Rolling my eyes, I go back into the bedroom to find Rourke still dead to the world. After changing the alarm to give Rourke two more hours of sleep, I climb back into bed and cuddle against him, hoping it won’t be the last time.
This time when the alarm goes off Rourke gets to it first. I feel his body freeze. My name comes out of him eerily calm: “Olivia, why is the alarm set for seven o’clock?”
“Because I called Doreen and had her cancel your first two appearances so you could get more sleep.”
He sits up, moving away with me. “You did what?” The words are ice, he’s daring me to repeat it.
“Rourke, you were so tired last night you were slurring your words. You cannot keep running on four or five hours a night. I’m well aware there is a Special Forces trick where you can, but it’s been almost twenty years and you cannot. You need sleep like any regular human being.”
“You do not decide what I do or don’t need. You overstepped, too damn far.” His back is to me as he puts his robe on. Then he’s gone, closing the door with a firm click.
Damn it. I close my eyes, wondering just how much I fucked up. I’m stunned I managed to fall asleep when I wake up an hour later on my own. Shit, shit, shit. I almost run out of the room, even though I know he’s gone.
Cheryl shakes her head. “He was not happy. He refused to say anything to me about it. Although, you will never believe this, the breakfast he was supposed to go to, almost every single attendee got food poisoning. Several events have been cancelled for the day because of it. You saved him from food poisoning maybe he’ll forgive you for it.”
I’m not holding out any hope of quick forgiveness even if I had saved Rourke from a bullet. I shiver as I remember the ice in his voice when he told me I overstepped. The day drags by. I’m not really expecting it, but it does hurt when by three there is still no call from Rourke. He’s called me every day, usually around noon, just to say hi and check on me. When the call doesn’t come I wilt a little.
A little after seven o’clock, after Cheryl and I have finished dinner, there’s a knock at the door. I check the door to see a tall, blond man. “My name is Kenny, Mr. Vega sent me to pick up Ms. Casey.”
I open the door. “Pick me up and take me where?”
The guy shrugs. “He said you’ll find out when you get there.”
Damn it. With Rourke there’s no way of knowing. Tomorrow is my day off, but the idea of leaving Cheryl alone sends my eyes to her with concern. She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Running back into the bedroom I wasn’t sure I would get to share with Rourke after today, I change into a black maxi dress that just might not embarrass me or Rourke. Sliding my feet into flats, I grab my purse and cell phone. The guy is waiting by a black Range Rover, with the passenger door open for me. Once I’m inside he closes the door, then walks around the front. He gives me a small smile when he gets in. When he starts the car a flood of opera rushes out of the speakers, and he fumbles to turn it down. “Sorry. I listen when I’m stressed. Rourke was insistent I get you to come with me without me upsetting you or touching you.”
Tension eases in me. Okay, so if he didn’t want me upset then this might not be so bad. I don’t bother asking again, as I’m pretty sure I know where we are going when we turn toward 360, which is also known as Capital of Texas. Pretty much every major road in Austin has two names, like Highway One is Mopac after the railway line that runs along beside it being the Missouri Pacific rail line. The road we are on now is Ben White Boulevard and Highway 71. It’s a thing everyone bitches about when they first move here. Since I’ve lived here my whole life, I just shrug.
Then we turn up toward the hills onto a road I’ve never been on before, and I relax. It’s really dark, with only the dim glow of light from houses off the road besides the headlights. Okay, now I’m really glad Rourke doesn’t drive all the way home during festival season. There is no warning before a large two-story house done in an Italian Tuscan style is in front of us. It’s a mellow mustard yellow, complete with a huge rustic wooden door. The guy has gotten out and opened my door while I’m still staring dazed at the gorgeous house. I slide out of the car.
He hands me something. “Here’s the key. He’ll be here soon.”
Even though there are lights along the outside of the house, I’m grateful the guy waits until I have the door open b
efore he leaves. Once I’m inside, my jaw drops. This place is beautiful, it really is, in the rural Italian design with stone walls and dark thick wooden beams across the ceiling. The chandelier is bright, made with wrought iron but not overwhelming. I walk through the house slowly: there is a large formal living room, a formal dining room, a library, an office, a less formal living room on one side of a huge dream kitchen in browns, oranges, and yellows, then an area to eat in the kitchen. French doors lead out to an enormous backyard with a huge pool, hot tub, and green grass with roses growing up the side of the wrought-iron fence. The view off the side of the hill is a picture postcard of the 360 bridge.
From far away I hear a door close, and I run back inside. I meet Rourke in the kitchen. His face gives nothing away. “I’m sorry, I overstepped,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, just bends down and tosses me over his shoulder, slapping my ass hard, as he makes his way to the curving wooden stairs. Oh god, please don’t let him drop me. I’m trying to ignore the way my body responded to the slap to my ass when he does it again, sending vibrations from my core out to the rest of my body. I bite back my moan.
The world flips when I’m tossed on a thick, fluffy bed, not very gently. He shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “Damn it, I’m pissed at you.”
He’s pacing the room. I nod. Anything to ease his anger. I pull off my dress. He stops, shaking his head. “I checked with Doreen. If she had said you were needed, I wouldn’t have said a word. I would have gone back into the room and woken you up. Please, know I didn’t do it lightly. I knew you’d be angry, I deserve your anger, but I did it because I care and was concerned about you and no other reason.”
I’d worn my lone sexy set of panties and bra in a sheer black. Even as he bites his lip, he shakes his head. “Using your body to get you out of trouble isn’t going to work.”
“You could spank me again...show me what happens when I’m bad.” I pull down the panties to my knees, then roll onto my back, sliding them off and offering him my ass.
“That wouldn’t be a punishment, you little brat. I know you liked it when I slapped your ass.” My eyes go wide as I turn over. “Why do you think I did it twice? The first time was just to get you to stop moving around. I felt your response and smelled your pussy gush from it. The second time confirmed it when you rubbed yourself against me like a cat in heat.” I blush, embarrassed, ashamed, worried he’ll think I’m a freak. His hand goes into my hair. “Don’t look like that, if you liked it then there’s nothing wrong with it. If you want a spanking, sweetheart, I’ll give you one. Even though your punishment isn’t supposed to be something you want, and I don’t like the idea of spanking you while I’m angry.”
“So there goes my offer of you fucking me rough and angry, because I like that too.” I sit back on my knees as I consider the problem. “Same with me giving a blow job anytime you want, as often as you want.”
Rourke starts laughing, and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. When he looks down at me, a smile on his beautiful face, he sighs. “Never do it again.”
I bite my lip. “Never do it again or never try and take care of you again? I can’t promise you that.”
His hand tightens in my hair then yanks back my head. Oh god, I’m a freak because I feel my breasts swell and nipples tighten in response. I pant his name. He shakes his head. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. Right now I need to fuck you too badly. If you want rough, then I can deliver the way I’m feeling right now.”