CHARLOTTE

Richard heads out, leaving the three of us alone together. As he leaves, my Master almost sags. Taking the coffee mug from my hand, he pulls me upright and wraps his arms around me, his chin resting on my head.

“When you called me last night,” he says softly, “and Michael told me there were gunmen after you... I didn’t know how to react, how to deal with it.…”

“You dealt with it the right way.” chuckles Michael. “It looked like the circus had come to town as we came out of the woods.”

“It was Michael who saved us,” I say.

“Your own performance wasn’t too shabby. When I saw you gagging that smashed up face with his own tie… There’s not too many women would have done that….”

And of a sudden, it wells up in me. All the panic, and horror, and fear that I should have felt the night before, break free and I start sobbing, tears streaming down my face as my Master rocks me back and forth. I think he is comforting himself as much as me.

After a minute or so of this, Michael breaks in. “I like a woman who keeps her promises.”

It is such an unexpected thing for him to say. My tears dry up. “Um, sorry. What?”

“You did promise me a hysterical outburst once we were safe.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “So I did. Sorry about that. Just give me a minute, would you both.”

In the bathroom, I splash my face, which helps. Then scrabbling through drawers, I find a toothbrush and paste. As I spit minty foam into the sink, there is a knock on the door.

“Mmm… Mmmmph.” I reply through my mouthful of froth.

The door pushes open; Michael. “You okay?”

“Mmm...mmmphhh.” I nod, spitting and rinsing again.

“Now there’s a good idea.” he smiles. “Is there another one in there?”

I rinse my brush and pass it to him. “Nope, but I think we’re a bit beyond the niceties of oral hygiene wouldn’t you say? Another coffee?”

“Please, yes.”

By the time I return to the lounge with a tray of coffee mugs, Michael is back, stretched out, lounging on the couch. He pats the cushion next to him, but as I move to sit there, he hauls me in by the waist to lie cradled back against him. From behind me, he strokes my hair, and reaches to kiss my neck; his warm breath, minty by my face.

My Master, his dark eyes soft, kneels in front of me, fingers caressing my face. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming back to me.copy right hot novel pub