Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 3: His Submissive Read Free Page A

understand what’s in the contract, including the rules.”
    “And the punishments,” I added.
    “Yes. And the punishments.”
    “How . . . intense does punishment get?”
    He stared down at me, his eyes searching mine, and then he shocked me by leaning in and tenderly brushing his lips over mine. “As I said in the bathroom, I will push you to your limit, Rebecca, but I will always leave you thoroughly pleasured.”
    The gentleness in him, contrasting the hardness I so often saw, softened my worries, but there was still one thing I couldn’t let go. “And Georgia. Did you leave her thoroughly pleasured?”
    He pulled back to stare at me, genuine shock on his face. “Georgia?”
    “She paints roses. Was the ring once hers? And are you still involved with her? Because if you are, I’m done. I won’t be—”
    He laughed, a sexy, surprising sound from a man so serious. “No, little one. It was never her ring. I’ve never been intimate with Georgia, nor do I intend to be.” His voice softened and his gaze heated to scorching. “Just you, Rebecca. This relationship will be exclusive as long as we have a written agreement. Understand?”
    I nodded, but I wasn’t totally relieved. We would never be exclusive when he was willing to share me.
    “And even if it kills me in the process,” he continued, “we’ll take this slowly, as I intended. I’ll teach you what each point in the contract means. Then we will negotiate the final terms. But know this. When you put that ring back on, there will be no holding back for either of us. You will belong to me.”
    But will he belong to me? And why was I afraid to ask?
    Probably because, deep down, I know the answer . . . and I don’t want to accept it. This powerful man will never belong to anyone.
    He stroked my cheek again, tenderness in the touch. “We should get back before we’re missed,” he said, and I agreed.
    •   •   •
    A n hour later, I ended up huddled in a chat with Mark and three amazing artists. Could I really be standing with Ricco Alvarez, Chris Merit, and Georgia O’Nay? Chris, Mark, and I chatted a bit about a charity event that I’m handling for Chris, and we set up a meeting for the next day. Remarkably, considering my first reaction to her presence, I bonded with Georgia quickly, much as I had with Ricco, and she turned out to be as nice as she was talented and beautiful. I think I just get artists. I connect with them. Despite all that Mark does for the art world, I’m not sure he always does.
    I took a cab home at the gallery’s expense. The entire staff did since Mark won’t let anyone drive after a gallery event that includes alcohol, and this one had. I’d barely walked in the door when my would-be Master texted me.
    You decide when the next lesson is. Call me when you’re ready.
    I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Part of me says now. Part of me says I might never be. Yet I’d been downright excited to sign the contract this morning. Now I’m not sure of anything.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011
    H ot bath. Pajamas. My own bed. What more could I want? Ah, but I know: him. I want to call him. I want to hear his voice and I want . . . so much. But it’s the wrong choice. I know this. I’ve been singing this song to myself all day, reminding myself of the need to think things through and make rational choices. Right now I need to figure out who I am, because somehow I’ve lost myself along the way. I should be upset that he spanked me. Instead, I’m upset that he thinks I need more lessons.
    I’m trying to process this. I keep replaying the situation, and my way of thinking, and demanding I look beyond the surface of what I feel. Logic. I need logic. He’s trying to make sure I’m ready for the next step between us and that I won’t regret my decision. Why does this upset me?
    Okay. This is where I need to be honest with myself. As much as I’ve sworn I do not want a relationship, or the strings and heartache that