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Rafe returned carrying something that she couldn’t see.
He stood behind her once again and moved one of his hands in front of her chest. Her pulse slammed to a stop when she realized he held a collar. And nothing delicate. This was weighty, gold, and it had a padlock. “For tonight,” he said. “I want the world to see you.”
He’d said those words before, but now they held a shocking power.
“Wear my collar? It’s not a lifelong commitment. You can consider it an experiment.”
An experiment. For one night. A fantasy. Something she could replay forever, keep with her, even when she told him it couldn’t work between them.
Scared to say yes, even more scared to say no, she nodded. Her heart started again with a leap.
“I need to hear the words.”
It was a struggle, but she finally managed, “Yes, Sir.”
Something dark flashed through his eyes. Relief? It couldn’t be. Rafe Sterling had cloaked himself in confidence, the same way he wore a suit.
“Hold this.” He placed the lock in her left hand.
Since her hair was already pinned up, she remained where she was. He reached around her. The snap clicked. Cold metal snuggled her skin, making her nipples swell even more.
“I fantasized about this.”
She reached up to touch the collar, and her fingers found his.
He closed his hand around hers, warm and reassuring. “This is mine.” He thumbed the collar. “And so is this.” He traced the column of her throat. Then, keeping her gaze captive, he stroked down and circled beneath each of her breasts.
All her emotions softened.
“The lock, please.”
She unfurled her fingers. From behind her, he reached across her body, the material of his suit coat dragging across her erect nipples.
He fastened the padlock through the collar with a click so sharp it bounced off the walls. Then he dropped the key on the counter. The metal bounced and clattered before settling.
In the first second after it slid to a stop, she felt trapped. In the next, she was liberated.
“Let me see you.” He pinched her nipples viciously, making her yelp and shooting a torrent of wicked desire through her. He lifted the straps back into place. Her nipples were visible and sexy as hell as they pressed against the fabric. “Tell me what you think.”
Now that the collar was in place, the dress was somehow less revealing. It was the gold, she realized, eye catching, drawing attention. “You were right.”
“Those may be my three favorite words.” He smiled. Then he turned her to face him. “This means a great deal to me.”
It was easy to be brave when he was so encouraging.
Before they left the bathroom, she glanced at the key. “Are you leaving it there?”
“I’d prefer to, yes. But until you are formally collared, I can carry it in my wallet.”
She didn’t want to give in and be a scaredy-cat. “I trust you.”
“Thank you, Hope.”
He did indeed have a wrap for her. As he wanted, she folded it and placed it in her purse. She could do this.
The drive to the restaurant took forty-five minutes. Again, this place wasn’t easy to find. The GPS screen showed the road meandering along the Mississippi River. Lush vegetation obscured signs, and nothing indicated there was a restaurant nearby.
Hope’s body was tender from his rough handling in the shower, and her ass burned in a way that ensured she’d spend the evening thinking about the reaming he’d given her. No matter how she shifted, she couldn’t ease the ache.
“Problem?”
“No, Sir,” she replied.
His smile called her a liar. And the smirk that followed told her he wasn’t apologetic. He was happy.
The valet parked the car, and once again he instructed the doorman not to assist her. Though impatient, she waited for him. This part of submission, with him taking such exquisite care of her, was wonderful. Well, she had to admit, so far, most of it had been.
This time it was more natural to accept his help, and when he offered his elbow, she accepted. Together, they walked up the stairs toward the large building.
The owner, who Rafe introduced as Bastien Cauchon, greeted them. He rounded the stand and swooped Rafe into a brief bear hug.
“Mademoiselle”—he raised her hand to kiss it—“welcome to Vieille Rivière.”
