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Worse, she felt like someone had plugged her body into an electrical outlet. Her blood sang with heat and want. Her skin tingled with anticipation. Her pulse raced until she felt it everywhere. So much for feeling less.
Plus, if he was paying attention, moving was going to reveal her arm. And since the man was looking at her like he wanted to devour her—or take her over his knee and warm her ass with his hand—she was pretty sure he was paying attention.
“Kenna?” he asked, leaning down to look right in her eyes. “Come with me. Now.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
He turned, and she followed, relieved to be walking on his right side so that her prosthesis wasn’t right beside him. She wanted privacy for that conversation—privacy in case it made him not want to play with her anymore.
The thought made her feel like she might vomit, but then again, no one ever died from throwing up, did they? Anyway, she’d survived worse.
She immediately recognized the lounge where he led her. How many nights had he provided after care to her in this room? There was nothing particularly special about the space itself—two black leather couches sat parallel to one another separated by a coffee table, and a bookshelf held bottles of water, massage cream and skin ointments, and folded towels and blankets. Standing lamps cast a golden glow that created a relaxing vibe. One look at the couches and she could picture herself in a blissed-out, half-conscious state peering up at his strong jaw, the first hints of his dark beard just becoming clear.
He gestured for her to enter first, then turned to close the door as she resumed the same position she’d held out on the floor—legs spread, arms folded behind her back, head down. Waiting.
Master Griffin stood so close that she could make out the fibers in his charcoal-gray shirt. For minutes that felt like eternity, he didn’t say a word. In the silence, their breaths sounded loud. And the quiet made something else clear, as well—that her breathing was coming faster, that he was affecting her. Damnit.
“Look at me,” he finally said, echoing the command he’d given her minutes before.
She lifted her head and met his eyes, trying like hell to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was still mooning over him after all these years. She really needed for him not to turn her away. She just...really needed him. Well, his help, anyway.
Emotions she couldn’t read rolled over his expression, and he shook his head. “Tell me what it is you want.”
“I want to get back into the lifestyle, Sir. It’s been a long time, and I’ve missed it.” She swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet between them. “I need it.”
He tilted his head, his gaze studying her, observing her. God, it felt like he saw everything and it both thrilled her and scared her. “How long?”
“I’m sorry?”
“How long since you last served a Dominant?”
Damn if this question didn’t force her to reveal too much. “Years, Sir.” It was a hedge, but it was true.
Of course that didn’t satisfy him. One dark brow arched. “How. Long.”
A tendril of anger curled down her spine, urging her to stand taller. “Since you,” she said, more attitude in her words than she’d intended.
His eyes went wide, for just a moment, and his lips parted. Slowly, he slid the hood back off of her head and then he leaned in until his cheek brushed hers. “Does it make me a bastard to admit that that pleases me?” he said in a low, low voice, his breath tickling her ear.
The contact made her nipples hard, something her body suit wouldn’t hide. “Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
He chuckled, the sound almost smug, and he pulled back so they were eye to eye. “No.”
Damn him. She huffed.
He arched a brow again. “Is there a problem?”
“No, Sir,” she said. But there was. Because she wasn’t the same Kenna anymore. After everything that’d happened, she had a bit of an anger problem she couldn’t always rein in, and she no longer had the confidence she’d once had. Just then, the feeling that he was having fun at her expense was poking at that temper. Even as it made her hot for him.
