Colters' Daughter

Chapter Twelve

Callie walked into the living room, drawing the robe tighter around her. It wasn’t that it was cold. In fact, the apartment was at a perfect temperature. Heat rose from the floors and a fire blazed in the hearth though she guessed it was a gas log.

Still, it looked inviting and she went to stand in front of it. When she turned her back to warm the hands she held behind her, she stared out the opposing window to the view of downtown Denver and distant mountains.

In a lot of ways, this reminded her of traveling across Greece and Italy with Max. She’d always backpacked and stayed in hostels or slept in train stations. Max was horrified at the idea that a young woman for all practical purposes was operating as a homeless person.

Callie had laughed and said for all practical purposes he was right. She had money but it had to be strictly rationed, and if she could get cheap accommodations or a place to camp, then she didn’t have to dip into her cash reserve, which meant she could travel even longer.

Max had put an end to all that from the moment Callie first let him make love to her. He’d taken over—not in an overbearing, assholish way—but rather he wanted to take care of her and proceeded to do just that.

He was firm. He was stubborn. But he wasn’t a jerk who got off on giving her orders.

She smiled as she remembered one particular conversation they’d shared in one of the sumptuous hotel rooms he’d reserved. She was on her knees on a thick, plush carpet not unlike the one in his apartment now.

Max had rubbed his hand up and down her cheek in an affectionate caress and asked, “Do I have your obedience, Callie?”

She wrinkled her nose and curled her lip in distaste. “I don’t like that word. I’m not a child. You aren’t my parents. I’m not some wayward twit who needs to be kept in line. Surely there has to be a better way to get your point across, Max. You know I love pleasing you. I need to please you. But please don’t use words like obedience, because it suggests something I don’t like.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her furrowed brow. “You worry too much, dolcezza. I never want to make you uncomfortable, to degrade you or make you feel any less than you are. If I ever cross that line, I hope you will, in true Callie fashion, kick my ever-loving ass.”

She grinned back at him. “You bet your ass.”

His face grew serious once more and he touched her cheek again. “Do I have your submission?”

She thought for a long moment about what he was asking for. To some, obedience and submission were probably the same thing. Not to her. Obedience suggested blind loyalty. No free will. Submission suggested a choice. A choice to place herself in the care of another. But with conditions. Trust. Always trust. Obedience didn’t necessarily equate to trust.

If someone was in a position of authority over another, they could command obedience and it would be far different than Callie offering her submission to Max. To give her care and trust to this man.

Finally she looked up at him, her brows drawn in seriousness. “Yes, Max. You have my submission. Willingly and joyfully.”

Callie sighed at the remembrance, and a shiver of delight skittered over her shoulders. They’d spent so many wonderful nights together. She’d submitted without regret. Until the day he’d left and hadn’t returned.

Frowning at the unhappy turn of her thoughts, she hugged her arms and walked away from the fire. She unwound the towel from her hair and dropped it on the floor as she came to stand in front of the window.

She didn’t hear Max’s approach. Didn’t know he was behind her until his hands closed over her shoulders and he brushed a kiss over her temple.

She turned instinctively into the warmth and comfort of his body. He hugged her close, wrapping those strong arms around her, and she tucked her head underneath his chin.

“I wonder if you know how glad I am to have you back where you belong.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything for a moment. It was easy to pretend that they’d never separated and that this was just an extension of the time they’d spent together in Europe.

Maybe he sensed her hesitancy because he pulled away and stared down at her with his intense gaze.

“What are you thinking?”

She started to respond but then wondered if she should really voice what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want to ruin what had been a perfect afternoon.

Max frowned and then tugged her toward the couch. He settled on the end and then pulled her down onto his lap until she was curled in his arms, her back against the arm of the sofa.

“Don’t pull any punches, Callie. Not with me. Whatever it is you were about to say, just say it. We won’t be able to move forward until we clear the air.”

She sighed and leaned her head over until it was pillowed on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about Europe. It was such a fantasy, so dreamlike when we were together. Every day was so perfect and I wondered if it was too good to be true. Then when you left and I finally came home, I convinced myself that’s all it was. Just a fantasy. It wasn’t meant to last.”

She shifted so she could look at him. She felt she owed it to him for what she was about to say.

“I wondered if that’s what this is. Another fantasy. Something too good to be true and if it will disappear just like before. I wonder if I’m deluding myself, and worse, I wonder how stupid I am for allowing it to happen all over again when I know you have so much power to hurt me.”

She thought he might be angry, but she couldn’t be anything less than honest. His answer surprised her, though.

“I understand why you feel that way,” he said roughly. “I don’t blame you. I know I’m asking a lot, particularly because I’m not only asking you for another chance, but I’m asking for your complete and utter trust. I’m asking you to cede power to me. I’m asking for your submission—again.”

She swallowed and nodded, glad that at least he understood her conflict. And her fear.

He smoothed his fingers over her still-damp hair, his gaze so intent on her that she had no doubt of his sincerity.

“I want you, Callie. I want us. I want to see where this takes us. I’ve tried it without you. I was miserable, and I think you were too. I think we’re better together.”

“I want us too,” she whispered. “There’s so much to talk about, though. So much we didn’t cover in Europe. I don’t even know what you do. My family asked, and I felt like the worst sort of idiot. I know nothing about you. And yet you know so much about me.”

Max pressed his lips to her forehead in a gesture so tender that her chest tightened. “That is what this week is for, dolcezza. Us. So that when we go meet your family, there is no doubt to anyone looking at us that you’re happy and confident.”

Her heart fluttered at the endearment he’d teasingly begun when they were in Italy. He’d taught her words of love and affection in many languages, but dolcezza had been her favorite. His eyes always burned a little brighter when he called her that.

“And to begin our week, I want you naked. I love the feel of your skin. I love the beauty of your body. My desire is that when we are in private I am never deprived of your sweetness.”

He pulled gently at the tie and then helped her to her feet. He stood in front of her and carefully peeled away the robe until she was naked in front of him, her skin soft and warm from the shower.

“Bellissima,” he murmured. “You are very beautiful, dolcezza. Even more so because you’re mine.”

He reached for a comb lying on the end table and then sat back on the couch, spreading his thighs. He patted the space between his legs.

“Sit so I can comb your hair while it’s still damp.”

She turned and then settled on the edge of the couch. His hands slipped over her hips as he steadied her, and then they wandered up her waist and around to cup her breasts.

He toyed idly with her nipples until they were rigid, and then he slid his hands up over her shoulders and gathered her hair at her nape.

“I love having the freedom to touch you however and whenever I want.”

“You’re such a spoiled man,” she teased.

“When it comes to you, I am.”

“You’re such a caveman.”

“And this is a problem?” he asked as he began working the comb through the ends of her hair.

“Evidently not.” She sighed. “I can’t resist you even when your knuckles are dragging the ground and you grunt stuff like ‘my woman’.”

“Damn right you’re my woman. What else am I supposed to say?”

She chuckled. “If I have to tell you then you require more work than I’m willing to put in to make you civilized.”

“Admit it, you love that I’m completely uncivilized.”

“Yes, I do, and I don’t want to know what that says about me.”

“It says you’re a woman with intelligent, discerning tastes.”

“You’re incorrigible!”

“You love me.”

She bit her lip when she would have said indeed she did. He’d said it in a light, teasing way. Like someone would say to a friend. Oh, you love me.

Only she did love him. So much it hurt. But it was the one part of herself she did hold back from him. Despite the fact that she’d forgiven him. She was willing to try again. She’d give him another chance. But she’d be a fool to make herself utterly vulnerable to him. Not yet.

“Tell me about you,” she said quietly. “What makes you who you are, Max?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But it shouldn’t be a difficult question. It shouldn’t cause you any issue to answer.”

She could picture his brows knitting as he pondered the best way to answer. He paused for a moment, his fingers tangled in her hair, the comb still in his hand. Then he began combing again. Long, steady strokes. Infinitely gentle.

“I made my fortune at a young age. For me it was necessity, not so much desire. It wasn’t that I craved fine things. Or even money. For me money wasn’t about the luxuries it could provide, but the necessities and what I could give to my mother and my sister.

“I wanted my mother not to have to worry. I wanted her to have the same lifestyle she had when she was married to my stepfather. I wanted my sister to go to the best schools and have all she needed.”

“How did you do all that? You make it sound so simple.”

He tugged at one particularly difficult tangle and then carefully worked out the snarl.

“I worked my ass off. Two, sometimes three jobs. Every penny I made at first was saved to buy my first property. I sold it for a ten-thousand-dollar profit and you’d have thought I hung the moon. I used all of it to make my next investment and with the second sale, I made a whopping six-figure profit. Part of it was luck. Being in the right place at the right time, but just as much of it was determination to succeed. Failure simply wasn’t an option.”

That she could believe. She couldn’t imagine Max failing at anything he set his mind to. To hear his story only confirmed what she already knew. Max was driven. He was ruthless when he had to be.

She shivered with sudden realization. He’d made it clear that she was his current ambition. And if his past was anything to go by, she didn’t have a chance in hell of resisting him.

But then she didn’t really want to.

Was she a temporary challenge? Had he pursued other women as he’d done her?

Silence fell between them as he continued his careful combing of her hair. He was meticulous, separating each of the strands and working the tangles out.

She wondered how much experience he had with taking care of other women. The thought was unwelcome and painful. It was also stupid. His past was just that. His past. Just like he couldn’t hold any of her past lovers against her. But it still cut at her to think of other women under his care. Submitting to him as she was submitting to him.

She frowned again. Had he had such relationships in the past? Surely he had. He was simply too comfortable and too adept at seeing to her every need. He was arrogant but not in a petulant fashion. He wore arrogance like it was his due. Like he was convinced, not trying to convince others.

And he was extremely confident and comfortable as someone always in control.

“You’re tense. What are you thinking now?”

She blushed. Heat crawled over her skin as he caught her out again.

“Callie,” he prompted.

“It’s just that you’re very good at this,” she mumbled. “I wondered how many other women you’ve shared this sort of relationship with.”

“Do you really want to know?” he asked bluntly. “Or are you just torturing yourself?”

She winced. “Both, I guess. It’s natural to be curious. And natural to discuss prior relationships. Don’t you think? Isn’t this the sort of thing all couples get into after a while?”

“I suppose it is. It’s a sticky subject though. If you aren’t prepared for the answer or if it hurts you, it’s best not to ask.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Never ask for an answer you aren’t prepared to receive.”

“I propose that I finish combing your hair, and then I need to make a few business calls. I’ve already made arrangements for dinner to be delivered as well as something for you to wear tomorrow. Those things should be arriving soon. Then, if you still want to have this discussion, we’ll talk about it while we eat.”

She nodded her agreement.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re supposed to be enjoying this.”

She closed her eyes, leaned back and once more allowed the pleasure of his attentions to seep back into her veins. But still, the image of another woman in her place unsettled her.