You aren’t my parents. I’m not some wayward twit who needs to be kept in line. Surely there has to be a better way to get your point across, Max. You know I love pleasing you. I need to please you. But please don’t use words like obedience, because it suggests something I don’t like.”
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her furrowed brow. “You worry too much, dolcezza . I never want to make you uncomfortable, to degrade you or make you feel any less than you are. If I ever cross that line, I hope you will, in true Callie fashion, kick my ever-loving ass.”
She grinned back at him. “You bet your ass.”
His face grew serious once more and he touched her cheek again. “Do I have your submission?”
She thought for a long moment about what he was asking for. To some, obedience and submission were probably the same thing. Not to her. Obedience suggested blind loyalty. No free will. Submission suggested a choice. A choice to place herself in the care of another. But with conditions. Trust. Always trust. Obedience didn’t necessarily equate to trust.
If someone was in a position of authority over another, they could command obedience and it would be far different than Callie offering her submission to Max. To give her care and trust to this man.
Finally she looked up at him, her brows drawn in seriousness. “Yes, Max. You have my submission. Willingly and joyfully.”
Callie sighed at the remembrance, and a shiver of delight skittered over her shoulders. They’d spent so many wonderful nights together. She’d submitted without regret. Until the day he’d left and hadn’t returned.
Frowning at the unhappy turn of her thoughts, she hugged her arms and walked away from the fire. She unwound the towel from her hair and dropped it on the floor as she came to stand in front of the window.
She didn’t hear Max’s approach. Didn’t know he was behind her until his hands closed over her shoulders and he brushed a kiss over her temple.
She turned instinctively into the warmth and comfort of his body. He hugged her close, wrapping those strong arms around her, and she tucked her head underneath his chin.
“I wonder if you know how glad I am to have you back where you belong.”
She smiled but didn’t say anything for a moment. It was easy to pretend that they’d never separated and that this was just an extension of the time they’d spent together in Europe.
Maybe he sensed her hesitancy because he pulled away and stared down at her with his intense gaze.
“What are you thinking?”
She started to respond but then wondered if she should really voice what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want to ruin what had been a perfect afternoon.
Max frowned and then tugged her toward the couch. He settled on the end and then pulled her down onto his lap until she was curled in his arms, her back against the arm of the sofa.
“Don’t pull any punches, Callie. Not with me. Whatever it is you were about to say, just say it. We won’t be able to move forward until we clear the air.”
She sighed and leaned her head over until it was pillowed on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about Europe. It was such a fantasy, so dreamlike when we were together. Every day was so perfect and I wondered if it was too good to be true. Then when you left and I finally came home, I convinced myself that’s all it was. Just a fantasy. It wasn’t meant to last.”
She shifted so she could look at him. She felt she owed it to him for what she was about to say.
“I wondered if that’s what this is. Another fantasy. Something too good to be true and if it will disappear just like before. I wonder if I’m deluding myself, and worse, I wonder how stupid I am for allowing it to happen all over again when I know you have so much power to hurt me.”
She thought he might be angry, but she couldn’t be anything less than honest. His answer surprised her, though.
“I understand why you feel that way,” he said roughly.
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her furrowed brow. “You worry too much, dolcezza . I never want to make you uncomfortable, to degrade you or make you feel any less than you are. If I ever cross that line, I hope you will, in true Callie fashion, kick my ever-loving ass.”
She grinned back at him. “You bet your ass.”
His face grew serious once more and he touched her cheek again. “Do I have your submission?”
She thought for a long moment about what he was asking for. To some, obedience and submission were probably the same thing. Not to her. Obedience suggested blind loyalty. No free will. Submission suggested a choice. A choice to place herself in the care of another. But with conditions. Trust. Always trust. Obedience didn’t necessarily equate to trust.
If someone was in a position of authority over another, they could command obedience and it would be far different than Callie offering her submission to Max. To give her care and trust to this man.
Finally she looked up at him, her brows drawn in seriousness. “Yes, Max. You have my submission. Willingly and joyfully.”
Callie sighed at the remembrance, and a shiver of delight skittered over her shoulders. They’d spent so many wonderful nights together. She’d submitted without regret. Until the day he’d left and hadn’t returned.
Frowning at the unhappy turn of her thoughts, she hugged her arms and walked away from the fire. She unwound the towel from her hair and dropped it on the floor as she came to stand in front of the window.
She didn’t hear Max’s approach. Didn’t know he was behind her until his hands closed over her shoulders and he brushed a kiss over her temple.
She turned instinctively into the warmth and comfort of his body. He hugged her close, wrapping those strong arms around her, and she tucked her head underneath his chin.
“I wonder if you know how glad I am to have you back where you belong.”
She smiled but didn’t say anything for a moment. It was easy to pretend that they’d never separated and that this was just an extension of the time they’d spent together in Europe.
Maybe he sensed her hesitancy because he pulled away and stared down at her with his intense gaze.
“What are you thinking?”
She started to respond but then wondered if she should really voice what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want to ruin what had been a perfect afternoon.
Max frowned and then tugged her toward the couch. He settled on the end and then pulled her down onto his lap until she was curled in his arms, her back against the arm of the sofa.
“Don’t pull any punches, Callie. Not with me. Whatever it is you were about to say, just say it. We won’t be able to move forward until we clear the air.”
She sighed and leaned her head over until it was pillowed on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about Europe. It was such a fantasy, so dreamlike when we were together. Every day was so perfect and I wondered if it was too good to be true. Then when you left and I finally came home, I convinced myself that’s all it was. Just a fantasy. It wasn’t meant to last.”
She shifted so she could look at him. She felt she owed it to him for what she was about to say.
“I wondered if that’s what this is. Another fantasy. Something too good to be true and if it will disappear just like before. I wonder if I’m deluding myself, and worse, I wonder how stupid I am for allowing it to happen all over again when I know you have so much power to hurt me.”
She thought he might be angry, but she couldn’t be anything less than honest. His answer surprised her, though.
“I understand why you feel that way,” he said roughly.
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