Pleasure's Edge (8 page)

He nodded. “A pair of dragons on my forearms. I had them both done in Hong Kong. I’d rol up my sleeves to show you but a partial view wouldn’t real y do the work justice. I’d have to take the shirt off.”

God, what would this man look like with his shirt off? She shivered.

“And what do they mean for you?”

“The dragons are a symbol of power. Strength. And protection.”

“What do you need to be protected from, Alec?” A shadow crossed his face, but disappeared so quickly she wasn’t certain she’d seen it.

“Everyone has their vulnerabilities. We wouldn’t be human otherwise, would we?”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tel me what your vulnerabilities are?” she asked.

“Not now. But I should know something about yours. That’s part of my job, as wel .”

“Is this necessary?”

He said simply, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“With power comes responsibility. I need to have some insight into how you’l respond when we play, and why. So that I can properly care for you.”

“Oh ...”

That smal reminder of what they planned to do together made her body ache with need, and her mind reel. Were they real y having this conversation with these smal , utterly erotic references in the middle of a crowded restaurant?

“Why don’t you tel me about your family, Dylan?”

“My family?”

“That’s often a good place to start.”

“Okay. Okay.” She paused, thought a moment. What to tel him?

“I’m original y from Portland.” She paused. She real y didn’t want to give him details. It was too hard. She did better when she pushed most of her family from her mind. Especial y her mother. How did one explain that sort of thing?

She uncrossed her legs, picked up her teacup, but found it empty. Alec reached for it, refil ed it, handed it back to her.

“Go on,” he prompted. “Is your family stil there?”

“No. They’re mostly in Ashland, Oregon, now. My aunt Deirdre and my mother. And my grandmother Delilah, who I’m very close with.”

“But you’re not close with your aunt and your mother?”

“Things with my mother are . . . difficult.”

“Tel me about her.”

“No.”

She locked gazes with him. He didn’t flinch.

“Another time, then.”

She nodded, looked away.

“Do you want to tel me about your brother?” he asked quietly.

“Not particularly.”

“Wil you do it anyway?”

He was being so gentle with her. It made her
want
to tel him. To let him know her. A little, anyway.

“Quinn was . . . he was three years younger than me. A good kid, basical y. A good student. He had a sense of humor, which I seem to have missed out on. He could always make me laugh. We were close. We didn’t fight like most siblings do. We needed each other I guess . . . ”

She trailed off.

Really do not want to go there.

“Losing him must have been difficult.”

“It was.”

The waiter came then, interrupting them, and she was grateful.

Alec ordered for them without consulting Dylan or the menu.

When the waiter left, Dylan asked him, “Do you always do that?”

“Take charge? Yes.” He leaned toward her, humor in his eyes.

“Did you real y expect anything else from me?” That made her smile. “I suppose not.” She picked up her tea again. “Your turn. Tel me about your family.”

“We’re not close. My mother and her husband live in Scottsdale.

My stepbrother and -sister, Gavin and Marianne, are there, too.

But we were al adults when our parents married and don’t know each other wel .”

“No other siblings?”

“No.”

“And your father?”

“My father . . . ”

Alec paused, sipped his cooling tea, shifted in the wooden chair.

It was hard talking about his father and he usual y skirted the subject. But he was comfortable with Dylan, despite the sexual tension, the pure, aching need for her that he couldn’t fail to recognize for a moment. He forced himself to focus.

“My father was a physicist. A professor. A bril iant guy. He real y was. That’s not just hero worship. He taught me a lot. He had a lot to do with who I am.”

“You said ‘was.’ What happened to him?”

“He died when I was twenty-two.”

“I’m sorry, Alec.”

True sympathy in her tone, in her face. Her crystal-gray eyes.

Not pity. Just sympathy.

“He was walking across the street and was hit by a car. It was so random. But, being a physicist, he’d always believed in the randomness of the universe. I did, too, for a long time. I stil do, to some extent, although I’ve spent a long time looking for a better answer. That’s partly what al my traveling has been about, I guess.”

He paused, ran a hand through his hair. He’d said too much, damn it.

“That must have been terrible for you. It sounds as though he was the one family member you were close with.”

“Yes.”

He felt himself shutting down, shutting her out. He didn’t want to do that. But he couldn’t talk about this anymore.

Their food arrived. Perfect timing.

He shifted the conversation and they spoke about less personal subjects through the meal: films they liked, local politics, art, music.

He was surprised to find how much they had in common. Maybe he shouldn’t have been. Chemistry this powerful was bound to be something other than the fact that she smel ed better than any woman he’d ever met.

When they were done the waiter cleared their plates, and he ordered more tea. He’d been watching her. He was fascinated. By the way her gorgeous mouth moved when she spoke, when she slipped a morsel of food between her lips. Her alabaster skin was absolutely flawless, just a pale pink blush to her cheeks and that faint, sweet scattering of freckles. Beautiful.

He couldn’t wait to bring that pink to the surface. Al over her slender body. The flush of desire. The blush of a wel -spanked bottom.

His cock went hard at the thought.

Control.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Dylan?”

“Yes, very much. Thank you.”

“I won’t keep you out late. I want you wel rested this week. Let’s discuss what wil happen at the Pleasure Dome on Saturday night.”

“Oh.”

That pale pink went darker, her pupils widening. She glanced around them, probably wondering if anyone could hear what he was saying. He didn’t mind if someone did, but he kept his voice low.

“Do you understand what safe words mean, Dylan?”

“I think so.”

“Your safe word is
yellow
if you want me to slow down, if something truly gets to be too much for you. If you need a break. If you need water. If you’re panicking. If anything is happening in your body that goes beyond discomfort. I wil be checking you for circulation if I bind you. I probably wil .” She was going a little pale now. That was al right. He didn’t mind her being shocked by the reality of what they were going to do. It pleased him, in fact. His cock gave a smal twitch.

He went on. “
Red
means you want to stop. The scene wil end. If you are bound I wil release you immediately. I’l cut you out of your bonds if I have to. I wil never argue that with you. In this way, you have the ultimate power, and you are always perfectly safe with me. Do you understand?”

He saw her swal ow, her slim throat working.

“Yes.”

“You should also know that I don’t play without some sexual contact. You don’t have to sleep with me, of course. But if you are opposed to me touching you, to being naked, tel me now and we wil stop here. Sexual stimulation can help you to take more. It helps you to let go. Some people can play without it. I don’t.” He watched her careful y, saw her eyes gleaming, the acceleration of her breath. Even her lips were a darker shade of red, as though someone had bitten them. Desire there. But would she balk at this?

He didn’t know what the hel he would do if she backed out now.

He wanted her too badly.

But she simply nodded, said, “Al right.”

One simple phrase and he was as hard as he’d ever been in his life.

Control.

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked her.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“You can e-mail me between now and Saturday if you do.” She nodded once more, trying to look brave, but she was stil going back and forth between paling and flushing.

He leaned toward her, took her wrist in his hand, pushed his fingertips beneath the hem of her sleeve. Her pulse was racing, hot. Her skin was like satin.

“Dylan, listen to me now. If at any time you change your mind, it’s up to you. That’s how this works. There wil be no anger on my part. No resentment. No judgment.”

He hated how desperately he didn’t want that to happen.

“Okay. Yes. I understand.”

“Are you stil in?”

She paused, and his heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches.

“Yes. I’m in. I want to do this. You’re right. This is the only way I’l real y know. And . . . I
need
to know. Not only for the book. I need to know this about myself.”

He nodded, trying to look calm. But inside, he was pure chaos, his heart hammering, his cock pulsing with need for her.

Dylan Ivory was
not
just another woman. What she would turn out to be for him he didn’t know. And for the first time in his life since his father had died, he felt fear.

five

Dylan had done exactly as Alec had instructed in his e-mail to her.

She was in a cab on her way to the Pleasure Dome, dressed as he’d asked, in a short black skirt, black patent high-heeled leather pumps, a black sleeveless top with a low scooped back. Beneath it she wore a black bra and panties in a sheer mesh. Not that he’d asked for it to be sheer. But she wanted him to want her. Wanted him to be as affected as she was.

She wasn’t about to try to deny it. What was the point? It wasn’t lust she fought against. That had never been an issue for her. She loved sex and had always been open to exploring her desires. It was the idea of giving up al control to another person. She simply wasn’t sure she was capable of doing it.

There was a smal rush of panic even now, doing nothing more than imagining it.

It was raining, as it so often did in this city. The tires of the cab splashed in the puddled streets as they moved through the night.

Streetlights reflected off the water in pale, shimmering silver.

Storefronts were lit, casting colored light into the dark.

Her heart was a smal thumping hammer in her chest.

She could not believe she was real y going to do this.

The ride was over quickly, and she pul ed some bil s from her smal black clutch and handed them to the driver. The Pleasure Dome was housed in an old warehouse, very much like her own building: four stories of brick painted charcoal gray, the tal windows darkened. Imposing, as she peered through the window of the cab, her eyes rising to the top of the structure, where the moon was trying to gleam through the clouds.

When she stepped from the car Alec was waiting beneath an umbrel a, dressed al in black, his hand out to help her.

“You look beautiful, as always,” he told her, smiling.

She tried to smile back, but it didn’t work.

He pul ed her in close to his side as he walked her to the large red-painted door to the club. It felt . . . territorial. Protective. And she liked it.

“It’s al right. Don’t be nervous, Dylan. I’l take care of everything.”

“That’s the part that makes me nervous.”

A smal , wicked laugh from him that did nothing to comfort her.

A doorman opened the door wide for them and they stepped through, into a dark entryway. Alec paused long enough to rid himself of his coat and his umbrel a, handing them to a coat check girl behind a narrow counter. She hadn’t thought to wear a coat, despite the weather. She’d worn only what he’d told her to. Odd to think about it now. She pushed the idea, and everything it might mean, into the back of her mind.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she noticed that the sleeves of his shirt were rol ed up, revealing the Chinese dragons tattooed on the inside of his forearms: black and red on his right arm, black and gold on the left. The work was exquisite, detailed, the long tails twining around his arms, the heads, with their snaking red tongues, at the inside of each wrist. She wanted to look more closely. She wanted to touch them. But being in this place was too new, too distracting.

She could hear the faint bass pulse of music coming from somewhere. She could feel it reverberating in her bel y.

“Are you ready, Dylan?” Alec asked her.