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“Good. I’ll reserve a room for us at Accendos. That is if you wish to continue.”
Her cheeks lifted, and air filled her lungs. “Yes, please. Sir.” She emphasized the last word.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
She nodded, and the pleasure in his eyes at her answer sealed her fate. She was his—at least for now.
She had to savor it. He agreed only to mentor her—not take her on. He wasn’t her boyfriend or even really her lover. Perhaps if she were perfect, though, he’d continue a while.
She straightened herself up and eased off the desk. Oh, yeah, he would need a new ink blotter.
He didn’t seem to mind, only pulling her skirt down her legs.
He straightened, his dark eyes bearing down on her. “Expect to beg more.”
If Colette had let her imagination play unhindered and without boundaries, she still wouldn’t have guessed all that Club Accendos offered.
Two men met them in the entry portico to escort them through the club. She huddled into Griffin’s arm. He tucked her close as they strode down the long hallway to the Library. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. His hand on her thigh on the ride over, the hand on the small of her back easing her forward on Accendos’ walkway, then holding her hand, his large palm on the back of her neck the second they stepped inside—she loved it all.
Thick carpet muffled their footfalls but did little to tamp down the moan from a woman astride a man on a red velvet settee under a pastoral oil painting.
Farther down, a man wearing a rope harness across his chest stood facing a set of French doors overlooking a flagstone terrace that spilled out and down to a garden overflowing with Roses of Sharon. It wasn’t until they passed him did she glimpse a woman on the other side of the glass. She was nude except for a pair of red heels and bent over, baring her pussy to him. An ache throbbed between her own legs at her puffed-up and pink flesh.
Griffin’s face showed no reaction to the scenes unfolding around them. His eyes were fixed forward on a large gothic arch that led to the Library—the one room she knew.
Play was in full swing. Loud slaps of flesh, laughter, and clinks of glass filled the air.
They passed right by the Library and every scene, every bit of action.
He pulled her down a side hall. “The other night, none of the scenes intrigued you.” He stated it as a fact.
“They were interesting, just not …” Truth was they were intriguing but just not for her somehow. The various kinks—fire, water, flogging—didn’t call to her. She’d do any of it if he wanted, but really, what she wanted was something she couldn’t quite name yet.
They stopped before an elevator. “What?” His brows furrowed in question.
“They didn’t make me desperate to try them.”
His lips thinned in thought. “Hmm. Let’s see what makes you desperate.”
How about just looking my way?
She entered the elevator when the large door opened. “May I ask where we’re going?”
“You may.” He gestured for her to enter.
They left their two escorts, and the door clanged behind them.
“Are we going to a dungeon? Is that where we’re going?” she whispered. She could see it. Coats of arms on concrete walls, tall knight’s armor standing guard, and chains—lots and lots of chains.
A half-smile inched up on his face. “Not my aesthetic.”
Amusement at her assumption colored his eyes.
She’d been watching him closer each time they were together, learning his face, his different kinds of smiles—and different frowns. His sternest look came from when she jumped to conclusions.
She glanced around the ornate elevator car. “So old-fashioned.” Mirrors lined the walls with intricate iron scrollwork holding them in place.
“Alexander appreciates beauty—and history.” He grasped her hand, her fingers meeting something rough. He had a band-aid on his little finger. Such a small detail, but it sent her mind whirring.
