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There were no words spoken as she caught his eye and slid gracefully to the ground. Only when she felt the floor beneath her knees did she drop her gaze.
He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, “I have.”
The collar carried the warmth of his skin as he put it around her neck. Her eyes closed against the swelling rush of emotion gathering within her. His fingers lin
gered around her collarbone.
“I vow to always be worthy of you,” he said as the collar clicked into place. “Stand up for me, Sasha.”
She rose on shaky legs, feeling the heaviness of his collar around her neck while at the same time feeling weightless and light. “I hope I always please you.”
He took her hand and pulled her close. “Never doubt for a minute how much you please me.” He smiled as he looked in her eyes. “Your eyes sparkle and no longer look lost and uncertain. Your smile is sincere and makes me smile in response. And the way you carry yourself shows an inner strength that is sexy as fucking hell. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t please me.”
She could truly get used to this—but somehow, she didn’t think she ever would.
“Except,” he said and her breath caught. There was something that didn’t please him?
“Your clothes,” he continued. “You’re wearing them and they’d please me more on the floor.”
She laughed, remembering how he told her to expect to be off balance with him. And as she slipped her shirt over her head, she knew there was no other way she’d want it.
Epilogue
Abby
One week later
I pulled up to Cole’s house and found the new couple holding hands while looking over the expansive front yard. I couldn’t help but smile. If Cole thought he’d turned a few heads in the group by agreeing to train Sasha in twenty-four/seven service, he didn’t want to hear the phone calls Nathaniel had fielded when he collared her.
Fortunately, Nathaniel knew exactly how to put people in their place without them even knowing he’d done it. “I’m not sure what they think I’m going to say or do,” he said after one such call. “I mean, I collared you not over a week after we officially met. And we hadn’t even slept together.”
“You probably shouldn’t hold that up as preferred practice,” I teased.
He laughed and pulled me into his lap, mumbling about how he preferred to practice a little something different at the moment.
The memory left me all smiles as I hopped out of the car and waved. From all appearances and based on my talks with Sasha, she was doing and living exactly the way she should. She rose up on her toes, kissed Cole, and then jogged over to me.
“Hey, Abby. Cole and I were just going over what we wanted to do with the yard in the spring.” She didn’t wait for a response, but motioned me to follow her into the house. “I asked you to come over to look at something. We were in the attic a few days ago. We were supposed to be cleaning it out, but Cole got inspired by the exposed beams and then he found some rope and, well . . .”
“I’ve cleaned out an attic or two in my day,” I assured her.
“The previous owner’s left so much stuff up there.” She led me to the living room. “Anyway, once we stopped fooling around, we went through some old trunks we found. I opened one that had a ton of books in it and, of course, I thought of you.”
An old trunk sat in the middle of the living room. My fingers itched to open it and look inside.
“Is that it?” I asked.
“Yes, and Cole said he’d put it in your car, but first I wanted to show you these.”
I looked at the items spread out on the table. “Magazines?”
“Yes.”
I picked one up. “Why?” It was a fashion magazine from over fifteen years ago. The cover model was pretty, but her look was dated. Wait. I squinted my eyes. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Your boss, Meagan,” Sasha confirmed. “And get this. Check out the photo credit.”
My eyes drifted to the tiny print at the bottom of the cover. “Holy fucking shit.”
“That’s him, isn’t it? I remember Cole saying he did photography on the side.”
“Luke DeVaan. That’s him all right.”
“So, now we know part of the story,” Sasha said. “And I’m willing to bet this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Tara Sue Me’s Submissive series,
The Exposure
Available in October 2016.
Prologue
Abby
Meagan looked up from her desk. “You found these where?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t me. You remember Cole and Sasha? From opening night at Luke’s place?’
“The submissive with the short dark hair and the hot Brit? Not likely to forget him.”
I laughed, a lot of people had that reaction to Cole. “The hot Brit actually collared the submissive with the short dark hair a few weeks ago. He also recently bought a house and they were in the attic cleaning when Sasha came across those.” I pointed to the stack of magazines.
I hadn’t recognized the cover model immediately. The young woman staring up at us from the front page had teased blond hair and ice blue eye shadow. She was worlds away from the woman sitting across from me now with sleek, straight hair and natural makeup that subtly enhanced her features.
“Look at me. I don’t even remember being that young.” Meagan shook her head. “Well, now you know part of my history with Luke. We did a photo shoot another lifetime ago.”
She sighed and organized the magazines into a pile on the corner of her desk, but she didn’t look up immediately and something lurked in her eyes when she did. “Thank you for bringing these by. I somehow misplaced my copies.”
I got the distinct impression she’d misplaced them on purpose. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you should know we found them.”
“It’s okay. It was just a shock, seeing these. It’s been so long.”
“I had no idea you used to model.”
“Used to being the important part.”
I took a step back and studied her. “I can see it, though. You have that look about you. I never noticed it before, but now? Definitely. You probably could still do it.”
Meagan raised her eyebrow. “Model? Please.”
“Or anchor the news. Something in front of the camera.”
“I don’t think so,” Meagan replied. “I’m very happy sitting behind a desk. Besides, do you have any idea of the stress that comes with modeling? And I’m sure it’s only gotten worse in the last few years.”
“One could say you’re older and wiser and could handle it better now.”
“Or one could say I’d work myself into an early grave.”
“I think you’ve pretty much got that one covered with the job you already have.”
Meagan laughed. “You’re probably right.”
She changed the subject then, and I went along with her, not wanting to pry too much. It was obviously a subject she didn’t want to discuss.
Yet when I stopped by her office two weeks later, the magazines were still on the corner of her desk.
