Page 15 of Renegade
Chapter Five
Gemma
It’s ten o’clock at night, my bags are packed for San Francisco, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve lost my mind asking Walker to teach me how to be what Declan wants. I pace around my small bedroom, wishing I could call McKenzie. Am I completely insane? Is it going to be weird, or somehow change things between me and Walker? I quickly rule that out. Of course it won’t. He’s been my best friend for nine years; if something was going to happen between us, it already would have. Walker definitely doesn’t think of me like that. And I know I can’t possibly compete with the string of gorgeous women he always seems to have hanging around.
In fact, that’s what makes this so perfect. No romantic feelings. No expectations. No complications. I can focus on learning what I need to know to get the man I’ve spent my whole life searching for. And there’s no one I feel safer or more comfortable with than Walker. Who knew he was dominant? Well, now that I’m a little more educated on the subject, it’s pretty obvious. The way he always takes command of the situation and the people around him…that look he gets when he wants something…the way he won’t take no for an answer and you find yourself doing whatever he wants before you even realize it. Yeah, he’s definitely got that aura of power and command women described on some of the blogs I read.
But since there’s nothing romantic between us, I can focus on learning what I need to know before Declan comes back. Okay, maybe I felt a little sizzle of awareness when Walker caught me when I fell inside the door last night. God, the memory of his warm, strong hands on my bare skin is branded in my brain, but I’m sure that’s just because I accidentally climbed into bed with him naked the night before. It’s a simple biological reaction, like muscle memory, to the feel of the hard plane of his chest, his arms around me, his thick, hard cock against my ass. Crap! I shake my head, determined to exorcise that particular memory. Walker is my friend. Nothing more.
I’m just not sure what happens next. He’d agreed to teach me how to be submissive, and then smoke started coming out of the oven from the forgotten pizza I’d put in right before Walker came home and I discovered he was a dominant. By the time we put out the fire and scraped the remains of blackened cheese off the floor where it fell when I panicked and tried to grab the burning pizza with a pair of tongs, we were laughing so hard that the moment to discuss exactly how this was going to work was over. Walker looked at the ruined pizza and suggested we order takeout after all (but not pizza, he said, still laughing). So we slurped noodles and binge-watchedFriendsfor two hours, and neither of us had mentioned it again the rest of the night. Now I don’t know how to bring it up.
My phone pings, distracting me, and I glance down at it. It’s Declan.Just wanted to make sure you got the links I sent earlier and were able to open them, I read.
Oh, yeah. I got them all right. I spent half of the day I should have been working reading every damn thing with the fascination of a twelve-year-old boy who just discovered his father’s stash ofPlayboymagazines, getting more and more aroused, and proportionately more and more despondent, because I realized I was in way over my head and I had no idea how I was going to fake knowing all this. I had come home to an empty apartment, intent on a quick little date with my fingers to alleviate the tension that had been building all afternoon, and instead stumbled across Walker’s pictures and the perfect solution to my problem.
I glance back at my phone. I’m going to amaze Declan with my “experience” when he gets back. He doesn’t need to know that Walker is going to help me. When the two of them met, there was some palpable tension. Men! For a minute, I’d wondered if I was about to get peed on. Nope. Definitely best not to mention Walker to Declan.
I got them, I text back.Leaving for San Francisco tomorrow on business. Looking forward to…talking…when you get back.
I smile to myself and hit send.
He replies immediately.Mark your calendar for the 14th. We’ll…talk…then. If you still want to.
Shit. That’s only twelve days from now. I don’t have time to waste.
There’s no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I dig through my lingerie drawer, pulling out the skimpiest black lace thong I own, along with a sexy black push-up bra that actually gives me some cleavage and just barely covers my nipples. From all the pictures I’ve seen, black lace lingerie seems to be the clothing of choice for submissives. If they’re not naked, that is. Before I can second-guess myself, I exchange my yoga pants and comfy T-shirt for the barely-there bra and panties.
I linger at my bedroom door, suddenly nervous for some reason. It’s Walker, I remind myself. Taking a deep breath, I saunter out into the living room. Walker doesn’t notice me at first. His laptop is open, and he’s studying something intently, his brow furrowed with concentration. Then he looks up and our eyes meet, and suddenly the air feels like it does just before a summer thunderstorm—thick and silent and charged with electricity.
My heart stops as his gaze travels slowly over my body, and for a minute, I think he’s going to crack a joke, or say something about us having an early flight to catch or not having the right equipment, and I brace myself for the disappointment. But instead, he wordlessly pushes his chair back, gets up, and walks slowly over to where I’m standing.
“You just failed lesson number one.” His voice is deep and husky, and I suddenly find my stomach inexplicably fluttering.
“Oh?” My voice sounds ragged, and I take a deep breath, determined to sound like the confident, sexy badass that I am. Even if Walker is looking at me with a heat I’ve never seen before in those whiskey-colored eyes. “What lesson was that?”
He threads his fingers in my hair and tugs lightly, forcing my head back so I’m looking up at him. “The dominant is always in charge. That means I call the shots, and I decide when we start, not you. Although you do look pretty fucking amazing, so I’ll let it slide this time.”
“You’ll ‘let it slide’?” I say in mock outrage. I try to push him away with my hands on his chest, but he grabs them in his, and with one hand holding both of my wrists, he lifts them above my head and pins them to the wall. Holy fucking shit.
“This time,” he repeats, and for the first time, I can see why people react the way they do to him. Walker’s quietly authoritative tone is more intimidating than a hundred men raising their voices. “I can see this is going to be the challenge for you, Gemma.” His lips twitch, and humor sparks in his eyes. “You like to be in charge. You can’t let go, can you?”
“Yes, I can.”
He looks at me dubiously, eyebrows raised.
“I can!” I insist.
“Close your eyes.” His voice is soft, but it’s an unmistakable command.
“What?”
“Just do it. Don’t think. Don’t argue.”
I know a test when I hear one. I close my eyes, wondering what he’s going to do. Long seconds seem to tick by, and then his lips brush over mine ever so gently. They’re warm and soft and fuller than I would have expected. It’s quick, barely even a kiss, just his lips grazing over mine, but the butterflies are back, their wings beating furiously in my tummy, and there’s an inexplicable heat searing through my veins.
I open my eyes to find his face mere inches from mine, his eyes wide with the shock that I’m sure is reflected in mine. What the hell was that? Then he clears his throat, releases my wrists, and takes a step backward, and the moment has passed.
“Okay. We’ll continue tomorrow.” He turns to go.
