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Daniel Cooney, bondage expert…murderer.
Swallowing hard, I spun on my heel, exited the bedroom, and strode into Chantelle’s kitchen. Her purse and keys lay on the table. A quick glance back the hallway showed her bedroom door shut rather than open like it had been the night before when Becky and I had arrived.
Chantelle was there for when Becky woke. She would have someone to talk to, a strong, independent woman to remind her of why she needed to stay away from Stephen. Chantelle would call me if and when they needed me.
Confident Becky was in good hands, I walked out the door and told myself I would give her at least a full day or so with her cousin before pursuing what I wanted.
Becky beside me, tucked close where I would keep her safe for as long as I breathed.
Chapter 14
Becky
The softest sheets and Master Cooney’s scent surrounded me.
I stretched and smiled as warmth sprang to life in my core.
Acknowledgment of the arousal I felt and memories from the night before flooded my mind, bringing me fully awake.
I’d slept in Chantelle’s guest room, I realized, taking in the warm tones of the walls and blinds attempting to keep out the morning sun. My gaze turned to the wrinkled pillow beside the one I used. The bed smelled like Master Cooney…had he slept beside me?
The desire inside me intensified until I pressed my thighs together to ease my need to be touched.
I couldn’t recall walking to the bedroom. Last I remembered, I had curled up against Master Cooney, wishing I could crawl beneath his skin and hide from reality. He had held me while I’d cried, and I’d experienced true comfort for the first time in years.
He must have carried me into the bedroom.
“Oh, God.” Heat rose to my cheeks as I sagged into the mattress.
I hoped he hadn’t thrown out his back. I remembered him pulling my rope-wrapped body off the floor at Chantelle’s when I’d been on the verge of flying into oblivion. The man was a pure mountain of muscle, but stringing me up—and carrying me to the bedroom—couldn’t have been an easy feat.
A knock sounded, sending a rush of adrenaline to my heart.
The door cracked open, and Chantelle stuck her head in before I could squeak.
Not Master Cooney. Bummer.
“Good, you’re awake,” my cousin said, walking in with two cups of coffee in her hands. A green silk dressing gown hung past her knees. No makeup and a messy bun made her look like any other woman rather than an intimidating, glamorous Domme. She moved unlike a typical woman, though. Confidence—some sort of authoritative air—followed her like it did Master Cooney, immediately setting me at ease.
I sat up and leaned against the headboard as she crossed the room and settled onto the bed beside me.
She handed me a cup of coffee and smiled. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like the dead.”
“Good.” She sipped, her gaze resting on my face as I lifted the mug to my lips and blew the steam over the rim. “How long did Daniel stay?”
“Daniel…Master Cooney?”
“He should only be Master Cooney to you while in a scene,” she said, a small smile at the corner of her lips.
Daniel. The name fit and also stirred that need inside me again. But her question meant he had left. Once again, disappointment slid through my veins.
“I-I don’t know,” I replied, trying to keep my voice from sounding whiny.
“You enjoyed acting as his sub last night, didn’t you?”
Heat rushed to my face even as my stomach twisted over my body’s reaction to someone other than Stephen. “Very much,” I answered honestly regardless of the guilt wanting to control me.