I can feel her glare against my back as I storm away.

She makes me so crazy. I have a nearly irresistible urge to spin around, slam that door, and let her shove me against the wall until this tension between us finally evaporates.

Did she even know she was licking her lips as she dressed me down? The last time she did that, I had her on her knees. That’s not happening tonight.

Fuck, her mouth. I smirk at myself, because that’s exactly what I’d like to do. Fuck her mouth. Her cunt. Her ass, if she wanted…because I sure as hell do. Even mad as I am, that thought makes things twitch hard for me.

I want to shake Sasha loose from whatever hangups she has about me as a person—because fucking hell, that doesn’t matter—and find a way to scratch our mutual itch again.

But wanting doesn’t make things happen.

It’s a waste of energy now.

So. Fine.

I lean against a pillar near the back of the main room and take stock of where everyone else is at.

Lachlan is bent over the spanking bench, and Beth is torturing his ass. Hugh is on the other side, crouched in front of him, and he’s laughing about something. I love how casual they all are about the dominance and submission in their relationship—since it’s something they live every day, with Hugh being a bossy, demanding motherfucker and Lachlan naturally wanting to serve both of his partners, they have a lot more fun with it than people who are high-protocol.

They’re my kind of people, for sure.

But I like watching people who are more rigid in their expectations, too. There’s something beautiful about the formality in which someone like Corinne submits to a master.

Tonight, apparently, that’s Reid.

Corinne has stripped down to a black sports bra and boy shorts, and she’s standing at docile readiness in front of the St. Andrew’s Cross.

Reid is taking his time preparing the scene. He keeps stopping in front of her and checking in, which is good communication from a first-time play partner, but it’s more than that—

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sasha return.

That damn skirt interrupts my thoughts about Reid and Corinne. The colourful silk pieces swing hypnotically, baring teasing slices of thigh. By the time I drag my attention up Sasha’s body, she’s noticed that I’m looking at her.

It’s a free country.

I glare at her, daring her to pick another fight.

Maybe it’s not just the skirt which has distracted me.

I make no apologies for how I live my life. I work hard and I play hard. But I try to be a decent person, and I’m generally drawn to other similarly decent people.

I know that Sasha is kind. She’s a good friend, and crazy smart. I’ve seen that in glimpses here and there, even though she’d never toot her own horn.

But when it comes to me, it doesn’t take much to fire her up.

We’re like oil and water.

I want to know why.

I’m not chasing her again. But I hold her gaze and make it clear from my body language that she’s welcome to join me.

She takes her time making that decision. She looks around the room before warily approaching and leaning against the opposite side of the pillar.

“I won’t bite,” I murmur, and her cheeks flush.

“I’d rather you bite than talk.” She says it under her breath and I almost miss it.

We’re not so different when it comes to sex. It’s just all the other stuff we clash on.

“I don’t know why it has to be one or the other.”

The corner of her mouth flexes up in an almost smile and she turns her attention to where Reid is flogging Corinne. “It’s kind of weird that everyone I know comes here and fucks in front of each other.”

“Not everyone.”

“Enough of them.”

“You know, some people value that kind of friendship, that kind of openness.”

“Some people?”

“Me, for one.” I wait for her to give me a surprised look, and I smile gently. “I know you’re still sorting out what you like and what you’re into, but this…?” I gesture around the dungeon. “This is important to me. Judge with caution.”

“Point made. I’m not judging.” She holds my gaze, although it takes effort, I can tell. “Just figuring it all out.”

“It’s okay if none of this is for you. Everyone’s kink is different.”

“Do you think everyone is kinky?”

“No. But you are.”

“How are you so sure?”

I’m not sure, exactly. “Just a solid hunch backed up by significant data.”

That gets a laugh out of her. “Anecdotal data can’t be trusted.”

Oh, it’s on again. I can’t resist her, no matter how often I get burned. I push off the pillar and stick my hands in my pockets. It’s the safest way to ensure I don’t touch her as I prowl around to her side. “Then you might want to dial back the wide-eyed hungry look and the way you keep biting your lower lip,” I whisper as I get almost close enough to touch her. Definitely close enough for her to feel my breath on her skin. “Your body is definitely sending mixed messages compared to the snark coming out of that pretty little mouth.”

She stiffens, just for a second, then sighs. “Damn it.”

I chuckle. “What do you hate more? That I noticed or that you’re conflicted?”

“So hard to decide. Both are annoying.”

“There’s a couch over there we could go sit on. Watch from a better vantage point.”

“I don’t know.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to trick me into sitting next to you again.”

“It’s not a trick.” I sigh in exasperation. Never have I understood the appeal of spanking quite as much as when Sasha is pushing all my buttons. But she’s not being a brat on purpose and I don’t have any interest in actually disciplining her, so I’ll have to deal with my hard-on on my own, later.

“Maybe I just don’t know how to do this.” She frowns, and I want to rub that little crease in her forehead away. She glances towards me, away from the display ahead of us. “What do you like?”

“That’s a dangerous question.”

“Because you might actually answer it?”

“Exactly.” Right now I’m incredibly turned on by innocently bratty behaviour, but that’s a temporary thing. That’s a Sasha-specific thing, and when a woman has turned me down is not the time to tell her that she is my kink.

She glances over at the couch I’d pointed to. It’s in the shadows, and I can tell she wants to go and sit there.

I lean in again. “I’m a hedonist, Sasha. I like dirty talk, dirty deeds, and dirty friends. And we don’t need to fuck again if you don’t want to, but you are one of those dirty friends. I’m going to sit over there and watch people be joyfully kinky. I suggest you join me.”

I grab two bottles of water on my way to the sofa, and when she sits down next to me—again, not too close—I hand her one of them.

We don’t talk. She watches Reid and Corinne, and I watch her. Not directly. My eyes are looking forward. But my gaze isn’t focused on the obvious kink ahead of me. All my attention is keenly focused on the quiet, newbie kinkster next to me on the couch.

She’s made her position totally clear. She doesn’t like me, doesn’t want me, and I can stop trying any time. She’s made that point twice.

The problem is, I don’t believe her.

I let that roll around in my head until Corinne’s scene ends.

Max and Violet get up from where they were sitting with Ellie, and as Max goes to open his mouth, a pager goes off on his hip.

“Baby or hospital?” Violet asks.

He glances at the screen. “Baby.”

“Of course,” she says with a smile.

Max waves at the wall of whips behind them. “Have at it. We’ll be right back.”

As Trevor and Jack move into the sunken part of the basement—where the ceilings are taller, and perfect for a skills competition with a bull whip—Sasha watches Max lead Violet back upstairs.

“He’s so attentive,” she murmurs.

“He’s pretty happy to be a dad.”

“I think most guys would just let Violet go and feed the baby on her own. Stay here and keep partying.”

“Yeah, some might.”

She gives me a challenging look. “You don’t agree?”

“I just said that some might. Some would, is that better?”

She rolls her shoulders in a vague kind of shrug. “Whatever, I don’t want to get into it with you.”

“You’ve got a big ol’ chip on your shoulder, don’t you?”

Something dark flashes in her eyes. Definitely not a comfortable topic. “Maybe I do. Maybe I have good reasons for being wary of men. And I’m one year away from being Dr. Brewster. So when you’re done being a media darling, I’ll have my own business empire. Got it?”

“Media darling? That’s just the job, princess.”

“Not one I would pick.”

“Noted.” I rock my jaw back and forth as I look at her. I refuse to be goaded into fighting with her again. “There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

She sips at her water and searches my face before answering. “It’s not a big deal.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Tell me some of those reasons,” I say, my voice low and only for her. “Tell me about the jerks and the assholes.”

Her eyes tighten up and she glances down. I follow her gaze and watch as she flicks one of the silk slices of her skirt into just the right spot. Always careful. Always controlled.

“It’s not really about other people,” she says, surprising me. “There was a period of time a few years ago where I was a bit reckless and splashy with my social media.”

I can’t keep the surprise off my face. “You?”

She gives me a rueful smile. “Yeah. Youthful indiscretions were fun right up until they weren’t. I got a ridiculous reputation. The good thing about the internet, though, is it has the memory of a goldfish. Nobody remembers that I was once billed as Canada’s answer to Paris Hilton.”

I definitely don’t remember that. “You’ve done a good job of rebranding yourself.”

Her eyes tighten again. “It wasn’t all me.”

Ah.

She waves her hand, affecting a coolness that feels fake. I don’t like it one bit. “Whatever. It wasn’t like I filmed a sex tape. But it was distracting, and at the end of the day, it interfered with my MBA. I ended up switching schools and starting again. So before I decided to pursue my PhD, we—I scrubbed myself from the internet as much as I could. Now it’s my goal to be as boring as humanly possible.”

“You aren’t boring.”

She pauses as a whip cracks in the background, then gives me a half-smile. But before she can respond, Max and Violet return. She strips down to her underwear, just like Corinne did, all the energy in the dungeon shifts in their direction.

For the best. I’ve probably pushed my luck enough.

And tomorrow is a game day—maybe the most important game I’ll play this fall.

I should worry less about why Sasha doesn’t like me and more about how I’m going to dominate on the ice tomorrow night.