Page 47 of Her Dom's Secret Past

Chapter Thirteen

John

My heart sang as I drove home. I’d found her, she loved me, and I had no intention of ever letting her go. If last night was anything to go by, we were perfect together. As soon as I heard her first moan when I hit those round globes, I knew she enjoyed it. We could experiment over the coming weeks to find things we both relished, and I hoped it would last a little longer than last night.

I’d always had a little sadism streak as far as sex went, and like most men, reveled in a healthy sex life as a Dom, but I always thought something was missing. Now I knew what it was—there had never been this deep emotional connection before. I’d meant it when I told Anabelle she was my woman, that I loved her. I’d never thought about a woman that way before. I’d had a few subs, but to me, and to them, it was purely sex. Now there was love and it made sex that much better.

I showered and dressed in an old pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt when I got home and went online to find somewhere for us to eat tonight. I had no idea where anything was. I’d discoveredWahroongawas only ten minutes away from the boutique and found a place there that sounded nice and had good reviews. I made a booking for six-fifteen. Right—that was dinner organized.

Next.

I wanted to give Anabelle some more flowers—preferably orchids. Online, I found a florist that would deliver today. Scrolling through, I discovered a lovely Phalaenopsis orchid plant. Ringing the place, I found they had a pure-white plant with four stems of flowers. Yes, they’d deliver it today before two. Perfect, that would be much better than a vase of them. This would keep, and, being white, would fit in with the décor of the salon.

This afternoon I had another appointment with my physiotherapist who dealt with post-operative rehabilitation and management. I needed to get myself back in shape for my dearest Anabelle.

The rest of the morning I spent clearing away the last few bits and pieces from my move. This was a huge house, but already I loved it. The place was unfurnished when I bought it.

When I’d landed back in Sydney after the holiday, I’d caught a taxi toChatswoodand booked into a hotel for two nights. The whole time I’d waited for Anabelle to ring me. I’d had a niggling fear when I hadn’t heard from her that first evening, but I’d made excuses in my mind. Every few minutes, I’d check my phone, thinking maybe I’d missed her call, maybe the battery was flat, maybe she’d sent a text message, but there was nothing.

That afternoon, I’d gone to the local Lexus dealer and found myself a new car.

I’d gone shopping, buying my bed, linens, blankets, pillows. I’d found a four-door refrigerator, a washer and dryer, as well as a settee big enough for three people. After arranging with the company to have it all delivered on Monday afternoon, I’d gone back to the hotel. Still no word from Anabelle and despite all the reasons I came up with, in the back of my mind I’d known it was over. For her, I’d been simply a holiday romance, a no strings type of fling. I’d tried to push all those negative ideas from my head and went rushing into my move.

I picked up my new car on Monday morning, punched in the address of my new home into the navigator and took off. When I pulled in to my driveway, I realized the photographs certainly hadn’t done it justice. The place was amazing.

I’d left the car under the two-car carport, and I’d put it in the garage later. Keying in the security code, I entered the foyer and breathed in deeply—I was home.

The only downside was the place was sprawled out over three levels. Still, my leg would get used to climbing and it would probably do it good. I also had a saltwater pool, as well as a sauna. The tub in the bathroom was a spa tub, so that covered all the bases. That night, when I’d fallen into bed, I was very satisfied. My house was perfect, I had food and a bed, and my possessions had arrived. All was right except for my beautiful Anabelle.

I’d kept trying to come up with excuses as to why she hadn’t rung, refusing to believe the obvious. I even rang the villas in case they hadn’t given Anabelle my note, but the receptionist assured me she’d handed it over personally as soon as Anabelle returned on the Saturday morning. Trying to delude myself into thinking there was a perfectly logical reason, I came up with all these stupid excuses, like she’d lost her phone or she’d dropped the letter and the wind blew it away. Beat me what the hell I thought I was doing, but it was all I could cling to. I wanted her that badly and it wasn’t only because of the sex. I needed her in my life. I’d searched the Internet, trying to find her without success. My heart would never recover. She was my lost love and each time I thought of her, I died a little.

Fuck!

I’d even put off buying all the furniture I needed. I’d been secretly hoping Anabelle would help me furnish it, and in the back of my mind, I thought finding her and buying stuff were linked. As the weeks went past, I came to realize I was being stupid. I couldn’t live forever in a house with only a bed and one couch. I’d have to bite the bullet and accept my loss. I had to move on.

What a fucking serendipitous plan that was!

If I hadn’t decided to “move on”, I’d never have found that article in the old newspaper. Then I’d never have found my Anabelle. Funny how things worked out. She was back in my life and I never wanted to lose her again.

After ringing the florist, I settled on the porch that overlooked the water. I kept telling myself I needed outdoor furniture, but it was another item I’d kept putting off. Still, I did manage to sit on the floor with my back against the wall of the house. Getting up might be a problem, but I’d worry about that later.

I had to admit I didn’t get much reading done. I kept going over the events of the previous night. I’d honestly thought I’d blown it with Anabelle. She went very quiet and didn’t answer me after the last few things I’d said. I’d walked down those stairs, thinking my world had come to an end, and at the same time I figured it was to be expected. Each step had taken me further away from her and sank me deeper into misery. When I reached out to open the door, it was as if my life was over. Stupid, but that was what it felt like. I even wished those bullets had killed me. How could I live without her?

Then when I’d heard her call my name, my heart actually soared. I remember glimpsing up and seeing her mouthing my name, looking in such distress. I couldn’t even remember getting back up the stairs. My God, she was amazing.

What other woman would be that accepting?

I completely understood her reluctance, how things must have been whirring around her head. It wasn’t everyday someone told you they’d killed people. I wasn’t proud of the deaths, but I was proud of protecting my country.

Now all I had to do was get my body back into shape. I’d been very lucky, all things considered. The bullets had missed most things. There had been broken bones, but they missed the truly important things, like my heart. As far as my shoulder was concerned, the break in the bone had healed now, and I had full movement and use back. My stomach was better. Rarely did I get any pain. It was only when I tried to overdo things.

I needed to solely concentrate on my leg. Hopefully my trips to the physio would be able to help it heal fully. The bullet had torn through the muscles and nerves, grazing the bone. The surgeon told me it had been a real mess, and I was extremely thankful they were able to get it back together.

Anyway, I relaxed on the deck and watched a few boats traveling up the river. One stopped nearby and the occupants, a man and boy, threw in a line. I watched them for about three quarters of an hour. They pulled in a couple of fish, which meant I might have some luck when I began fishing. That was another thing I’d need to buy—fishing gear. Shit, my list was getting longer and longer.

Wonder if Anabelle works on the weekends?

Probably Saturday, hopefully not Sunday. Maybe Sunday she’d like to come help me buy a few things. I checked my watch. Almost twelve-thirty. Time to get up and shower. Easy to say, but hard to do. I was grunting like an old man before I finally made it to my feet. I didn’t think I’d be sitting on the floor again any time soon. I definitely had to buy some outdoor furniture.

After showering, I shaved, trimmed my beard, and dressed. I drove to Gosford for my appointment and let the physio inflict a half an hour’s worth of torture on my leg. She declared it a success, saying it was much better than when I’d first come to her. We arranged to drop down to weekly sessions and I left in pain, but with only a small limp. I guessed she was right.

After grabbing a burger from a fast food place, I drove home. Then late in the afternoon, I dressed for the evening, deciding on a three-piece mid-gray suit but without the tie, a white shirt open at the throat. I examined at myself in the full-length mirror in the dressing room.

What did Anabelle see when she looked at me?

A tall black dude with a beard and almost shaved head. Muscular. At that point, I gave a fake smile. Okay, this was stupid. The woman said she loved me and that was all that mattered. Now all I had to do was get her to move in with me because I knew for a fact I didn’t want to be apart from her more than was necessary, especially after last night.

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