“You’re never going to change your mind about me. About us. Are you, Lys?” The pain in his words was palpable, but only his eyes reflected the emotion. The rest of his body remained still. Back straight, legs braced shoulder width apart, hands curled into loose fists where they rested in the crooks of his bent elbows.
“There is no us, Michael.” Her denial was softly spoken, but Lyssa saw him flinch. She might have already made the decision to go along with the Rite of First Claim, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to roll over and play dead for this man after he’d hurt her last time. If he wanted her for the next thirty days, he was going to have to work for it.
He drew a slow breath, uncrossed his arms, and tucked his unbent fingers into the hip pockets of his jeans. “There is. I may have fucked up the last time you agreed to a date, but not this time. I’m claiming my month.”
Lyssa tilted her head to the left. “Your month?”
“The thirty days guaranteed me by the Rite of First Claim. I claim you as my submissive for thirty days.”
“Why?” Lyssa turned away and moved into the kitchen. Three pamphlets she’d missed sat like neon signs on the counter. Moving quickly, she scooped them up and carried them to the catchall drawer. After shoving them inside, she barely closed it when Mike pulled her around to face him.
“Damn it. I’m tired of slamming my head against that fucking brick wall you’ve surrounded yourself with.”
“I never asked you—”
“No, you never did,” Mike admitted, his grip softening, his other hand rising to rub his thumb over her lips, then along her jaw. “Most of the wounds I have are self-inflicted, Lyssa. And I really don’t mind them.”
Lyssa remained silent. She fought the urge to nestle her chin into his hand, to ease just the slightest bit closer so the heat emanating from his body sank into hers.
“I’ve never lied about how I feel. I’ve told you for years that I love you, but you’ll never believe me, will you?” Mike inched closer, sandwiching her between his body and the counter behind her.
His declaration sent a tremor through her. Lyssa had heard him say it before, but she knew he only thought he loved her. Once he discovered the secret she’d kept from him—about their lost little girl—his “love” would certainly crumble to dust. “It’s not true, Mike. You know what you feel isn’t real. It’s based on the fact that I keep telling you no.”
“You can believe that if it makes you feel safe, but you’re wrong.” Mike shrugged. “I’m tired of wanting you all the fucking time and not having you.” He pressed a hard, brief kiss to her lips. His body pressed against hers. “I wake up wanting you. I go to sleep wanting you. In four goddamn years, Lys, I haven’t been interested in touching another woman, let alone having sex.” The chuckle that slipped from his lips at her surprised expression was self-deprecating rather than amused.
“I never asked you to—” Lyssa protested. His words were just further proof that his feelings related to sex, not real affection.
Mike shook his head. “You didn’t have to, pet. It’s just the way we Halsey’s are made. When we find our mates, we don’t stray.” His forehead dipped into the curve between her shoulder and neck. “I’m tired of wanting what you say I’ll never have, honey.”
Every word was like a knife through her chest. Lyssa wanted to cry out, but she couldn’t. A single life, a life without the threat of repeating her parents’ errors of mistaking lust for love, was something she’d chosen for herself. One without the uncertainty of a man’s professed affections followed by his abuse and rejection had been the primary goal that had helped Lyssa survive the nightmare of her childhood and the heartbreaks of her adult life. It was easier to be alone than to have an angry, bitter man snarling insults and condemnations at her. It was better to suffer loneliness than to trust three little words and have her heart ripped out and crushed again.
“Then leave me alone,” Lyssa told him.
Each word was harder than the last to get out. If he accepted her rejection, he’d just go on thinking his love was unrequited. She needed him to stop caring. To stop believing the lie he’d somehow convinced himself was the truth.
“If I thought it was what was best for you, love, I would. In a heartbeat. Right now.” His head rose, and his gaze met hers. His body rubbed against hers, reacquainting her with the feel of the thick length of his arousal. “But it isn’t, so I won’t.”
Mike watched the expressions flit across Lyssa’s face. On the long drive from his brother’s house and then to the suburban housing development where Lyssa lived, Mike had rehashed the arguments he’d presented to Bryce and the voiced cautions of his brother and sister-in-law. Neither of them knew about the date he’d canceled years ago. Exhaustion no longer clouded his judgment, and emotion was set aside as he analyzed the likelihood of Lyssa submitting to him. He was sure she’d use his abandonment when she’d told him it was important that he meet her against him.
If he couched her submission as a responsibility connected to her membership at the Club, it would only bring out the fact that he’d obtained and paid for Lyssa’s membership with the Diablo Blanco Club. Not a discussion he felt comfortable having at this juncture in their relationship.
The next option was the one he’d adopted. Leaning on the rationale David hinted at in his last phone call, Mike's intent when he pulled into Lyssa’s driveway was getting her to see that conforming to the Rite of First Claim would be in both his and her best interests. It all came back to breaking through the walls to get Lyssa to trust her heart. And to trust
him
with her heart. If he believed Mattie and his instincts, Lyssa’s heart and body already submitted to him; that only left her mind. Which meant informing her of the new parameters of her world was his next step.
“And if you’d only admit it, you don’t want me to leave you alone,” he added without rancor or taunting.
Lyssa shook her head even as her hips rolled against his, caressing his cock. “Yes, I do.”
Mike slid one hand beneath the oversize sweatshirt Lyssa wore. A hum of appreciation slipped from his lips as he caressed the full curve of her breast without the barrier of a brassiere. He circled his finger around the firm peak before pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. “Then what’s this, pet?”
Mike played with her nipple for long seconds, enjoying the stifled groan and the way her body swayed close to him as he moved a step back. “Only hours away from each other and I’ll bet your panties are wet and your pussy is aching to be filled.”
She swallowed but didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s an aberration.”
“Prove it to me, Lyssa. Four years ago, you didn’t mind being with me. Last night, you enjoyed it as much as I did. And just like me, you want another taste.” Mike leaned close, stroking her lips with the tip of his left forefinger, while he used the fingers beneath her shift to squeeze one of her soft, round breasts. “We’ll both always want another sip, one more night.” He cupped her jaw with his fingers, turning her face up to him. “We’ll always need just one more fuck.”
“Maybe you will—” Lyssa leaned back.
“Oh, I promise you’ll need it as well.” Mike rubbed his cheek against hers, and teased the curve at the top of her ear with his lips. He breathed in the honeysuckle scent from her soap and lotion and held it in his lungs before exhaling slowly as he nuzzled her ear.
“Who’s been chasing whom?” Lyssa cuddled closer. “I can satisfy my needs without you.”
He lifted his head and watched her as he slid his hand from her breast to her belly and flicked open the button on her jeans. “Prove it,” Mike retorted, pressing his lips against hers.
Nipping at his mouth, she tangled her fingers with his as they fought over the tab of her zipper. “This won’t do anything but prolong—”
“No, Lyssa. Give me my thirty days,” he urged her. “For your benefit as well as mine.”
Lyssa shook her head and danced out of reach, her jeans loose on her hips. She looked confused, unsure of her next move. “How does submitting to you for thirty days benefit me?” She shifted toward the doorway, putting more space between them.
“Propinquity. Too much of the same thing,” Mike responded. “You’ve always claimed my feelings result from wanting but not having you.”
“If you would simply stay away from me, you’d get over it.”
Mike shook his head and leaned against the archway leading into the hallway. “And what about the holidays? We’ve got Thanksgiving in four weeks. Christmas the month after that. Then the kids’ birthdays.” Mike shrugged. “You can’t expect either one of us to miss those.”
“No, but—” She moved away from him.
Mike doubted Lyssa realized where she was taking him as he followed her, or that she’d made no move to fasten the jeans he’d loosened. “Admit it, hon. We can’t be in the same room for more than fifteen minutes without stirring each other up. And you do everything in your power to remind me that I can look all I want, but I can’t touch.”
Striding forward, he scooped her up with an arm around her waist and one beneath her knees. Ten more steps took him into the master bedroom. At the bed, he dropped her onto the mussed sheets and then crouched over her, his legs on the outside of hers and his hands bracketing her shoulders.
“I want to touch, Lyssa. And if you’d quit lying to yourself, you’d admit you want me to touch.”
Behind the barrier of his jeans and hers, the thick length of his erection pushed against her belly. “You’ve wanted me since before I kissed you the first time at the Club.”
“No, I—”
He settled his fingertips over her lips, stopping her protest. “When I held you that night, you didn’t fight me, did you?”
Lyssa shook her head. A shiver moved through her. From her expression, Mike was sure she remembered the sensual touch he’d used after he’d tugged her down the hall and into the darkened closet.
“Were you afraid? At any time during those two hours, did I frighten you?” He searched her face for an answer.
Her eyes went wide at his question. He knew she’d enjoyed every moment in his arms that first time; he just needed to make sure she admitted it to herself. “You were trembling, and I wasn’t exactly exercising as much control as I usually do,” Mike prompted.
“You didn’t frighten me.” She rocked her hips against his, a low hum slipping free from her lips.
Taking his time, Mike eased off the sweatshirt covering her and discarded her jeans and panties. “I’m glad to hear that.” She remained on the bed as he stripped off his own clothes and retrieved a condom from his pocket. After rolling it on, he returned to lie over her, his legs between hers.
Mike shifted her arms over her head and ordered, “Don’t move.” He held her gaze and slid his hands over her breasts, cupping and shaping the mounds, teasing the taut peaks before tugging on them. “See, love, less than fifteen minutes and we’re ready for one more fuck.”
Realization shimmered in her cerulean gaze seconds before she gave a resigned nod of agreement. “All right, you might have a point.”
Mike chuckled and slipped his left hand between them to part the bare flesh exposed at the apex of her thighs with his fingers. “Might?” He nipped at the sensitive spot behind her ear. “You’re wet and ready for me, baby.”
Lyssa groaned as he teased the swollen bud before aligning his sheathed cock with the entrance her body had prepared. “And you think if you become my lover for thirty days, you’ll stop wanting me?” she asked.
He wasn’t going to lie to her. “No. I’ll never stop wanting you, Lyssa. But if you’ll submit to my mastery for a month, I’ll prove to you that I love you and you love me.”
She stiffened beneath him, her eyes going wide with panic. “No, you can’t.”
Mike shook his head at the flare of unease in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I do and so do you. But if after thirty days, you can tell me that you don’t love me, I won’t touch you again. Whatever decision you make, love, I’ll respect it.”
“Swear?”
Mike nodded. “Swear.”
Her gaze measured his response. “No sneak attacks? No late-night visits? No more invitations?”
“None of those unless you ask for them.”
“And if you leave before the month is over, there are no second chances. No picking up where you left off,” she bargained.
Mike’s stomach twisted. If the unit needed him, he’d have to go. But if it meant losing Lyssa for good…? He cursed the promise he’d made, but nodded. Lyssa deserved all of him, not just the person he showed to his family. “Agreed. If I leave before the month is up, no taking up where we left off.”
“Okay, I accept.”
Determined to make sure she knew exactly what she was agreeing to, Mike asked, “You accept my Rite of First Claim?”
There was a moment’s hesitation; then Lyssa nodded. “Yes, I accept the Rite of First Claim.”
“I want to be sure you understand what I will expect from you as my submissive,” Mike warned her. He held her gaze, awaiting her response.
“Sex on demand, right?” Lyssa replied sarcastically.
“No, Lyssa. Submission to me isn’t about sex on demand.” Mike stroked his fingers over the taut beads capping her breasts. “It’s about releasing control. Allowing my sub to be confident in her decision to trust me and the choices I make for her pleasure.”
Despite the sardonic expression twisting her lips into a grimace, a glint of longing flashed in her eyes at his description.
“You want me to become some mindless puppet panting at your feet for the smallest crumb of attention?” Derision flavored her words.
“You know better than that,” Mike admonished. How could a woman be so determined to deny herself what she wanted? “As my submissive, you will be required to relinquish control to me.”
Lyssa balked but returned coolly, “I’m aware of that.”
“Are you willing to do it?” He held her gaze, not allowing her to look away. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”
Lyssa’s obsession with controlling her emotions would have to be removed. Breaking down that barrier required her trust. As he watched her, Mike sensed her reluctance to admit to even that increment of power he held over her.
And it was power. Ironic that she should recognize that fact but remain steadfast in her refusal to listen to her own heart. “Lyssa, it’s very simple. Do you trust me?” Mike asked. He stilled his fingers on her breast.