Page 3 of In His Cuffs

Then again, perhaps the more she got, the more she’d want.

But she might not ever know.

She’d never had a relationship that had made it past six months. If she found a man who was demanding in the bedroom, he tended to be an arrogant son of a bitch outside it. If he was considerate about sharing chores, he tended to bore her once the lights were turned down. And two men had insisted it wasn’t right to hit a woman. More than once she’d tried to explain the difference between a consensual spanking and striking out in anger. Her words had fallen on deaf ears.

Recently, she’d cancelled all her dating site memberships. She’d given up searching for Mr Right and decided to settle for Mr Right Now.

Because of that, she lived for her forays to the Den, where her desires were encouraged.

She’d learnt to embrace her single status. She didn’t have to answer to anyone if she worked late. If she didn’t feel like getting out of her pyjamas on a Saturday morning she didn’t have to. She could eat ice cream for dinner or skip vacuuming for so long that dust bunnies threatened to strangle her.

And she could play with different Doms all the time. The exhilaration of not knowing what to expect added to her delirium.

“Targets acquired,” Vanessa said over her shoulder as she headed towards a group of men in the great room.

Maggie snagged a virgin pina colada from the granite island in the kitchen then joined the crowd on the patio.

She stood to one side and watched a few couples dance in front of the stage. Off to the left, a tall, broad male knelt in front of a woman who wore a red wristband. The image was erotic, but it didn’t do much for her. When she was here, she preferred giving up control. At work, she engaged in constant battles with her self-appointed boss and had to be on guard all the time. Letting go and surrendering to her submissive tendencies was critical to her mental health.

“Would you like to dance?”

She turned and smiled at the man who’d approached her. He was tall and lanky, wearing a plaid shirt. At least he’d skipped the pocket protector.

Part of her knew she was being unfair. He had an earnest smile, and she was sure he was a nice man. He had on a red band, but somehow, she didn’t see him as a Dom. There was something lacking in his tone, a certain confidence. And his expression was more hopeful than assertive.

She smiled back and waited a few seconds. He continued to look at her, but she had no compulsion to cast her gaze at the ground. She felt no spark of attraction for him. If she was going to bare her body—or at least parts of it—to a stranger, she would choose a man who had a razor-edge of danger about him. For some reason, this guy reminded her of her of Samuel. She couldn’t imagine a greater turn-off. “Thanks,” she said. “Perhaps another time.”

“It was worth a try,” he said easily before moving onto the next possibility, a woman who was swaying as she listened to Evan C.

In some ways, Maggie realised, this wasn’t much different than a singles’ bar. But there were far fewer pretensions. At least sexually.

Maggie took a sip from the cool drink, loving the blend of pineapple, coconut and whipped cream on her tongue. Since it had juice in it, she told herself the beverage was at least somewhat healthy.

She was ready to take a second sip when she saw him.

David Tomlinson.

Her nemesis.

What the hell was he doing here?

Slowly, she lowered her trembling hand.

Fuck.

The main reason she’d come to the Den was to escape him.

He stood near a speaker, arms folded across his bare chest, a black band on his upper arm, short hair spiked, and he was wearing a pair of jeans.

David Tomlinson was a House Monitor? Crap. It wasn’t enough that he was here, but he had to have a role of authority.

Then she noticed the handcuffs.

She gawked at the sight.

Was David Tomlinson the man Vanessa had noticed?

If Maggie didn’t know him so well, she might agree that he was sexy. But she knew him too well. He manipulated people to his own ends. Sure, he was one of the smartest people she’d ever met, but she’d seen him use that intelligence for nefarious purposes.

She stood there, uncertain what to do. Confront him? Ignore him and hope he didn’t see her? Catch the shuttle back to Winter Park?

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