Free A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) by Fallon Blake Page B

difficult. When she was finally in her car and pulling out of the driveway, she gave him a polite wave. He waved back before going inside. As soon as he was out of sight, she started shaking. Tears threatened to spill. Remarkably, she made it home before she fell apart.

Chapter Five
     
    The blank computer screen mocked Gen with its glaring whiteness. Maybe not, but it sure as hell seemed that way. She’d been staring at it, stylus and drawing tablet in hand, for over an hour now. She’d had dinner with Brian two days ago and she still couldn’t think straight. She was embarrassed for the way she’d acted, nervous and awkward, full of shame and hurt. He’d warned her about the lack of emotional involvement and was very blunt about how he would use her. And she’d felt used, gloriously, sinfully used. She just hadn’t expected to want his affection afterward, but she had. She would have given anything for it.
    That night had been so different, so unlike her previous experiences. She’d never had a problem disconnecting herself when scenes were over. With Brian there were no crowds, no elaborate props, no roles to play. Only him, only her, and that was more powerful than she’d imagined it would be. The game she played was a risky one. If she kept her head on straight she’d be fine. She simply wouldn’t allow herself to get attached.
    Go ahead, lie to yourself some more.
    She set her tablet down with a sigh. She was already attached. She craved him now, even after the exacting way he’d cut off their scene. She could hide behind her sarcasm, pretending her skin was tougher than it really was, but that wouldn’t change how he made her feel. Could she carry on a relationship this intimate and be happy without emotional reciprocation? Would his dominance be enough? It would have to be. He’d made it clear it couldn’t be any other way.
    A knock sounded at her door. Probably Ivy, dropping by to blab about her latest boy-toy. Gen checked the peephole. The very last thing she expected to see was Chris standing on her front porch toting two armfuls of shopping bags. Glancing back at her messy living room, she sighed. Why couldn’t unexpected guests show up on days she actually cleaned?
    “Just a minute!” In a flurry, she dashed around her apartment, tossing clothes and junk into her bedroom. She also cleared the coffee table of empty soda cans and stacked her horror magazines in a neat pile. She glanced around to see if she’d missed anything. The place wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
    Breathlessly, she opened the door. “Hi, Chris.”
    He smiled brightly. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hawthorn. May I come in?”
    “Of course. And it’s Gen. Ms. Hawthorn makes me feel like a middle-aged divorcee.”
    Chris laughed as she held the door open and stepped inside.
    “So… What brings you here?”
    “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced. Is there someplace we could sit?”
    She shut the door behind him, curious about the packages he carried. “Sure.” She gestured toward the couch. “Excuse the mess.”
    “It doesn’t look messy. It looks lived in. You have a lovely little place.” He lined up the bags on the floor beside the sofa then glanced over the art she had covering nearly every inch of wall space.
    People looking at her stuff always made her nervous. Of course he didn’t know it was her work mixed in with the old horror movie posters. She wasn’t going to volunteer that bit of info unless he asked for it. “Oh thank you. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
    “Tea would be wonderful, thank you,” he replied, taking a seat. “The art, is it digital?”
    “All except for the large one in the middle. That one’s an oil.”
    “Such an exquisite blend of creepy and elegant. Are these by local artists?”
    That was such an awesome compliment. “You could say that.” She wandered into the kitchen, filled the kettle and put it on the stove. She inspected the cupboard, frowning at the one