He paused a second as if to be sure she’d stay. His fingers curled around her hips and tightened into an unbreakable grip as he pulled her bottom higher. And then he truly started. Hard stroke after hard stroke, movements changing—pace never relenting.

The primal rhythm wakened nerves, and a spot inside her grew more and more sensitive. With a shiver she clenched around him, needing more.

“You are a never-ending surprise,” he said lightly, and he changed the angle of his cock, driving into that responsive area with short, demanding stokes.

Her insides drew together, like a sun gathering into itself, and…and…the area went nova. Blinding light and heat shot outward, searing and sizzling all the way to her hands and feet, wave after wave with each undulating spasm of her core.

With a rumble of enjoyment, he plunged deep. Over and over he yanked her onto his cock, before he pressed fully in and came in urgent pulses. Even after he finished, he held her immobile, and she could hear his deep, even breathing, as disciplined as everything about him.

She lifted her head.

He pushed her down again. “Stay put for a minute, Abigail.” His voice was husky, lower than normal, a little rough, and he’d said her name…oddly. Slower. As if uncertain he liked the taste of it. Then he sighed and withdrew.

She waited, unsure if she should move. Unsure if she could. Her insides rippled as if still being pounded.

He rose to stand beside the bed. His fingers closed over her nape, his grip unyielding, and a hard slap on her bottom made her yelp at the unexpected pain. “This is for your inability to stay where you were told. Next time you won’t forget.”

A stinging slap landed on her right buttock, then two more. Her skin stung. Burned.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Ow, ow, ow.

“Very good.” The distance was gone from his voice, and a knot in her chest released. His hands caressed her bottom, spreading the pain, easing it. “You have a gorgeous ass, and it holds handprints beautifully.”

Oh, well, how nice for me. Only she couldn’t summon any anger, not under the gentle touch of his hands. “Thank you, sir.”

He lifted her off the bed in a head-spinning move and set her on her feet. “Go shower. The pups are waking up.”

She took a step away, feeling…lost. After being so close to him when she’d come, he’d shoved her facedown as if he didn’t want to look at her, and now he was pushing her away. She rubbed her arms. How could she stand next to someone she’d just made love with and feel lonely?

He said something in French under his breath and pulled her into his arms, surrounding her with warmth and strength and comfort. His long black hair fell forward, curtaining her from the world as he pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you, Abby. I enjoyed being with you. Perhaps more than I expected to.”

The unhappiness eased slightly.

But he didn’t stay.

Chapter Ten

With an exasperated grunt, Xavier laid the pen down on his office desk and walked over to his wall of windows. Fog had rolled in off the ocean, and the normally spectacular view of San Francisco Bay from the Financial District was gray and grim.

He couldn’t see Dark Haven in the South of Market from here. Instead he looked toward the north, where Abby fostered puppies that needed her help. And she’d given it, just as she’d given him anything he asked for.

Shame weighed him down as he thought of how he’d left her so abruptly. Spending the night had been foolish, although he hadn’t had much choice. No Dom abandoned a submissive unable to care for herself.

But to have taken her in her own bed? Idiot. He always insisted a woman come to his house, so when he was gone her home would contain no painful memories to expunge.

Catherine had left her ghost behind in their home. Every room reminded him of the places they’d made love, her laughter at the dining table, her on her knees in the foyer waiting for him to return.

Over the years the phantom images had faded. Now she haunted him only occasionally…during sex. A woman’s features would blur into Catherine’s freckled face, her vibrant red hair, and her blue-green eyes. The occurrences left him guilt-ridden, as if he’d deceived both his wife and the woman in his bed.

Saturday night with Abby had been…different. She had a comfortable personality, giving and intelligent, sweet with a wry sense of humor. Her subconscious response to him was compelling, and in the club, she’d given him one of the prettiest orgasms he’d ever seen. He enjoyed the musky spice of her scent, her husky moans, and her surprise when her body overrode her mind.

He rubbed his chin, remembering her sweetness with the puppies and how she’d put their needs before her own. He not only liked her, but his urgency to bury himself inside her quivering, soft body had been unsettling. Only his wife had tested his control like that—and in taking Abby, needing her, glorying in her, he’d felt as if he betrayed Catherine.

That was foolish, of course. Catherine was dead. Like a blazing meteor, she’d lived her life to the fullest and departed as quickly. She would yell at him for the way he’d dealt with her death.

He shook his head. But I don’t want a replacement. He had no intention of replacing his sun goddess with a moon maiden—he just needed a new slave.

Not someone like Abby. The teacher was a Dark Haven staff member. He owed her his protection and some instruction. Nothing more. And he needed to stay within those boundaries despite the temptation to take her home. If he didn’t, she’d end up hurt in the end. Avoiding her would be better; she’d understand without an explanation.

He should ask Simon to find her some experienced, reputable Doms to play with. Yet the idea of her with someone else was unpalatable. As he watched the fog start to dissolve under the weight of the sun, he knew Abby wasn’t the only one who might be hurt.

Mouth tight, he yanked the curtains shut.

At his desk he frowned at the pile in his in-box and the long list of e-mails displayed on the screen. This hadn’t been a productive Monday morning.

Two e-mails and one letter later, his middle-aged administrative assistant tapped on the door before opening it. “Marilee Thompson is here. Rona Demakis sent her.”

“Yes, Rona warned me.” The hospital administrator said Marilee had escaped from an abusive husband and ended up in Rona’s hospital with internal bleeding. Two children. No skills. No job history. Rona suspected the woman couldn’t read.

“Bring her in, please.”

Short and round, Ms. Thompson might have been pretty if her face hadn’t been puffy and purple-green from bruising. Xavier tamped down his anger and motioned toward the sitting area on the far side of the office. “Ms. Thompson, please have a seat.”

“Mr. Leduc.” Clad in an ugly brown skirt and white shirt, she stood straight, hands trembling. “I…I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to have taken your time.” She turned to leave.

He shook his head. Although comfortable, his office was designed for intimidation. Just another tool for a canny businessman to employ. But meeting her downstairs might have been wise. Too late now. “Marilee, if you leave, Rona will yell at me.” He smiled and saw her relax a fraction. “Please, sit.”

She perched on the edge of a leather chair. Abby’s smallest puppy had shown the same timidity when venturing too far from the pack.

Xavier sat on the couch, stretching his legs out. See, I won’t attack. “I admire your courage in leaving your husband and coming all the way here from the Midwest.”

She stared at her hands.

“My mother was in a similar situation. She ran to San Francisco from New Orleans.”

That brought her head up. Her eyes were dark brown, the color of his mother’s. “And she took you along?”

“Not exactly.”

“She left you with him?” Marilee frowned.

“No, she wouldn’t have done that. I was at a European school and didn’t even know she’d left.” When she’d missed her weekly calls, Xavier had called home. His father had been incoherent with rage—and alcohol. Xavier’s lips tightened. He hadn’t known his father had turned abusive, but the neighbor had described his mother’s condition when she ran. “I stowed away on a boat, worked my way across the ocean, then hitchhiked to San Francisco.”

“My goodness. How old were you?”

“I turned seventeen two days after I arrived. I was certain I could help her.” Xavier gave her a rueful look. “Instead I was one more burden.”

“You poor baby.” Her compassionate expression showed she no longer saw him as intimidating but as a child like one of her own.

Softhearted women pulled at him every time.

“My mother deserves the sympathy. She had no marketable skills and ended up holding down three jobs.” She’d insisted he finish school, which meant he could only work part-time. Food wasn’t plentiful; clothes were secondhand, treats nonexistent. Then his father had died, leaving everything to Xavier. At least he’d had a few years to pamper his mother before she died. “But she never gave up.”

Marilee’s spine stiffened in an obvious sign that she wouldn’t quit either.

“Rona said she found you somewhere to stay while you heal. Meantime, we’ll concentrate on finding you a job.”

“Once the doctor gives the okay, I can clean. Bus tables. Do yard work.”

No heavy physical work for a while, Rona had said. But light labor usually required reading. “Marilee, I need you to be honest with me. How much can you read? Do you know your letters? Can you sound out words at all—or do you memorize them?”

Her head went back down, her hands clenched.

He waited patiently. As a Dom he’d learned that silence often extracted more answers than persuasion.

She drew in a slow breath. “I’ve learned the letters—I just can’t do anything with them. I memorize what words look like.”

“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy to share.”

With his smile, she relaxed. “Job hunting isn’t easy. Not when…”

“Stella’s will find you a job, and unless you object, we’ll get you reading classes as well.”

The spark of hope in her dark brown eyes was his reward.

After she’d left, Mrs. Benton came into his office. “I helped Ms. Thompson set up an appointment tomorrow at Stella’s.”

“Excellent. Have one of the secretaries—a kind one—assist her in filling out an application.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Benton waited, not bothering to take notes. The woman had a trapdoor memory.

He rubbed his chin, considering. Pam Harkness wasn’t the most experienced placement counselor but had a way with frightened women. “Assign her to Ms. Harkness. Let her know we need to find Marilee a job, or Simon will kill me.”

His admin laughed. “We’ll do our best.” And they would, simply because they cared.

Most of the Leduc Industries and Stella’s personnel had experienced the same nightmare—lacking skills and unable to find a job.

“I will entrust her to your care, then. Thank you, Mrs. Benton, and please keep me informed as to her progress.” As the door closed, Xavier smiled. When he’d hired the insecure, almost-in-tears Mrs. Benton, he’d never imagined how a degree in business would transform her into someone so formidable.

Xavier turned back to his work, firmly putting aside his new ghost—one with wispy blonde hair, pale skin, and unhappy eyes the color of the fog outside.

* * *

So. What now? After her Saturday receptionist duty, Abby walked through the crowd on Dark Haven’s main floor, trying not to look for Xavier.

He hadn’t shown up on Friday. DeVries—Xavier’s Enforcer—had uncollared her and Lindsey. Abby’d been nervous, but he’d grinned and reminded her that he couldn’t whip her without Xavier’s permission. After he’d strolled away, Lindsey admitted the Dom scared her—almost as much as he turned her on.

Talk about insanity. Being attracted to deVries was like a moth saying, Hey, let’s go check out that awesome bonfire.

Unfortunately Abby had also flown too close to a fire—the dangerous one called my liege.

This evening Xavier had arrived late, and when he’d come into the reception area, he’d been distant, both emotionally and physically. She hadn’t realized how often he’d invaded her personal space until he stopped. Her wings were definitely scorched, and she’d hit the ground hard.