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“Of course.”
At work, he was never this accommodating. Interesting that he was more considerate as a Dominant than he ever was as her employer.
“I’ll change and grab my bag.”
So she wasn’t going to be spanked by Santa?
“Where would you like to meet?”
“Near the vendors?” At least it was quieter there, and maybe she’d have an opportunity to chat with Abigail and perhaps reconsider her decision.
He offered a tight nod. “Give me five minutes.” But before walking away, he leaned in a little closer. “You’re not planning to run?”
Kaylee refused to admit the thought had flashed through her mind. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
The brilliant smile he shot her flipped her tummy. Thank God he didn’t do that at the office.
As he strode away, masculinity somehow enhanced by his boots and festive pants, she watched, still unable to believe what she’d agreed to.
After he was gone, she forced out a small breath.
Now that the parade was over, the vendor fair had reopened. To distract herself, Kaylee headed over there to browse all the amazing merchandise.
Since Abigail was busy with customers, Kaylee looked at a wooden paddle. Then an image of it in Frost’s strong grip teased her, and she immediately moved on to a booth offering beautiful works of handcrafted stained glass.
She was tempted to buy one depicting a woman in rope bondage, but before she could make the decision on whether to splurge on the expensive piece, she caught sight of Frost.
With a bag in hand and his intense gaze locked on her, he strode over to join her.
Unable to help herself, she stared at him—entranced by how delicious he was.
Just like earlier, he was dressed in a white shirt, with slacks he might have been poured into. But now, she knew exactly how broad his shoulders were, what his chiseled abs looked like, and she’d watched his biceps flex as he moved his arms.
“See something you like?” A slow smile flirted with his lips, transforming his features.
He’d caught her staring.
“I…” Where were her words?
“The offerings.” With his finger, he indicated the piece of art she’d been appreciating.
“Oh.” She tried for a light, airy tone. “It’s out of my price range.”
He raised an eyebrow. In skepticism? After all, he knew how much she earned. But still, he had no idea where her money went.
“Shall we?”
Heart once again beating a frantic tattoo, and very much aware of the weight of the present in her grip, she fell in step next to him.
They took a trip through the entire dungeon before wending their way to Kinky Avenue.
Most of the play spaces were occupied, but the far one—a sparse, interrogation-type room—was open.
Pausing, she looked at him.
“It’s your call entirely, Ms. Robbins. I want you to be comfortable.”
Since the space was designed for the maximumdiscomfort, his statement was ludicrous. The area contained two wooden chairs, a desk, an overhead hook, a bright lamp, and a display of wicked-looking spanking implements—none of which she would ever be interested in trying. “It’s intimidating.” As well as overwhelming. Yet it was semiprivate enough that hopefully her friends wouldn’t see her with Frost.
