Page 102 of To Catch a Sub

Colette froze, a shriek of surprise trapped in her throat, unuttered thanks to years of practice staying quiet while sneaking about.

Andrei was leaning against the wall in the short connecting hallway that led into the main part of the club. Because he was wearing all black, and motionless, Colette hadn’t noticed him as she walked past. An amateur mistake.

Unlike Landon, Andrei was silent as he moved towards her. Though that could be attributed to his bare feet, given the way he held himself, she suspected it was deliberate and he could be worryingly quiet when he wanted to be.

Colette tightened her hold on the blanket, which was mounded over her shoulders and fell to her knees.

“Sub what?” she asked.

“Sub drop. When a sub’s emotions bottom out after an intense scene.”

Ah, yes. She understood what he was talking about though she hadn’t heard that term before, or at least didn’t remember it. “Are you asking if I’m feeling sad or upset about my scene?”

There was something about Andrei that was dangerous in an entirely different way from Landon. If Landon was a wolf, focused and predatory, Andrei was a jaguar, hiding and waiting high in a tree for the opportunity to pounce.

“Actually, I’m asking if you’re depressed, or feel anxious about what happened in your scene.” Andrei offered her his arm.

Colette stared at the black sleeve of his dress shirt, the old-fashioned gesture entirely unexpected.

Working a hand out from under the blankets, she rested her fingers on his forearm.

Together they walked the few meters to the kitchenette door. Andrei opened it for her, then gallantly gestured her in. The room was small and utilitarian, with no real cooking facilities, but it did have a fridge and microwave. A counter with a sink spanned the wall across from the door. Two kettles, a toaster, and a slow cooker were lined up in a neat row.

The slow cooker had taken her by surprise, until she saw it was used for towels. One of Toy’s prep jobs was to roll up clean washcloths, put them in the slow cooker, and add a bit of water. Warm, damp washcloth available on demand for cleanup when a cold baby wipe wouldn’t do was a lovely idea.

Colette grabbed the kettle, filling it at the sink.

There was a small two-person table shoved against one wall, the chairs mismatched. Compared to the rest of the club, this room was haphazard, but its size also made it cozy.

While she waited for the water to boil, she collected a mug from the cabinet under the counter, a small spoon, and a box of tea bags.

Andrei took a seat at one of the chairs, his long legs stretched out, his elbow on the table.

“I saw you throw a butt plug at Landon’s head.”

An unexpected laugh burst out of Colette, and she turned, leaning against the counter to look at Andrei.

“Hearing it aloud, it sounds comical,” she said. “Throwing butt plugs.”

“I assume he deserved it.”

Whatever amusement she felt vanished. “What happened between Landon and me was…” Colette was rarely at a loss for words, but she had no idea how to finish that sentence.

“Was it a mismatch of play styles and needs?” Andrei asked.

The mellow tone, as if the answer didn’t matter, made it easier for her to speak.

“No. For kink we’re…well matched.” It was more than that. Every touch had been electric. Their scene had been slow and methodical yet full of heat, his control over both her body and the situation absolute.

“Then he said something stupid.”

Colette raised a brow, blowing across the surface of her tea. “Or I did.”

“No, it was him. You—” Andrei waved his hand at her. “—test his control.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think you know.”