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When I ended up at the club tonight, and he asked if I would be up for a scene, I said yes.
He’s good-looking, of course. Tall with dark hair and dark eyes. I don’t know much about him outside of the club except that he’s an attorney. He doesn’t say where he works or for whom. Only that it’s a fairly well known New York firm.
I’m bound, naked, to the bed in a private room.
I’m not blindfolded, but he’s instructed me to close my eyes.
Sounds rustle on the other side of the room. Drawers open and shut. He’s choosing toys, and all I can think about…
All I can think about is how I don’t want to be here.
Why did I come? Why did I acquiesce when he asked if I would play?
Am I trying to prove something to myself? That I’m finally back to “normal Blossom?” That I don’t need Ronan, who apparently wants to control my whole life? That I’m over the botched scene with Jack?
Truth be told, I’ve been over the botched scene with Jack for a while now.
Darius was right. I’m at the tipping point. As much as I wanted to keep my emotions at bay, I’m growing, maturing, and that’s not who I am anymore.
I want more.
I want…love.
And I’m going to have to assume the risks that come with it.
I don’t want to continue this scene. I can’t continue this scene. My head’s not in it, and that was the whole problem with Jack. I won’t do that to another person.
“Boone?”
“You have been instructed to stay quiet.” His voice is harsh.
“Then Tesla,” I say.
He comes to me quickly, unbinds my feet and hands, and pulls me into a sitting position. “Are you all right, Blossom?”
“I need to apologize,” I say. “I don’t want to do this.”
“You disappoint me.” He’s using a stony voice.
I cock my head, widen my eyes a bit.
His gaze darkens. “What if I refuse to let you out of this room?”
“Boone, I used my safe word. You need to get out of character now.”
He shakes his head. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.”
I rise from the bed quickly, grab my clothes—black club dress, lace underwear, and platform sandals—and get into them as quickly as I can.
When I reach for the doorknob to the private suite, Boone’s body covers mine from the back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear.
His cock is still hard, brushing against the small of my back.
“I’m sorry too,” I say. “I should have never agreed to this.” I open the door, and I don’t watch to see if he follows me out.
I don’t want to go right back out to the table with Dalton and Brenda. For all I know they’re already doing a scene in their own private room.
So, though I’m not a voyeur, I walk into one of the exhibition rooms.
