt so exposed, so open for a spanking in her entire life. As she held her
legs, her ass completely exposed, she clenched her eyes shut.

  “We begin with the brush. Remain in position or we’ll have to start again.”

  “Yes, sir.” Had she whispered the words? Had she really allowed him to see her almost desperate need for a man’s control?

  “Twenty-five with the brush. Ten with the bath brush. Then the belt.”

  The belt. Oh, God!

  Smack! Pop!

  “Oooh!!” Her legs bent at the knees and she winced from the pain before shooting her legs back into position.

  Boone rubbed her ass and sighed. “What did I tell you?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “We start again.”

  Slap! Crack!

  “Oh, oh…” Tossing her head, she bit down and struggled to remain in position.

  Whack! Pop! Smack! Crack!

  His smacks were methodical, moving from one cheek to the other, every strike perfectly placed against her sit spot.

  Crack! Whap!

  Panting, she had forgotten how much a spanking could hurt.

  “You’re doing very well,” he whispered as he patted her ass.

  Slap! Pop!

  She could hear the cracking sounds and while she jumped every time, tears rushing to her eyes, she was happy. The dichotomy was surreal.

  Crack! Pop!

  “Excellent,” he murmured.

  Slap! Whack!

  She lost count of the sweet round of discipline but when his lips touched hers, she moaned.

  “Ten with the bath brush. Be a very good girl for me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Now, her voice was little more than a whisper.

  Whap! Whoosh!

  Jerking up, her eyes were open wide. The strikes were on the backs of her thighs. She could only think about his mother and her methods.

  He ignored her infraction.

  Smack! Pop!