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Immediately he nixed that idea.
He’d get nothing done.
She stepped into the skirt. All the time, she’d avoided putting on the bra. He wondered if it was intentional.
Finally she did put on the purple lingerie, and he was pretty damn sure he’d spend a lot of time in the future fantasising about taking it back off her.
She fought with the tight shirt, so he stepped in. “Sorry, I can’t stand there and watch you struggle,” he said, taking the material from her.
Though her eyes widened, she didn’t protest.
He helped her into the shirt and smoothed it into place.
She kept her fingertips on his forearm as she slipped into her shoes.
“Make me a promise, Mr Tomlinson?”
He inclined his head.
“Don’t wear that armband to work.”
“Too much of a reminder about who you really are and where you belong?”
She betrayed her inner thoughts by looking at the floor before unblinkingly meeting his gaze. “The HM stands for House Monitor, not His Majesty,” she said saucily. “I want you to remember that.”
David extrapolated from her statement. “No authority over you outside of the Den?”
“None.”
He traced her collar. “Then don’t wear this again until you’re ready to cede authority for your sexual satisfaction to me.”
Her sweet, sexy lips parted. Then she blinked, breaking the momentary spell she’d held him under. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr Tomlinson.”
“Likewise, Ms Carpenter.”
Without another word, she turned and exited the room before closing the door with a decisive snick.
It bothered him that she’d vanished before he could ensure she was completely okay. He’d hoped to spend a few minutes caring for her, even talking. He wished she’d waited long enough to at least have a few sips of water.
Christ. She might not have needed a few minutes of aftercare, but he needed to give them.
In the past, he’d been accused of being relentless. He didn’t take time off for vacations, and had caused trouble on his honeymoon when his bride had caught him on his laptop in the middle of the night. During stressful times, he’d get in two workouts. He didn’t require much sleep and he had boundless energy. He saw each day as a task list and he methodically checked things off and kept moving.
Until Maggie, he’d had no urge to soothe a woman he’d beaten. Lack of cuddling and intimacy had decimated his marriage.
By the time he’d pulled his boots back on, washed his toys, packed his bag, collected the leash and returned to find Damien in the sunroom, she’d already caught the shuttle bus back to Winter Park.
“It’s not like you to mix business and BDSM,” Damien observed, sipping from a glass of mineral water, enhanced with a twist of lime.
David didn’t need long to think about that. “If the woman in question wasn’t Maggie, it wouldn’t have happened tonight.”
Damien waited.
“Until now I’ve never before wanted to paddle someone who reports to me.”
“I can understand the temptation.”
A house sub accepted David’s bag and left them alone without ever saying a word.
“How did it go?” Damien asked.
David frowned. “You tell me. Obviously you saw her before she left, if you knew she was gone.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her yourself,” Damien said after what seemed to be a considerable silence.
“Fair enough. She was okay, though?”
“It doesn’t appear you made her cry.”
“Maybe I’m losing my touch.”
Damien shrugged. “Or she’s tougher than we gave her credit for. At any rate, you needn’t worry about her, I’d say.”
David knew he’d get nothing more out of Damien. That was something confounding and reassuring about the Den’s owner. The man knew everything and revealed no one’s confidences. While it could be frustrating, it was reassuring.
From the corner of his eye, David saw Brandy put up her hand to push away a man. “Brandy may need us to intervene.”
Damien looked.
Niles, another House Monitor, had obviously already seen what was happening and had moved towards the pair. David wasn’t surprised at the other man’s quick action, but he was surprised to see Niles at the Den. He hadn’t attended many public functions since the death of his beautiful wife and sub.
