

Take a Chance

...a Private Delights novel...

By Lavender Daye

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Lavender Daye

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Special thanks to my editor, Jen FitzGerald

Cover art via Hot Damn Stock and ST Graphics

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Sneak Peek

Chapter 1

Steve Gladston pulled into the lot of Simon Lindsay & Associates and parked, enjoying the early morning solitude. The glow in the east intensified as the sun made its appearance. Steve surveyed the building and formed a plan of attack. All of his ducks would be in a row by the time the owners arrived.

One lone car sat in the lot, probably a member of the custodial crew, or maybe a security guard. Not likely, or Simon Lindsay wouldn't have called him.

Perfect time for a look-see.

Considerably early for his appointment with the owner, Steve wanted to do a thorough walk-around of the premises before he worked up a proposal. Much more effective without the client following and talking while he worked.

It was a nice piece of property, with a well-manicured lawn surrounding the brick one story building and concrete and brick steps leading up to the glass entrance. Too much glass for his taste, since it was easily breached and a definite red flag for overall security.

He'd fix that first thing after he got the job. Steve picked up his clipboard and headed for the front door to check off the first few items on his list, primarily safety issues that public buildings were required to adhere to. Shouldn't be an issue here, but best to check before getting to the deeper elements of building security.

The muffled scream came out of nowhere and he stepped back to check his surroundings. When it repeated, he put his ear to the glass door.

Fuck. It was inside. A woman shouted. A male voice spewed profanity and cried out in pain. Steve tried the door but it was locked. Not sure why anyone was locked inside, he knocked on the glass door. On the off chance he was interrupting an early morning love call, he'd at least warn them of his presence. He thumped harder, hoping to get someone's attention.

The response wasn't good. The female voice shouted for help. Pulling his Maglite from his belt, he gave the glass panel next to the lock a firm tap at a sharp angle.

He got a loud noise and another cry from inside for his trouble. Apparently, Lindsay's glass was stronger than he'd thought.

He doubled the force for the second attempt and the glass cracked. One more hit had a small section of glass falling into the building's foyer. With just enough space to get his arm inside, he flipped the lock, making a mental note to recommend a keyed lock when he talked to the owners.

Nowhere near a silent entry, but he was in. The screams continued and he raced in that direction, his work boots announcing his approach. The scene he encountered had him burning with disgust. Violence toward women went against every truth he held dear.

The man before him wore a ski mask and gloves and was wrapped around the woman, curses coming from them both. Her arms were pinned to her body but she squirmed to get free while she kicked back at his shins.

Steve admired her spunk even as he moved to intercept the fight. The way she moved kept the assailant from getting to the open door across the hall, even though he was taller and bulkier than she.

Her eyes widened when Steve neared, fear intensifying, but he laid a finger across his lips and turned his focus to her attacker.

Years of combat training took him to the man's side in a few quick steps. Using the handle end of the flashlight, he popped the man's head and the jerk went down like a rock. The woman flung her body forward, ending up on her knees.

When a body shot landed in his midsection, Steve spun and engaged the next opponent. Another darkly clothed man ran past them, heading away from the front door, but Steve didn't want to leave the woman alone until the current fighter was subdued.

A door slammed in the distance just as Steve landed a punch to the man's gut and he went down.

Steve turned to check for other combatants and when his eyes finally fixed on the woman, she had a phone in her hand.

"Police are on the way," she told him, her breath sawing in and out. "Who are you?"

"Steve Gladston, G&L Security. I have an appointment with Simon this morning." The cable ties in his pocket worked well as restraints and he quickly had both men cuffed while they waited for the police. "Are you all right, miss?"

"I'm fine."

Her words and her face told conflicting stories. It looked like she'd been roughed up a little before he got inside. He took a step closer, hoping like hell he didn't scare her half to death, and put a finger under her chin. He wanted a good look at her face and, sure enough, the area below her left cheekbone was pink and splotchy, a bruise rising as he watched. Dammit.

"What's your name, doll?"

"Dena Lindsay."

He struggled a minute to keep the fury out of his tone, unwilling to show his temper. She'd had enough for the day. "Dena, honey, can you do me a favor and turn around? Just stare at the wall for a minute."

Big brown eyes looked up at him, a hint of fear trickling into her expression. Shit, he didn't want to frighten her any more than she'd already been. "I promise nothing bad will happen. Just give me a little trust for a minute, maybe two."

Such a pretty little lady shouldn't have to deal with this kind of shit, and he'd definitely have a long, hard talk with her brother when he finally arrived. For now, he waited for her to turn her back.

Swift steps took him to the intruders as soon as she looked away. They were both rousing and shifting their bodies in an effort to get loose. Not likely with the zip ties. He squatted, leaned close to their faces, and kept his voice low to spare Miss Lindsay's ears. "Only a fucking jackass beats a woman. Remember that while you're sitting in jail and trying to breathe." A well-placed punch to the ribcage for both of them and the welcome sound of cracking bones ensured they'd remember his lesson.

When he stood, Miss Lindsay's eyes were wide and staring. "Why did you do that?" she asked. "They were already tied up."

He moved back to her, unable to keep his eyes off of her. Damn, such a beauty shouldn't be working in an office with little or no security. Simon should've at least taught her some basic self-defense. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he cupped her chin and brushed his thumb across the forming bruise. "Do you have an ice machine in this place?"

"Why?" Rich brown eyes followed the movements of his mouth like he was giving her the benediction in church.

"You need to put some on this pretty face real soon. Doesn't it hurt?"

"No," she whispered, but he could see her body begin to tremble. Adrenaline overload was fast approaching.

"What the hell happened here?"

The words echoed down the hall and Steve watched her eyes drop along with her chin. Her oldest brother was in the building, probably with the other two, and she wasn't ready to face them. He pulled a chair out from the closest workstation and planted her cute little ass in it. "Stay." Then he hot-footed it around the corner and met the other men in the foyer before they got a look at her face.

"Simon, good to see you again."

"Gladston, what the hell? You couldn't wait until I got here to let you in?"

They shook hands and Simon introduced him to his younger brother, Grant.

"I did break the glass out front, and I'll pay for the repairs, but I'm thinking I'll make it back with my commission for your security system."

Grant gave him a dark look and Simon's expression stiffened. "Tell me."

Steve took a slow breath to give the girl an extra minute or two. "I got here early to check the outside area before we started talking hardware. From the front door, I heard screams and a fight."

"Dena's car's in the lot." Grant started moving and Steve stuck an arm out to hold him back.

"She's fine, just a little shaken up. Police are on their way."

"How?"

"The front door was locked when I approached. I haven't had a chance to check anything else, but your sister was trying to fight them off when I got to her. She can tell us how it began, but it might be a good idea to wait and let her tell the police at the same time."

A police cruiser pulled into the lot and Grant volunteered to meet the officer while Steve and Simon went back to Dena.

_space_

"I'm fine," Dena repeated out loud, a personal reminder that she was relatively unscathed. Her cheek hurt and her pride was skinned a little. She was breathing hard from exertion or maybe the exhilaration from the struggle, but regardless, it was time to rejoin the gym. Being a wimp wasn't a good idea. A few other spots began to ache and she bit back a groan. Her brothers were in the building and she didn't want to be babied in front of her rescuer.

And what a rescuer he was. A gorgeous man had come to her aid when she couldn't protect herself, even though she'd had a self-defense class her sophomore year of college. A hardcore refresher was in her future, even if her brothers disagreed. They wouldn't approve. Maybe she could ask Mr. Strong and Hunky for help. He could be a buffer from her brothers' overprotective ways.

And there they were. The security guy was telling them all about the poor woman he saved while Simon and Grant had worry written all over their faces. So not how she wanted her Friday to go.

She had plans. Wild party plans with friends. Knowing her brothers, she'd be locked in the family home by noon and sequestered in a convent by Monday morning.

Dena groaned as they circled her. It had taken years of hard work to get them out of her hair enough to have a life of her own. She couldn't let her brothers take her freedom away because of a little scuffle.

"I'm fine," she said, firmer this time.

The police officer with them moved to her side. "Can you tell me what happened, ma'am?"

"I came in early this morning to get a few things off my desk, but I'm positive I locked the door behind me."

"It was locked when I arrived. First thing I checked when I started the exterior inspection." The man who'd rescued her spoke and she wished she could remember his name. He'd told her, but her brain was doing strange things with her ability to process information.

The officer nodded in the man's direction. "You're sure, Mr. Gladston?"

"Yes. When I heard the screams, I broke the glass to get into the building."

Dena opened her mouth to thank him, but both of her brothers said the words at the same time. She shot them both her best glare and then looked straight at her savior. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Gladston."

He smiled and for a minute she thought she was back in the fight, her heart beating double time.

"Please call me Steve," he said. "I'm just glad I was here." He held her gaze but directed a question to her brothers. "Is there any ice in this place? Her cheek's beginning to swell."

"Thank you," she whispered when they both took off to find an icepack.

"It's going to hurt for a few days, honey. You'll appreciate the ice."

The endearment went straight to her heart though it was probably a habit for him. "No. Thank you for getting rid of Simon and Grant. They smother me."

The killer smile was back and she couldn't hold her own mouth still. Such a charmer. He probably had a wife at home, or a long line of women waiting for their turn.

"When the dust settles around here, I'd like to take you to dinner."

Her pulse flared again, but not from fear or panic, and a tiny kernel of heat formed in her belly. "I'd like that," she replied.

"Tonight?" The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. "I promise to give you a better end to this day than the beginning was. Up for it?"

* * * *

Steve waited within earshot while Dena told the officer what she could remember. It was a surprisingly detailed account considering the personal trauma she'd sustained, and his appreciation of the young lady went up the chart from cute and sexy to strong and courageous. Sexy was a given.

The suggestion of dinner had been a reflex, an attempt to help her put the incident in the past. But watching her step away from her brothers, or at least attempt to do so, had him rethinking the evening.

Simon just might kill him.

When she finished, Simon wrapped an arm around her waist. "Grant's going to take you home and mom's going to keep you company for the rest of the day. I'll send someone to your house to pack an overnight bag."

Steve hid a grin when she slipped out of her brother's embrace and separated herself from both family members. "No. I have work to get done today and plans for the rest of the weekend."

"Now, Dena—"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Simon. I love you but I'm not going to let you push me around." She turned to the officer. "Are we done?"

"I still need an inventory of what was taken."

"Follow me."

Officer in tow, she strode past Steve and damn if she didn't wink at him. With a smile to her brothers, Steve said, "Still want to walk the building and work up a bid? I already have a few ideas to make this place a helluva lot safer."

The brothers exchanged glances. Grant followed Dena and the officer while Simon stayed in the foyer.

"Where do we begin?" Simon asked.

"First thing I'd suggest is a better lock on the front door, and I'm assuming your brother's going to call the glass company about the hole I made?"

Simon nodded. "It's taken care of, and thanks for what you did this morning."

"Just glad I was here. Now, let's go through the place and see what we've got."

He headed back to the main entrance and picked up the clipboard he'd dropped during his messy entrance. Flipping it open, he noted the date and time, telling Simon, "First and foremost, you need a more secure entrance with an electric lock or some other system. It didn't take me long to get inside, but it did make a lot of noise and a mess. I have several options for us to discuss when we finish the survey."

He made sure Simon realized they'd moved to the business side of their relationship while they discussed possible solutions for office security, knowing the man had a distinctly overprotective attitude concerning his sister.

Every word out of Steve's mouth focused on the job while they moved from the hall to the first office and continued as he noted needs in each space.

Three rooms into the tour, Simon said, "I'd appreciate it if you stay away from my sister."

Finally. He'd watched Simon's expression and the set of his shoulders tighten little by little and waited for the comment. "I'm taking her to dinner tonight. She needs a little fun to take the taste of this morning out of her mouth."

"She doesn't need your help with the taste in her mouth."

A glare came with Simon's reply and Steve kept his expression placid. Or close to it.

"With all due respect, the decision belongs to Dena."

"My sister isn't any part of your business."

"I'm glad you agree," Steve said with a smile. "What we're looking at right now is business. You need to realize my relationship with Dena has nothing to do with G&L Security and what I can provide security-wise for your business."

"You don't have a relationship with my sister. You just met her."

Time to get back on track. "How many security cameras do you have in the building?"

Simon cursed under his breath but answered, as Steve knew he would. "None."

"That's where we need to start."
Chapter 2

Steve climbed into his truck and tried hard not to groan. Simon Lindsay was an arrogant, nitpicking son of a bitch, but in the end, he'd ponied up. He'd agreed that his business was in dire need of security and allowed Steve to suggest a wide range of top of the line measures to make the place safe and secure. The fact that his baby sister had been attacked might've swayed him a little and Steve didn't argue the point. In fact, he'd carefully avoided discussing the incident.

The walk through had taken most of the day.

The man liked to talk, and the subject had eased back to Dena and her date with him more than a few times. The man didn't know when to let it go. True, if Steve had a sister as enticing as Dena Lindsay, he'd be overprotective as hell, but Simon talked about safety more than he taught it.

One thing Steve planned to do tonight was have a long talk about self-defense. Dena needed a few lessons and he was willing to teach her everything he knew. In more ways than one.

Damn woman was already under his skin after seeing her in action. She had good old fashioned chutzpah, and her brother refused to acknowledge it. Dena Lindsay was no shrinking violet. Not in the least.

Under the sweet, sexy persona lurked a strong woman with needs her family kept her from pursuing, and as much as they tried to keep her caged, the more she struggled to be free.

He could help her with those needs.

Hell, yeah, he could help her with his needs, too. She was every bit a woman and he knew how to treat her right. He'd told Simon it was a simple date, no fooling around, nothing serious. But if she opened the door for more, so be it.

Her brothers would have to accept the fact that she was a grown woman.

Pointing the truck toward the club, he turned his thoughts to his second job. He and a couple of buddies were building a BDSM club in the local boonies. Their closest competitor was on the other side of Dallas and beginning to feel its age.

The new place, aptly named Private Delights, was a reincarnated country club, but he doubted any of the prior members would recognize more than the physical address once the doors opened. They'd gutted the building and completely remodeled every inch of the place, even going so far as to extend and rebuild the façade.

He hadn't been to the worksite in almost a week, staying busy with the security business while Derek Lyons, his partner at G&L Security, worked the remodel. The man had a talent for construction and Steve was looking forward to seeing the progress.

* * * *

Ethan Jenkins dropped onto his ass behind an abandoned gas station and Lloyd followed suit, both trying hard to catch their breath. Lloyd had been on lookout duty, but when the job went bad, he'd taken off instead of helping John and Bill out. He'd left all three to face the consequences and for that, Ethan would make him pay.

Not now, of course. They still needed Lloyd. As an attorney, he could get Bill and John out of jail, for one thing. And his hacking skill was important, too. He'd been helping himself and his friends to all kinds of sites online without shelling out money.

Ethan got back on his feet, wound too tight to sit, and paced the small area.

As soon as Lloyd got them into the brokerage accounts and opened a few juicy company folios, they'd be set. Rather, Ethan'd be set and to hell with his cronies. Once Jenkins had the stock codes and the insider info, he could make his move. Much easier to gamble on buying shares when you knew who was about to merge and who was splitting. Once money started flowing, Lloyd was dead.

Real time, he needed to hurt. Ethan moved in close to the honorable Lloyd Evans and gave him a swift kick in the kidneys. "What happened back there?" he asked his soon to be non-friend.

"Don't have a clue. Didn't see her come in," Lloyd panted. "What the fuck."

"And you didn't see her car in the lot?"

"No. She came out of nowhere." Lloyd pushed to his feet and leaned against a filthy wall, still breathing hard. "I swear I would've let you know if I saw her come in."

Jenkins dusted off his pants. The black jacket he'd worn into the building came off fast, and he opened the trunk of his car. Among the junk in the back, he found a bowie knife and used it to shred the evidence, so to speak, while Lloyd watched.

Yeah, the guy was eyeing the blade with some serious fear in his face. About time some of his expensive education bled through his lame brain.

"Next time, don't leave until we all do. Got it?"

"Of course. I just got scared. I've never done this before."

Ethan nodded and pitched half the armful of black cloth into the weeds behind the old building and the rest scattered to the light breeze. "I'm counting on you, Lloyd. I need you to represent John and Bill. We need to get them out of jail. Don't disappoint me."

He left the other man rubbing his backside and hit a drive in burger place well across town. Making an impression on the waitress was an easy alibi if anyone tried to place him at Lindsay & Associates. From there, he went to the gym to sweat out some anger about the busted job and then home. Keeping everything cool meant making sure no one tied him to the morning's activities.

Dinner with the family was expected, a crappy hour watching mom browbeat his wimp of a father. After that, he'd hit a few clubs, maybe pick up a hot chick to get rid of whatever lingering steam he had.

At least they'd managed to copy all the files. Without the passwords, getting into each account would be damn near impossible. Hard to bet on the stock market if you didn't have a little insider info. Lloyd sure as shit better be working on them by now.

Either way, the man was on a short list for a grave marker.

* * * *

Damn, the place was looking better every day and might actually open on time, Steve thought as he parked in the front lot. If he worked fast, he just might have someone to share it with on opening night.

Simon's baby sister was one helluva looker with a mind of her own and an attitude and a sweet little ass in need of a spanking. Getting out of Lindsay & Associates without a boner hadn't been easy.

He went in the front door and took a look around the lower level. Construction crews were working on detail projects but there were no signs of Mark or Derek, at least on the lower level.

Once at the top of the main staircase, the sound of loud voices keyed him to the location of his partners. From the mixture of laugher and profanity, Derek was pissed about something and Mark was egging him on. Not surprising.

Derek Lyons was easy to provoke these days. Before his wife was killed in a car wreck, he'd been a hardcore Dom with an easy temperament outside the clubs. The last three years had been tough for all three of them. For Derek, because he'd lost the only love he'd ever known. For Steve and Mark, it meant watching a dear friend retreat into himself. Mark's suggestion that they build their own BDSM club had seemed a godsend to Steve. He and Derek had formed G&L Security five years ago and the business was thriving, but outside of work, Derek was still isolated.

Mark Harrison was the entrepreneur of the group, born into an oil field heritage and money. Raised by a grandfather, he'd learned early to work hard and play harder. And he had a tendency to hit pay dirt on a regular schedule.

Derek was acting as general contractor for the new club while Mark handled all the general business decisions.

Steve and Mark hoped the new venue would push Derek to move past his loss. Hadn't happened yet, but they had faith he'd move on with his life and find another woman to love.

Fun times ahead, once the place finally opened.

"What'd I miss?" Steve sailed into the room and flopped on the new sofa, waiting for the next explosion.

Mark settled on the matching chair. "Derek's training the new staff submissive we hired."

"Sweet job. Why all the yelling?" When Derek didn't reply, Steve turned to Mark. More silence and a lifted brow.

So it was about Mary.

And he was no fucking counselor.

"She wouldn't want you to be alone." Fuck it, but Derek needed to get his shit together and Steve was damned tired of keeping his mouth closed.

Anger and pain poured out of his friend, and an unvoiced question. How do you know?

"She loved you. Mary never hid her feelings around us like she did on the floor. You were her husband and her lover and her Dom. We were her friends."

Derek sagged into the other upholstered chair and stretched his legs out into the open space between the furniture. "Where have you been all day?"

Okay. Better to change the subject than argue about a dead woman with the man who wouldn't let go. "I worked a bid at Lindsay & Associates. One of us has to make some money." He and Derek were the owners of G&L Security, business partners and best friends.

Derek leaned back and popped his neck before answering, and he still didn't meet either's gaze. "Forgot about that. How'd it go?"

"We're in."

"What, no squabbling about the cost?"

Good. A decent response along with a change of subject.

Mark spilled his two bits, even though he wasn't part of their security business. "I remember Simon Lindsay from school. He was head of the debate team. Can't imagine he just rolled over and took the first offer."

"Helps when I show up in time to stop a robbery and rescue the little sister." Yeah, he was gloating, but the altercation with the bad guys had gotten his blood pumping, and so had the meet and greet with the lady. Letting them stew on that little bit of information, he got up and looked around the room. "Where the hell did you put the fridge?"

Mark laughed. "The new cabinets were installed this morning. Open the one on the far left."

"Damn, I keep forgetting you like to hide stuff. All this fancy ass furniture confuses me." Steve pulled out a cold bottle of water and offered it to Derek while the other two laughed, then tossed it to him and grabbed another. Mark shook his head, so Steve closed the door and went back to his chair.

"Did you stage a break-in to get the contract?" Derek asked.

More laughs all around, then Steve told them the whole story. "And the little sister is all mine."

"Somehow I doubt Simon will allow you to drag his sister to a BDSM club, no matter how nice the facilities are," Mark replied. "I know for a fact he's as straight-laced as they come."

"Yeah, maybe, but she's a grown woman and makes her own decisions."

"You're delusional. She's got three older brothers. Three overprotective older brothers. Give it up."

They were right, but he didn't give up easily.

A knock on the office door interrupted his retort, and Mark's assistant, Mildred stepped inside.

"Mr. Harrison, the carpet is here."

"Finally." Mark stood and stretched. "We have work to do."

"We're not laying carpet, are we? Didn't they bring people to do that?" Steve asked. Hell, all he knew about carpet was that it was something to walk on. He could build and wire a security system, or create internet barriers, or act as a human shield, dammit, but he didn't do carpet.

"Don't be a baby." Mark shoved his shoulder. "We're moving the already delivered furniture out of the way in each room, then putting it back."

Derek opened the door and ushered them out. "A little exercise will be good for us, blow off a little tension."

Mark laughed. "Still got that hard on?"

"What else did I miss?" Steve asked, following them down the hall.

* * * *

Dena shut off the faucet and turned on the jets, then sat on the side of the tub while steam and bubbles rose. There were a few bruises to catalog, and her wrist still hurt, but her heart was light.

Slipping into the hot water, she let the motion of the bubbles ease her mind while the jets soothed her sore muscles and she decided what to wear to dinner. She'd already called her friends to cancel the bar hop. They'd been sympathetic about her attack and awed at the description of the hot and handsome Steve Gladston.

She'd wanted an adventure, and now she'd have her own personal white knight.

Steve had all the makings of a great lover. Instead of a playful pretty-boy face and a trust fund, he had ruggedly handsome features and a sensual intensity that made her knees weak. From what she recalled of when he held her, there were muscles under those nice clothes he wore, and not the kind from a gym. His came from physical labor and were used for more than primping for women.

He was a flirt, too.

And good at it.

The dark hair made his blue eyes sparkle. A hint of a smile, like he knew a secret and wanted to share it with her, made her giddy.

The fact that he was friends with her brothers was an added perk. If they could back off enough for her to date Steve, she could convince them to stay out of her life after their little affair ended.

And it would. She had no illusions. Commitment had nothing to do with this date for either of them. Steve Gladston wasn't the marrying kind, and she didn't expect him to change for her. He was the wild fling, the man who taught her about sex and decadence. He was her affair to remember when she was an old woman.

She said that word out loud, affair, listened to it echo in the tiled room, and laughed. At twenty-five, she'd yet to have a long term relationship, largely because her brothers interfered constantly. Sex, yes. But not anything memorable, since one of her brothers managed to alienate the boyfriend and ended up in the guy's face. She couldn't prove it, but she thought they drew straws to see whose turn it was to harass the man she was dating.

Hunky Steve Gladston wouldn't put up with it and didn't look the type to back off from a fight, even with one of her brothers. He had too much pride to back off. Her brothers, especially Simon, wouldn't be able to stop her from dating him.

When the water cooled, Dena pulled the plug and wrapped a bath sheet around her body. The aches had eased and her wrist barely hurt when she moved it. She stepped into the custom closet she'd had installed and paged through her dresses.

Something sexy but not overly provocative would do. Most of what she had looked more like business attire and she had no desire to look like she was on a job interview.

When her hand landed on the dark blue sheath she'd bought last fall, she stopped.

Perfect.

It clung to her body in all the right places and the scooped neckline would highlight her attributes. They weren't huge, but decently proportioned and all she had.

Dammit. She was acting like a giddy schoolgirl before prom.

Exchanging the bath sheet for a robe, she went into the kitchen and opened a can of soup. She'd skipped lunch in favor of talking to the police a second time, and then her friends, before she left the office.

Simon had insisted she spend the next three days recovering from her ordeal, treating her like the proverbial helpless baby sister. Sure, she'd recover, but in her own way, and what her big brother didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She checked messages on her phone while her afternoon snack heated, then sat at the bar to eat the tomato bisque with some crackers. Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped when the doorbell rang. Her damn brothers were going to push her into moving out of state if they didn't back off a little. Every step toward the door built up steam for her reminder that she was a grown woman.

She started talking before the door fully opened and had to break off in mid-sentence.

Sara held up a hand and laughed. "Surprised?"

"Sorry," Dena said, waving her inside. "I thought you were—"

"One of the boys?" Sara finished.

"I hate it when they hover."

Sara walked past her and dropped her purse on a chair. "I should've called, I know, but I wanted to hear the whole story first hand so I could tell everyone tonight." She grinned. "I don't want you to leave any detail out. So, spill."

Sara Henley was her best friend and pushy should have been her middle name. Instead, it was Denise, a middle name she shared with Susan, her twin sister. They were fraternal instead of identical, which helped a lot, since they were very different women.

"I went to work early this morning so I could leave in time to meet you at the club tonight. Some guys broke in through the back—"

"Stop right there," Sara said. "I don't want those details. Tell me about the guy, you know, the hot one who asked you out."

With a laugh, Dena went back to the bar and Sara followed, sliding a cracker off of Dena's plate. "Oh, come on. Don't make me wait."

"He saved me."

"Got that. What else? What does he look like?"

Dena made her wait for a few minutes. "He's a grown man, not a college boy, and he rescued me. He tied up the guys that hit me and then, after he saw my bruises..." Dena brushed her fingers over the puffy red marks on her cheek. "...he went back over to them and punched them in the ribs."

"You mean, after they were subdued? That's illegal."

"He's not a cop, and he was—I guess he was mad because they hurt me."

Sara's prelaw education jumped in. "Still, they were restrained. He could be charged with assault."

With a shrug, Dena said, "Who's the jury going to believe? A couple of men who beat me up or the only witness—me?"

A long stare later, Sara shook her head. "You've got it bad and you haven't been on the first date yet. Are you planning to roll over and spread your legs for this guy?"

Dena answered with a quick no but knew the hot blush on her face gave away her intentions.

"Dena, you don't know him. Don't give it away."

Shocked wasn't a look she saw much on Sara's face, and Dena grinned. "He went to school with Simon, so he can't be too dangerous. And that makes him twenty-nine, pushing thirty and old enough to know how to give a girl a really good time."

"There's really no way to tell if that's true until you give him a try." Sara giggled. "I find that keeping my expectations low and being surprised by greatness is the best way to go."

Dena took her bowl to the kitchen sink and washed it out while Sara expounded on her past relationships and the new man in her life.

"He's older, too. He has a job at his family's company and there's money in the family, I think. Anyway, I haven't slept with him yet. But soon. Maybe."

"And you're giving me advice?" Dena pulled two glasses out and filled them with ice and water, passing one to Sara. They settled on the sofa and Dena deftly changed the subject. "What's going on with Susan these days? I haven't heard much from her."

"She and Kellie rented a condo together. She's working at a law firm part time while she finishes her masters in marketing."

"Kind of strange that you're prelaw and working at a computer company while Susan works at a law firm while studying marketing. It's like y'all switch brains once a month or something," Dena said with a laugh.

"Not really. We have a lot of shared interests, you know, and it gives us things to talk about when we hang out together."

"I guess, but tell me this. Why is it you just started working on grad school and she's almost finished?"

Dena hadn't gone that route, getting her bachelor's degree in office management made her more than qualified to run the day-to-day operations at her dad's firm. She'd grown up listening to business conversations and knew she wanted to be part of the firm, just like her brothers. They'd all followed their father into brokerage and investments. Except Brent. He was the youngest and a little wild, but he'd come around eventually.

"Easy answer. I goofed off more than she did." Sara looked at her watch and stood. "I need to get gone so you can get dressed. When is he due?"

"Six."

Sara hugged her tight. "Have fun and call me tomorrow with the scoop. The whole truth and nothing but."

When her doorbell rang an hour and a half later, Dena was itching to get the night going. She opened the door with a smile to find one tall, stylishly handsome man eating her up with his eyes. Heat crept up her chest and into her cheeks when his slow smile followed his gaze back to her face.

"Ready, doll?"
Chapter 3

Damn, she looked good. Simon's baby sister had grown into a beautiful woman and Steve had promised her a night to remember, but sex hadn't been on the menu until the door opened. Fuck it all. He'd told Simon he had no designs on her, just wanted to help her get over the trauma of the morning. The brother's reluctant agreement came with a reminder that the lady in question was twenty-five and innocent.

The bombshell in front of him was no innocent. Maybe she hid it well, but from where he stood, she was dressed for seduction. Waves of long dark hair fell over her shoulder, some lying across the bare skin above her breasts.

Steve squashed a growl that threatened to rise in his throat. Her most delectable body was showcased in a dress designed to make a man crazy. It clung to her curves and accented her hot little figure. No wonder Simon was so protective. Dena was a wet dream waiting for nightfall.

He anticipated a long hard night ahead while he fought to keep his hands to himself.

"You look lovely, Dena. Shall we?" He offered her his hand and waited on the stoop while she locked the door. Then he captured her hand and drew it around the crook of his arm for the walk to his truck. The pressure of her fingers on his arm didn't help him stick to his original plan for the night. She was like a tiger cub, ready and eager to play, even as she had no idea what she might get into tonight.

The drive to the restaurant he'd chosen was uneventful and he relaxed. The dress was just something pretty she liked and she was what her brother described, a sweet young lady with a desire for independence. As long as he acted the part of a gentleman, she'd be comfortable with him. But once the menus were collected, she shifted closer to him.

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner. This morning was a little intense and I was afraid my brothers were going to lock me up in a tower," she said, her hand moving closer to his on the tablecloth.

"They were worried and rightly so. I'm just glad I was at the building early enough to help." He caught her hand under his and kept it still. "By Monday, everything will be forgotten and you'll have a regular workday."

"If you truly believe that, you don't know my brothers," she said, a cute smile lighting her face. "How long did Simon argue with you about taking me out?"

"We discussed it, but I always get my way."

"I'm sure you do," she said, her soft voice adding heat to her words while her eyes met his for a long minute. Desire and something else, something unknown, lingered in her gaze. She was surprisingly sensual for an innocent young lady.

Their salads arrived and he freed her hand to open his napkin. Sometime between the first and second bite, he realized more than his napkin was in his lap.

The little lady needed to learn her limits, and he wouldn't mind being her teacher, despite Simon's warning. Keeping his tone low, he leaned close to her ear. "You will keep your hands in your own lap or on the table."

His lap was vacated immediately and her chin dropped. A pink stain rose on her cheeks, embarrassment instead of flirtation, and her bottom lip quivered. "I'm sorry."

He let her stew for a few minutes while he ate his salad and watched her pick at hers. "Eat, and we'll talk when I'm ready."

Her flush deepened and his chest tightened with a hint of real interest. She'd responded to his comment with what he might take as submission.

He laid the fork across his plate and steepled his hands. "I'm not sure what you envisioned this night to be. Tell me what you thought would happen."

Dena glanced in his direction before turning her gaze back to her almost empty salad plate. Her chest rose and fell once, twice, a third time before she spoke, her voice wobbly. "I'd hoped to... I'd hoped you would..."

A waiter appeared to take their plates and she flinched.

"Go on, tell me, little girl. What did you expect?"

Finally, a response other than a hidden face. Her eyes flashed with heat and held his, her glare proving she had a backbone. With three brothers, she had to have a little inner strength somewhere in her soul and he was glad to see it.

"I'm not a little girl."

Her words came out in a flurry of subdued anger, harsh, direct, but barely audible. She didn't want to make a scene in the restaurant, and her spunk almost made him smile, but it wasn't the time or place to applaud her fierceness.

"I'm a grown woman and my brothers treat me like a baby. I just want an adventure, a life of my own."

Her hand came up fast to cover her mouth and her pretty hazel eyes went wide. She tried to stand but he'd have none of it. His hand clamped down on her thigh to keep her in the seat. Eye contact was immediate and he held her gaze until she dropped her chin and focused on the napkin in her lap.

Their food arrived and Dena leaned back in the chair, her face a mask of calm control while her hands trembled in her lap. Steve angled his body toward hers and said with quiet authority, "Dena, eat and we'll talk. I'm not angry. I want to discuss this with you. Don't be embarrassed."

"Are you going to tell my brothers what I did?"

"Do you really think Simon wants to hear that you felt me up?"

Her head swiveled to see his expression and he smiled. Dena sucked her top lip into her mouth, bit down lightly, and released it and her nervousness. She let out a soft laugh. "I guess not."

He took a bite of his steak and watched her cut into hers. Once it was in her mouth, he quietly said, "What exactly did you expect to happen tonight?"

Unable to respond with food in her mouth, irritation flashed across her face.

"Ah-ah, stop and think about your answer while you chew."

Her chewing slowed as he watched, and her eyes slid shut. Not from the succulence of the food, but because she'd taken his advice, and it warmed him a little more. Dena Lindsay was a beautiful hot mess of a woman and from her response to him, he was fairly certain she hadn't had many men. Boys, maybe, but not men.

She looked into his eyes with conviction. "I want a man in my life who won't be intimidated by my brothers."

"That's been a problem lately?" he asked, knowing the answer. Hell, if she was his sister, he'd be standing on the front porch with a shotgun.

Dena pursed her lips and blew out a puff of air. "You know my brothers. What do you think? Every man I've dated since high school has dumped me by the second week. A few even told me they couldn't deal with my family."

"Honey, you've been dating boys, not men."

A slim grin made him rethink his part in this conversation. She might be innocent about men, but she was smart about people in general.

"So where does that put you?"

He took another bite and she followed suit, allowing him equal time to think, and he needed it. While he'd love to take her to bed and make her scream, Simon would have a fit about Steve's lifestyle, and rightly so. Introducing his innocent sister to bondage and submission was well past Simon's comfort zone.

But the thought of giving this beautiful young lady her first real orgasm was like a siren's call.

He wanted her.

He wanted her wet and begging while he eased his dick into her tight sheath.

He wanted to watch her face when the climax took her and she screamed his name.

"What do I get for being the sacrificial lamb?" he asked her, interested as to what she'd come up with as incentive.

"Anything you want."

Ah, damn. Not the best answer right now, but exactly what he loved to hear from a woman. And Dena wasn't his ordinary woman. She didn't come with a history and preferences. He'd be free to teach her to be everything he wanted in a submissive, and that one thought made him the ultimate bastard.

But it wouldn't stop him.

"Brave girl. You sure about that offer?" Damn. She had no idea what she was getting from this deal, and he was glad he'd been the one to field the offer. At least, he'd take care of her. So many other men would take her at face value and run roughshod over her body and soul.

"I trust you, Steve."

He chuckled, the sound rough to his ears. "Remember those words. You might change your mind once you know me better."

He cut into his steak and asked a question about her hobbies, letting the sex talk die down. He wanted her relaxed and at ease in his presence, even as his cock pulsed against the cloth napkin in his lap. Three layers of fabric and it still felt like he was bare and ready. It wouldn't happen tonight or the next.

She needed to learn obedience and he was an excellent teacher. He watched her face while she spoke about her friends, college days, and the volunteer work she and one of her girlfriends did at the children's hospital every month. So full of life and excitement, she brought her own energy to the room and the people in it.

She declined dessert and wasn't interested in seeing a movie, so he took her home, sure she expected sex. At her front door, she turned with a smile.

"Would you like to come in?"

Steve looked down into the cleavage showing from the cleft of her sexy blue dress and knew she'd be a handful to take on. And he was willing, but only on his terms.

"No, Dena, I'm not coming inside, but I will kiss you goodnight. I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven and feed you again."

"Oh."

"We play by my rules, Dena. No others."

He took her mouth in a soft kiss, lips on lips in a gentle slide, and waited for her to respond. When her mouth opened, he plunged in, taking what he wanted until he felt her body fall into his.

Her moan lingered in the space between them when he set her away from his body. "Good night, Dena. Lock the door behind you. I'll be listening for the bolt to engage."

Eyes half glazed, she nodded and went inside. Once the lock clicked in place, he went back to the truck, already planning what he'd do with her tomorrow. As much as he detested vanilla sex, he might have to begin there and move into kink slowly.

Or not.
Chapter 4

Dena leaned against the door and kicked out of her shoes. Stilettos were difficult enough to maneuver at the end of the day, but with the addition of her trembling knees, it wouldn't happen.

She'd be lucky to crawl to the sofa barefooted. Every single inch of her body tingled and throbbed after his kiss.

What in the hell had she gotten herself into?

Forcing the image of a puppy frolicking in the grass into her brain gave her a minute of semi-clarity, but it slipped away just before she made it to the sofa. The expression on Steve's face just before their mouths touched slammed into her head again and she sagged onto the couch while her breath caught up with her heartbeat.

Damn. She'd never survive sex if one kiss laid her this low. He was too much man for her. Out of her mind, she thought about sending him a text and calling off tomorrow's date, but couldn't convince her fingers to follow through.

She'd asked for an adventure.

Now she had a willing accomplice. Or rather a madman. Maybe a sex maniac. But she couldn't imagine him wild. He was too controlled, too in charge of himself and his surroundings.

The home phone rang and she fumbled to reach the handset, wondering who was selling what. All her friends used her cell number.

"You're home already?" Sara asked. "What happened to the hot date? I was expecting to leave a message."

"It was great," she replied.

"So great that you're home before ten?" Sara asked, the sound of music and laughter in the background. "What happened?"

"Why did you call if you thought I was out?" Talking about Steve wasn't a good idea. It was too fresh, too soon to break down the date with a friend. The need to savor it kept her quiet.

"I was going to suggest brunch tomorrow so I could hear about the date, and don't think I didn't notice you deflected my question. What happened? Was he mean to you?"

"No, he wasn't mean. He's...he's charismatic."

"He's religious?"

Dena's head dropped to the back of the sofa with a thump. "No. He's charming and sexy and disarmingly intense."

The sounds of the crowd dissipated and Sara's voice cleared. "Are you telling me you had dinner and sex in less than three hours, not counting the drive? Who does that?"

"Not me. Never." Then why did her body feel like it happened moments ago? "Hey, what happened with your date?"

Sara sighed. "He called this afternoon and dumped me. Said he was going on vacation with some friends and didn't want to feel awkward while they were picking up women."

"Ew. You should call that a win for you."

"I know. Anyway, we'll discuss it ad nauseam tomorrow."

"Okay. Call me in the morning and we'll get together."

Sara started to argue, but Dena said goodbye twice and ended the call.

Talk about a cold shower. Well, maybe tepid. Her body still responded to his kiss but her brain was back to normal functionality. Getting to her feet, she turned off the lights and went to bed, crawling under the covers nude, a habit she'd started the first night in her own place. Tonight, the sheets rasped a little too much and sleep was elusive.

* * * *

Sara slipped back onto the barstool and leaned close to her sister. "Dena's already home, but says she had a good time. Want to get breakfast with us tomorrow?"

Susan nodded and passed the word to her best friend, Kellie. All three sat around a high table and watched the dancers in the middle of the room. A few of the couples on the floor needed to get a room. Public exhibition wasn't her thing, but this club had a reputation in the singles community.

Conversation wasn't the objective. Hooking up and getting busy was the new meet-and-greet. Sara watched the crowd while her friends talked to each other and to the random men who stopped at their table. A tall man caught her eye as he moved through the crowd. He looked older than most of the people in the room, like he'd lived a little harder than the rest. Built like a football player, he exuded athletic grace and power.

When he stopped next to her chair, she sucked in a breath. He wasn't the usual type she attracted. Most of the men she'd dated were more the nerdy type. Academics. Jocks didn't give her a second look.

Until now.

"Dance."

A midrange voice pronounced the word, and it wasn't a request. More like a demand, but slightly softer. What the hell? Fresh from being dumped, a dance or two wouldn't hurt. Sara slipped off the barstool and was surprised when he gripped her hand and tugged her into the crowd. His arms came around her and held her close to his chest.

"What's your name?"

"Sara."

"You're with me tonight, Sara." His hand moved down her back and settled on her rear, a little too intimate for a first dance, but she let it slide since they were surrounded by swaying bodies.

"I'm Ethan."

"Ethan who?" she asked. If he was going to grope her ass, she wanted at least a last name and maybe a family history or blood test.

"Jenkins."

"Where are you from?" she asked.

Ethan pressed her head against his chest. "Dance. We'll talk later."

Maybe there was a reason she didn't date jocks. They didn't like to talk, and it was her favorite pastime. They moved around the crowded dance floor, her head against what felt like a well-defined chest. At least he didn't stink. She recognized the scent of sandalwood and male sweat, a nice mixture that reminded her of the outdoors. When the song changed, he kept her in his arms. She stayed on the floor with him for the next two dances and then he took her back to the table.

"I'll be back." He disappeared into the crowd and she ordered a fresh glass of white wine.

"Well?"

Sara leaned close to her sister. "Well, what?"

"Who is he? Do you like him?" As twins, they'd shared everything for the last twenty-four years. Sometimes verbal worked, sometimes the info passing from one to the other was more intuitive. For the most part, Sara preferred to keep her love life a little more private. "Ethan."

Susan gave her a nod, her right brow rising in a miniscule query, but she let it wait, thank God. Picking apart a man she met in a bar and danced with one time wasn't how she wanted to spend the evening.

A few minutes later, Kellie leaned in and whispered, "Who's the guy? Did you ask him for another wine?"

Ethan was making his way through the crowd surrounding the dance floor. She sent Kellie a quick shake of her head before he got to their table and then sighed when she lost sight of him in the crowd. Hard to know if her luck was good or bad.

A few minutes later, he reappeared with a beer and a glass of white wine in hand. Insinuating himself between her chair and that of her sister, he set the glass in front of her and pressed his face into her hair close to her ear. Instead of speaking, he left wet kisses along her jaw and nibbled her earlobe.

Different, considering they'd barely met.

She reached for the wine and Kellie tapped her finger on the fresh glass the waitress had brought, a nice white napkin under it. Sara took a sip and kept it in her hand. When he tugged her back to the dance floor, she handed her wine to Kellie for safekeeping. When they returned to the table, the other glass had disappeared.

Thankful for good friends, she shimmied back onto the bar chair and sipped her wine. Ethan hovered. Kellie leaned close and asked, "You okay?"

The only response she could think of was wide eyes and a shrug. They danced again, and when he brought her back to the table, he kissed her full on the mouth. His kiss was a lot like his vocabulary, direct and to the point without a lot of hearts and flowers. The tip of his tongue brushed her bottom lip for a few seconds and disappeared when he pulled back.

His wallet landed on the table and he extricated two business cards, sliding both to her along with a short golf pencil. Great. A boy scout on the make.

"Give me your number and I'll call you tomorrow."

Afterwards, they watched him walk out the door before the giggles started.

"What was that? Did you give him your real number?" Susan asked.

Sara grinned. "Yes. He's just quiet, but he's a decent dancer—"

"And a decent kisser?" Kellie asked.

More laughter. "Yes, that, too. Sort of."

"You'll go out with him?" Susan asked.

"Sure, why not? So he's quiet. I can deal with that, and he's kind of cute."

"Just be careful, Sara. Weirdoes are everywhere these days."

"I'm willing to take a chance on love. He could very well be Mr. Right."

Kellie smiled. "I'd be happy with a Mr. Right Now. I just can't find a decent guy anywhere. My roommate hogs all the good ones," she said with a long look at Susan.

"Hey, he's mine, all mine, even if he has to work the late shift on Fridays." Susan glanced at her watch and scooted off the chair. "I need to get home. You ready, Kellie?"

"What happened to that guy you were dating, Kellie?" Sara asked. "I thought you said he was the one."

"He's taking a semester off to travel abroad."

"Wow. Must be nice to have money," Sara said. "So, you're taking a break from the relationship game?"

"Yes. We agreed to see other people, but I'm not in a hurry. I think being single is a good idea for me right now."

Sara and Susan shared a look. They'd both seen Kellie with bruises on her arms and legs. Marks she'd had a quick excuse for, but still, they worried. Didn't help that the guy was someone neither of them liked.

"Maybe you'll meet someone sweet," Sara suggested.

Kellie shook her head in her friend's direction. "No. I just got into grad school, and I don't want to go through the process again. Besides, I'm not really interested in a long term relationship right now."

"Wise choice. I don't want to get hitched, either. Sara? You thinking about marriage?" Susan asked her sister, knowing the answer before it was voiced.

"Hell, no. But a little fun would be nice." Sara leaned against the side of her car, the parking lot's lights reinforcing their sense of safety.

"What really happened with Dena tonight?" Kellie asked once she and Susan joined her.

"She had a date with the guy that saved her this morning, but she was home by ten. Don't ask me why. She wouldn't say. We'll get the whole story tomorrow at breakfast."

Chapter 5

Steve spent most of his day in the office, his mind split along two lines of thought. He put together a prospectus for the security system he wanted to install at Lindsay & Associates while his libido worked on a training plan for cute little Dena Lindsay.

Mark was right. Simon would never willingly condone the introduction of BDSM to his baby sister. However, she was a helluva lot more than a baby. And she needed the discipline and self-control he could give her.

He flashed to an image of what might happen to such a sweet young lady if she offered herself up to the wrong man. A jackass who didn't know what to do with her or how to treat her would screw up the rest of her life with little effort.

Not happening on his watch.

She'd responded to his voice. That alone made her susceptible to the lifestyle. With careful training, Miss Dena would be a perfect submissive. He hit print on the Lindsay file and switched to the notepad on his desk. Half a shopping list already existed for tonight's date.

He needed to pick up a new cloth restraint, nothing but the best and softest fabric for Dena. There'd be plenty of time to work around to the more extreme aspects of his lifestyle and he'd take it slow. A little gentle bondage and sex would set her on fire. Once he'd banked the first flame, he'd work on building the bonfire one date at a time.

He'd done a little research on her early this morning. Hell, sleep had been sporadic last night, his mind already processing the steps to making her his. What she'd told him about her brothers was true. They'd interfered in her life regularly and some of the men, rather. The boys she'd dated had posted shit on social media complaining about the trouble her brothers caused.

Of course, he'd worked a little magic and most of those posts were wiped. A few would require more time than he had at the moment, but they'd disappear soon.

He tore off the top sheet of his notepad and stuck it in his pocket, sure he'd find a few other items at Private Delights to borrow when he stopped on the way home. The club was damn near ready to open and he wanted to see what the private rooms looked like. The design specs had been tight, but he wanted to set eyes on the real thing.

When he stopped by yesterday, he'd been roped into working and hadn't had a chance to look around. Mark assured him things were on track for the opening, but he wanted to see for himself.

Half an hour later, he walked through the front door. Man, the place had changed overnight. As he made his way to the main staircase, he noticed all the little details that made the club a work of art. Mark and Derek had done an excellent job putting the place together.

At the top of the stairs, he took a right and looked for the room number he'd been assigned. His membership privileges gave him access to the entire building and to one well-stocked private room. He was looking forward to seeing what Mark and Derek had deemed must-have items for every room. He pushed down on the door lever and nothing happened.

Dammit. They'd already set the locks. Now, he'd have to hunt down one of them and find out where to get his keycard. Best place to start would be Mark's office. Mildred, his personal assistant, kept close tabs on her boss and all his business dealings. A true asset to the club and Mark's other businesses.

Sure as shitting, the older woman with clear, no nonsense eyes and steel gray hair was at her desk.

"Welcome, Master Steve. How can I help you?"

Steve leaned a hip against the corner of her desk and gave her his best smile. "Mildred, so good to see you. How's things?" Getting a smile out of her was a game they played regularly, and he didn't often win. Screwing with the English language usual got him a slap on the wrist or at least a dirty look. Today, not so much as a flick of the finger.

"Everything is progressing nicely. What do you need?"

"Well, ma'am, I'd like to get into my private room, but it appears the locks have been set. Any idea where I can get my keycard?"

"I believe I can help you, Master Steve."

"Thank you," he replied. She'd been Mark's assistant for several years, and while she calmly took care of their business interests, the three men treated her as they would a favorite aunt. She was married to Mark's uncle, so they weren't too far off the map with her, and she treated them like the children she never had. All of them could be downright belligerent and foulmouthed, but when she was around, they curbed it as much as nature allowed.

Mildred opened a ledger on her desk. "Please sign next to your name."

While he scribbled what he called his signature, she pulled a short stack of cards from the drawer and located his.

"Are those the only cards? I must be the last one to get mine."

"No, Master Steve. The cards are grouped by number. There are several stacks still in the drawer."

He offered her a smile, hoping she might reciprocate. Rarely happened, and today was one of those days. "Thank God. I thought we might end up broke if we didn't get enough members."

She nodded her head and said, "No worries." A softly worded dismissal from her, she turned back to her screen and keyboard.

Steve stood there a minute or three, admiring her squared shoulders and slender throat. An attractive woman, she must've driven the men wild in her heyday. And the clipped British accent was charming as hell. Pulling out of his reverie, he left the office before she complained about his lingering presence.

Once in his suite, he pulled open all the drawers and inspected the contents. The guys had done a good job and he collected a few pieces to take home for his date. A soft wrist restraint was a must—have, and there were several in one drawer. After running his hands over all of them, he chose the softest and set it aside.

Standing in the midst of his future playground, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Mark had been right. Starting over with a new design for the old country club was much better than refurbishing the club they'd thought about buying downtown. Here, they had everything they needed and with the club sitting in the county instead of surrounded by high-rises, they had more room to grow.

Steve closed all the drawers with a soft push and ran his hand across the soft sheets on the bed. It would take a few dates to convince Dena to play in this bed, but it would happen. He could already imagine her face as he pushed her into a higher state of arousal than she'd ever known.

Hell, he might not get past foreplay tonight. She needed to learn patience before he let her have an orgasm.

On her front step at six sharp, he rang the bell and waited. When the door opened, he calmed his breath and gave her a long look. A vision of soft, curvy woman washed over him and he pushed it back into his long term memory before he spoke. He gathered his control and stepped into her home.

"Did you look out the peephole?"

"Of course."

"What did you see?"

She cocked her hip and put a hand on it. He was getting to her. "A man wearing dark sunglasses." Before he could reprimand her, she put up a hand and continued. "I also looked out the window and saw your truck."

Dena turned and headed for the little table where her purse sat, her voice floating back to him with an irritated tone. "I have three brothers. I know what to do. I'm not an idiot."

Then she screamed.

With good reason.

He'd moved fast when she turned away, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her body. One hand pressed into her belly and held her tight to his torso while the other moved to cover her mouth. Steve insinuated one foot between her feet and pushed them farther apart, throwing her off balance.

"What should you do now?" he whispered in her ear. "Show me what you know."

She struggled, twisting against his body until the ache in his dick threatened to take over the game, but he held back. She tried to kick at his legs but a shift of his body changed the pressure of her feet to the floor and she couldn't manage the difference.

She growled, frustration getting the better of her.

"Think, Dena."

Her hands wrapped around the arm he had across her body, tugging at his hold and curling her nails into his skin, but not enough to break the skin.

"Close, but not enough, doll." He let a laugh slip free, since he was enjoying the game, and she stopped all motion. Anger called, and she followed for a minute, her body tightening. She was thinking. Good girl. With a deep breath, her entire body went limp in his arms.

The sudden change in her body weight forced him to realign his position.

A sharp elbow came out of nowhere and got him right in the gut, a perfect shot. She spun away as he released her, breathing hard and staring at him like he was the devil incarnate.

Steve rubbed at his gut and grinned. "Nicely played. Perfect. How do you feel?"

She stared daggers at him for a minute. "Was this a test?"

"Yes. I don't want you to feel threatened at work or anywhere you might be, and I'd like to help you with some self-defense techniques. I wanted to see what you're capable of."

"And?"

"You used your brain instead of trying to fight me off." He lifted his arm and inspected the skin while she watched. "You must be willing to draw blood to get away."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

He stepped into her personal space and cupped her face. "I know, doll. But if anyone else does that to you, go for blood. If you have the chance, grab the family jewels and twist. Anything to get free." With every word, he moved closer, until his mouth hovered right over hers. "Remember."

"Okay."

"Ready for dinner?"

She hummed a bit, waiting, he knew, for the kiss she expected. Not yet.

He reached to the side and snagged her purse from the table, handing it to her. "Don't forget your keys."

Her lips formed a little pout but she followed directions. On the front stoop, he watched her turn the key before he touched her again. He took the keys from her hand, dropped them into his pocket, and settled his palm on her nape. The feel of her hair flowing across the back of his hand enticed, but he kept to the rules for the night.

Once moving, he pulled an envelope off the dash and handed it to her. "This my most recent medical report. If—" But he meant when. "—we're intimate, I want you to feel secure in my health. I'd like to see your test results, too."

She stumbled with a reply, caught off guard as he'd intended. Dena wasn't getting the upper hand if he could help it, and he was good at maintaining power in a relationship.

"I had my last well check last month and they did blood work. Everything was fine. I'll ask for a copy."

"Good. When we're together, I'd prefer not to use a condom." A major change for him, but the urge to feel bare skin on bare skin had been a persistent thought since their first meeting.

"Oh. Okay." Her fingers intertwined in her lap, slipped around and resettled. "I'm on the pill, have been for a couple of years, but I've never not used a condom."

"Good girl."

More fidgeting and he kept his smile moderate. Keeping her a little off balance worked in his favor while he put together her personal adventure. Waiting to have her under him, begging for release while he pounded into her sweet body was worth it. He had all the time in the world, and she'd be his soon enough.

Keeping her hands out of his lap during the drive to the restaurant might require restraints, and wasn't he lucky to have just what he needed for that?
Chapter 6

Dena recited the Gettysburg Address in her head while the truck sped down the road. Dinner had been wonderful and frustrating. Steve was the perfect gentleman, holding her chair, cutting her meat, offering her a taste of his food, more than she'd expected from him.

Less, too.

He still hadn't kissed her, hadn't even touched her. She asked for an adventure of the sexual variety and instead, she got a monk with nice table manners and a body to tempt the most devout nun in the world. They were almost to her house and she had no idea what he had planned. After last night's goodnight kiss, she'd hoped for more of the same. In fact, it was all she thought about. The feel of his lips on hers, the pressure and texture of them making her tremble with need, filled most of her day. When he'd arrived and leaned close, she'd assumed they were picking up right where they left off last night.

Wrong.

He teased. He taunted. He tortured.

Even as his hot gaze slid over her body and he grinned in approval at what she'd chosen to wear.

Oh, yes, she'd recognized the look in his eyes when she opened the front door.

Growing up with three brothers and doting parents made delayed satisfaction a non-issue for her. She was the spoiled only daughter and she knew it. Lived it and loved it. But Steve didn't seem to notice.

At least he was a gentleman, she thought as she waited for him to open her door and help her from the truck. He kept a hand at the small of her back as they walked to her front door. The sight of it half-open shocked the hell out of both of them.

Steve grabbed her hand and hurried her back to his SUV while she argued.

"What are you doing? I need to see what's been taken and call the police."

Steve jerked open the passenger door and put her inside with ease. "Stay here. Do not get out of this vehicle or unlock the door until I come back. Promise me."

Dammit. When he used that tone of voice she couldn't argue. "Okay."

The door slammed and he used the key fob to activate the alarm. She watched him jog back up the walk and disappear into her home. Her breath rushed out when she realized she still had her purse. Quickly locating her cell, she called the police and gave them her address. The local police were wonderful to work with, and a patrol car pulled up to her curb just as Steve came out her front door.

The two men met on her front walk while she watched. Steve's order to stay put rankled, and when he didn't acknowledge her in any way, she hit the lock release and joined them. His irritation was obvious, but she made sure he saw hers, too.

"You were supposed to stay in the truck, doll."

He didn't sound angry, just irritated. "It's my house. Besides, between you and the officer, I'm sure it's safe."

The officer shook his head and grinned at Steve, some private joke she'd missed, and it didn't sit well. She was too wound up with frustration to deal calmly with them.

"What did you find in my house?" she asked Steve. "Is it a mess? Was the lock broken? I know I locked it before we left."

Steve's hand settled on the back of her neck and he gave her a little squeeze. "Take a deep breath, Dena. I've got this."

She opened her mouth to reply and he leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Shush, doll. Let me do this for you."

Her heart stopped for a second, then restarted at a slower pace, a definite reaction to his words and the warm breath across her throat. How did he manage to do so much to her with so little effort?

The police officer was talking about break-ins in the neighborhood, and Steve told him nothing was missing that he could see. "I have a locksmith on the way to replace the broken lock," he told the officer.

"Good idea. I'll give this report to the detective investigating the office burglary, in case they're linked." He turned to her and asked, "Ms. Lindsay, do you ever bring work home?"

"No. Everything stays at the office."

He nodded, wrote a few things on his clipboard that she didn't get to read, and shook hands with both of them. He climbed into his patrol car just as another car pulled into her drive.

"Here's my locksmith. He's going to fix you up tight. I don't want anything to happen to you, doll."

"Thank you, but I can take care of myself," she told him.

"Dena, as long as I'm around, you don't have to. Might as well get used to it, 'cause I'm not going to change my ways."

The young man walked up the drive with three boxes in his hands and a tool belt cinched around his hips. He didn't even glance her way, just showed Steve the locks he'd brought and waited for approval.

"Exactly what I asked for. Thanks. Go ahead with the front door while we walk the house."

"I don't know you well enough to let you run my life, Steve." She didn't need another overprotective male in her life. She wanted a lover, but not full time. She liked being self-sufficient.

He led her into the house without comment. "Tell me if you see anything missing."

Papers were scattered across the coffee table and the sofa, but they were junk mail from the morning delivery. The television and DVD system were right where they belonged, untouched.

The calendar in the kitchen had been pulled off its hook and was askew on the floor but not torn. "What were they looking for?" she said under her breath, not expecting an answer.

The jars on her counter were emptied on the table, a huge pile of flour, sugar, and coffee waiting for a trashcan. When she reached for one, Steve stopped her.

"Let's finish the house before we clean."

But there wasn't much to find. The light was on in both her bedroom and her office. All her purses were on the floor and her bed, some with zippers pulled out, some just opened and discarded. The office space that she only used at Christmastime had taken the brunt of the robber's attention. All the drawers were pulled out and dumped.

"Well," she sighed, "I've been thinking about a new laptop. I just wish I'd backed up my address book before they took the old one."

"This was definitely connected to the office burglary. I saw jewelry on the dresser, but they didn't take it. What do you think they were looking for, Dena?"

"I don't honestly know. If it's something from the office, they wouldn't find it here. I don't work from home. Ever."

They returned to the kitchen and Steve helped her put things to rights. It was a little disconcerting since she'd never seen the men in her family do anything domestic in all the years she'd lived at home. She started

to say something about it, but decided not to rock the boat.

Halfway through the kitchen cleanup, the locksmith asked for their approval and assistance. Dena looked at the new lock in surprise. "There's no key?"

The locksmith smiled. "You'll need a four or five digit code to open the lock. Do you have one in mind?"

When she nodded, he touched two numbers and asked her to put in her numbers. "If you want to add or change the numbers, the instructions are in the box."

"Wow. High tech locks. I've moved uptown."

Steve chuckled and told her, "You've always been uptown, doll. He's putting the same type lock on the other two doors."

"Thanks."

"You'll be safe tonight."

She hoped that meant he was staying the night, but she couldn't be sure. Steve Gladston wasn't an easy man to read.

The locksmith stepped back and gathered his tools. "Where's the back door?"

Steve shut and locked the front entrance and Dena headed for the door into the backyard. Half of it was glass, and she could only imagine Steve's reaction at the lack of security. He must have realized she was at her wit's end because he let it go, dragging her back to the kitchen.

She dropped into a chair and he put water in the kettle on the stove. "Where do you keep your teabags?" When she leaned forward, he added, "No, don't get up, Dena, just point."

Who was this man and where had he been all her life?

She pointed to the pantry and propped an elbow on the little round table in her kitchen. Fascinated by the man in her kitchen, she watched the muscles move under his clothes while he reached for the mug and added the bag of tea. So not what she'd imagined for the after dinner portion of this date.

What if she'd been home when the break in happened? A shiver ran down her spine and his voice stopped it. "Don't go there, Dena. What ifs won't do any good. Trust me."

Steve put the cup in her hand and wrapped his warmth around her fingers for a minute. "Drink."

"Mr. Gladston, all three locks are set and ready for her to code in her number."

* * * *

Steve got to his feet and shook the man's hand. "Thanks, Donny. Come by my office in the morning and I'll have some cash for you." He walked the man to the front door and handed him a fifty for coming out so quickly. Then he went back to Dena and asked for her code, instructing her to keep drinking her tea while he set the locks.

She looked sweet and needy at the kitchen table, holding the mug like a lifeline. The night had been a rough one for her. His just-the-facts conversation about sex, his hands-off policy at dinner, and now a break in and ransack. Damn fine date night he'd given her.

He fought the urge to pick her up and carry her to her bed. To hell with training, she needed a good fuck to take her mind off the B & E.

Or not.

He cursed under his breath, glad he'd had her out on the town. If she'd been home alone, the night might've had a much different ending.

The new locks would help, and he'd continue with the self-defense lessons. No one would touch her, with one very clear exception.

He'd have his hands all over her.

Steve wiped down the counters while she sipped her tea, then took the cup and set it in the sink. With a tug, he pulled her into his arms and wrapped his body heat around her.

"I'm going to take care of you tonight, and I'll be gone in the morning before you wake."

"You can stay for breakfast," she whispered, barely a breath across his chest, but this wasn't a night he'd take advantage of.

With one arm tight around her waist, he walked her into her bedroom and turned down the bedcovers. "Do you want a bath before bed?"

Eyes slumberous, she shook her head. The night's shot of adrenaline was seeping out of her and the tea was enhancing the effect. With one more push, she'd sleep soundly and wake up refreshed and thinking of him.

He turned her around in his arms and eased the zipper down her back, revealing satin skin in a long glide past her skimpy lingerie. Damn, what a beauty. Letting the dress fall to the floor, he took her hand and backed her to the bed. Her eyes bored into his, a window into her thoughts, and he would give her what she needed in one respect. More would come later, but for tonight, he'd help her sleep.

She sat, and he went to one knee and removed her shoes.

"Go brush your teeth, doll. I'll be right here."

Surprise flashed in her eyes for a second, then she stood in her flimsy pink panty and bra and walked past him, her knees a little wobbly but head held high.

* * * *

Ethan squatted under a tree in a darkened front yard a few houses down from pretty little Dena Lindsay and her new best buddy. Fuck buddy, from what he knew about Steve Gladston. The man was a legend in the BDSM community, a rap Ethan wanted to shred. Nobody could be that good with the women.

Now the man was a full blown thorn in Ethan's side. Two of his friends were in lockup after a short stint in the hospital and they still didn't have the information he needed.

Those passcodes had to be somewhere in Dena's house or office. They were too important to leave lying around, but he hadn't found any kind of safe in the house. And now he'd have to wait another day to search again. He'd been in the back bedroom when Gladston's truck pulled into the drive, barely managing to get out through the window. Thank fuck the housing code required escape windows for fire safety. From the looks of it, getting back in would be harder tomorrow.

A persistent vibration in his pocket had him pulling out his cell. Lloyd with good news, he hoped. "Speak."

"Got in. Got out. No problem."

"Tell me you found what we need."

"Can't be sure. Did a search and downloaded all her files to a zip. On the way home now to go through them."

"I'll meet you there in a bit. Want to see how long Gladston stays tonight."

"Who?"

"That fucker that beat up our guys. He took her out tonight and almost walked in on me."

"Shit. Guess that means you didn't find anything."

Her house went dark. "Fuck it. He's staying the night." Ethan stood and checked the neighborhood before moving out of the shadows. "I'll meet you in half an hour." Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Arms loose and carefree, he ambled down the block like joe-shmo neighbor out for a late-night stroll. Two blocks over, he ducked behind a quiet church. Best place in the world to hide a vehicle. Nobody thought to look behind a church.

It took him half an hour to drive across town to Lloyd's shabby apartment. Damn, if this was all he could manage with a law degree, he should've gone into the trades like his dad. Plumbers ran in his family and they all had nice houses, from what Ethan had seen during high school.

For Ethan, growing up meant sit down dinners with family and listening to his parents talk politics. Mainly, they rehashed what his uncle was doing in the State Senate. Boring shit that Ethan had no need of. Sooner or later, Gramps would croak and he'd come into a nice little fortune. Until then, he played games of chance. Trouble was, he didn't always win.

He tapped on Lloyd's door and it popped open.

"I'm into her system, but can't find any reference for the accounts."

Ethan handed him the laptop he'd grabbed on his way out of Dena's house. "Keep looking. If I don't get those numbers, I'm shit out of luck."

"We. We need the info."

Right. Lloyd wasn't completely gullible. "Of course, that's what I meant." He leaned over the old desktop and watched the pages flip with every click. "And you got everything?"

"Copied every last bit of info from her workstation onto this hard drive. Maybe the info we need is somewhere else in the building."

"Maybe. John and Bill had their hands on some stuff, but it stayed in the building. Besides, the info we need isn't likely to be hardcopy. Maybe it's on her personal laptop." Ethan tapped on the folder now sitting next to Lloyd's machine. "What we really need is the master password for all their major accounts."

"Oh."

The long silence while his tech guy stared at the screen had the hair on the back of Ethan's neck standing on end.

"Well. I, uh, didn't know we were going in for the big money. I thought we were going after the Lindsays."

Suddenly Lloyd was looking a little green around the gills, and Ethan couldn't afford to lose him. "Don't worry about where the money's coming from. We're looking at a few really big accounts that could use a little thinning. Once you get your part done and we all make our exit, there'll be nothing to worry about."
Chapter 7

Steve picked up her discarded clothes and put them on a chair in the corner, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. That was as far as he'd go tonight. Sure, he'd had major plans for their first interlude, but Dena wasn't in a good mental place for what he had in mind.

Instead, he'd help her calm her nerves and relax, give her a nice little orgasm to help her sleep, and lock up on his way out. Tomorrow would be soon enough to test the waters of bondage and submission with her. He had no doubt he'd convince her to give his lifestyle a try.

The bathroom door opened and she slipped out, her hair brushed to a shine to match that of her eyes. Still in her undies, signs of nervous energy from the break-in combined with the unknown of their relationship gave her the look of a frightened deer. From his seat on the bed, he opened his arms and she moved smoothly into them.

"Hold on to me, doll. I'll make everything right for you tonight, and by tomorrow, you'll be safe and happy."

Covering her mouth with his, he teased and warmed her until she pulled back, breathless and aroused instead of fearful. "Why don't you lose the rest of those clothes and get into bed?" A request, but voiced as a soft demand, and she obeyed without much hesitation. He reminded himself that it was her first time to get naked for him and let it slip.

He stood and pulled the covers back while she tossed the panty and bra in the direction of the corner chair. Dammit to hell, she was a beautiful woman. Curves in all the right places, skin like satin and a fringe of natural lace hiding her sex. Steve hummed a bit of approval at the sight. He'd never been one of those men who expected their lovers to be completely waxed. He preferred his woman to look like a woman instead of a child. Dena's body was perfect in that respect, neatly groomed but with enough fluff to give a man something to play with.

When she scooted into the middle of the bed, he smiled. The clasp of his watch snapped open and he set it on the bedside table, avoiding a possible scratch to her smooth skin when he slipped an arm under her shoulders.

Touching her was an imperative. Already, his dick throbbed with only the sight of her, but he'd known from the moment they'd walked up to an open door that he wouldn't fuck her tonight.

No. Not tonight, but soon. There was only so much a man could stand when a beauty like Dena was ready and willing.

He stood and resettled on the bed, cuddling into her body while she stayed on her back. Soft and delicate when his arm fit under her shoulders, he stroked her brow with his rough fingertips and then cupped her jaw and kissed tender lips. She quivered beneath him, her body begging for more, but he kept it slow and sensual even as her hand tugged at the hem of his shirt.

Not tonight.

"Be still, Dena," he whispered against her open mouth. "Let me take care of you."

"But—"

He silenced her with another deep kiss, one designed to make her forget where she was and what she'd dealt with this evening. Her response was exactly as he'd predicted, turning her into a steamy mass of aroused woman.

He lingered at her mouth for another minute, confirmed her state of continued arousal, and moved to her breasts.

Luscious.

Only word for them, full and round and begging him to taste. His index finger led the way, tracing her clavicle from left to right, then slipping down the center of her chest and coming to rest between her full breasts. Both were peaked and waiting for his touch. His mouth.

He palmed the far nipple and took the closest between his teeth. Dena's gasp echoed in the room before it was absorbed by thick drapes. He licked the sting away and when her soft sigh floated across his forehead, he responded with his tongue, pushing her arousal higher. This time, he roughened the tip of her other breast with his fingers while he sucked hard on the tight bud, and her moan sent urgent messages to his dick, begging for the freedom to play.

Not happening, and convincing his body to comply wasn't easy. She was close. From the writhing of her body, damn close. But his pleasure would come with watching her climax and then slide into a deep, cleansing sleep.

To that end, he reluctantly lifted his head and blew across the straining peak. Dena's ragged moan filled the room, ensuring the pattern of his zipper would be permanently imbedded on his dick.

He swept his palm down her belly, fingers splayed on the velvety skin between breasts and a wet dream in waiting. A little lower and he reached the dark dusting of pubic hair. Her gasp when fingers met fluff made him smile. She was beyond refusal, the rapid pant and squirm confirmed her need. When his name floated out among the whimpers and moans, he knew she was ready to fly.

This would be the first of many orgasms he'd give her, but, he hoped, the only one without submission. One he'd remember whether she did or not.

Fingers burrowing, he discovered the upper edge of her slit, and then the tight bud of her clitoris. Circling the engorged nerve center, he drove her to a fever pitch and kept her on the edge until his own body throbbed in echo of her need. He kissed the side of her cheek and whispered encouragement as he pressed his thumb into the sensitive nerves.

"Give me your orgasm, Dena. Come for me."

Her body came apart in his arms, arching and twitching through a prolonged moan. All the while, he continued to whisper in her ear. "Beautiful, Dena. My beautiful china doll. So sweet and soft." She'd already drifted off when he slipped his fingers out of her and brought them to his mouth.

Unwise on his part. He craved more but would wait. Easing his body from the bed, he pulled the sheets up to her chin and turned off the bedside lamp. With a last check of all the locks, he left her tucked in tight and headed for Private Delights. The club would be opening soon, and it was still early enough that he'd find Mark and Derek at work.

Sure enough, Derek's truck and Mark's SUV were in the front lot. The sign at the front entrance was beautifully lit, the letters echoed on the brick wall behind them. Steve found his friends in the main lounge, each sprawled out on a couch while they argued about the merits of leather restraints versus soft cloth restraints.

Of course.

"It depends on what you want to accomplish," he threw in from the darkened foyer. "Don't y'all have work to do?"

Easily deflecting the empty water bottle Derek threw at him, Steve dropped into a chair where he could see both his friends. "How's the schedule?"

From what he could see, the place was ready to open. Dark purple carpet with swirls of gold and green stretched out in the huge room, making it look like a football field decorated with chairs, tables, and couches. The only thing he missed was the sight of naked women on their knees. That should be happening soon. The thought reminded him of Dena and his cock rose to half-mast. Again.

Might need to push Dena's induction into the lifestyle up on the schedule before she drove him bat shit crazy.

"Everything's a go. Just waiting on the final inspections and we'll be open for business," Mark told him.

"Where've you been?" Derek asked. "I thought you were taking her to dinner and walking away."

"Don't tell me you broke your own rule and slept with her?" Mark added.

"Got back to her place and the front door was open. Place had been sacked."

"Shit. Good thing she was with you, then," Derek said.

Steve listened to his buddies toss around ideas about the break in. All good theories, and their conversation helped push the residual lust onto a back burner for him. "I think it had something to do with the burglary at her office."

"Did you call Simon?" Mark asked.

Damn. He should've, and he'd pay for the oversight in the morning. "No. Stayed with her until she fell asleep, and made sure the place was secure before I left."

Mark shook his head, a grin reminiscent of winning the lottery. "You stayed until she fell asleep? Do tell."

"Not yet, dammit. She was too upset to push those buttons tonight."

Derek grunted across the coffee table. "A gentleman? Not surprising now I'm thinking of the woman in question."

"What do you mean, buddy?" The last word came out like a curse. Wrong in so many ways, and he knew it.

Both men laughed and Derek finished his comment. "Chill. She's not what you usually go for, and you haven't fucked her yet. Have you?"

"No."

"Not for lack of trying, I bet." This from Mark.

"From me, if you want the truth, no. I don't want to rush her, and she's after an adventure."

"Well, you sure can give her one."

Hell if they didn't know him all too well. They both spoke at the same time, an echo of the same words, proving the three of them had spent too many years hanging out together.

"She'll get there when I'm ready to take her." Steve focused on Mark, knowing Derek wouldn't interfere. "My woman, my timeline."

"You might want to add Simon's timeline, just in case he has other ideas."

"He's a non-issue." The laugher from both men rubbed at Steve's conscience, but only one small tic on the irritation meter. His company was in bed with Simon Lindsay's, but it wouldn't interfere with his personal relationship with Dena. "I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow to discuss the contract and put together a schedule for implementation."

* * * *

The sight of Lindsay's face when he marched into the restaurant the next afternoon set Steve back for a minute. He hated to be wrong, and he had a bad feeling that was about to happen. Standing to shake the man's hand, he made eye contact with Dena's oldest brother.

"Good to see you," Steve offered with his handshake.

"Not sure I can say the same, but I do owe you a thank you, at least. The very least."

Steve chose to let Simon lead the conversation and opened a door. "Rough morning?"

"Not until I was informed that my sister was out with you last night. And her house was vandalized. Was that a bid to get another contract—one for her home, along with this deal we're working today?" Simon's forearms dropped on the table and he leaned half across the space. "Or do you seriously think I'll agree to you dating my sister?"

Steve leaned back in his chair and let his body relax, one of the hardest things for him to accomplish at the moment, but he needed to diffuse the conflict before Simon started a heated public argument.

"I'm dating Dena because I want to, and she agreed. Personally, I'm glad she was with me last night instead of home alone or with some prick who couldn't handle the situation."

"You had nothing to do with the break in?"

"Lindsay, I may be many things, but I'm not a thief or a con artist. We walked up to an open door and a darkened house."

Simon's eyes went black and the soft string of profanity wasn't normally heard from him in a public setting. He was one of those businessmen who protected their reputation in the community.

"I didn't hear that part."

With a cock of his head, Steve asked, "What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, dammit." The bright red face returned. "Not a damn thing. I didn't know a goddam thing until the police showed up this morning to verify the report. They told me you were there."

He buried the smile, or at least tried. Damn, Dena was a handful of trouble just waiting to happen. "Did you ask her about it?"

From the tilt of his head and his gaze on the light fixtures above him, it appeared that Simon Jr. was attempting to count to ten before he answered. "Yes," he finally replied through clenched teeth. "I asked. I didn't get much from her, or from the officer, even though he let me read the report. She claims nothing much was taken."

Taking pity on the man, and thanking God he didn't have any siblings himself, Steve braced his arms on the table and tried to look sympathetic. "She's a grown woman. She has a right to privacy. Don't worry too much, Simon. She has a strong sense of self and she'll be fine."

"Fuck you, Gladston. Stay away from my sister." A low whisper, but forceful, while Lindsay positioned his torso close to Steve's. "I won't warn you again."

"She's an adult and makes her own choices. You can rest assured she won't get hurt while she's with me. I think I proved that last night."

The man's shoulders relaxed a bit, not completely, but a start. "Yes. Thank you for making sure she got home safe. What can you tell me about the break in?"

"Not much. The locks weren't effective, though I'm not sure what they used to break in. My focus is more of a preventative. Once the police were called, I got ahold of a locksmith we work with and had him change the locks."

"Thanks." Simon's posture loosened a little more. "Send me a bill and I'll take care of it."

"No. My gift to Dena and nothing to do with our deal."

As expected, Simon wasn't happy about it, and the shift in his demeanor made it obvious even though he didn't voice another complaint.

Fortunately, the waiter arrived with water glasses and menus, giving both of them a chance to regroup. Steve refused to discuss Dena with her brother. This meeting was about business and, until that was finished, he wasn't about to veer into personal territory any more than he already had. He made a quick choice from the menu and flipped open the G&L folder while Simon talked to the waiter.

Once they stayed on course, the contract discussion was short and to the point. Simon was ready to sign the document before the waiter returned with his steak. Steve packed away the paperwork and assured him work would begin as soon as he got back to the office.

"It'll take about a week to get the security panels you want, but just a few days to install everything once they arrive."

"Fine. Call my office when they come in, and we'll be ready for the install."

"Good. Any questions about the process?" Steve asked.

Simon lifted his napkin to blot his mouth, his brown eyes dark and serious, and Steve got ready for his argument.

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

He huffed a half laugh. "What do you want me to say, Simon? That I'm going to use her and toss her in the gutter? That I'm going to marry her next week? We're dating. That's all I can tell you."

"She's young and impressionable, sheltered most of her life even though she grew up with three brothers. Maybe because of us. Hell, I don't know what to do with her half the time, but I don't want to see her hurt."

"She's not the little innocent you'd lead me to believe. She needs to be independent—craves it, actually, but you keep trying to hide her away. Won't work. She's hungry for adventure and for sex."

"I don't believe that. She's dated for a while now, and hasn't formed any kind of lasting relationship."

"Only because you or one of your brothers scared the guy off before she had a chance." Before Simon could respond, Steve raised a hand and said, "Her words, not mine. And one of the reasons she wants me involved."

"What does that mean?" Simon's face reddened again, but business was over and it was time to set the man straight about Dena.

"She wants a relationship with a man who won't be intimidated by her family."

"And you think you're that man?"

Steve shrugged. "She does, and I'm willing to help her. She's a special woman, and I'll take good care of her."

"Keep your fucking hands off my sister, Gladston."

"I've been invited by your sister to assist her in an adventure, and I've agreed."

"She doesn't need your kind of adventure."

"That's her decision, Simon. Not yours or mine."

The staring match wasn't fun, but he'd had worse with Derek and Mark. While tough, Simon Lindsay, Jr. was a midsized competitor. After a few minutes of posturing, he gave the man a break.

"I can't hold her back. More than that, she needs to learn some self-control or she's going to end up pregnant and with some asshole who just wants her money. Do you want her to be used and discarded? Thrown out with the trash when all she wants is—"

Simon threw up both hands. "Okay, I get it. I don't have to like it."

Perfect time to make a reasonable escape. Steve stood and gathered his satchel. When he offered his hand, Simon met him halfway and they parted without further argument.

Executed contract in hand, Steve headed for the new club. They'd agreed early on that Steve would handle the club's security issues while Derek took care of the general contracting and Mark managed the general business. Once open, Mark would be onsite manager for Private Delights.

While Derek worked on the build-out, Steve handled the day to day business at G&L. There were a few things he'd like to add to the Lindsay job that he wanted to discuss with Derek and he wanted to see how the building was coming together.

With a seriously potential playmate at hand, he was eager for it to open. Introducing Dena to BDSM would be a singular pleasure. He'd already sketched out a timeline, working with her steadily until she was ready for the heavy commitment.

Submission was a beautiful thing when handled correctly, and he was a master.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, and Derek jerked forward.

"Thought you were busy at the Lindsay job," Derek asked.

"Have to order parts and schedule crews, but I have some time to work on this baby. Give me a job."

Mark barked a laugh and reached over to punch Steve in the shoulder. "I do believe our friend here wants to get the club open so he has a place to play with his new girl."

"That so?" Derek asked.

"Wouldn't hurt. And since her brother's agreed to back off, I should have her ready in a few days."
Chapter 8

Ethan slid onto the bench seat across from Lloyd and the man jumped. As in, his whole body levitated out of the seat and landed with an audible plop.

"What the hell? You scared the shit out of me."

Across the table, Ethan shook his head and braided his fingers in front of his chest, leaning in and looking at ease and comfortable. "Man, you've got to get cool. If I didn't already know what you're into, I'd be suspicious as hell. Chill a little, look like we're having a good time."

"Not easy to do—" Lloyd leaned low across the table. "—when I'm trying to get co-conspirators out of jail and make plans for the next plot to get the codes."

"Any luck on getting John and Bill out?"

"Not unless you have some serious cash."

"They'll have to sit, then."

Lloyd gulped some coffee and hovered low on the table. "Until they decide to make a deal and give us up."

"Won't happen. Besides, it's only been two days. County lockup isn't that bad."

Lloyd stared at him over the top rim of his glasses. "And you know that how? Been there yourself?"

"No." His secrets stayed private, even to his closest friends. "Now, I need to get hold of Dena Lindsay. We need to have a come to Jesus meeting real quick."

"You are absolutely out of your mind, Ethan. Between her brothers and that security guy, you don't have a chance of getting her alone."

"I'm working on it. Trust me, this'll work." Even as he said the words, he knew Lloyd was on his way out. The man had no backbone, despite his education. Sooner probably than later, the erstwhile friend would vanish, leave town and set up somewhere out of state. Maybe even change his name.

"Don't expect me to break the law again. I'm not going to jail for you." Lloyd scooped his papers into a thin briefcase, tossed a five on the table, and left in a hurry.

Good riddance. But he still needed the password for the stock accounts and without help, he wouldn't have enough muscle to make another attempt to grab little girl Lindsay. He'd made discrete inquiries about John and Bill, hoping they'd be released soon and he could put them to work, but they were in pretty bad shape.

A ping on his phone took his attention in another direction. The cutie he'd met the night of the worthless break-in was making contact. Not that he needed a woman in his life, but she was a diversion and hopefully a decent lay. With the right incentive, she'd at least be an alibi.

"Hey, beautiful. What can I do for you?" he asked. Women were easy and he enjoyed the games they thought worked with him.

"You left a message. I'm calling you back."

"Right, sorry. Hectic day, but I was hoping we could get together tonight."

"Sorry. I have to study tonight. I have a final in the morning. Maybe tomorrow?" she asked.

"Great. Tomorrow. Call me when the test's finished and we'll make some plans." He smiled when she easily agreed. Pussy tomorrow gave him something to look forward to. Watching the call close, he saw her number, clicked on it and did a quick search. She might be worth more than a fuck. A few more clicks and he found her social media center.

Damn, but the girl loved to post pictures of herself. Sure, she was cute but not drop dead gorgeous.

And hello Miss Moneybags. His little chippie was friends with his mark. Another click and he hopped to Dena Lindsay's page.

Son of a bitch. His new girl had smart friends, the kind that used privacy settings. Well, worth a shot, but no go there. Unless Sara could be convinced to share information about her friends.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Ethan dropped his phone in his pocket and left the diner. By tomorrow night, he'd have a room set up for their tryst, one with no ties to his name, and a way to convince Sara to spill her guts.

* * * *

Dena jumped when the doorbell chimed. It was late, almost ten, and she had to be in the office early tomorrow. Nobody showed up at her door at this time on a workday. Besides, Susan and Kellie were at a seminar in Houston.

And Steve, the jerk, hadn't called since the night of the break in. Not after he'd put her to bed with an unbelievable orgasm and a sweet kiss good night.

But really, why would he call her? Between her brothers and her relative innocence at the ripe old age of twenty-five, she was too much trouble for a man like Steve Gladston. He dated women who knew how to take care of him. Gave him wild sex and expected nothing in return. With the attack at work and the incident after their second date, he'd most likely put her in the 'do not touch' category and filed her name away in his never-again box.

Damn. Pessimism wasn't good for her. Neither was self-doubt, but she couldn't help it. She'd been born with too many ideas in her head and no way to manage them. It made her a definite multi-tasker, but a skewed companion in general. Only one or two of her friends could keep up with her sudden subject changes during a conversation.

Checking the peephole had her chest tightening like a rubber band had wrapped around her and then popped.

Steve Gladston, wide-shouldered, slim-waisted, breathtaking man, was on her front stoop. He looked good enough to eat, a vision of hot man-candy even through the little hole in the door.

She didn't need to look down to check her sexy little outfit. Fuzzy jammie pants, an old football jersey from one of her brothers, and slippers with kittens on the toes.

Seduction material.

Wasn't she lucky to be prepared?

Opening the door anyway, but only a few inches, she showed her face and waited to see what he wanted.

"Did you at least look through the lens?" he asked, his voice husky and sounding more like a bossy brother than a man she wanted to sleep with.

She sighed, not sure what she wanted to do with him now. "Yes. I saw your truck in my drive, too. I'm not an idiot. And we've had this conversation before."

"I didn't say you were. Are you going to let me in, sweetheart?"

Maybe she was an idiot, because she wanted him in her home, even when he didn't call ahead. She stepped back and let the door swing in. He walked into her instead of into the room, pressing every bit of her body against his and holding her in place while he kicked her door closed. When she tilted her head up, he was waiting. His mouth slanted over hers and conscious thought hid while she absorbed the raw desire spiraling from his mouth to hers.

His hands roamed her body, touching every tingling spot she had until his palms settled on the fleece pants covering her rear. "Soft, but you won't need these to keep you warm tonight."

His hands slipped inside the waistband and he pushed them off. "Hm, commando. I like. Now, I have to wonder what's under this old jersey." The shirt landed on the rug and he leaned back.

An immediate urge to cover her body with her hands rushed ahead of her brain and she crossed her arms. Suddenly naked while he was fully clothed was uncomfortable, but then she remembered the night he'd put her to bed. She'd been bare for him then, too. She let her arms slowly return to her sides and heard his murmur.

"Good girl, Dena. Thank you."

His voice, the deep rasp with a hint of need created the sound of sex and permeated the space around them.

It took the breath from her chest.

"I'm going to take good care of you, Dena," he said in a voice that surrounded her. "You're mine to pleasure and care for, and I'm going to show you how good it can be."

She couldn't breathe, couldn't move from the spot in front of him, but her body responded without her help. Heat slid from her chest to her belly and lower. His hand cupped her chin and tipped her head back to gain access to the tender skin underneath her jaw and he nibbled his way to her throat. Wet heat stroked inexorably lower until he reached the line of her collarbone. Openmouthed kisses continued, moving south to lick at a nipple.

She jerked at the sudden tightening sensation and heard a soft chuckle. "So beautiful, Dena. I'm going to enjoy making love to you tonight. Tell me that's what you want."

"Yes." Barely able to hear the words, she hoped he understood. Her knees wobbled and he caught her, one arm scooping her up under her knees while the other kept her against his chest. His teeth nipped at her bare shoulder and she cried out, the erotic sensation flying along her nervous system like a lightning strike and flaring at each junction.

Whispered words of praise accompanied light kisses along her jaw while he carried her to the bedroom. His voice was an aphrodisiac. No matter the words spoken, it enticed and seduced, creating moisture and breathlessness and mind-bending desire.

He didn't bother with the bedclothes, simply set her on top of the comforter and spread her out for his perusal.

"Beautiful Dena, I'm going to make you fly for me tonight."

His fingers went to the waist of his jeans and he tugged his shirt out and up and over until it lay on the floor next to her bed. "For tonight, and only tonight, I want to hear you scream for me. Understand?"

She could barely nod while she watched the denim lower in tiny increments toward the floor and a stray thought about her carpet being scorched when those pants landed next to the bed slipped past the haze of desire surrounding her. Two rough fingers reached out to pull her attention back to the moment, tugging at a nipple and bringing on a sharp cry.

Harsh need etched his face and a bead of sweat formed at each of his temples. The self-control worked at him, but still he didn't join her on the bed. Out of reach, she could only trace the contours of his body with her eyes, and what a wonderful passage it was. Gorgeously made, broad shoulders were padded with thick bands of muscle, smooth tanned skin fanned across a chest with enough defined muscle to make a woman beg, and a smattering of dark hair crossed his pecs.

She wanted to play in the curls, nuzzle the light fuzz and nip at his nipples. She wanted to follow the thin line of hair that descended toward the navy band of his briefs. She wanted to see—

His thumbs pushed under the waistband and shoved down, freeing a long thick, ruddy penis with a broad cap already seeping, one drop of moisture peeking from the thin slit.

She wanted that. She wanted everything he had to give, but right at this moment, she wanted that bead of moisture. With a surge, she lifted her torso from the bed and licked at the cap of his cock and heard him groan.

Falling back onto the bed, she smiled up at him. An eyebrow rose, his lips a thin line, and then he said, "We're going to have to learn some patience, Dena. And some control. Did you enjoy that taste?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled again. "You taste delicious."

His return smile was quick and elusive. "On the floor."

With a step back, he made space for her between the bed and his body, and she rose to stand in front of him.

"On your knees, doll."

As soon as she was in position, he crowded her and his heavy cock greeted her with a nudge in the cheek.

"Open your pretty little mouth, Dena."

All the air left her chest in a rush and a swarm of wild bees invaded her stomach at the sound of his voice. The tone was new to her, tense, deeper in range, and demanding.

His hand burrowed into her hair and she tipped her head up to look at his face. The intensity in his expression took hold of her mind and body and she shivered, not sure what she'd gotten into and how it would end.

"Do you want to stop, Dena?"

She pulled her upper lip into her mouth and nibbled while she considered giving this idea more thought, but they were here now and she did want him. She wanted to know what she'd miss if he walked away from her. She wanted to know what her life would be, even a small part of it, if she stayed in this moment and this experience.

Filling her lungs, she jumped in with her whole heart. "No, I don't want to stop."

"Good girl."

His hips rocked and the broad head of his penis nudged her again. "Take it into your mouth and suck it."

Heart pounding, she did as told, hoping like hell she could fake it long enough to figure out what to do. And fast enough to keep him from discovering her innocence.

"Relax, Dena," he said, "and let me set the rhythm. I'll teach you how I like it."

Insecurity swamped her and she leaned back, letting him slip from her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" He cupped her chin, and his face, when she looked up, wasn't angry, more curious than anything.

"I don't know how..."

The flash of a smile as it captured his whole face was a surprise.

"You're never given some guy a blowjob?"

Heat suffused her face when she answered with a short, "No."

"Have you ever been eaten?"

"Ah, I don't think so."

His face flushed and darkened, his eyes half closing. "Sweetheart, I'll happily teach you everything you need to know about how to please me and how to please yourself. Do you trust me?"
Chapter 9

Son of a bitch. He'd never expected her to be so close to a virgin, but, damn. Her lack of experience was a gift he'd cherish. The thought of teaching her how to please him in every way, without any residual habits from prior lovers rolled over him like an ocean wave during a hurricane.

The woman was perfection incarnate.

He prepared himself for a long wait, a painful wait, before he spoke. "Wrap your hand around me."

She reached out and used her fingers to stroke down the length of his cock, leaving him feeling like a wall freshly painted with a powder-puff. His dick had a mind of his own, bouncing like a divining rod in search of water. Taking her hand, he placed her palm on him and showed her what he needed, letting her slide her fist up and down until he couldn't take it any longer.

He loosened her fingers and brought her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. "Now you'll use your mouth with the same motion, using your lips and some suction."

Burying his fingers in the waves of her thick brown hair, he let her go and let his head drop backwards. He was too close to watch his dick disappear in and out of her beautiful mouth, sure he'd shoot his wad in mere minutes. A man could only take so much of a good thing at one time. Chancing a look, he groaned.

Her gaze was fixed on his dick, her tongue working her way around the shaft as she pulled back. And then she sucked him back in and started again.

Time to call a halt. He had no intention of filling her mouth tonight. Curling his fingers into her scalp, he told her to stop. He watched with lidded eyes as he slipped free of her mouth, her lips puffy and wet.

Fucking beautiful.

"On the bed. On your back." He waited until she was exactly where he wanted her. "Good. Don't move."

He pulled open her closet and blinked. The damn thing was almost the size of a bedroom. And she was a little anal about organizing, a row of drawers carefully labeled by content. He yanked open the one marked scarves and pulled four out.

Time for fun and games.

Her eyes were the first to go. A little sensory deprivation would go a long way to teaching her control. His fingers played in her hair a minute before he said, "Sit up." Those dark brown eyes were huge, hazy with lust and unsure about what to expect. "Trust me, Dena."

When she nodded, he wrapped the scarf around her head twice and tied a knot on one side, then lowered her to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"No questions, Dena. You trust me or you don't."

Her head moved in the affirmative and he praised her silent response. "Good girl. Now, put your hands above your head."

He fashioned a slipknot at one end of a scarf and put her wrist in it, then looped the length of the scarf through the slats of the headboard. "Don't move."

Pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, he went around the bed and secured the other wrist. Her whimper warmed him, a sound somewhere between fear and anticipation.

Exactly what he wanted from her at this moment.

He took a short trip to the middle of the bed, his mouth grazing from shoulder to waist in slow, sensual steps while she squirmed. Her feet pedaled on the bed while the need bored into her.

His slide off one side of the bed made her moan with loss. But she didn't talk, didn't complain or whine. All he had to do was watch her body to recognize her desire.

She gasped when he grabbed an ankle and wrapped the end of a scarf around it. By the time he'd secured it to the corner of the footboard, she was panting and the rate increased while he took care of the other foot.

"Thank you, Dena, for your trust and the gift of your body. I'll take good care of you."

But first, he enjoyed himself, appreciating her submission by stroking his fingers across every inch of exposed skin.

He tweaked nipples and suckled hard while she cried out.

He delved into the wet slit between her thighs and let his fingers play in the soft tissue until it squeezed against them.

He pressed kisses to her bare feet and worked his way up her legs until he kissed and tongued her core, reveling in the taste of her.

His cock wept, more than ready for its turn, and Steve moved between her legs. He thrust into her, one long, slow slide of pure pleasure, and enjoyed the ragged cry that was her response.

Wet heat and hot walls surrounded him, his body aching for release. He wouldn't last long this first time, but he'd make it up to her. Right now, the urge to move was all that motivated him.

He slid out with the same slow pace and dove back inside with a little more force, increasing the rhythm with every thrust and retreat until he pounded into her with vigor. So tight, so hard her body shook under him, her cries for more took him to the brink.

He jerked his cock free of her body and used his hand to finish the job, ribbons of cum leaving his body and landing on hers. She panted and her head rolled from side to side while her stalled orgasm tried to resolve the problem.

"You look amazing with my semen all over your belly, Dena. You belong to me, now, sweetheart. All mine."

His cock never waned. If anything, it got harder, and he pushed back inside her hot body. He could so easily spend the rest of his life with this woman. She made him feel in a way he'd never imagined. Scary to think she'd wrapped him up in emotion in such a short time.

He paused to loosen the blindfold, determined to watch her eyes as he moved within her. When they finally opened, he recognized the need, the connection between them neither could deny. He wanted her with him when she climaxed.

"Come for me, Dena. Now."

Lord love her, she had one of those long, deep soaker tubs. He set the stopper and opened the taps, adjusting the temperature as the water warmed. For good measure, he added a capful of bubble bath from the bottle closest to the tub. Wetting a wash cloth, he returned to her.

She was watching for his return, her body loose and sated, his cum still sticky on her abdomen. He cleaned her off and then released her arms and legs. Lifting her lax body, he carried her into the bathroom and settled her on the lip of the tub. Warm arms wrapped around his torso when he leaned over to test the water's temperature. Dena's head rubbed against his shoulder, her nose burrowing under his ear, and a wet kiss lingered.

"Bath time, doll." He stood and helped her into the water before lowering behind her. Bubbles floated around them, the hot water relaxing both of them.

"Is it always like this with you?" she asked.

"You enjoyed it?"

"Umm hmm," she mumbled, her brain relaxing along with her body. "Do I have to be tied down next time?"

Maybe it wasn't her head that was relaxing. "I like the control."

"I liked it, too." She yawned. "But I want to touch you."

"I'll think about it." Headstrong and submissive, an amazing combination in a woman, even more attractive than physical beauty, and Dena had all three. Trouble coming his way in spades, but he'd handle it and keep her if he could.

"Want to do this again. Can we?"

She wanted to kill him, obviously, but her question didn't match the loose feel of her body. Sleep was right around the corner. Time to get dry.

He stabilized her and left the tub, getting dry before pulling the stopper. She wobbled but managed just enough energy to stand upright while he patted the water from her skin. He put her into bed and snuggled with her until she fell asleep.

It was too soon to spend the night, too soon to wake up with her and make love again and go to work. She needed time to reconcile what he'd done to her with what she'd known about sex before he came along. And from what she'd said right after, she'd enjoyed it enough to ask for more.

Yes. Freely given, and soon.

For now, he watched her sleep and appreciated the soft lines of her face and the sweet scent of her after sex.

Tomorrow would come soon enough, and he'd be ready.

Easing out of bed, he dressed and untied the scarves he'd used, putting them back in the closet. With no evidence, she'd be left with memories and supposition. Would she think it was all a dream?

He left a short note on the inside of her front door and slipped out, locking up as he went.

Chapter 10

Dena stretched while the local radio station played in the background, her alarm a minor distraction compared to the interesting aches of her body after a night of Steve's educational guidance. She felt decadent and spoiled and well-used. God, the man could make her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with a touch and a word. Rolling over into the middle of the bed, she pressed her face in the sheets and inhaled the scent of him.

The smell of sex and man, one man in particular, surrounded her and she didn't want to get up. Better to wallow in the memories than drag herself to work and try to keep the smile off her face all day. Her brothers were more than capable of surmising the cause and she could already picture the stern glances and lectures.

Hypocrites, all three of them. Well, just Simon and Grant. Brent was off doing his military service and sowing a huge load of wild oats, if she knew him. And she did. He was the wild brother she wanted to emulate.

Steve Gladston was the man to show her how.

Her backup alarm buzzed across the room and she gave up the fight, pushing the covers away and turning off both alarms. Turning on the television to the morning show that kept her on schedule, she showered and put together a healthy breakfast. From the workout Steve had provided last night, she knew she'd need her vitamins. A snapshot in her head of his lean body and the things he'd done to hers, the way he made her feel, had her body buzzing in pleasure.

She grinned when she found his note taped to the inside of the front door.

1438 Westchester, 7 pm tonight. No underwear.

Her chest caught at the demand and the directions. The most amazing man she'd ever met wanted her bare-assed at his place. She couldn't wait.

Morning traffic was light, the beautiful sun-filled sky matching her mood. She caught a light just as her phone beeped and she leaned over the console to grab her purse from the passenger-side. A sudden impact from behind caused her foot to slip off the brake and sent her body bouncing as the seatbelt tried to compensate for her offset position.

Another bump sent her into the intersection. A pickup skidded around her but the car following him didn't manage the change and plowed into the side of her car. Horns blared and most of the traffic around the intersection stopped.

Crap. So much for her good mood.

Dena stared out the front windshield, thankful to be alive and hoping no one else was hurt. A man appeared at her door and tapped on the window. Tall, heavy like a football player, with light brown hair, he made a motion through the glass and she realized her engine was still running. She nodded and stared at the controls in front of her for a minute before reaching for the ignition.

Her brain was on auto delay and focus wasn't happening any too soon. She fumbled at the seatbelt release a couple of times before the man tapped at the window again. This time he pointed at the lock.

Her arm hurt. Wait, everything hurt, but her left elbow particularly stung. She reached across her body to unlock the door and the man beside her pulled it open.

"Are you hurt?"

He had a nice voice, maybe nicer if he wasn't agitated, and she wondered if he was the driver who hit her. She hadn't seen the car behind her at all. Damn cell call shouldn't have been answered, but she'd stopped at the light and she'd hoped it was Steve.

"Don't think so. Maybe." She looked around at all the people trying to clear the road and then back at him. "Were you the driver who hit me?"

He shook his head and tipped his head to the SUV behind her. An older man was being assisted out of the car, his head bleeding. "Let me help you out and we'll get you to the hospital," he told her. "The EMTs are pretty busy with him, but my car's just at the corner."

He leaned into the car and released the seatbelt, lifting it over her. His arm brushed across her chest and she felt a wave of nausea. Blinking hard, she took a few deep breaths and tried to find her center.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital," the man next to her said.

He helped her to her feet and put a steadying arm around her, but a voice several feet away stopped them both.

"Don't leave until you've been cleared, Miss." The fireman was standing beside the car behind her, holding something for the EMT. "I'll be with you in just a minute." He turned away from her and the man beside her encouraged her to move with him to his car.

She hesitated, turning to reach for her purse and heard the firemen talking. When she looked up again, the man who'd helped her was gone. Nowhere to be seen, and a police officer approached her.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

It was a reasonable question, since she was swaying. He helped her sink back onto the seat of her car and asked for her name. "Is there someone I can call for you?"

Feeling better about a uniformed officer next to her, she fished out her phone and stared at it for a few minutes. She should call Simon, but he'd smother her for a year or two or three. Instead, she found Steve's number.

"Hey, doll. On your way to work?"

"I had a wreck." Not a wise choice of words. Maybe she should've gotten to that part a little easier, because his voice went from smooth to hard as a rock in a flat second.

"Where are you? Are you hurt?"

She tried to look up at the patrolman standing next to her, but her head hurt and her hands were twitching like she'd had an entire pot of coffee in less than ten minutes. "Where are we?" she asked the cop.

He took the phone before she dropped it, and she let her hand fall into her lap, thankful for his help. The man's directions were more concise than hers would've been and when he finished, he slipped the phone into her purse for her.

"Thank you," she told him, trying to smile. "What happened to the other man that was helping me?"

The officer squatted in front of her to answer and she relaxed a little. It was damned frustrating to have a conversation with a man's knees. Unless they were Steve's knees, but he wasn't here. Yet. Her eyes kept shutting and she pried them open and repeated the question.

"What other man?" he asked. "I didn't see anyone else with you." He turned his head to the right and shouted to someone. Her head pounded a little harder, and then someone else was in front of her, wearing a different uniform and shining a light into her brain. Not fun.

Steve's voice penetrated the random noise around her and then he was there, in place of the uniforms and touching her face. "Dena, tell me what hurts, baby."

"I'm okay."

"I don't think so."

Damn. That was her brother behind Steve's shoulder. He'd start weaving that stupid cocoon any minute now and she'd never see the light of day again. He'd even take away Steve.

"I'm fine. Just a little headache."

One of the uniforms started talking and she stopped listening to the discussion, happy to have Steve's hands on hers. The various male voices blended around her, mostly calm except for Simon's, but she heard Steve override his suggestions. Then she was in his arms and he was putting her in his truck and buckling her in place.

The hospital rapidly turned into an adventure she didn't want to have. Steve and Simon hovered while a nurse took her information and then her blood pressure. When the nurse put her in a wheelchair, the two men followed, bickering about which should stay with her.

Simon's subdued but strident demand to take charge of her care grated on her nerves more than the pain in her head while Steve's calm, collected tone and failure to participate in an argument with her brother was a godsend.

The nurse let her lay down on the table but she wasn't allowed to sleep.

"How could anyone sleep with all the noise?"

Probably not wise, talking to herself, since she had a head injury. At least, a padded cell would keep Simon out of her love life. Eventually, both men were allowed into the exam room, but they'd come to some kind of truce. Simon observed with a firm face while Steve kept a hand on her every second. It was comforting that after a couple dates and one amazing night of sex he'd be so touchy-feely.

The doctor finally pronounced her banged up but not dangerously so. She had a mild concussion and several bruises, but she could go home.

Simon disagreed. "She keeps asking about a man that helped her, but the paramedics didn't see anyone with her. Are you sure it's just a mild concussion?"

"Oh, shut up, Simon," she said, glad the medicine was finally taking the edge off her headache. "I'm not crazy. The man was real, whether you believe me or not."

"Walk me through the meeting with this mystery man," Steve said, shooting a sharp glance at Simon.

Not sure if she was being patronized or if Steve was working points against her brother, she opened her mouth. "He showed up at my window once the cars stopped moving and asked me to turn off the engine. He helped me out of the car and said he could take me to the hospital since the paramedics were helping the man who hit me."

"He offered to take you to the hospital? You didn't say that earlier." Simon's face shifted into worry mode.

"I just remembered. He was helping me to his car when the officer came over to ask me questions. When I turned around again, he was gone."

Steve stepped close, blocking her view of the room and everyone in it. "I believe you, Dena. Can you tell me anything about what he looked like or what kind of car he was driving?"

She focused on the emblem on his shirt and tried to picture the man. "I remember thinking he looked like a football player, tall, with big shoulders and muscles. His hair was light brown or maybe dark blond, and he had on sunglasses, I think."

"Good girl, baby. Were you standing next to him?" She nodded and he continued. "When you were next to him, was he taller than me or shorter?"

"Shorter."

"Do you remember anything else about him?"

"Just that he kept telling me he would help me, and wanting me to go with him."

"Son of a bitch."

She hadn't heard that phrase out of her brother in years and the surprise had her turning in his direction. But Simon was looking at Steve. "Do you think this is about the burglary? Why am I asking? It has to be."

"You want to call the officer from the scene?" Steve asked. "Might be better to call the detective working the break in at the office and her home. It's beginning to look like they're connected."

"She's not going back to her house or to the office, Simon. I'm taking her home with me."

"No. She'll be safer at my parents' house. There's a staff that will look after her." Simon took her hand in his. "Dena, you should come with me. I'll hire a nurse to help you until you're safe and on your feet."

"Simon, you're a wonderful brother and I love you, but I have a concussion. I don't need a nurse and I don't want to move in with Mom and Dad. I'd rather be sent to a convent."

"That can be arranged," Simon replied with a smile. "I guess she'll stay with you, Gladston. Be nice to her."

"Oh, he is," she whispered into his shoulder and Steve laughed when her brother's face turned red.

"I don't want to hear it, not any of it." Simon made for the door and asked Steve to join him in the hall.

Hell. He knew exactly what Simon wanted to discuss and he wasn't having any of it. Dena was a grown woman and she was his. To hell with her brother's puritanical ideas. He had a wife and three kids at home, so he sure wasn't a virgin.

Before he could start talking, Simon had moved him into a quiet corner and said, "I don't know what your financial status is, but I'm sure your company is sound, so don't take this the wrong way. If you need extra guards, a place to hide her, anything, just ask. She's my only sister, and while I don't like your lifestyle, I respect her right to choose."

The man just about knocked him to his ass. "Thank you, Simon. I care about her, and I won't let her get hurt."

"I know you'll do the best you can, but I'll still worry."

"Let me put your mind at ease. You know I went into the Navy out of high school. Between you and me, I did five years as a SEAL. I can handle whatever comes along."

"No shit? Why didn't I know that before?"

Steve put a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's not something I advertise. Sometimes surprise works better than a weapon."

Simon shook his hand. "When all of this is over, I'd like to sit down with you for an hour or two. I'd like a chance to get to know you again. Apparently, you're not the kid I knew in high school."
Chapter 11

Ethan moseyed into the diner and spotted Lloyd in a booth, his back to the door. The jackass didn't have a clue about keeping a low profile and watching his own back. He had a laptop open in front of him and was aware of nothing but the screen. Easing through the aisles, Ethan stayed out of Lloyd's line of sight until he could drop into the seat opposite him. Lloyd, of course, flinched and cursed like a sailor.

"What the hell? You scared the shit out of me."

Ethan grinned and tapped the laptop. "Your fault, not mine. Find anything useful?"

If the man had a clue about who they'd almost had their hands on, he'd have a conniption fit. She'd been so close to coming with him, and it hadn't even been planned. Sure, he'd been following her ass, but the wreck was a freak of nature, the scenario falling into his lap like manna from heaven.

Test time. "Almost had her just a few minutes ago."

"What?"

Okay, that was too loud and squeaky for comfort, even for Ethan. "Calm down, will you? She was in a car wreck and I tried to help her."

"You tried to kidnap her again, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it didn't work out."

"Were you seen?" Lloyd shut down the laptop and closed the lid. "Well? Were you?"

"Yes, she saw me. I was trying to help her."

"Right. Help her do what? Roll over and give you the passwords?"

"Hey, she had a bump on her head. I could've talked her into anything."

"You have a death wish, Ethan." Lloyd grabbed the laptop. "Later."

Damn. No codes and no help from his one remaining conspirator. This plan was unraveling much too fast for his liking. Tomorrow, he'd work on Sara, see what kind of info he could pull out of her.

As for tonight, he had hot plans, with or without a girl in tow. A new club was opening and dear ole uncle big shot was a member. And it was a family membership.

* * * *

Steve pulled into his garage and put the door down before letting her touch the seatbelt release. Reminding her to stay in the truck until he came for her, he got out and accessed the recessed panel next to the trash cans. It might look like a plastic bag holder, but when it opened, a flat screen panel showed every part of his home's interior. Forget dogs, gadgets were a man's best friend.

He helped Dena out of the truck and grabbed the one bag he'd allowed her to bring. The stop at her place was quick and silent and he'd taken the long way home, making sure they weren't followed. Leading her into the kitchen, he paused and adjusted the settings on the security system.

"Paranoid, are we?" she asked with a lopsided grin.

"No, ma'am. Security is my business and I take it seriously. With you in the house, more so." The sight of her standing in his kitchen, her hair a mess of brown silk floating around her shoulders and her eyes half glazed, made him itch to lift her in his arms and carry her to his bed.

Not a good idea.

A concussion and his kind of sex, done right, didn't make good bedfellows.

She needed tenderness and a sense of safety. Without proper preparation, her first sight of his toys could put her on edge.

"I'm going to settle you on the sofa and you can watch a movie." Taking her bag and putting it on the kitchen island, he steered her into the main living area, appreciating the fact that his housekeeper had been through the place just yesterday. Newspapers had been corralled and all the incidental clutter had disappeared.

"I'm fine, really. I just need a nap," Dena said when she sat down on the definitely sleep worthy couch. He'd had many a productive nap in that spot but he didn't want her dozing too soon.

"I'd rather you stay awake for a little while. I want to watch for signs of concussion issues."

"I have a little headache, that's all." Her shoes dropped to the floor and she curled her feet up on the sofa. "This okay, with my feet up here?"

Damn straight. With her knees bent and her feet next to her hips, the little blue skirt she wore rode up her thighs and gave him a sweet peek of soft skin. His body responded of its own accord and he reminded himself to back off. She'd been in a wreck. She'd been traumatized and almost kidnapped. She'd been naked with him just last night and after everything he'd done to her, she was most likely sore.

Didn't keep his dick from rising to the occasion.

"No problem." Clearing his throat to keep the tone casual, he said, "Tell me the names of your brothers."

Her head tilted to one side and a thin wrinkle formed above her nose. "Why? You already know my brothers."

"It's a test. Tell me their names."

A soft sigh twisted his buttons a little tighter, and she replied. "Simon's the bossy one, Grant is the quiet one but follows Simon's orders most of the time, and Brent is my sweetie. He always brings me treats and helps me get away with things." Her lips curled in and her eyes popped in his direction. "I shouldn't have said that last part. Brent's a good brother. The end."

Despite the headache, she was playing with him. Touching him without lifting a hand. Damn, he was going to fall so hard for this little speck of a woman. He just hoped she appreciated his lifestyle. "What has Brent helped you get away with?"

"Promise you won't tell Simon?"

"That bad?"

She wiggled in her spot, rearranging her position and he could feel a bead of sweat forming on his temple. "Not really, but Simon wouldn't approve."

A laugh escaped and a bit of the tension in his body eased. "I have a feeling Simon doesn't approve of much."

"I've often wondered how Simon had three kids, since he's fairly straight-laced about sex."

"What did you do, Dena?"

"You know, I think you're right. What kind of movies do you have?"

"You're teasing me, aren't you?" Damn, she was a sassy little thing, even when banged up and fragile. "Not a good way to go, Dena."

"I don't know what you mean. I thought we were going to watch a movie."

"And I thought you were going to tell me what Brent helped you get away with."

She stretched and yawned, and then stretched out on his sofa. "Oh, Brent, yes. He's always coming up with ways to get me in trouble. He's a sweet brother."

Fuck. Twice in the span of a minute or two, she'd arched her back and highlighted the upthrust of her breasts against the fabric of her shirt. Between the motion and her teasing tone, he was hard as a rock. Taking her now wouldn't be wise, but cuffing her to his bed was sounding better by the second.

"I'm sorry you're missing work. I really didn't want Simon to take me home. He doesn't approve of me living alone, and this accident, well, I was afraid he'd use it as a chance to move me back home."

"He does understand we've moved beyond the dark ages, doesn't he?"

Another one of those giggles he loved popped out. "Yes, but from what Mom's told me, he was protective of me even as a child, hovering over my crib and worrying when I cried."

Might make things harder for him, but he and Simon had come to an agreement of sorts where Dena was concerned this morning, and he could only hope the trust would stay in place after Simon found out about the club. Not likely, but a man could hope. And in the end, it would be Dena's decision, not the brother's.

He watched her eyelids flicker and flutter down to rest against her skin. She needed rest after her ordeal, and he'd wake her for lunch in an hour or so. In the meantime, he had a few things to get done for the Lindsay job. His foreman was handling today's wiring, but the control pads hadn't shown yet and he wanted to know why.

A day away from the jobsite would be productive and still give him time to watch over his girl. His sub. Yeah, well, he needed to get to that part of their relationship before they went much further. He dug through the linen closet in the hall and found the afghan his mother gave him a few years ago. It was still in the box and smelled faintly of Christmas, but it was soft and warm and all he had to cover her on the couch.

He looked around his house, so different from hers with all her paintings and bric-a-brac. His place was lean, a long sectional sofa, a recliner, and a big-ass flat-screen on the wall. White walls, white carpet, black and white curtains covering the windows. He hadn't realized how plain the place was. Just a place to crash, with little warmth.

But then, the women he brought home rarely looked at the front room. They were more interested in the playroom and they never stayed the night.

* * * *

Reindeer leapt over her bed one small creature at a time, all wearing a red collar with a shiny bell on it. The scent of peppermint floated in the air around her while she counted them, first in pairs and then one by one. The numbers didn't make sense and she kept starting over.

And it was warm when there should be snow on the ground at the North Pole. But someone was making hot chocolate with peppermint sticks. Her mouth watered and she wanted to get up, but her arms weren't working right.

Her eyes popped open and she looked down her body. A red and white afghan covered her from sole to shoulders and her fingers were entangled in the weave. It all came back, the wreck, the hospital, and Steve's house. Her heart squeezed when she lifted the light blanket. He'd thought to cover her while she slept. Pushing her feet to the floor, she sat upright and waited for the dizziness to return.

Nothing.

Turning slowly from side to side, she didn't have any wooziness, but her shoulders ached a little. She got to her feet and stood. Still nothing. Well, a few aches and pains, but nothing debilitating.

With no sign of her caretaker, she wandered into

the kitchen and found a glass for water. The medicine taste finally washed away and she went in search of Steve.

A doorway to the left of the sofa opened into a hall. The first door opened to an oversized room that housed the weirdest gym equipment she'd ever seen. She went inside to investigate and couldn't figure out what the metal frame in the middle of the room was supposed to hold. There were several metal clamps attached to it, and even more leather pieces positioned at different levels. Strange.

Turning back to the door, she got a good long look at a wall of curiosities.

Steve must be a collector of medieval torture devices. She counted at least ten different items displayed on hooks within easy reach. On the floor below the items was a large saddle stand, but the saddle on it didn't look like anything she'd ever seen.

"See anything you'd like to play with?"

As his question sank in, she had her first 'oh, shit' moment. This room was just like the one Sara had described from a book she'd read. That book everyone had talked about for months.

A flash of memory from last night, the scarves, the blindfold, became a flood of sensations that converged and swamped her.

"Oh, shit. What the hell is this place?"
Chapter 12

Not exactly how he'd planned to introduce her to his lifestyle, but what the fuck. They'd have to have this conversation sooner or later, and he'd just as well get it over with. Convincing her was a matter of time and patience, and he had both in spades.

"What are you thinking, Dena?"

"I...I..." Her head turned toward the pegboard wall where some of his toys were displayed and her body followed as her gaze swept the room. "I don't know what to think. Who are you?"

Shock, yes, but no real disgust, so they could make this work. "I'm the same man who made love to you last night. The same man you've been flirting with the last few days."

"But this is..." She waved her hand in the direction of the St. Andrew's cross. "...what?"

"Just another way to have sex."

"Do you get off on hurting women?"

The pause she'd held before the word women had him itching to hold her. She was scared and he couldn't blame her, but she wasn't ready for his hands on her. Not yet. "Some women, and some men, like pain. I'm not one of them and I assume you aren't, either."

"Damn right, I'm not." She brushed past him and left the room, her body language screaming confusion. And he didn't blame her one iota.

Back in the living room, she was cocooned in the blanket and staring across the room to the blank television screen. "We should watch a movie or something," she said, trying to skirt the issue, but it wasn't going to go away.

Positioning his ass on the other end of the sofa, he faced her and tried like hell to keep his tone moderate. The difference between explanation and dominance was a wide plane of existence and he didn't want her to feel intimidated. That would come later. Much later.

"Dena, we're not going to avoid this conversation. We can't."

She nodded to the screen and handed him the remote, but he set it on the table behind him and shook his head. "You asked me who I was. It's time for me to tell you. If you want to walk away from me, that's your option."

"What happens to me if I don't want that option?" One perfectly manicured hand scrubbed at her face. "I thought something good was happening to me, to us. But now I can't think what that was."

"You're right. It is something good, and I don't want to let go of it. But you need to understand that dominance is a large part of who I am. And I have a strong feeling that submission is something you crave but don't understand."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ah, defensive more than scared. But the fear wasn't focused on him. This was more about who she was than what he wanted to do with her.

He fought to keep his expression neutral. Smiling at her wouldn't help and if anything, might make her mad. Instead, he let his voice drop and soften. "When I give you directions, you respond like a natural submissive. Have you been uncomfortable with me at any time?"

"No." Her eyes widened. "You've been dominating me?"

"Yes." He let a simple smile loose. "From that first dinner when you tried to attack me, I knew you needed a little control and some discipline." She tried to object but he held out an open hand. "At first, I was trying to save your dignity, thinking your attempt at seduction had some link to the attack I interrupted."

"So I'm just a project for you? Some kind of experiment?"

"No, not hardly, sweetheart."

Her stare was a confused mixture of doubt, anger, and longing. He'd left too much unsaid. "It's been a long time since I had a steady relationship. You made me think it was time to try again."

"What would that look like in your world?" she asked. And unfortunately, he didn't have a ready answer. "That's something we'd need to work on together."

Her eyelids lowered, the lashes like lace on her skin, and as he watched, her face went from pale ivory to dark pink.

"Can I interest you in a tour of my playroom?" Ah, that dark pink flushed to the deeper red of embarrassment. He lifted her hand and tugged. "No need for shyness. I've seen every part of you and I appreciate every inch."

Pulling her to her feet as he stood, he tossed the afghan onto the sofa and led her back down the hall. She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway and he stepped inside.

"When we're in here, I'm in control of every aspect of your body and mind. I will care for you in every way."

"And hurt me?"

"Only when I must and only with love."

Damn. That wasn't what he was planning to say but it was too fucking close to what he was feeling to take it back.

"That sounds like something all three of my brothers and my father might say. I don't think this submission thing is for me. I've been bossed around all my life. These things—" She waved her hand around. "—aren't going to change my mind."

"I'm not your brother or your father. I'm your lover and your Dom. Everything I do or say is meant to increase your pleasure."

The crossed arms said more about her thoughts than words ever could. "By spanking me?"

He leaned against the doorjamb and mirrored her stance. "The line between pleasure and pain is thinner than you can imagine. With an open mind and an hour, I can show you what you've been missing. Do you still trust me?"

Those dark chocolate eyes bored into his, her arms still crossed at her chest while she made up her mind. He kept his body as still as possible to avoid spooking her before she decided. When her shoulders dropped, he recognized his first victory. Not that he'd keep count. There'd be too many to tally in the next few months and he'd cherish every one.

"Thank you for your trust." He paused, weighing his words before diving into the basics. "When you're with me, I want you to have a specific word to use as a way to stop whatever's happening to you. A safe word. Something that wouldn't come up in conversation."

"Can't I just say stop?"

He shook his head and enjoyed her reluctant smile. "No. It should be something unique to you. A word that can't have any implications except to halt all action."

He gave her a few minutes to process, then nudged with "Come on, doll. Give me a word."

"Purple."

"Okay. I can work with that." He lifted his ass from the doorjamb and moved into the room. "What would you like to look at first?"

Panic flashed in her eyes for a second and she turned away, her body facing the storage wall in a way that kept him from seeing her expression. He thought about putting his body in her sightline, but he already knew enough about her to wait. She needed time to process what she saw before asking about how the items were used.

Besides, most of what he had on the wall was easy to figure out.

Restraints.

Paddles.

Whips.

"For someone who claims no interest in pain, you have a lot of weapons up there."

"Semantics, doll. What might look painful to you now could become your favorite toy next week. Or as soon as tomorrow."

No comment, but then, he didn't expect a reply.

"What exactly is that?" she said, pointing to one of his favorite floggers. Soft deerskin strands with pebbled beads at the end of each length. An image appeared in his head, Dena spread on the bed, or better yet, across the spanking bench, her hair pulled to the side so it fell toward the floor, while he used the flogger on her back. He'd make her come over and over before he actually took her.

"Steve?"

Damn. He'd gotten lost in a fantasy while she waited for an answer. "Let me show you." He took the thing off the hook and handed it to her, strands first. "Feel the softness?"

She nodded, hesitant but curious.

"It's called a flogger. The user can regulate the force he uses to get different responses from his submissive. A light tickle or a sharp bite of pain. The little buttons at the end of each strand give the process a little more sting."

"And you want to use this on me. Don't deny it. I can see it in your face. It turns you on, me holding this thing." Her lips curled up in a seductive grin and she raised her brows. "Or would you rather I use it on you?"

"Oh, hell no." He lifted it from her hand and let the strands dangle to the floor. "And yes, I'd very much like to use it on you right now. Tomorrow. Whenever I can get you naked and ready."

Her lower lip quivered, as did her peaking breasts, and her eyelids fell to half cover her eyes. Lips parted, her breath stuttered in her chest.

She wanted him. She wanted what he could give her.

"Strip, Dena. I'm going to give you your first lesson in BDSM."

Her hand went to her throat, then slid down her chest to the hem of her top. When she dropped it to the floor, he chided. "You may want to wear that later. Fold it properly and set it on the table."

Her gaze flicked to his face but he refused to smile. The dominance he'd held back flowed freely through his body, the instinct taking hold. "Do as you're told."

"Okay."

He caught her chin in his fingers and brought her eyes to his. "The proper response to your Dom is 'Yes, Master.' Say it."

"Yes, Master."

The words, and her submission, rang in his head. She was his. He'd make it happen, and he'd never let her go.

"Good girl. Now lose the rest of those clothes."

When every scrap she wore was neatly folded and stacked on the table, he led her to the spanking bench. "Put your feet next to the corners, doll, with your belly in the saddle."

He leaned to each side and wrapped both ankles with a wide Velcro clasp connected to the bench to keep her in place. Unable to wait, he smoothed the soft flesh of her back with both palms, his dick hard enough to drive nails into mahogany. This level of need was new for him. Unexpected, but welcome.

Dragging his fingertips from her ass to her shoulder, he moved to her head and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Let your arms fall, Dena." Two quick movements had her hands fastened comfortably to the forward legs of the bench.

She gasped and he massaged her scalp. "Trust me, Dena, and if you need to, use your safe word." He separated the thick locks of her hair into two sections and moved them over her shoulders, out of the way of the strands from the flogger. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, "Let the sensations wash through you and feel everything I give you."

Picking the flogger up from the table, he laid it across her back and then inched it across her skin, letting her feel every soft fiber and the cool discs knotted into each strand's end. When the last tentacle fell past her body, he took a step back and raised his arm to the side, the flogger ready to float and sting.

The first slap against her back was light, giving her the intimate feel of the flogger as it shimmied over her skin. She was quiet and still, analyzing the sensations with an obvious surprise from the tilt of her head.

He repeated the light touch two, three times, before stroking a tad harder. A breath shot out of her when the strength of the lash increased, but she didn't complain.

He added a little more to the next stroke, increasing the pace and heat until her torso rose to meet each swipe. A moan slipped past her lips and his body tightened even as sweat beaded on his brow.

Dena was enjoying the act of submission.

He slipped two fingers between her thighs and a gush of moisture coated them. Unable to wait, he dropped the flogger and opened his fly. One swift thrust and he buried his cock to the hilt. Her ragged moan urged him on, and he set a steady rhythm while rubbing the lash marks on her back. Again and again, she tightened around him and climaxed, and after he pulsed and released inside her, he collapsed over the saddle, her body limp beneath him.
Chapter 13

"Private Delights?"

He squeezed her fingers in his palm. "Exactly. You should've seen the place when we bought it. Took us four months to get it converted."

Dena smiled up at him, her face still glowing from their afternoon in the playroom. "I was here last year with my family. Dad was a member."

"I doubt he'll join this year. It's a privately run BDSM club. Members only."

"And you're a member."

"No, doll," he said, pulling into a parking spot. "I'm one of the owners."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Surely, you don't expect me to get naked in public."

"No, not tonight. But eventually." When he opened her door to help her out, she was still shaking her head. "I'll be patient with you, Dena, but you'll do as I ask when the time is right."

The softening of her shoulders gave him hope. She was everything he wanted in a woman and training her to his taste in lifestyle was proving to be a delicious occupation. He wouldn't let go easily.

They walked through the entrance and he was greeted by Joanne, the staff submissive, and one of her assistants.

"Welcome, Master Steve. Please scan your card."

"Hell, I built the system. Guess I'll have to follow the rules like everyone else." He laughed and pulled out his wallet for the membership card. The barcode recorded his information and kept a continuing record of members and traffic through the club. A screen next to the card reader let him log his guest into the system and he made a mental note to have a card made for Dena.

"Master Mark and Master Derek are in the front lounge," Joanne said. "And Master Mark said you'd want this." She pulled a slim box from a shelf under the counter and handed it to him.

"Thanks." They stepped away from the reception desk and he slipped the box open. A narrow white leather band studded with small jade stones in one long row down the middle sat on a bed of cotton. He handed the box back to Joanne and showed Dena the collar. "This will tell all the men in the building that you belong to me. Turn around."

With wide eyes but no words to the contrary, she followed his directions and he secured the leather collar around her slim throat. "Perfect. You honor me with your trust, Dena."

"Thank you," she said, her bright eyes watching his face. Time for another reminder.

"While we are here, you won't look at me or at anyone else without my permission. Keep your eyes on the floor unless I tell you otherwise."

"Okay."

"Your response should be, 'yes, master' or 'yes, Master Steve' while we are here."

She blinked. Then blinked again. And a third time, her expression thoughtful.

Leaning in to whisper in her ear, he said, "Remember, Dena. This isn't a game I play. It's who I am."

"Yes, Master Steve," she said with a sigh and her eyes dropped accordingly. It would take him some time to show her the positive aspects of the lifestyle and he was looking forward to the tasks ahead. For now, he'd take what little she would give and encourage her submission.

With his palm on the back of her neck, he guided her into the main salon. The room was huge, an open seating area with couches and chairs scattered across the space. It was still early, so there were only a few people milling around, mainly board members who had been appointed by one of his best friends, Mark Harrison. He kept Dena in tow and stopped next to the seating area his friends inhabited.

"Dena, I want you to meet my best friends and business partners, and I'd like you to look at them so you'll recognize them when we see them again."

He'd taken care to find her something appropriate to wear to the opening, not too suggestive, but nicely enticing, and she looked beautiful in the short red dress and heels he'd found in her closet. His friends were already drooling.

"Dena, this is Mark Harrison, the managing partner of Private Delights."

His heart lurched in his chest when Mark offered his hand and Dena looked to him before shaking the man's hand. Perfect submissive behavior and she didn't even realize it.

"Nice to meet you Dena," Mark said. "Steve told us how you met. Interesting story."

Her face flushed and her body nudged his, as if she was trying to be absorbed by him. He was falling fast for this little woman. "And this is Derek Lyons, my partner at G&L Security."

When Derek offered a handshake, she took his hand and only slightly cut her eyes to her Dom. She was a fast learner, as he'd expected.

"You've found yourself a beautiful woman, Steve," Derek said, laughter in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

Mark laughed. "True enough, my friend. I wonder if her brother knows where she is tonight."

When she flinched, Mark reached out and put a hand on her arm. "Sorry, Dena. Didn't mean to upset you. That jibe was meant for Steve." Then he leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "Forgive me?"

Dena's head popped up and she turned to look at Steve and said, "Is he supposed to flirt with me?" in a hoarse whisper.

Steve grabbed her up in a tight hug and sighed. "Mark has trouble keeping his eyes off hot women, and I can't fault him for that, but we're trying to learn submissive behavior." He shot Mark a 'back off' look even as he grinned.

"Beautiful Dena," Mark said, "Dump him and run off with me. I'm a much better Dom."

When she turned back to him, Steve laughed. "Go ahead and talk to them. We'll work on submission in bits and pieces tonight."

Derek chimed in. "Dena, what do you think of the place?"

"It's lovely, much nicer than it was the last time I was here. You've changed so much that it's like a new building."

"Exactly what we wanted to hear," Derek said.

Dena watched the three men while they discussed the club they'd created and listened to them move in and out of a business discussion and private matters that had little to do with the building and its purpose. She recognized the intimacy between them and could only imagine the situations they'd encountered together that had formed that closeness.

Mark, with his flirtation and easy charm was a tall-dark-and-handsome type with his devil-may-care hair and rock star swagger. His body language, like Steve's, proclaimed him as a womanizer without a care in the world. But she was quietly discovering Steve's idiosyncrasies one issue at a time, and she wondered about his friends.

The other man in the cluster, Derek, was different. Soft-spoken and intense where Steve and Mark tended to get loud and pushy. He seemed closed off from the others until they pulled him into the conversation.

Steve turned back to her as if he'd just remembered he brought a date and grabbed her hand. "We're going to take a little tour before dinner." He directed the comment to his two friends and put his hand back on her neck. She wasn't sure why he chose that spot instead of her waist or shoulder, but it must be some dominance issue she hadn't learned about yet.

Head spinning, she let him lead her around the room and then up the stairs. The drab swoop of steps from last year's party was still in place but it definitely wasn't drab anymore. With the wood rails refurbished and new carpet, the wide stairs reminded her of the stairs in a grand hotel or an old southern plantation.

The upstairs was as tastefully decorated as the lower level, with thick carpet and warm colors on the wall.

"This is my private room," he said, swiping his card to open the door. He flipped on the light and took her inside, wrapping his arms around her body as the door swung shut.

She recognized several items that mirrored the toys he had in his playroom. She'd always heard about 'boys and their toys' but her brothers never had playthings like Steve's. His were for a different type of sport, one she doubted her brothers would acknowledge. Hell, she wasn't altogether sure she was ready to experience it, either.

"We have a few minutes before the dinner guests arrive. Come here."

How could she disobey?
Chapter 14

Moving to him was easy.

Breathing while he crushed her to him was tough but the gesture was welcome, his body heat infusing her with a sense of rightness, a sense of calm. Whatever he asked of her would be his.

"I'd hoped to give you more time before bringing you here, more training about what I expect in this environment. And what I expect from you in general. But I can't leave you alone with the threat looming. And more than anything, I want you to share this with me."

Her heart melted at the words flowing into her ear while his hand roamed her body. That hot hand of his paused at the small of her back and then cupped her rear and pressed her to him. Oh, hell, he was hard. Long and thick against her belly, the heat and intention swamped conscious thought. Now, of all times, she needed her wits about her.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Not the time for this." His hands moved to her waist and he set her back on her feet. "We need to talk. But we will be in this room later, and you will submit to me fully."

A shiver went through her, hitting all her erogenous zones with the promise of a new experience. He pointed to a chair and she sat without asking while he settled on the side of the bed.

"We're having dinner with the Board of Directors of the club, and you'll be there as my sub, which means I'll feed you from my plate."

The anticipation of what was to come fled with all speed as his explanation filled her head. This wouldn't be a typical dinner out with her boyfriend. An odd thought suggested she take serious notes about what she could and couldn't do in this place. God forbid she embarrassed herself in front of his friends and business associates. Or worse yet, embarrassed him.

"You won't speak without my permission. You'll stay next to me at all times and you'll keep your eyes down."

"Yes, Master."

He smiled and she let out the breath she'd been holding.

"You might be asked to sit on the floor at some point." The timbre of his voice shifted into that lower register she loved, the dominance flowing from him like the scent of wood smoke from a bonfire.

"On your knees, sub."

She slid from the chair to the floor, her skirt skimming the top of her knees, and she settled her butt on her heels.

"Good girl," he said, "but your hands should be on your thighs with palms up."

She adjusted to his request. Or was it a demand? Did it matter, if it made him happy and didn't hurt her in the least?

"Your knees should be farther apart."

Her head popped up at the new demand. It went against everything her mother taught her about ladylike behavior, but the expression on his face stopped her refusal before she could voice it. Eyes at half mast and jaw tight, he could easily be in the throes of near orgasm, heat and lust coming off him in waves. Her chest tightened with a need to touch him any way she could or any way he needed her to.

If this was submission, she'd take it and do whatever he wanted. Her body was already on track and her brain would catch up eventually. Until then, it would just need to stay quiet and let her libido play.

She lifted her rear off her feet and spread her thighs, then settled again. His hum of pleasure was all she needed to feel a jolt of her own lust.

With a growl, he came to his feet and she was face to face with the bulge in his pants. The urge to touch and taste and consume rolled over every inch of her body, but she held back, waiting for permission.

His hand went to his belt buckle. "You have five minutes. Finish me."

Dena lifted her torso off her heels and her hands went straight to his zipper, working it down until his hard cock sprang free. Her mouth watering and ready, she wrapped her hand around the shaft and leaned forward for the first rich taste of him. A bead of pre-cum perched in the slit, waiting for her tongue. Licking around the head and working her way into the middle, her tongue moved closer and closer to the waiting moisture.

A hard hand landed on her crown. "Stop teasing, sub, or I'll have to discipline you."

Her belly quivered and moisture slipped from her sex, wetting the insides of her thighs at the suggestion, and she took the head of his cock into her mouth. A rumble of appreciation spurred her on and she used her hand to simulate intercourse while she sucked.

"Open your throat and take me deep."

She tried and gagged but kept going, the need to please him pushing her limits.

"Swallow."

Managing to do as told, she reveled in his groan and the fist in her hair.

"Two minutes left. Work harder."

She increased her pace and snaked her left hand between her body and his to cup his balls. He jerked and she rolled them in her palm while she increased the suction. He swelled inside her mouth, pulsed, and filled her mouth with his release.

When she'd swallowed it all, he handed her a washcloth and helped her to her feet. "Good job, Dena. Thank you. Now go clean up quickly so we can be on time for dinner."

Her legs didn't want to work, but she managed to get into the small private bathroom. Turning on the sink, she washed her hands and used the cloth to wipe a little white residue from her face. Her lips were red and puffy from the blowjob and her eyes were glazed over with her own need and the satisfaction of taking care of her man.

The crowd downstairs had grown while they were gone, but Mark and Derek were still where they'd left them. Her face flamed when Mark turned in her direction and raised a wicked brow. He knew what she'd just done and there was nothing she could say or do about it. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she ignored the noise of conversations around her and focused solely on her Dom.

After a few minutes, Steve put his hand on her nape and led her to the club's restaurant at the far end of the main level. The space had been purposed as a restaurant during the club's prior life as a country club, but the only feature left from that era was the long wall of windows across the back, where shrubs and trees could be seen with the assistance of landscape lighting. Contemporary booths and scattered tables filled the room, but the space down the middle of the room had been opened up and a long rectangular table had been set for twenty.

A surreptitious glance told her she wasn't the only woman with lowered eyes and a short skirt.

Steve took her to the far side of the table and pulled out a chair for her, then took the adjacent one, putting her between her Dom and Mark. A stray hum in her ear from his side worried her to distraction, likely his plan. The man was a tease. Somewhere behind that handsome face was a strong Dom. She'd seen glimpses of his true personality in his interactions with Steve and Derek. When he leaned into the table and looked across her to Steve, she closed her eyes and tried to hide.

"Did you still want to discuss sharing?" he asked Steve, and the resounding chuckle sent a shot of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Unsure of how that might work, she surmised enough to know it wasn't something she wanted to do tonight. Or even this year. A hand dropped onto her thigh. Steve's. He squeezed and whispered, "Relax. He's teasing. For now."

Not reassuring in the least.

Mark stood and gave a short speech she didn't listen to and then the meal was served.

A large plate was placed in front of Steve and he opened a linen napkin and set it in front of her. Opening his silverware, he cut a thin slice of chicken and brought it to her mouth with a fork. His murmured 'good girl' followed as he cut a bite for himself. Derek was on the other side of him, and he managed a conversation with both men and some of the guests across the table, all the while feeding her a bite at a time while he ate.

The entire situation was so far out of what she'd consider normal that she sat back and let it wash over her without thought. To dwell would make her crazy. By the time dessert arrived, she was fine, enjoying the attention he lavished on her when giving her a bite and letting her mind wander while he visited with friends. There were no social niceties to manage, nor any responsibilities. In all, the experience was somewhat relaxing.

* * * *

Ethan scanned his membership card and followed his uncle into the main room, looking for a likely woman to punish. He didn't have any particular type of woman in mind, just someone easy to manipulate and fuck. Uncle Alan had taught him the rudiments of dominance and submission a few years ago, giving him a front row seat to a scene. Best way to lose his virginity, according to his uncle.

He'd been screwing his way through women ever since.

The place was nice, fancy details all around and plenty of women lingering to watch the men. Sluts, but weren't all women eager to spread their legs?

"Mind the rules here, Ethan," his uncle said. "No sex in the main rooms. If you want to fuck, take her to a room upstairs or into one of the open areas on the west side of the second floor."

Alan Connor was pissed. Ethan had listened to the tirade all the way across town. Despite his sizeable bank account and his position in the state legislature, his uncle hadn't been able to buy his way onto the board of directors in this place. And it chapped the man's ass.

Ethan didn't much care, as long as he got to play on his uncle's nickel. But he'd yet to find a way to wiggle cash out of Alan's tight wallet. "Too bad Dale couldn't be here tonight. He and I could double team some girl. He likes to play hard."

Alan's muffled curse made him smile. His jackass cousin had been shipped out of town a few months ago. Dear Uncle Alan got rid of a potential rape charge and sent his son to a private college in New England to get him out of sight. Throwing money around was what Alan Connor did best, and it irked Ethan to no end that he wasn't a recipient of the Connor open wallet approach.

"Don't mention that incident at all, Ethan. I don't want to hear it."

People started moving around and Alan left him standing alone, just outside the crowd. The club's board was heading to the long ribbon for the official opening of the club. Ethan stepped around to see the goings on, but jerked his head back. Fucking hell, how did she end up here? That goddamn Gladston had her collared. And after her wreck, he couldn't take a chance that she'd recognize him as the friendly helper.

He stepped around a potted tree and tried to blend into the scenery. One of the women he'd been eying came over to talk and gave him a reason to turn away from the main party, even while keeping track of the Lindsay girl's location. Her Dom grabbed her nape and pushed her through the crowd, headed no doubt for a private room. Maybe a public space. Gladston was a hard-ass with a tight reputation in the community. Ethan thought about watching, from a distance, of course. But when she turned in his direction and their eyes met, he knew he'd waited too late.

Time to leave.

With a curt word to the girl, he turned toward the front door. Moving into the foyer and out of sight, he sent his uncle a quick text with an excuse and told Uncle Alan's driver to take him home. He didn't mind risks, but this one was too close and he had no intention of ending up in a Huntsville prison.

He'd find the password he needed or find a different way to pay off his bookie. Hell, maybe he should try his uncle's home safe.
Chapter 15

Dena almost tripped, managing to stay upright only because of Steve's hand on her nape. Still, she struggled to turn her head toward the front door. "Wait, Steve. Just a minute." Trying to face him, she tugged at his arm and finally got his attention.

"Why are you trying to get away from me?"

The Dom voice penetrated her body with a warm buzz but her brain, for once, stayed online. "I saw something. Someone. The guy from the wreck."

Suddenly he was all attention and protection. "Where?"

"By the tree over there, near the foyer."

Steve called out to Derek, waved and waded through the crowd in the general direction of her gestures, his hand now wrapped around her upper arm, his face tight with anger. She only hoped he didn't kill the guy in front of all these nice people.

"He was talking to a blonde," she told him.

Once out of the crowd, Steve turned in a circle until he spotted a woman with short blond hair. "Were you talking to man right here a few minutes ago?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes, Master."

"Tell me his name."

The sub's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Master. We didn't exchange names. I've seen him in other clubs, but I don't know anything about him."

Steve tipped the woman's head up, his thumb stroking her chin, and a stab of jealousy lodged in Dena's gut. Unreasonable, but painful none the less.

"If you see him again and learn who he is, contact me here or leave a message with any of the staff."

"Yes, Master. Of course, anything for you, Master."

The tightness in Dena's chest expanded, tendrils working their way to the nether regions of her soul.

He let go of her chin and the woman's eyes dropped to his torso, then to his feet before she backed away and was absorbed by the crowd.

"What?" he asked, and the need to look away pushed her buttons hard.

He snatched ahold of her arm and drew her to him. "Dena, it's who I am. I have no desire to touch any woman but you right now. However, seeing your jealousy—well, let's just say I enjoy it."

"Bastard." Whispered, but loud enough for his ears. She hoped. He had the audacity to laugh, proving the point of his parentage.

"I'd planned for us to stay awhile, but I think you'd be better off at home."

She sucked in a breath, a fear of being alone catching her unaware. Screw it. She'd lived alone for over a year and liked it that way. She didn't plan on giving up her house and she refused to let a few strange incidents take away her personal freedom.

Derek and Mark flanked her while Steve explained what had happened to her this morning. The men, all three of them, weren't impressed with the situation. Derek and Mark both offered help, and Derek insisted on walking out to Steve's truck with them, saying something about an extra set of eyes never hurting.

"I'm sorry I ruined your evening," she told him after her head cleared. She hated the way all this drama made her body not her own, and she hated disappointing Steve.

"Don't worry about the club. It'll be there for a long time, waiting for us to play again."

"You'll take me there again?"

His head turned to her for a minute, then flipped back to the dark road. "Of course. I thought you understood my claim on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"That collar around your throat. It means you belong to me for as long as you wear it."

"Are we talking ownership?" This wasn't sounding like a regular dating situation at all. Sure, he was amazing in a wild kind of way, but possession?

His hand covered hers on her lap. "Dena. This is who I am. I explained my way of dating on our first date. Do you want to be free of me? Say the word and I'll release you."

Well, shit-heck-darn. She didn't want him to drop her but the thought of belonging to him was more than scary. Great sex shouldn't come with whips and paddles and an audience.

However.

Past experience had shown her that good sex was a rarity.

"Do you plan to spank me all the time? If I stay with you?" It never hurt to be prepared before you committed-something her mother taught her long ago.

"I'll manage your behavior as I need to, and if you object to your treatment, you can always use your safe word."

Her heart stuttered with the mention of that word. Did it mean the end of the relationship if she used it, or something else. "Tell me about what happens if I use my word."

"Everything stops."

"Everything?"

Steve sighed, like he was talking with a recalcitrant child. "Yes. But you should only use it when you can't take any more of whatever we're doing." He patted her hand. "I'll push your limits, and you might feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable. That's where trust comes in. You need to trust me to take care of you without hurt-mental, emotional, or physical. The safe word is for times that you are hurting to the point you can't handle it or if you're truly scared."

"And that ends our relationship."

The truck whipped into an empty parking lot and came to a complete stop with a curse hanging in the air. "No. Fuck, no."

He popped his seatbelt and leaned across the cab, his face inches from hers, his breath fanning her chin. "You can't get rid of me that easily, doll. Safe word stops the action of the moment. Ending a relationship in the lifestyle is just like in any other situation." His head tipped until his forehead touched hers. "Is that what you're trying to tell me? That you want out of this?"

Oh, God. This was not a conversation she was prepared for. With no idea how he really felt, even when it seemed he cared, she was unsure. Her brain, in fact, was scared to the point of shutting down. Even as she analyzed and rationalized, her heart wasn't willing to give up the way he made her feel.

"No. I just want to be sure what's happening between us. I'm out of my comfort zone on this, Steve. I don't know all the rules yet."

His mouth brushed across hers and anything else she might've said slipped into the wind with the truck's air conditioner. She reached for more, but they were already back on the road, flying home.

His home, which made her feel cherished and protected. And a spear of excitement danced down her body at what he had in mind when they arrived.
Chapter 16

The alarm blared and he slapped it off, thought about throwing the damn thing across the room, but pulled the pillow over his head instead. Sleep had been fitful and elusive, his mind racing to find a solution to his money problems. The deadline for payment was coming up fast and if he didn't have something to give his private banker, he'd be dead. And that was the good option. He'd never been late with a payment to this guy, but he knew a few who had. It wasn't pretty.

The smell of stale coffee met him at the bedroom door. Lloyd was crashed on the sofa, the laptop on the coffee table cycling a screensaver of shifting stars. They'd been up most of the night trying to figure out what code the Lindsay bitch used to create her passwords. If they could get into her brokerage files, they could make a quick million in the market and disappear before anyone accused them of insider trading.

But the damn bitch was either highly intelligent or a damn fool with a paper file as a key to the passwords.

Nothing they did got them past the login on any of the three companies he needed. And he needed it three days ago. From what he'd overheard from his uncle, one of his inner circle of friends had a big merger pending, followed by a stock split that would make every investor a butt load of money. All three had accounts at Lindsay & Associates. With just enough money squirreled away to invest, he was going to finally get out of debt and live high on his own.

Hence the robbery and all the man-hours hunched over computers with nothing forthcoming.

Approaching the girl at the scene of the wreck was a spontaneous opportunity gone wrong, since she now knew what he looked like. Last night proved him a first class idiot. He'd seen Gladston walk away with her at the wreck and should've stayed out of Private Delights, but he couldn't resist the lure of the club and the fuck bunnies he wanted to whip into submission. Another desire the bitch took away from him.

"Rise and shine, dumbass. We need to get in today, or we're both dead."

"Huh?" Lloyd pushed into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. "What do you mean, dead? What have you done, Ethan?"

"My money man wants to be paid tomorrow. If I go down, so do you."

"I didn't get into this to pay off your loan shark. That wasn't the deal you offered me."

Ethan rinsed out the coffee pot and started fresh. "Deals change. Don't screw with me, just get the job done."

"How much do you owe the guy?"

Ethan turned to face his co-conspirator and leaned on the counter. "Too damn much to talk about. Are you any closer to figuring out the passwords?"

"No. I can't find any combination to open the file marked passwords, and I've tried a few other files, too, on the off chance that file's a dummy. I built a randomizer to come up with possible logins, but it's going to take a while to finish combing through all the data." Lloyd looked at his watch and rose. "Man, I've got to get to work. Leave the laptop running and I'll come back at five to check the results." He was out the door before Ethan could stop him, feet flying like the devil was behind him.

The apartment door shut with a thud and Ethan poured a cup of coffee. A few sips cleared a little of the fog and he went over to look at the program on Lloyd's laptop. Data was flowing, but he had no idea what it meant. He opened his own computer and checked in with the world. He had a date with Sara much later, and he needed to make arrangements. No way he'd bring her here. No, for this little rendezvous he needed a place out and away from town, where no one knew him and he could pay in cash. He'd missed the fun last night, but tonight he'd take all he wanted.

At exactly seven, he knocked on Sara's door. She looked great in a black dress and heels that made her ass move when she walked, just what he liked in a woman. "How do you feel about Italian food?" he asked, helping her into the compact rental he'd picked up for the night, courtesy of a friend who owed him a few bucks. He'd chosen a restaurant known for good food, one that didn't take reservations and was usually busy. They waited twenty minutes before a small table in the back opened up. With customers knee deep at the bar, conversation was close to impossible, which was just what he wanted.

He was socially obligated to feed the woman before he banged her, so he did. It was the only rule his mother forced him to follow once his uncle took over his education. He ordered two glasses of wine and waited until she left to go to the restroom to drop the pill into the red-tinged glass. His good time was a sure thing tonight and she'd remember nothing.

Fuck her memory of him. If Lloyd's program didn't come up with a usable password by morning, Ethan was giving serious thought to getting on a plane and getting well out of town. He didn't have enough money to start over, but he had enough info about his cousin to work a blackmail scheme of his own. Might be worth investigating.

In two days, maybe three, he could be good and gone. If he kept his money man off his ass that long.

Ethan watched Sara wend her way through the crowd, her curly blond hair down her back, a smile on her lips. In his mind he could already see her on her knees. He'd hold her in place with a handful of her hair wrapped around his knuckles while she sucked him off. He smiled back at her when she sat across from him. Yeah, he was looking forward to the after dinner part of the date.

Lifting his glass, he proposed a toast and, of course, she joined him in a long drink of the wine. Their appetizer arrived and he nibbled while she made conversation instead of going for the food. With some encouragement and a discussion of the wine, he had her drinking steadily. Between the alcohol and the sweet pill, she was giddy and playful by the time they got back in the car.

She didn't even notice the rundown hotel on the edge of town. Or the handcuffs strategically placed over the headboard.

She was wet and ready when the phone rang and he cursed a blue streak when he heard the ringtone. Not wise to let it go to voicemail. He slipped a wadded bandana into her mouth and opened the connection. "I told you it'd be next week."

"Not good enough. And don't leave me messages. You want to negotiate, speak to me in person or from the grave."

"I don't have it yet, but I will. Soon, I promise." Fucking bloodsucker loan shark would have to wait until he scored. "I'm working on it."

The man growled another threat and Ethan flinched. A long painful death spread over several days didn't sound like fun. "I'll get it to you. Soon. I promise."

"Two days. After that, you owe double."

The connection closed and Ethan dropped the cell on the crappy nightstand. The girl on the bed moaned and squirmed, the medicine doing its job, but he walked away, thinking. There was no way he could come up with twenty-five thousand in two days, not even half of that. He didn't fucking have enough to skip town, just maybe eight hundred in his account. A hum brought him out of his head and he looked down.

Her purse was open on the chair, her cell bright and vibrating with a call. He waited for the message to drop before he picked it up. Nice phone, lots of memory. All kinds of apps.

One marked 'specials' caught his eye. When he opened it, there were a series of number/letter combinations. Passwords. When he scrolled down to the bottom of the file, passing a shitload of white space, he found a list of bank names.

For a rich college student, she wasn't very bright.

He checked over his shoulder and found her just as he'd left her, arms over her head and tied to the headboard, a gag in her mouth, legs splayed and waiting for him.

An idea rolled in, a crazy stupid idea that just might work all the way around if he played it right. It was a long shot, but he liked to gamble. Besides, if it didn't go well, he'd be dead and if he didn't at least try, he'd be dead.

Might as well jump in with both feet and play it to the end.

Shit. He could do both and no one would be the wiser. Fun first, and collect the cash after.

* * * *

Dena stretched her neck and shoulder muscles and resettled on the pillow, her body warmed from the back. Steve's hand made a lazy pass across her hip and over to her belly, heat flowing along the path. Sharing a bed was much more than she'd imagined, even with the restraints.

Steve used only the best, the softest wrist cuffs, and she appreciated his concern for her. Three consecutive days and nights sleeping, or not, in his bed made her more than appreciate his care. She'd never been more pampered.

"Ready to get up, sweetheart?"

Hard to decide, since other things were hard and reminded her of what they'd done before sleep took them.

"Maybe."

He hummed and a wet tongue caressed the skin below her ear. "Not an answer."

"Master, whatever you choose will please me."

"Good answer, sub." His hand covered her nipple and tugged, sending shards of sensation outward to infect the rest of her body. With his sure touch, it didn't take but a moment or two for her entire body to sing with the need he conveyed.

The tether holding her wrists to the headboard allowed room for movement and he used the slack to reposition her on the bed. Spread wide for him, she waited while he left the room. A minute later, footsteps sounded and the lights went out, something soft covering her eyes.

"There you go, Dena. One more change, and we'll begin." A squishy plug lodged in her left ear. "This will help you focus on what you're feeling." The other ear was blocked. The edge of panic crept into her head and then a rough hand landed between her breasts.

Steve.

The texture and size of his hand had become a welcome pleasure the last few days. The knowledge that he'd never intentionally hurt her banished the panic and left only curiosity.

The hand moved away and a different texture, light and tickling, swiped down her stomach and between her legs. She wiggled and it stopped, replaced with the flick of a soft flogger across her abdomen, one frond lashing against her right breast and making her jump.

A thumb and finger grasped the nipple and squeezed, taking the pain to a new level of pleasure and a moan slipped out. The flogger crossed her skin again, then again, her recognition only from past experience with the toy.

Considering his toys as weapons had fallen by the wayside early yesterday morning. He'd been more than convincing. He'd been devilish.

He'd turned her into a wanton woman.

The bed moved as he did, and her nipple was consumed by wet heat and suction. And then fire lashed through the tight bud when a hard object took possession of it. She cried out and he left the bed.

Hot air caressed her other breast and she tried to control the anticipation of pain. But again, her breast was taken by his mouth, then a duplicate of what he'd used a few minutes before. The sting morphed into an intense pleasure when his fingers played between her thighs, and she hoped he didn't have another one of those things for down there.

He pushed her feet further apart, flexing the knees to splay her like a Thanksgiving turkey, and the bed dipped as he climbed between them. When he pushed inside, every nerve in her body went on high alert, erotic pressure zinging in every direction.

And when he moved in and out...

Heaven have mercy, when he moved within her, lights flashed in her eyes, no matter the blindfold, and her body took flight like a jet launching from a carrier.

With no sight or sound, her judgment of time disappeared and she floated, pulsing with waves of pleasure as he took her again and again.

Her inner muscles slowed their contractions and he followed their pace. His body shifted but she could still feel his thickness rammed deep inside her. Fingertips caressed the swells of both her breasts, lifted away, and ignited a firestorm of pleasure.

The rest of her body followed suit, Steve plowing his way in and out to match her need. When he reached his climax, there was nothing left of her body but a limp rag, a bag of skin covered bones and muscles so lax that she couldn't lift a finger if the house was falling down upon them.

He eased out of her body, the remnants of his release coating her labia and inner thighs, and quiet descended. For the first time in her life, she cherished the complete quiet he'd given her. Peace and contentment settled over her, every inch of her body, and even her mind, was relaxed.

She felt his fingers first, and then the silence lessened as he pulled the plug from her ear. Whispering, he said, "Sweetheart, we're going to leave the mask on for a few more minutes, and I'm going to bathe you."

The wrist restraints came off one at a time, the rip of the Velcro an enormous sound after the silence. Strong arms slid under her body and she settled against his chest for the short trip to the bathroom. He slipped her into the water, its temperature perfect, and she lay against a plastic pillow he'd positioned behind her head while he bathed her. Focusing on the sound and the feel of his hands or the washcloth, she was content to let him take care of her as he wished. And he was careful, easing the cloth over and across painfully sensitive breasts and between her legs.

"Beautiful Dena," he whispered, "I'm going to take care of you for a very long time, if you'll let me."
Chapter 17

Dena's phone rang as Steve was helping her into the truck and she showed him the caller ID before answering it. Yes, he was a little paranoid, but she didn't mind much. He had more than a few good points, definitely enough to keep him around.

What really worried her was the caller. Her friend was known for taking jobs that didn't start until almost noon and it was barely seven thirty.

"Hey, Susan, you're early. What's going on?"

"Have you seen Sara? She isn't answering her phone."

The anxiety in Susan's voice echoed in Dena's chest. Susan wasn't the hysterical type, and after the events of the past week, Dena was already on edge. Swallowing her own fear, she tried to be a strong friend.

"No, not for a few days. Maybe her battery died. What does Kellie say? Have you talked to her?" A logical step for Dena, since the three of them had shared a house off and on since their first year in college.

"Kellie hasn't seen her in two days, either."

"I thought Sara was living with the two of you."

"No. She got a one bedroom apartment closer to downtown when she got that job in June."

"Did you check the new apartment?"

The ragged sigh wasn't welcome, but Dena didn't mind.

Susan was beyond worried.

"I'm here now, and there's no sign of her."

"Hold on," Dena said to her friend, covering the phone to speak to Steve. "Can you take me to Sara's apartment instead of work? Susan's upset because she can't locate Sara."

"How long has the girl been out of pocket?"

Before Dena could reply, Steve said, "Get the address and we'll head over now."

"Thank you," she told her Dom. "Susan, give me the address and I'll be there in a few minutes."

It took them a little more than a few minutes, since the apartment was in the opposite direction from her office, but Susan answered the door before the bell finished ringing.

"It's like she walked out the door with nothing. It's not like her to go out of town without telling me."

Dena stepped into the room and hugged Susan while Steve went past them into the neat as a pin apartment. Hands in his pockets, he wandered the open living area and disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back out, he sat on the sofa and crooked a finger at Dena. She went to him immediately and Susan followed.

"I think you should call the police. I don't see any sign of struggle, but that doesn't mean much. Have you called local hospitals?"

"Oh, no. I didn't think about that possibility."

Steve pulled out his phone and paged through numbers until he found his local emergency room. With an electrical crew out on jobs daily, he liked to be prepared for any emergency. He hit send and handed his phone to Dena while her friend looked for other hospitals to try.

Twenty minutes later, they had nothing.

Steve took his phone back and went into the bedroom to take a business call. When he returned, he held Dena tight and whispered, "Go hold onto your friend. She needs a hug."

"Susan, I talked to a friend with the county. They have an unidentified woman at the morgue. From the description, she has your coloring. Are you identical twins?"

Dena sat next to Susan, her arm around her shoulders. "No, they're not, but generally speaking, yes. Same coloring and build."

Susan's body crumpled into Dena's arms and Steve came to the rescue, squatting in front of them and taking Susan's hands in his. "Listen. We can't be sure yet. We need to go down there and take a look. It could be someone else, and Sara will call you in the morning. Okay?"

He walked away and came back with a box of tissues, and Dena wanted to grab hold of him and never let go. He dropped to his haunches and spoke soft words of support to both of them, his hand on Dena's knee while Susan wiped her face.

She was well past gone over him and it scared her half out of her mind. But the way he was helping her friend, taking care of things that had nothing to do with his own life, putting her needs ahead of his. How could she not fall in love with him?

They took his truck to the Dallas County Morgue, Steve paving the way through the red tape and shoring both women up as much as possible, making him that much more important to Dena.

One of the techs showed them the body and Susan confirmed it was her sister. Since she had been found by the owner of a motel in town and been the victim of foul play, the police were notified of the identification of the victim.

They went there next, spending several hours with detectives at the substation and then at Sara's apartment. The day stretched into evening with no break and when Susan was ready to go home, Steve insisted they stop and eat first. He also suggested Susan stay in his guest room, but she insisted on going back to the townhouse she shared with Kellie. She'd called her parents in Denver and her roommate, but there were still people to contact. Arrangements to be made.

Steve helped both women out at the townhouse and grabbed Dena's hand when Susan went up the walk. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, sweetheart. I wish I could've spared you in some way."

She leaned in tight to him, taking comfort from his warm body and his care of her. "She was a wonderful friend. I can't imagine who would do this to her."

"There are bad people all over the world. It's not fair for whoever did this to walk free when a beautiful life's been snuffed out." He kissed her gently on the mouth, a soft brush of sweetness after a long, painful day. Still holding her, they went into the house to help in any way they could. Much later, he took her back to his home and tucked her safely next to him, convinced he could protect her and hold her safe in his arms.

The morning brought more news in the form of the local paper. Sara's murder was front page fodder for the gossips and busybodies, but she'd led an exemplary life, giving time to people in need on the quiet and working for a company that adored her, equally mourned her loss, and vowed to help locate her killer.

The office was quiet, her brothers offering sympathy early in the day and leaving her alone. Simon had suggested she take the day off, but she chose to stay busy, clearing her desk of all the little things she'd put off in the last week.

The solitude and productivity helped and she appreciated her family's care. If only the rest of the world was so kind. Dena's cell rang incessantly and she finally put it on silent to screen the calls.

Steve worried, but his schedule was tight and he couldn't stay with her all day. Derek was in the same fix and Mark had a meeting uptown. His solution, after she shot down the private security guard, was to have Mark's driver and longtime friend sit in her office area and watch for problems.

He was a nice guy, built like a bodybuilder, with broad shoulders and long, fit legs and he had a mischievous smile to go with sparkling blue eyes. He kept quiet, keeping an eye on the doors and on the book in his hand.

With several single friends, she thought seriously about asking if he was married, but it didn't seem like the right time. Besides, if he worked with Mark, there was a good chance he was a member of Private Delights, and she wasn't ready to share the club with any of her friends.

After listening to her complain about her overprotective, bossy brothers, they wouldn't understand why she'd let Steve dominate her. Explaining wouldn't be easy, so she'd rather leave them out of that particular part of her life for the time being.
Chapter 18

Lloyd stumbled out of his bedroom and into the tiny kitchenette, the need for caffeine pushing his feet forward more than the thought of work and a steady paycheck. He'd been up most of the night, trying to break the code for Lindsay's damn passwords. He hadn't heard from Ethan in two days, but it was coming. He could feel it in his bones, and he was seriously considering skipping town.

Ethan had 'bad shit' vibes all over him. The kind that ended on death row. The simple robbery had turned into a fiasco, and the last time he and Ethan were together, the fear of God had surrounded Lloyd.

The feeling hadn't dissipated.

And the longer Ethan was MIA, the more Lloyd wanted to bail.

He booted his laptop while the coffee finished spitting. A few minutes with the sports page and the comics would help the coffee wake up his brain. He needed a plan, and brain power was imperative.

Pouring a hot cup, he scrolled the front page and stopped at the first major story. Damn. He'd gone to high school with the Henley girls and now one of them was dead. Murdered.

He read through the article and his hands iced up around the coffee mug. The police didn't have much evidence at the scene, but the girl's bank accounts had all been hit in the last twenty four. One of the ATMs caught a fuzzy picture of the guy. The picture in the paper wasn't much to go on, but Lloyd recognized enough.

Understanding dawned at Ethan's absence. The man had been fucking busy and most likely wouldn't be showing his face anytime soon.

The coffee mug shook on the way to the table. The chair under him pushed back and he pressed his feet to the floor, one hand on the tabletop until his knees started supporting him again.

He wouldn't survive this. The robbery. The break in at Dena Lindsay's house. The attempted kidnapping. And now, a murder. Sure, he'd only actively participated in the robbery at the brokerage, but the DA could call it conspiracy and he'd be in prison for most of his natural life.

"Ethan, you sorry son of a bitch. What have you done to my life?" he asked of the empty room. Knowing he couldn't put the full blame on Ethan, he paced the small living room on wobbly legs. There must be some way to get out of this mess. He had a college degree. A law degree. He couldn't fall to his knees and give up. He sucked down another cup of coffee and took a hot shower.

Between the shower and the coffee, he felt scalded inside and out, but the numbness in his hands persisted. Under the spray, he'd come up with a rudimentary plan. Still wouldn't get him a free ride, but maybe, just maybe, he'd get a reduced sentence.

He picked up his cell and dialed.

"Hey."

"Hey, man. Where you been. I've been working on this code day and night."

"Busy."

Lloyd didn't blame him for being short. Proved his supposition, to a point, but he needed a little more. "You coming by tonight? I'm getting close to breaking this thing."

"Naw, man. Road tripping. Something for the uncle. I'm gone till tomorrow night. Maybe later. Meet you then?"

Damn fucker was already running, he could feel it in the short, choppy way Ethan spoke. "When do you want to meet?"

"Don't exactly know. How about I call you?"

Lloyd stalled for a minute. "Sure. Sure." He listened to the whine of wheels flying down a highway. "Where in the hell are you going, anyway? Thought you were all hot and bothered about this Lindsay deal?"

"Fuck you. Uncle Alan asked me to pick something up in Galveston and offered to pay me. I'll call when I get back."

The line went dead. So much for conversation.

At least, he had a working theory and a recording of the conversation. He made one more call, waking up a friend from work, and asked him to meet him at the diner across the street from the police department.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Don asked him.

"I don't really have a choice," Lloyd told him. Don Step was a friend from law school, one of the top graduates, and he'd taken a job at the Legal Aid office to get some real-time experience before moving to his father's firm. He was smart and cautious, just what Lloyd needed.

"With the information you have, we can try to make a deal. How involved were you in the robbery at the office?"

"I watched the back door while everyone else went inside. And I represented John Kent and Bill Faar when they were arrested after the burglary."

"The one you participated in? That's not going to go well with the court or with the Bar."

"I know. Don, all I'm asking for is break. I royally screwed up, but, man, Ethan has gone off the deep end with this shit."

Don leaned back in the booth, his eyes tracking the room behind him, and Lloyd's neck itched to turn around, wondering if Don set him up. Too late to worry about it now, though.

"He owes a lot of money to a loan shark. Don't know who or how much, but I know he's running now. I think he saw the girl's bank account and decided it was easier than his other options. But that's just a guess."

Don tipped his head to the side and his lower lip flowered out like he was working it over in his head. "Okay, maybe. Well, you ready to do this?"

"No, but I have to."

* * * *

Steve's phone vibrated in his pocket. He started to ignore it, knowing he was already behind schedule on this job and all of his employees were working with phones off, but he didn't want to let a call from Dena go to voicemail.

The contact info was Mark's.

Just as important, since he had contacts all over the state. "Tell me."

"A friend downtown just called. Someone walked in this morning and identified the man from the ATM. Ethan Jenkins."

"Do we know him? Name sounds familiar."

"He's a member, one of Connor's relatives. And he was at the opening."

Steve's fist clenched at his side. "How much you want to bet that's who Dena saw?"

"There's more. You alone?" Mark asked.

"Give me a minute." He walked out of the building and leaned against a shade tree. "What else?"

"The dead girl was in bad shape, and we might take some flak from it. Seems Connor's nephew played rough. Multiple penetration and strangulation before he cleaned out her bank accounts."

"Son of a bitch. That won't be in the papers, will it?" He'd do his best to keep Dena from hearing about her friend's last minutes. Fucking psychopath was in their club on opening night. Holy shit.
Chapter 19

The last two weeks had been horrendous. Sara was gone, Susan and their parents were devastated, and everyone she knew was grieving. She'd been unable to connect with Steve since the funeral three days ago. The thought of being aroused and enjoying the moment made her ill. He'd been kind. Understanding, to a point, but she knew it was wearing on him. He wanted to hold her and have sex when all she could feel was cold sadness.

She'd run him out of her kitchen, needing some time alone to think about things. Just things. Nothing specific, because her brain hadn't been capable of much for days. As long as she kept her hands busy, she was fine. Sitting around drove her crazy and that was all Steve wanted.

He wanted to hold her. Comfort her.

Sooner or later, she'd have to either allow it or force him to go home. Reluctantly, she made one more swipe at the already dry counter and left the dishcloth on the island. She tried on a smile and went into the living room.

He patted the spot next to him on the sofa and she went to him, hoping she could thaw enough to respond. Maybe a little cuddle would help. It couldn't hurt, and she needed something, just couldn't figure out what.

His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her in close and kissed her temple. He'd been wonderful when everything fell apart for Susan, and she appreciated the way he handled so many things for her friends. Steve Gladston was an ace, a wonderful man with deep empathy for his fellow man. But he had his rough spots. Demanding. Controlling. Fiercely sensual.

When they'd first met, she wanted all those things in a man. Now, she wasn't so sure.

The show he had on stopped as the news broke in with an update.

A sharply dressed woman with short black hair sat at a desk. "As we've reported earlier, an arrest in the murder of Sara Henley was made in Galveston ten days ago. The suspect, Ethan Jenkins is being transported from Galveston to a Dallas jail today. We'll show his transfer into the system when he arrives, but for now, we have some background information to share."

Dena leaned against Steve's chest, comfortable for the first time in a while, and tried to let go of the pain. Every time the news came on, there was something about the murder. "Can't they just leave it alone?" she said into his chest.

He held her tightly to him, his hand soft on her while he stroked from shoulder to hip and back. "It's their job, sweetheart. They don't have anything else to do."

"Ethan Jenkins is the nephew of Senator Alan Connor, and both men are members of several BDSM clubs where women are often the victims of men interested in inflicting pain. As we reported earlier, the woman Jenkins is accused of murdering was with him the night she died. Cause of death has been attributed to an overdose of a date rape drug and violent sexual activity, including strangulation. Jenkins was arrested attempting to board a cruise ship out of the Port of Galveston using forged paperwork. He is en route to the Dallas Jail at the moment and we'll have more information as it comes into the newsroom."

"Oh, God, is that true?" She lifted her head but his expression was blank. Emotionless. He'd known, but hadn't told her. Anxiety spread through her chest and made her wonder what else he hid from her.

"He was the man you recognized at the opening, the man from your car accident. I thought you'd put it together."

"No. I didn't realize he was the one. I wish you'd said something."

"I'm sorry, baby. We haven't been doing a very good job of communicating lately." He stroked her hair and tucked a stray lock behind one ear. "You don't want to know all the details, doll. Murder's never pretty, and it's best to leave some things buried with the victim."

"She was my friend."

He pressed a kiss to her brow. "I know, and I know how you feel, but nothing can change what happened to her. Keep the happy memories you have, the fun times, and let go of the way it ended."

"No, you don't know how I feel. My best friend since elementary school is dead. I miss her. I can't help but think that if I wasn't so busy with you, I'd have known she was involved with someone dangerous. I could've protected her." She pushed her body away from his and sat at the other end of the sofa. "She was important to me."

"Dena."

God, that deep, dominant voice was more than she wanted to handle right now. He'd invaded every part of her soul and her life and now he wanted to control how she felt.

"I think you should go home."

"You don't need to be alone, sweetheart. I worry about you."

She scrambled to her feet and stood her ground, holding fast to the tears threatening to break through. "I need some time to work through this, Steve. Please respect my wishes."

He stayed where he was on the sofa, one knee pressed against the backrest, and his empty boots on the floor beneath the coffee table. "Dena, come sit with me. Let me take care of you." Quietly spoken words, but the dominance was still present.

"Purple." His brows dropped and a wrinkle formed above the bridge of his nose. She knew what he was thinking. She'd used her safeword.

"We're not at the club, Dena." The low voice, the rumble of power. Chill bumps popped up on her skin. "Talk to me, doll." Defiance wasn't a game in his world, but she wasn't playing a game.

She'd never pushed him away. Never said no to anything he asked of her.

"Dena, what are you doing?"

Holding her breath, she waited for more of a response to her request. Would he leave or argue?

Or would he force her into submission?

The television blared, the news interrupting again, and her eyes were drawn to the man in the center of the screen. Tall, athletic, handsome, except for the words he shouted at the camera.

"We were dating and she knew the score. She wanted it hard. Begged me for more. I didn't know she was doing drugs. I never saw her take anything, but she always drank wine when we went out. I didn't kill her, I swear."

The lump in her throat broke loose and a sob escaped. Steve came to his feet with a growl and came to her, but she backed into the wall and pushed out her hands. "Please, don't hurt me. Please, just go. I want you to go."

"Dena, I'll never hurt you, I swear. I would never touch you in anger. Never."

Her voice wasn't all there, but she still managed a few words. His face went from splotchy red to paper white while he put his boots on and scooped up his keys. Her whole body shook while his eyes bored into hers.

"Dena, baby, please. I don't want to leave you like this."

"Just get out of my house," she whispered.

Lips a thin line, he opened the door. "Will you at least come lock up after I leave?" He stared for a long time, an age of time waiting between them, and then she gave him a nod. She knew in her heart he'd be listening for the bolt, so she took care of it, leaning her head on the door's panel. A thump told her he'd done the same. She could almost hear him breathing, and words whispered through the door.

"Dammit, Dena. Don't give up on me. On us. I love you."

It took a long time before she heard his truck start, and even longer before she turned off the lights and crawled into her empty bed.

"I love you, too," she whispered into the empty space next to her. He'd never said those words before tonight, but they'd been on the tip of her tongue more than once. So many times, she'd wanted to give them to him, and not during sex.

But sex was too much a part of their time together. She'd jumped into bed with him for the adventure and found something exceedingly more intense than his BDSM lifestyle.

It scared the hell out of her.

Friday rolled around. Again. And the thought of spending another weekend sequestered in her house made her squeamish. Steve's texts had slowed to once or twice a day, and he'd sent flowers twice, timing them so that the florist could pick up the wilted ones when he left fresh roses. She was on the verge of calling him when her cell rang.

Susan, not Steve, and a good thing, since she didn't have any idea what she'd say to him. She'd been a sobbing bitch and he hadn't deserved her hysterics.

"Hi, Susan. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. I was hoping we could get together, maybe have dinner? If you already have plans, don't change them for me."

She sighed. "I would love to have dinner tonight. Where?"

Susan suggested one of their favorite restaurants and Dena grabbed her purse. If she sat at her desk one more minute, she'd be on the phone with Steve. She owed him an apology and when she had the right words fixed in her head, she'd call him. Until then, she'd wait and avoid as much as she could. The word coward would be permanently embedded in her forehead soon enough.

Susan was at a table when Dena entered the restaurant, two glasses of wine and a pile of breadsticks waiting in the middle of the table. Her friend stood and they hugged, clinging to each other for a minute before sagging into their seats.

"I ordered for you. Hope you don't mind," Susan said with a nod to the wine.

They both lifted a glass and sipped and Susan said, "You look tired. What's going on?"

"Too much to talk about."

The waiter arrived, rattling on about the specials, and Dena tried to avoid her friend's stare. As soon as he walked away, Susan jumped in. "Talk to me, Dena. What happened?"

"I went ballistic with Steve. I haven't seen him in a while."

"Oh, honey, no. What did you say? Or what did you do?"

Her face got hot, embarrassment taking a front seat to her confession. "I compared him to the man that killed Sara."

Susan leaned back in her chair, the wine glass wobbling on the table. "No. I don't know your Steve that well, but I can't imagine him hurting you like that. Not after the way he helped me with Sara."

"They're members of the same club."

Susan kept shaking her head. "That doesn't matter. They're two different people."

Their salads arrived and she unrolled her napkin, hoping Susan would let the topic drop while they ate.

Picking at her salad, she asked, "How are your parents?"

"Fine, I guess. As well as can be expected," Susan said, her expression neutral, but it was clear from the set of her brow that she had something to say.

Dena took a bite and waited.

"I've been doing research about men who hurt women."

The long pause had Dena curious. Susan wasn't one to mince words in any situation.

"I also looked into the BDSM culture. Everything I read focused on consent issues and safe play. The few mentions about violence were warnings to stay away from anyone unwilling to use safe words and contracts."

Dena put her fork down and leaned in to the table. "Would you date someone who wanted to tie you to the bed?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She took another bite of salad, her eyes still matching Dena's, and swallowed with a smile. "If he was a sweetheart like Steve, I'd say yes." Susan laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You are. Your face looked like you might scratch my eyes out if I tried to get close to your boyfriend."

"It did not."

Susan pushed her salad around with her fork, her gaze on the food when she said, "Dena, did he talk about safety?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a safe word?"

"Yes."

When Susan finally met her gaze, she prepared herself for a hard question, but she was surprised by what her friend asked. "Did he ever treat you badly?"

"No." Oh, shit. She'd never considered the good times they'd shared or the tenderness he'd shown her, only thought about what might happen, what the worst case scenario might be. "He didn't get mad when I asked him to leave. How did I miss the way he let me push him away?"

Their soups arrived and Dena felt like a complete idiot. "I owe him an apology, don't I?"

"If you want to keep him around, yes."

A chill crept into her chest at the thought of never seeing him again, but she still had questions about their relationship. "I don't know, Susan. Lately, I've been wondering if I'm attracted to him or to his lifestyle."

Oh, lord, why had she said that? Susan's eyebrows were almost in her hairline, her eyes wide and wildly curious.

"Don't even think about not telling me everything, Dena. Everything."

More wine went down her throat while she looked for a way to explain what Steve did to her without making it sound like an x-rated movie. Damn her mouth for taking the lead in this conversation without consulting her brain. Too late now.

"He's dominant."

"I get that. Tell me more."

"He knows what he's doing." An eye roll worthy of a recalcitrant teenager spoke volumes. With a sigh, she whispered, "He made me come until I thought I'd pass out."

Susan grinned. "Does he have any single friends?"

"Susan." Another sip of wine helped. "Okay, here's the thing. I'm not sure if I want to see him because he ties me to the bed and makes me...you know..." She waved the wine glass around in front of her. "Or because I care about him as a person."

"Have you been with him when you weren't having sex? Wait, I can answer for you. You were with him when he helped me find out about Sara. He was wonderful to both of us that day."

"True."

"Did he tie you up and do you when you got home?"

Dena rolled her lips over her teeth and gave serious thought to ordering more wine. "No."

"Did he stay with you that night?"

She shook her head, afraid to open her mouth, but she knew exactly where her friend's line of questions was leading and she didn't want to answer anymore.

"Have you ever had plain old sex with him?"
Chapter 20

The question stopped her on a dime. "We...I mean..."

"Maybe you should find out? I'd hate to see you dump a guy as sweet as Steve because you wouldn't take a chance on loving him. Life is too short to let fear make you wait for the perfect man. No one is perfect."

Dena jerked in her seat when a man stopped next to their table, her heart pounding with the realization Susan had given her.

"Can I get you ladies anything?" the waiter asked. "Another glass of wine?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I've had enough." He walked away with a smile and a nod, and when she looked back at her friend, she saw the same gesture.

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to grab Susan's hand. "I needed to hear that."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

She broke a breadstick and took a bite, postponing her capitulation, but Susan was right. She needed to know more about Steve before she walked away completely. "I have no idea."

"Would you like a suggestion?"

An hour later, she parked in front of Steve's house and prayed he was home and alone. After pushing him away for the last two weeks, he might've decided to move on with his love life. If so, it would hurt like hell, but she couldn't really blame him.

She hit the doorbell and waited.

Nothing, and there were no uncovered windows, so she couldn't tell if anyone was home. She was digging in her purse for her cell when the door opened.

Holy shit. Steve, in all his glory, stood in the open doorway with a towel around his waist and another working over his chest. A knife-like thought crossed her mind, wondering if he was post coitus.

"Dena. I wasn't expecting you. Come in." He backed up and she stepped across the threshold, relaxing a little. Surely, he wouldn't invite her in if he had another woman in his bed.

"I should've called. I'm sorry. I just..."

His arms wrapped around her and brought her in contact with his damp chest, a few stray droplets clinging to the curly hair. His mouth slanted over hers in a kiss designed to make her wobble, which she did without thinking about it. This was what he did to her every time he touched her. It was the next part that confused her.

For the moment, she enjoyed the feel of being in his arms and having his tongue invade her mouth.

"I've missed you, Dena. I'm glad you came tonight. I was getting ready to drive over to your place and sit in your driveway until you let me inside."

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on between us."

"Okay, how can I help?"

She looked into his face, noting the concern in his expression, and said, "Will you make love to me tonight without any ropes or toys or scarves?"

His eyes darkened and those broad shoulders she loved tensed. "Of course, baby. I'll do whatever makes you happy."

She stepped back from his body and grabbed hold of the towel where it overlapped and crossed his tight abs, and then turned toward the hall.

"Now?"

She tugged and he followed, the husky rumble of his chuckle settled in her chest and breathed life into her body once more. She'd missed this, the closeness and the desire that flowed between their bodies.

She let go of him when they crossed into his bedroom and pulled her top over her head. He came up to her and released the catch on her bra, the tent under his towel growing and pressing into her butt. His hands cupped her hipbones, his mouth wet and hot on the bare skin under her earlobe.

The caress sent shivers down her spine and reminded her body of what it had missed for the last ten days. The resonant happy dance under her skin woke her libido and started a waterfall effect. Desire pulsed fast and hard.

He turned her in his arms and took her face in his hands. Another scorching kiss shook her knees and she slipped her hands between the towel and his ass. The added pressure loosened the knot and it fell to the floor.

"No hurry, doll. We have all night."

She pressed a kiss to his chest and stepped away to shuck her slacks and panties. His hum of appreciation caused hot chill bumps to form all over her, or maybe that was from the texture of his hands on her skin.

She wanted him. Now.

His heat surrounded her as she backed him toward the bed and tipped him onto the neatly made king-sized bed. She crawled up beside him and they scooted to the middle.

When she straddled him, Steve grabbed her hips. "Dena, baby, stop and talk to me. Don't get me wrong. I want you, but I need to know what's going on here."

"I'm trying to figure it out."

"So you're here to molest me without toys or ropes? I get it, but talk to me. What's in your head right now?"

"Can I explain when we're finished?"

He went still under her, the tense bands of his abdomen against her thighs and rear turning to steel.

"Are we talking about after sex is finished or after we are finished? Big difference there, Dena."

She held her breath and he let his out.

"If it's the latter, sex isn't going to happen tonight. Talk to me, Dena. I need to hear what you're feeling, baby."

Eyebrows drawn tight over the long bone of his nose, he wasn't budging until she told him what she wanted to discover with this little exercise. Damn. She might as well spill and take a chance on him skewing the outcome.

Take a chance.

Fine. She'd follow Susan's advice, again.

Sliding off his body, she sat crisscross on the bed next to him. Steve pulled a couple of pillows under his head and tugged until she lay beside him, face to face and in his arms.

"I'm trying to figure out what this is between us."

Those blue eyes of his turned cloudy and half closed. "I know I'm in love with you, but I gather you're not sure about your feelings."

She closed her eyes for a minute, gathering her thoughts before answering. "I don't know. I mean, I know what I feel, but I don't know if I'm drawn to you because of the toys and the dominance or because of you."

"Dena, you know the dominance is part of who I am. I can't change that." He lifted a lock of hair from where it lay across her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I don't want to lose you, but I can't change who I am and I wouldn't try to change who you are."

"I know, but sometimes I don't know who I am."

He nodded and kissed her with a gentle mouth, tenderness in his touch. "What do you need me to do to help you figure it out?"

"Have sex with me, but without the dominance."

He answered with a quick shake of his head. "I won't have sex with you, baby. But I'll try to keep the dominance to a minimum while we make love."

Pressure in her chest caused moisture to collect and she blinked several times, hoping he wouldn't notice. He leaned close and kissed the tears away, forcing her to give up the pretense.

A relief, really.

His mouth moved lower and took hers with a passion she'd yearned for during their separation. Hands moved over her body, the caress of roughened skin cupping her breast, a thumb rubbing against the sensitive nub of her nipple, made her moan.

She slipped her knee over his thighs and shifted her weight to straddle him as he went over onto his back. The hard length of his cock jutted out in front of her. "Oh, good. Mr. Big wants to play." She wrapped her hand around it and slid up and down the shaft with a slow steady rhythm.

A half laugh half groan came out of his mouth and he pulled her forward with a quick jerk. As her chest met his, her hips rose and their bodies aligned. He thrust upward, impaling her. "Damn, woman. Laughter during sex is scary for a man. Help me out, here."

"I heard what you said outside my door the day I made you leave."

"I remember. I just said it again. What do you think about it?"

She placed her mouth on his and nibbled on his lower lip. "I said it, too, but you were already gone."

He took control of her mouth in a blisteringly hot communion and when they stopped for air, he rolled until she was under him. "Don't take this for domination, doll. This is called the missionary position by most of the world."

He didn't give her time to reply, his kisses keeping her mouth busy while he drove in and out of her body until they both exploded.

Steve reached for his alarm as soon as he heard it beep, hoping to let Dena sleep a little longer. He'd taken her three times last night, each time sweeter than the last. He'd never been a fan of vanilla sex, but Dena in all her glory was an angel he never wanted to lose. He rolled over to watch her sleep and found her side of the bed empty.

He checked the house and found not one sign of her, not even a note. Damn the woman. Last night was about coming together as a couple, or, at least, he thought so. Sometime after the third orgasm, she'd changed her mind and skipped out on him.

No point in staying in bed, so he showered and fired up the Keurig for his morning coffee, knowing he and Derek would work through a full pot by noon. Checking his phone before leaving the house, he finally found her message.

A text sent while he was in the shower.

Sorry I left while you slept. Thanks for helping me work this out.

Fuck. She left him with nothing. Not one fucking hint about what she'd decided or when he'd see her again.

Son of a bitch.

He had half a mind to camp out in her office until she explained herself, but he and Derek had a pile of shit to take care of at G&L today, not to mention the final walk through of the Lindsay job. He'd track her down when he got there and make her face the fact that they belonged together.

Hell, he'd already used the L word more than once. And he didn't think either of them was ready for the M word, but he might have to use some version of it to bring her around. Maybe.
Chapter 21

Dena slipped out of Steve's bed when the sun was still hiding, a light blue glow on the horizon the only hint of daybreak. He'd given her an amazing night and she'd slept deeply between each interlude, as had he. Still dazed by all he'd said and done, she'd awakened in the wee hours of the morning and then slept fitfully for the past hour, her head and her heart trying to decide what to do next. The only compromise she had was to escape before he woke and asked what she'd decided.

She wasn't ready to talk about it.

Not yet.

Once home, she showered and made some breakfast before calling her brother. The request for a day off was easily acknowledged. She'd been a mess since Sara's death and her brothers were still in bend-over-backward mode where she was concerned. She didn't like to miss work, but Steve would be in her office for the final walk through for the security system and she didn't want to see him there.

Best to wait on their first meeting post vanilla sex.

Susan called at nine.

"Yes, I'm fine. He was home and alone, and we talked."

"Is that all you did? Talk?"

Dena laughed and had an immediate image drop into her head of Steve's face when she'd laughed in his bed. "No, we did other things, too."

Susan's reaction was a heartfelt. "Thank goodness. So, what did you decide?"

"I'm going to continue seeing him."

"And he agreed?"

"Well, he didn't disagree." She'd put the sleepless morning to good use, figuring how to make up for her melt down with Steve, and she'd conceived a plan. "What do you have planned today?"

Susan groaned. "I have to work the evening shift tonight. Why?"

"Can you help me with a few things this morning and let me buy you lunch for your great advice?"

"Great advice, huh? Sure, I'd love a free lunch and some shopping."

Dena kept an eye on the door while they waited for Mark, but Susan was the first to see him, even though she didn't know who to look for.

"Wow. That is one good-looking man. Look at the guy waiting for a table, Dena. He's gorgeous."

Dena turned her head as Susan said, "Hey, he's coming this way."

"Yes," she laughed. "That's Mark, Steve's friend and one of his business partners."

"Really." Susan's blush was a soft pink by the time Mark sat down, but it flared again when he shook her hand.

"Ladies, as much as I love having lunch with beautiful women, I'm not sure why I was invited. Clue me in, please. And no, I didn't tell anyone where I was going when I left. My PA will call if I'm needed."

The waiter arrived and they ordered quickly, knowing Mark had other obligations. When they were alone, Dena answered. "I want to show Steve that I'm willing to participate in the club."

Mark's brows rose with curiosity. "I thought you'd walked away from him. He's been irritated as hell for the last week or so but wouldn't talk about it."

"I kind of kicked him out of my house after Sara's funeral." Dena kept her gaze in her lap. "I wasn't very nice to him."

"And now?"

Mark's dark tone implied trouble and when she looked up, she recognized the dominance in him even before he spoke. "If this is about hurting him with my help, I'm out. I don't play those games."

His chair squeaked when he pushed back from the table and she grabbed his wrist.

"No, please. It's not like that at all."

He didn't look happy but he stayed at the table. "Talk."

"I saw Steve last night. I was trying to figure some things out."

"Like what?"

Total Dom mode. Great. "I wanted to know if I was, I mean, I was trying to decide if I cared about him or craved the stuff in the club. You know, the um, the dominance."

Mark leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his face close to hers. "What did you decide?"

She faced him, eye to eye despite his dominant persona, and said, "I want him. In any way he wants. I'm in love with him."

He didn't look surprised, but a little apprehensive. "Have you told him this? Why am I here?"

"I want to submit to him at the club tonight. I need permission to be there without him and I was hoping you'd give me your blessing."

He leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping on the table and eyes on something across the room. The waiter deposited plates in front of them while he remained silent.

This was rapidly turning into a bad idea. Mark was Steve's friend, not hers, and she didn't have the right to ask for his help after what she'd done to Steve. A glance at Susan confirmed it. The awed look she'd had when introduced to Mark had faded to resignation. They both picked up their forks, expecting him to leave after dressing them down for hurting Steve.

"What did you have in mind?" Mark said.

She almost dropped her fork, but Susan remained in control with a surprised smile.

"I'm not sure. I wanted to ask you about what would be appropriate."

Mark nodded and started eating, making her wait while he tasted everything on his plate.

"You can use the public room upstairs. Do you still have the collar he gave you? I noticed it missing from your throat. That's why I assumed you'd broken it off with him."

"It's at home."

"Bring it, but don't wear it. He needs to put it back on you. If he agrees."

"Okay."

"You'll need to offer yourself to him."

"Okay."

"Naked and on your knees."

Susan gasped but Dena had anticipated the requirement and wasn't shocked. "Okay."

"How many witnesses do you want?"

"Witnesses?"

Susan's echo of her reply didn't help. Mark's brow rose, his mouth a thin line.

"Putting a collar on a sub is a commitment akin to marriage. I've seen a few elaborate ceremonies performed over the years."

"He didn't tell me anything, just put it on me. I thought it was a gift."

"It was. But there's significance in any gift he gives. Me, I like to shower women with tokens of my appreciation. Steve isn't into it, though. You were different from the start."

"Oh." Overwhelmed and staggered by what she hadn't known, she stared at Mark and wondered what other subtext information she'd missed. "Thank you, Master Mark. Can you tell me anything else I need to know?"

"Sure. He's my best friend. Don't fuck with him. Be honest and he'll appreciate you. Break his heart and deal with me."

The threat in his words warmed her heart, even after she saw Susan's shocked expression. This was a man who cared about his friends, and she appreciated the way Steve's friends supported him. She felt the same way about her friends. When she smiled at Mark and tipped her head in acknowledgement, he met her expression with a respectful nod.

They finished eating in companionable silence, her head buzzing with ideas. "How public should this be?" she asked.

"As large or as intimate as you want it to be."

Being naked in front of a crowd didn't appeal to her, even though she knew it was commonplace in the BDSM clubs. "What do you think Steve would want?"

His eyes lit up and a mischievous grin appeared for a minute. "Fuck," he sighed. "He'd probably want something small, something intimate. How about using his suite at the club, with Derek and me as witnesses?"

"What time?"

"Come in around five. Better yet, I'll send my driver to pick you up so you won't have to worry about getting your car back home afterward. Once you're ready, I'll call him with a good reason to come to Private Delights."

"Thank you."

He slid a business card across the table. "Give me your address and I'll have George pick you up at five."

"I hate to be a spoilsport, but what if he doesn't show? Maybe I should drive you," Susan said. "I can wait outside in the car."

"You're welcome to come inside as my guest." Mark flashed her a smile, then shook his head. "I seriously doubt he'd no-show, but if something comes up and he can't get there, my driver will take you home."

"I appreciate your help, Master Mark."

"My pleasure." He took the card and the lunch check as he stood. "I'll see you later, Dena." Turning to Susan, he lifted her hand and rolled her wrist to press a kiss into her palm. "Susan, if you ever want to walk on the wild side, give me a call. I'd love to show you around my place."

She laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm happy with my everyday love life."

He tipped his head and left the restaurant.

"Damn. What a silver tongued devil."

Dena nodded, suddenly wondering if she'd done the right thing in asking for his help. It must've been apparent, because Susan reached for her hand.

"You look like a woman in need of a mani-pedi and maybe a massage. Let's get you ready for this submission ceremony."

* * * *

Mark met her at the door, his smile a welcome sight. "Everything's ready for you and once you're settled, I'll call him."

"Thank you, Master Mark. This means the world to me. I just hope Steve understands."

"He will."

She fell in step behind him, her eyes watching the floor as he led her to the upstairs hall. Before he swiped his card, he turned and cupped her chin. When their eyes met, he smiled. "Steve's a lucky man. I took the liberty of adding a few things to the room."

The lock beeped and he pushed open the door, leaning against it to allow her entrance.

Her breath caught at the decorations. "Oh, my. This is lovely. Thank you."

The lights were dimmed and strings of white twinkle lights were hung from the braces of the ceiling to illuminate the room. A tall candle sat on the table and soft music played in the background. A thick white rug was placed in the center of the floor.

Mark walked over to the rug and bent down to rub his hand across the thick pile. "You might have to wait a while for him to arrive. This will be easier on your knees."

"Thank you, Master Mark. I'm overwhelmed."

"You're very welcome. I'll call him now and ring the room phone when I know his ETA."

The door shut behind him and she sank onto the bed, trying hard to keep her heart in her chest. This was really happening. She fished the white choker he'd given her out of her purse and set it on the counter next to the candle, stuck her purse in a chair across the room and went into the small bathroom to get naked. Halfway there, the phone next to the door rang and she jumped, her nerves jangled by the old-fashioned ring.

"He's on his way. Probably twenty minutes or so."

"Thank you, Master Mark."

The line disconnected and she stood there shaking and hoping she wasn't making a terrible mistake. A few deep breaths had her back to removing her clothes. Once they were neatly folded and stacked on a shelf, she went to the candle and lit it with the lighter Mark had provided. He was something else, and some day she'd need to truly thank him. She'd find a way.

Rearranging the collar in front of the candle took a few minutes, then a few more, until she finally let go of the anxiety and went to her knees on the rug.

She'd never been good at waiting, but with a sigh, she decided it was time to learn a little patience.

Still, waiting sucked.
Chapter 22

Steve was pissed.

He'd spent the morning wondering where the hell Dena was. She wasn't at work, and no one at Lindsay & Associates would talk about her. She wouldn't answer her phone at home or her cell. He went by the house twice and beat on the door, with no response.

He'd left messages all over the fucking county and he was worried. When his phone rang, he snatched it off the counter as soon as he dried his hand. "Dena?"

Mark laughed in his ear. "No. You coming to Private Delights tonight?"

"No. Not until I find Dena."

"Where are you?"

"Home. Just got out of the shower."

"I need you to come out to the club. It's important."

"Fuck that. I need to take care of something. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No. You had a delivery today and it's perishable. It can't wait any longer."

Steve cussed a blue streak. "Just dump it in the freezer and I'll be there in the morning."

"Can't. Trust me and get your ass out here now."

The line disconnected and when he tried to call back, Mark's phone went to voicemail. Damn the fucker. He called the office but Mildred wasn't any help, either.

Derek's phone was likewise useless.

He left another message on Dena's phone and got dressed in a hurry. The sooner he took care of Mark's issue, the sooner he could focus on finding his woman.

Yeah, she was his whether she knew it or not. He'd convince her even if he had to tie her to a bed and keep his dick inside her for a month or two straight.

There were several cars in the lot when he got to the club, but it was early for the wild crowd to be out and about. Some of their members came for the restaurant's growing reputation, thanks to Mark's influence and the advertisements he'd strategically placed, and in a couple hours, the place would be crowded.

If he could find Dena, he'd bring her back here and spank her ass until it glowed red. The woman drove him crazy.

And he liked it.

Mark and Derek were at the reception desk with Joanne, their Staff Submissive, when he walked in.

"Why the fuck am I here when I have things to do tonight?"

He knew something had gone to shit when his two best buds flanked him and started for the elevator in the back of the first floor. "What the fuck?"

"Don't ask questions, just move, buddy. This is important."

He planted his feet and turned to Mark. "Talk to me."

"Can't explain it. You have to see it first."

Derek nudged him in the back when the elevator doors opened. It was a short ride, since there building only had two levels, and when they stopped at his suite, he looked at both men before reaching for his keycard. The silence played on his senses more than their strangely self-satisfied expressions.

The locking mechanism pinged and the door swung open to reveal a darkened room, twinkle lights and candles illuminating a form on the floor.

Dena.

On her knees and naked.

His body stopped moving while his brain shifted into overdrive.

Two hands pushed him over the threshold and followed him inside, the only sound the click of the lock resetting.

Soaking up her position, the sweet submissive set of her body glowing in the candlelight, he smiled for the first time in a long while.

Dena had come back to him.

The soft rug under her was a duplicate of the one Mark had in his playroom, designed especially for a cherished submissive. A quick look at his friend pulled his attention away from the woman he loved, worry making him second guess the moment. "Did you set this up?"

Mark shook his head, his words a balm to Steve's heart. "She called me. Her idea all the way."

He turned back to Dena and noticed the collar. Two steps took him to her and he let his hand settle on the crown of her bent head, burrowing slowly into the soft dark hair. "This is what you want?"

Her head moved under his hand, but he needed the words. "Look at me, doll." Hands sliding over her ear and under her chin, he lifted her to face him. "Is this what you want? Will you belong to me?"

"Yes, Master. I want to belong to you."

Sweet words from a beautiful woman. He took the collar from the counter and slipped it around her throat. The click of the clasp resounding in the silent space while his best friends watched.

Steve pulled her to her feet and kissed her perfect mouth, making his possession known, then turned to the men just inside the room. "This is my woman, my submissive. No one may touch her without my permission."

"Congratulations," Mark said with a grin. "You've found a wonderful woman."

Derek nodded and smiled, offering his congrats with what passed for happiness for him, the warmth not quite making it to his eyes, but Steve understood. This was a bittersweet moment for the man.

Both men shook Steve's hand, but they only nodded in Dena's direction. Yeah, they could look all they wanted, but she was all his. No touching without permission.

His friends took their leave, and he turned to her.

"On the bed, hands over your head."

Feet apart and arms crossed, he watched her scramble onto the bed and position her body as he'd demanded. The sight of her beautiful body following his directions, the easy submission she gave him, had his heart clenching in his chest.

His.

"Remind me of you safe word, sub."

"My safe word is purple, Master."

"I'm glad you remembered my title, sub. You've been absent from your position for too long."

"I'm sorry, Master."

He wrapped the leather cuffs around each of her wrists with care. He had no desire to roughen her smooth skin but he needed her to understand she belonged to him. "Roll over onto your belly."

She complied without comment and he stroked a palm down her body from shoulder to hip, then popped her ass with his bare hand. "Why did it take you so long to come back to me, Dena?"

"I was confused, Master."

He secured her left foot to the far corner of the bed with a long ankle cuff. "You didn't trust me."

"I'm sorry, Master."

The other ankle was restrained in short order, leaving her on the bed as a human X marks the spot. "You should know better. Trust is the most important part of our relationship, save one other."

"Yes, Master."

He picked up the flogger from where it lay on the shelf and approached the bed. "Do you still deny that trust?"

Listening to her breath saw in and out of her mouth, he waited for her answer. One long minute passed before she gave him a heartfelt response. "Master, I trust you completely. Please believe me."

The first lash of the flogger floated across her back with a soft caress, the second stung along the lines of her hips. With each stroke, he pushed her limits until she cried out and writhed within her bounds.

He moved around the bed, scattering the licks of the beads in a manner meant to inflame her senses without marring her satin skin. The pink glow across her body changed and merged with other areas as he worked the flogger over her.

Whimpers and murmurs helped him keep track of her progress, and when the first full moan left her sweet mouth, he dropped the flogger and rid himself of his pants.

It took only moments to release the ankle restraints. Crawling up the bed, he slid his hand under her hips and discovered her ripe, wet pussy. Slowing his need for a minute or two, he stroked his hands down the backs of her legs and repositioned them with her knees under her. He sunk into her with a groan.

His. Only his, and he'd never let her go again. They belonged to each other. The faint whisper of his name had him moving within her, setting a hard fast pace. Her cries increased and when he felt her tighten around his cock, he was right there with her. "Come for me, Dena. Come now."

About the Author

Lavender lives in Texas with her own private Prince Charming, two kids, two cats and a large brown dog. She spends her days writing sexy contemporary romance, sometimes adding a hint of suspense or tossing in a little dominance and submission.

A member of RWA, she took first place in the Great Expectations Contest in 2011 for _Bound by Trust._

When she's not writing or reading great romance novels, she can be found in the kitchen baking, usually with chocolate. Find her on facebook or the other sites she inhabits in her spare time by following these links:

www.facebook.com/LavenderDaye

www.LavenderDaye.com

www.LavenderDaye.Blogspot.com

And if you need to read more about Private Delights, turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book in the series – The Art of Submission.

Mark Harrison leaned against the back edge of the reception desk and appreciated the long line of leg the night's hostess offered. The plunging neckline and barely there skirt left just enough to the imagination to entice even the hardcore members of Private Delights. Nothing quite like a beautiful woman to make a man enjoy life and all its pleasures. Her hands came up to rearrange her hair, pulling it back to reveal almost bare shoulders. She was a vision in smooth skin and he appreciated the sight. Not a bad way to pass the time while he waited for his best friend to arrive. He checked his watch. Steve was late so he spent a few minutes contemplating what he could do with the submissive in front of him while he waited. A few salacious thoughts came to mind, but she wasn't for him tonight.

No, tonight he'd be discussing his club with a researcher.

Mark wondered for the tenth time why he'd agreed to this. His club, his baby, was filled with paying members. His desk was clean for the first time in a month, and a glance through the evening's roster showed several submissives in the house, semi-naked and willing to give him anything he wanted. Instead, he waited for an unknown woman to push her way into his private domain and ask questions.

Damn Steve and his over-eager submissive for convincing him to take on this girl. Research was the last thing he needed in this business. There were already too many stories about BDSM floating through the media and he didn't want to add to the cacophony.

Dena was adamant that her friend from school was a legitimate researcher, working on a master's degree in behavioral science with an emphasis on sexuality. And while he liked Dena and trusted Steve with his life, he wasn't too sure about the college friend and her agenda.

The frosted glass door opened. Two twenty-something girls dressed in leather didn't bother looking in his direction, just turned left and disappeared down the hall leading to the public club. Loud music and wannabes. Paying customers in a make believe world of dominance and submission, they'd dance and drink and get off in one of the private rooms in the back of the club, but they had no idea what they were truly missing.

And he had no desire to enlighten them.

The door opened again and his receptionist smiled at Dena, then dropped her gaze to chest height when Steve came to the podium. "Master," she said, her tone clear and cool as she addressed him. As lovely as she was, Steve gave her a cursory glance and swiped his card through the reader.

Mark left his spot behind the desk and shook the man's hand, nodding at Dena until she lowered her eyes. In a social setting, traditional customs were observed, but within the confines of the club, respectful obedience was required.

Behind her, a petite blonde waited to be introduced. Striking bone structure set her apart from the crowd. Her heart shaped face captivated almost as much as the gray-blue eyes and thick lashes. Best of all, she wasn't a waif of a woman. Her proportions were perfect, nicely rounded in the right places while her slim legs enticed even in the moderate heels she'd chosen to wear. If this was Dena's researcher friend, he'd gladly take on the job and train her well.

"Anything happening tonight?" Steve asked. "Parking lot is heavy. What am I missing?"

"Most of the traffic is through the bar. One of the regulars is hosting a birthday party."

Steve lifted his chin, his eyes going to half-mast. "Didn't know we did that. Are you sending entertainment?"

Mark's eyes were all for the new girl while he answered. "I sent an email around for volunteers. Nothing official, but I made the membership aware of the situation."

Completely out of her domain, the woman's gaze wandered with no idea of protocol and Mark shifted his focus to Dena. She should have clued the visitor in on the rules.

"What exactly did you suggest, my friend?" Steven Gladston looked like what he was, former military with a tough streak a mile wide. He was the best security man in the state and could smell trouble or its potential from a mile away.

Dragging his eyes off the woman and back to Steve, Mark caught the man's eye then tipped his head at the blonde. "Nothing too explicit. I don't expect to get any new members from the party goers, but a little glimpse might boost attendance at the bar. As long as we don't get raided, I'm okay with whatever they want to do."

Without turning his head, Steve said, "Dena, introduce your guest."

To her credit, the woman took one look at her friend and realized she was out of compliance. Her eyes dropped and her cheeks reddened.

"Master Mark, please meet Kellie Windsor."

Mark moved closer to the girl and offered his hand, making sure it was within her vision. Without lifting her head, the woman grasped his hand. Soft and pliant, her fingers closed around his for just a moment and he felt a hesitance in her grasp. Was she nervous or afraid? He threw a quick glance at Dena, sure she'd said this woman wanted to meet him. If this was some sort of matchmaker setup for him, he had no desire to participate.

Ms. Windsor's chin lifted and he got a clear look into her mindset when their eyes met. A hint of nervous energy flickered, most likely from the club's reputation. She wanted to be here, but didn't know what to expect. A subtle touch of defiance shone in her eyes. Sure of herself, she didn't plan to stay long enough to submit to any man.

Interest turned his pilot light from low to medium. He loved a challenge.

"Perhaps we should get acquainted in my office. I'd like to hear more about your project before I agree to your research."

Her head swiveled to Dena and she grabbed her friend's wrist but before Dena could comment, the young lady's shoulder's squared and her eyes found his again.

"I'm not sure how much you know about the workings of Private Delights, so I'll give you the short version on the way to my office. Come." He walked away.

If she followed, good. If not, her loss. She'd learn obedience or go home.

"Participants are labeled as dominants or submissives, also known as tops and bottoms. Most of our members prefer to keep their membership private, so before we wander into any of the public or private areas of the club, I'll need you to sign some paperwork. Just a standard nondisclosure affidavit, along with a few other sub- clauses."

He stopped to wait for the elevator and looked at her, expecting a question or comment. Not so. The hesitance he'd glimpsed was gone and curiosity flavored her expression more than anything else.

"What exactly do you expect to get out of this meeting, Miss Windsor?"

The door opened and they entered the empty car.

"It would help me considerably, allowing me to skip over issues that don't interest you or have no impact on your thesis."

The door closed and he touched the up arrow. There were two floors available within the main areas of the club. The basement, reserved for premium members, was only accessible through a secure elevator situated at the back of the second floor. "May I call you Kellie?"

"Sure."

Without expression, he replied. "Good. You may address me as Master or Master Mark while we are here in my domain."

Her priceless expression caused a heat bloom in his chest. At first glance, she'd been timid and nervous but without her friend's backup, Kellie was stronger than the little girl he'd expected. Still not quite the academic Dena had described but much more pleasing to the eye and the senses.

The doors slid open and he stepped out of the elevator ahead of her, knowing she'd be caught off guard. Common courtesy wasn't the same within the club.

Her first lesson would focus on rules and procedures.

If she got that far.

The upstairs hall was wide enough to allow four men to walk abreast, with luxurious patterned carpet one might find in a high-end hotel and tasteful artwork on the walls. Kellie soaked in the atmosphere and he let her. They were alone and he wanted her to understand she wasn't in a back room bordello or porn palace. His members had high expectations and he stayed in business by giving them what they wanted.

"This way, Kellie." He led her into his office and closed the door behind her. "I think we'll begin on the sofa." Mark took her elbow in hand, the first time he'd touched her since they'd shaken hands, and the tingle in his chest flared again.

He placed her at one end of the short sofa and sat at the other end, close enough for their knees to touch if they both turned sideways.

"Tell me about this project." No use sugar coating her reason for being here. He wanted to get to the crux of the thing, finish the discussion, and proceed to his suggestions for her.

Kellie popped the clasp of her purse and pulled out a slim notepad. "I'm researching human sexuality for my thesis, and with the recent phenomena in the publishing world, I wanted to focus on the whys and hows of dominance and submission. I've read a few books on the subject—"

"More than a few fictional works, I hope?"

"Umm, yes, of course."

"What area do you wish to explore, Kellie? Would you like to train as a submissive or as a dominant? Though, to be honest, before working through Dom training, you'd need to participate as a submissive first. A successful Dom needs to have a firm grasp of the mindset and needs of the submissive he works with."

"Oh. I didn't want to actually participate. I just have a few questions."

"Dena mentioned a tour of the club, did she not?"

"Yes, but if that's not possible, I understand."

Damn it to hell, the woman was enchanting, even with her shaking hands and the firm set to her mouth. For the first time in a few years, he was excited about the prospect of introducing a woman into his lifestyle. If Kellie Windsor had enough inner strength to come here with her questions, she'd be a hell of a submissive.

He retrieved the folder on his desk, along with a pen, and brought them back to the sofa, settling close enough for his thigh to rub against hers. Holding the sheaf of papers in front of her, he pointed out the pertinent clauses while observing her response to his proximity. Since he would be responsible for her presence in the club, any sign of arousal would be tracked. If Miss Windsor was oblivious to the atmosphere, he'd leave her alone and let her do her little project and move on.

But if what she witnessed brought out a spark of sensual interest, she'd be his. The decision was made in a split second but he'd wait to act on it. He was in no rush to push her, so he enjoyed the momentary contact, then pulled back. The instant relaxation of her body lit another flare under his skin.

"Are you willing to sign, or would you prefer to have your attorney read through the document?" he asked.

"I don't have a problem with nondisclosure. I don't plan to share any personal information related to the people I see here. I'll sign."

Mark slipped his cell from a pocket and pushed a button. A door opened and his personal assistant arrived, pen and ledger in hand. Mildred had the woman officially cleared and the document notarized in no time and promised to have a copy prepared for Kellie before she left.

"Now, I'm still not completely sure what you hope to see here, but I think a tour of the facilities might give you a better grasp of what goes on in my establishment." He stood, but didn't offer his hand to help her to her feet. "Before we leave this room, we need to discuss the mandatory courtesy protocols. Since you're not a member, you'll have some leeway while with me as escort, but it's considered rude to address a Dom without permission or to look him or her in the eye."

"Her? There are women dominants?"

"Of course. Each person takes on their own role and sometimes they switch back and forth depending on their mood. If you become a member you'll have the same option."

She muttered under her breath, nothing he could make out.

"I didn't get that. Could you repeat it?" he asked, damn sure she wouldn't tell him what she was thinking. He'd already filled her head with information she hadn't expected. "Will you follow these rules?"

"And if I don't?" she asked.

"There will be consequences."

"What?"

"Here, as in life, if you break the rules, you're punished. For today, I suggest you stick to the rules and see where they take you. On your next visit, if there is one, you might explore consequences."

A noticeable shimmy rolled down her body and Mark let his eyes follow the movement from the top of her head to the waving edge of her skirt. He made a mental note to have Steve thank Dena for her little gift. Showing Miss Kellie Windsor the best of Private Delights would be the highlight of the night.

Kellie threw her shoulders back and straightened her spine, wishing she had more control over her body and its asinine response to his every insinuation. Master? Maybe master of pain or master of illusion. If he showed her anything, it would be how belittling his little house of horrors was to women. She lowered her eyes and followed him back to the elevator.

"We'll start downstairs in the common rooms. You may look at anything you like, anything that interests you. If you have questions, feel free to ask. Remember. Do not make eye contact with any of the doms unless they ask you to look at them."

Kellie nodded, avoiding the use of his title. When the door opened, she waited for him to go first. From the reception desk, he led her through a set of frosted glass doors and into a space she hadn't expected. A huge open concept room spread out before her, thick eggplant carpet as far as she could see, with rich green and ochre upholstered sofas scattered in subtle groupings.

For one split second she thought she'd fallen through a wormhole and into an elite country club. The attire of the patrons, or lack thereof, clued her to the truth.

"This is the primary meeting room. Members often spend most of their time here, socializing with other members or entertaining their partners." Master Mark gestured with his hand but didn't touch her as he led her across the rug. Soft classical music eased out of hidden speakers and tastefully dressed waiters carried trays of appetizers and drinks.

Not what she'd imagined. He led her to a seating area where her friends sat. Kellie blinked twice at the sight of Dena on her knees between Steve's size thirteen shoes. The jacket her friend came in wearing had disappeared, leaving her in a blouse and a short skirt. The modest top now acted as a jacket, opened to Dena's waist and showcasing her bare breasts.

Two other men sat nearby, one with a woman on his lap, the other alone and sipping on a bottle of water. Dena looked up at her for a minute, not a trace of embarrassment in her face, and then focused all her attention on her man. Reluctantly, Kellie kept her eyes on Dena instead of Steve, since she didn't want to get kicked out of the place too soon. When Steve stroked Dena's hair and cheek, the emotion in his caress took the air out of Kellie's chest. She'd seen them together before, but never with the deep connection she witnessed now.

A warm hand on her back pulled her away from the moment and Mark led her toward another group. Everywhere she looked, men and women were talking, touching, and socializing with friends. It was the epitome of a relaxed country club with the exception of occasional nudity. After the third topless woman they encountered, Kellie stopped noticing.

A dark voice flowed just above her head. "Not what you expected is it? This isn't a strip bar or a bordello. The members aren't dangerous or wild. They just prefer their sex a little differently than the mainstream."

"Why are so many people just sitting around?" she whispered.

"There's a certain sense of anticipation that makes the sexual act more intense. The more a Dom builds that anticipation, the better the release for both Dom and submissive."

He led her to an alcove filled with two overstuffed chairs upholstered in dark green and canted together with the arm rests meeting at the end. A slim triangular table had been set into the gap between them, a bowl of wrapped mints placed at the opposite end. A second glance changed her mind.

Condoms, not mints.

Within minutes of sitting down, a waiter arrived with a plate of cheeses and two glasses.

Kellie picked hers up and sniffed.

"Iced tea," Mark told her. "We discourage alcohol in this part of the building. It degrades the senses and makes some people reckless. And yes, we do have a bar next door, and if our members want to partake, they can. However, our wait staff is highly trained and they keep track of consumption. Intoxication is rare, but all members are aware of the consequences of overindulgence."

Kellie sipped her tea and tried to relax. She wouldn't get any information out of him if she appeared antagonistic, and Dena had warned her about Mark Harrison when she'd suggested this visit. He had a reputation as a shrewd businessman. The grandson of a wealthy oil and gas man, he'd worked in the fields to learn the business from the ground up and still owned half the company his grandfather founded.

Dena failed to mention his looks. Dark brown, almost black hair with a hint of curl even though it was cut fairly short gave him a rakish look. He could be a model for GQ if he needed the money, which he obviously didn't.

From what she'd found on the Internet, Private Delights was his primary focus and he took great pride in the business and its reputation. He had the money and connections to take down anyone who got in his way.

He wouldn't think twice about a squashing a student determined to debunk the BDSM world and show everyone how degrading it was for women. Kellie knew she had to tread lightly until she got the information she needed.

"What consequences?" she asked.

"Drunkenness usually leads to a steep fine and probationary membership for the first offense. A second incident results in loss of membership with no refund. For most members, that's a steep price to pay for a few too many drinks."

Interesting. She hadn't seen any information about the price of membership, only that it was an extremely exclusive club. She stabbed a cube of cheese and put it in her mouth while she took another look around the room, sure he watched her like a hawk protecting its nest.

"Sorry, I'm a little out of my element," she said. "Thank you for the tea and the visit. Dena told me you don't usually allow tourists."

He smiled for the first time and Kellie lost her train of thought. The stern countenance she'd been watching from the corner of her eye transformed into a movie star on the make. Dark eyes sparkled with humor and his wide grin caused dimples to pop on both sides of his face. Abandoning the rules, she faced him and returned the smile.

"I don't think of you as a tourist, but I can hear Dena referring to visitors with that word. She's an interesting young lady, but I'm sure you already know that."

"Yes, she is," Kellie replied, relaxing a little more in his presence. "Sometimes she surprises me."

"Did you know about her membership here before you started this project?" he asked as he offered her a wedge of cheese.

"No. I don't think she'd have ever mentioned it if I hadn't told her about my thesis." Dena still didn't know about the details of her paper or the book she planned to write, but some secrets couldn't be shared.

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me what you hope to learn here."

Kellie flushed, heat flooding her face and chest. She didn't want to answer but didn't have a choice. "I want to know why men choose this kind of relationship."

His smile gone, those dark eyes burned into hers while he considered her question. "Women choose this lifestyle, too. Consider Dena. Her relationship with Steve is one she committed to on her own."

"I can't help but wonder if she was coerced."

"No."

His cold tone told her to change the subject and she didn't want to push. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"It's a common misconception. Let's walk."

Mark stood and took the glass from her hand, setting it on the table. She'd seen enough of the common room and while she'd been observing the members and their activities, he'd been monitoring her responses. Every time he'd sensed her arousal, she'd backed away from the scene. She was too hesitant to engage in the sensuality of the club, too separate from her emotions. It could be the academic side of her life, or there could be some underlying issue that stopped her from experiencing the ambiance of the room.

Kellie got to her feet and he placed his palm on the slight indention between her shoulder blades, a good bit higher than the last time he led her around the room. As they walked toward the stairs, he eased his hand higher until his fingers were on the bare skin above her collar.

It was all about pushing boundaries, but she didn't understand that yet. By the time they reached the landing, his forefinger and thumb were on opposite sides of her spine, his thumb lazily grazing the side of her throat. Such a delectable young woman, her small-boned hands and fair skin added to the allure of curves in all the right spots. She'd bruise easily, and he'd hate to see her hurt. He'd need a gentle hand to keep from marking her, if she became his.

She didn't protest his hand on her but the rise and fall of her chest told him she knew exactly where their skin met.

The idea of her under him took hold in a bad way. She was too young, too innocent. At thirty, he should be looking at twenty-eight year olds and she was at least three or four years younger than that. He made a mental note to ask Steve how old Dena was and to check Kellie's personal records after she left.

They turned right at the top of the stairs and he increased the pressure against the back of her neck, his palm pressing against her satin skin. She didn't complain, didn't ask anything of him, but he wanted her to.

He wanted her.

Fuck. He hadn't wanted a woman in a while. Sex, yes, but not a particular woman. He hardly knew her, not an issue in the club but he didn't think she'd want casual semi-anonymous sex.

They passed two closed doors before he stopped and touched a panel with a flickering green light. He pressed the button and watched Kellie's face while she realized they were eavesdropping.

"Yes, some of our members like the idea of being heard or seen while they have sex. And before you ask, yes, voyeurism is also available."

He slid open another panel revealing a window and the skin beneath his palm flexed as she tried to move away. He clamped down enough to keep her in place and gentled her with his voice. "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it? Two people in the throes of passion, unconcerned with their environment and focused solely on pleasure?"

Mark knew he was pushing her boundaries a little too fast and a little too hard but he needed to know if she could handle it. The decision to make her his was made in a heartbeat and he couldn't stop the need building within him. Desire was more persistent than sexual tension, more esthetic than physical.

"They know we're watching and listening, but they can't see or hear us. It heightens their pleasure." His mouth at her ear, his head pressed to the side of hers, he absorbed the soft shiver of her body as arousal nudged her libido. "Did you ever make out in a parked car and wonder if someone might catch you in mid clutch?"

"No." A whisper, nothing more than warm air passing her lips.

"Have you ever lost control or given up control to someone you trusted, someone who would take care of your needs without being told?"

Again, a whispered denial.

